I got bad news for you, mate

And then something like "That's a tough bike ride" or "You can't get there on a bike, mate" . It's a joke I hear every time I tell a Kiwi I'm biking to Stewart Island. 

I regretfully leave my hotel before they start serving breakfast as I want as much time as possible for headwinds and rain delays. 

I run into both. It's just enough rain/cold to make me stop and put on my waterproof pants. I stop a couple of times to take them off when the heavy rain never materializes. 

I pass one perfect photo opportunity after another, though I know with current weather conditions and only a cheap phone they won't be captured correctly. I snap a selfie and notice I am gaunt. 

The ocean comes into view. Based on the signs, I believe the land mass is Monkey Island. Based on the signs, I believe Monkey Island is really a peninsula. Based on my knowledge of New Zealand wildlife, I believe there are no monkeys on Monkey Island. It's a detour I don't take, so I could be wrong on both counts.

Karina and Mathew from South Africa and Auckland, respectively are headed in the opposite direction: Cape Reinga...on foot. 

Clearly there are people crazier than me in this world. She recommends I stop at the Crepe Cafe in Riverton. I guess I don't speak South African, either as she actually said Crib Cafe. This is the cutest cafe I've seen this trip and the long black is the best I've had. 

My plan is to ignore my Garmin routes and stick to the highway unless it's much busier than it has been he first half of my day. 

I ride along the highway, which although part of the Southern Scenic Drive isn't very scenic. Or maybe I'm just bored of bicycling. I watch the route in the Garmin that I'm supposed to be riding and wonder if I'd be happier over there. Probably, but I'm also pretty happy getting to Invercargill 45 minutes earlier. I had wanted to stop at the Invercargill Brewery, but I can't tell if it exists anymore. I instead find the Tuatara Cafe, which serves as the tasting room for a different local brewery. I have 30 km left to ride and settle on coffee and a lamb pasty.

I find a bike shop and pump up my tyres a little. I pass a record store, but it's closed Sundays. I remember there's a Burt Munro museum and wander in.

A couple of old women approach me as I'm getting ready to ride to Bluff telling me they were watching my bike while I was in the restaurant and anyone could have walked off with it. I thank them and the lecture goes on longer than comfortable. Every other town I felt stupid locking the bike up; in Invercargill I have my eyes on it nearly 98% of the time, but don't use my lock. Noted. 

I ride down Highway 1. Google Maps has an alternate route that's a few km longer, but I can't hold my phone and ride. I'll scope out better for the return. A couple of cars intentionally swerve/lunge toward me. This hasn't happened before. There's a paved bike lane most of the way, but it's covered with debris. Something that looks like broken pottery but is probably stray rocks from chip sealing the road. I try to ride in it, but I'm more worried about wrecking my tyres than a car hitting me. I'll use it on the way back when a tow to Invercargill is in the right direction.

Bluff is run down and much smaller than anticipated for a South Island town I've heard of. I ask the fork lift driver at the ferry if he has any recs for Bluff Oysters. It's the only thing I know about Bluff. I'm too late for Bluff Oysters. I bike to Sterling Point as the restaurants in town are either fast food or closed. I enjoy an overpriced pint and an overpriced bowl of pumpkin soup while enjoying the view of my bike.

A woman who says she lives 20 minutes away but never comes here offers to take my picture in front of the sign. I look for Hawaii, but don't see it.

The check in agent at the ferry makes me take everything off the bike. Carrying around water bottles, a helmet, and six bags is a pain.

I ride to my lodging, which was my second choice as there was a booking problem at the place with the pub. I quickly shower as I'm afraid the restaurant will close and I'm beyond starving. It's quiz night and super crowded. The quiz is hard and I'm glad I'm not playing. I sit down with a pint of Emerson's 1812 in what I was hoping was the world's most southern bar. It might be third.

I have done everything I wanted to accomplish (except getting back to Queenstown, but that's a straight 200 km. I may feel differently in a couple of days when I'm riding it.) As I was planning this trip, looking at map, I thought it would be super cool to pedal the southern coast.

Strava says 72 miles, 1890 feet climbing.

Tailwinds

Today is a shortish, mostly flat, all road (depending on my route) day so my goal is to start later than usual. The market/cafe in town opens at 8.

I am greeted with a rainbow from my cabin window. Unfortunately, it's drizzling. I bike a km to the cafe and order a short black and a muffin. I am served a long black, which is probably a good thing because it is sub par.

