Wind-Swept and Sun-Dried

And that’s just my face! What a day!

After a night of no sleep, we still decide to tackle the numerous hills in store on the way to Arthur’s Pass.

Sunrise at Springfield campground (that's frost on the grass)

The ride out of Springfield is easy enough. There is a elevation gain of five hundred meters over the first twenty kilometers, with a very steep climb in the last three kilometers. We keep up a good clip. I stop occasionally to take a few photos while James powers ahead.

Happy cows make good cheese

In contrast to yesterday’s flat plains, today’s scenery consists entirely of mountains and hills of various sizes, most of which are surprisingly barren. It actually reminds me a bit of the barren eastern Sierra Nevada in California. Some look like giant piles of gravel – very unusually to see at this elevation of between four hundred meters to maybe two thousand meters.

As the road takes a hairpin turn, the serious climb starts. Soon I am down to the lowest gear, huffing and puffing, feeling the burning sensation from yesterday in my thighs. The road has a very narrow shoulder, some section none at all, so some cars pass by going to the opposite lane, some just whiz by with inches to spare.

With just six hundred meters left to the top of Porter’s Pass, my legs give out. I limp off the bike and start walking it up. When I get to the top, James is already waiting for me. We snap a few photos, soak in the scenery a bit, and start peddling toward the heart of the Southern Alps.

After parking my bike, my legs snap in half

Porter's Pass - 939m - is that all you got?

After getting to the west side of Porter’s Pass, we are met with the stiff Southwesterly wind the South Island is famous for. Blowing in from Antarctica, the wind gets up to the Roaring Forties in which the South Island lies, and dumps a prodigious amount of rain. But at this part of the Southern Alps, much like the eastern Sierra Nevada in California, the air is bone dry.

As I ride up and down the rolling, and sometimes steep hills, the sun beams down mercilessly from the cloudless sky. Combined with the constant dry headwind, it makes the ride feel like being in a convection oven. Arthur’s Pass, a mere eighty-four kilometers from Springfield, seems a galaxy away.

Looking back after hauling ass up yet another hill

James finds out the hard way that the fence next to this part of Lake Pearson is electrified

Gotta break after hitting the bonk half way up this innocuous-looking hill

After numerous breaks to give my screaming legs a rest and to refuel, progress is slow in the making. Towards the end of the day, with Arthur’s Pass still ten kilometers away, we roll towards the Beasley Hotel, which sits like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Parched, exhausted, and famished, we decide to get a “backpackers’ special” room for the night. A nice hot shower and a solid meal are high luxury to us at this point.

The view that makes me go weak in the knees, the mountains and trees are not bad-looking either

Looking out the kitchen window at the backpacker's hostel

James and I finish the day with some fine local brews on offer at the bar. The first sip is like the first rain after a long drought. I may have fallen off the wagon, but a beer like that is the perfect ending to a grueling day like this. Cheers! I can feel my inner Masochist smiling already.

Stats:

Distance: 76.1 km
Max speed: 53.8 kmph
Average speed: 13.4 kmph
Odometer: 141.3 km