I head out on my ride and see roughly 2 cars per every 10 km. I am flying with a tailwind behind me. I'm being blown up hill. I reach my coffee stop a half hour before expected and ride past it. I am blown over when I turn around--well almost. I put my feet down and don't actually fall. I walk 200 m back to the cafe and begin to worry about 1) am I going to fall over every time the road changes direction and 2) how am I going to get back to Queenstown if this is my headwind in a couple of days. I order a date scone (which is okay) and a long black (that is very good, except I forgot to order decaf so I can't drink the whole thing). I watch the wind bend the trees. I check to see if I can rent a car in Invercargill and drop it off it Queenstown (I can't). I check for a bus (it's 2 busses and 10 hours including layover to get to Queenstown). My goal is only to get to Stewart Island. If I can't ride back from there, I'll bus it or hitchhike. 

I continue on, carefully. I keep both hands on the bars and try to keep ahead of anything that becomes a cross wind. The road is lined with giant flax on both sides, obviously meant to be a wind barrier.

I am able to snap one photo on a flat part. The hills are  much more attractive and green beyond belief. More sheep than one could count without falling asleep. I roll into Tuatapere earlier than expected and with much less effort. I see my hotel and it is unfortunately a mile from town. Town is bigger than it should be and not particularly run down, but it has a depressing small town vibe. Every adult I see is wearing gumboots

All kids are barefoot

The hotel/bar looks out of business. There a backpackers that has a restaurant. A small market and a fast food place. 

I eat lunch even though I'm not hungry and definitely not at hungry hippo level. I consider continuing on to Riverton, which is my coffee stop tomorrow, but see that's it's almost 60 km away. I ride back to the hotel to check in and it's surprisingly better than I had pictured. I am overdue for laundry, so that's task #1.

My hotel serves dinner, but it's a farm to table whatever the chef is feeling like at a communal table. My alternative is the hungry hippo again, which I see is open until 8 PM, or the restaurant at the in-town hostel. It's the home of the Famous Tuapatere Sausage which is made on site.

While deciding I walk back to town, pick up something for breakfast tomorrow as I'll be gone before anything opens and stop into the hostel restaurant for a pint.

The closed hotel probably had the small town atmosphere I am looking for. This place...

I walk back to my hotel with a couple hours to kill before dinner. There's a real TV and I stream Netflix. I hate wasting time on vacation but there is nothing for me to do here. 

I opt for dinner at my hotel, expecting 30 or so people at the big table. There are 4 of us. A family of 3 Canadians/Australians (though the Australian grew up in Otago, so maybe I misunderstood). They're walking the Humpback Track tomorrow and are more concerned about the weather than I am. Of course, they're super experienced hiker's and I'm just a guy with a bike. I am even more worried about getting back to Queenstown until I realize the Monday (the day they recommend taking off) is only a 30 km day. With this news, maybe I can sleep tonight.

50 miles 1719 feet

I'm on a boat and I'm on a boat again

I wake up way too early and commence packing. Packing is boring and I eventually go back to sleep. I've got to make Manapouri by 10:30 to catch a boat and it doesn't look like much will be open if I get there too early. 

Not much in Te Anau is open either. I find the supermarket and buy breakfast/provisions and then find an open cafe.

I have a choice of riding 20 km to Manapouri on the road or 28 km off road on the Lake to Lake Trail. I choose the trail but quickly realize I've spent too much time in Te Anau and need to improvise something. At 10 km, I switch to the road. It's mostly flat or slightly downhill and I have a tail wind. I'm hitting 30 kmh. That sounds faster in km.

I had thought I could store my gear somewhere, but the Real NZ visitor center will be closed when my boat gets back. I change, consolidate bags, lock up the bike, talk to an old Australian man who offers to store my stuff in his car. I'm going to accept, but I have food and clothes and electronics that I'll need and they're not in the same bag.

On boat #1, I'm at a table with two girls wearing RealNZ name tags. They don't talk and as there's still wifi, I catch up on correspondences. Eventually another girl who seems to work there sits down and talks to them. She reeks of reefer, man. When we get off boat number one and onto busses everyone with RealNZ name tags (which is a bus full) gets onto the same bus. I gather it's the start of peak season and these are new employees...maybe on an introductory voyage. It's the only explanation I can think of and I'm too tired to ask. 

Back up a minute, at the start of boat ride #1, the captain says: To the red heads aboard, those who like things with motors, that's 2000 horse power...then something about how fast we're going but I'm not paying attention anymore because I'm trying to figure out if that's a red head stereotype I'm not familiar with. I haven't been around Kiwis enough because I've only been in touristy areas. Now guessing he said "gear heads".

And onto the bus: This is the first time I've felt crowded on this trip. The couple in front of me is coughing. There's no chance I'm not getting sick. I've wondered for years how they get buses on this road that does not connect to any other roads. And the answer is: They barge them in from Manapouri. Why there's a barge on Lake Manapouri that can move busses I don't know (probably related to this power plant), which is why the road exists. They move the busses around seasonally; they go to Queenstown in winter for use as ski shuttles. I talk to the German couple next to me, but my German is terrible and they're not terribly comfortable speaking English. The man is fascinated by Google maps, which I'm using to track our location even though I'm offline. He wants to know our elevation, but I can't seem to find it. I forget I have my Garmin in my pocket. They keep stopping the bus to look at the Sound or waterfalls, but the visibility is so poor it just looks like cloud. Also, I'm in cycling shoes and afraid to get to close to the edge. I take picture of people taking pictures.

Finally to boat number 3. I'm the last person off the bus because I'm carrying 4 bags and a water bottle and wearing cycling shoes. I find a seat on deck 2 next to a very quiet couple speaking English. If I haven't mentioned my Queenstown game yet: I listen to the loud Americans and guess where they're from. I tell them they must be Canadian because they're so quiet. Wrong: Portland. They say they're trying not to be loud Americans and everyone is asking them if they're Canadian. I tell them Kiwis do that because Americans won't be offended if you ask if they're Canadian, but the opposite is not true. They seem disappointed. I play my game with a girl I think is from California but it turns out she's from Hawaii. When I tell her she doesn't sound like she's from Hawaii she says she's really from the Mariana Islands and tries to speak without an accent. I talk to an Australian who's interested in my bike trip. He currently works for Yeti, previously worked for Patagonia...maybe Rip Curl before that. He seems to travel the earth surfing. I road for like 9 hours yesterday without seeing anyone and today there are a couple hundred people and they all want to talk.

I was not expecting much because I haven't seen the sun today. It almost pokes out a couple times. The ocean entrance (exit?) is the most amazing part. Seals (or are they sea lions?) populate the rocks, which shield most of the monster waves from tipping our boat over.

I try to take a photo facing the wind with my eyes open.

I have tons of pictures of waterfalls and cliffs and arms of sounds. Some day I'd like to see some blue sky in the background. It only rains 300 days a year here.

On bus #2, I'm fading and doze off and on. Nobody bothers getting off on any of the "view" stops. 

I'm the last person on boat #3 and there's not much room so I sit outside in a protected area. A Russian woman (who lives in Canada) lectures me about overdoing things and that my heart will only beat so many times. 

Back on land, one of the Americans I was talking to offers me a ride. I only have a km to go. Getting the bags on the bike is the hard part. I am bitten by unrelenting mosquitos for a quarter of an hour. I bike to my hotel, which has a lake view and I hope the sun is out tomorrow morning.

There's one restaurant open in Manapouri. I've made a reservation as the internet says it's mandatory. It's a strange restaurant in that there's a bar downstairs serving the same menu as the restaurant (reservation required) upstairs. The bar is loud and I've exceeded my limit of talking to people today so I go upstairs. But then I need to go back downstairs to order. Did I mention it's an old church?

I think about doing laundry but I've already exceeded my goal of staying up until 9 PM. I hear rain hitting the roof of my cabin and a chorus of birds.

Garmin says 17.2 miles and 571 feet of climbing. I'm either wiped out from yesterday or the 3 boat rides and 2 bus rides and I forget what else. Going to try to take it easy tomorrow.

South of the South Tour Day 1: Queenstown to Te Anau

Alternative Title: Quest for water

My bags are overstuffed as  I am unsure of the availability of water for the first 50 km. I decided to prehydrate.

"Of course you'd order a short black. Cyclists always order short blacks." He makes a pretty good espresso for someone who doesn't like making espresso. This place is like a barbershop. 

I was supposed to be boarding the TSS Earnslaw for a trip across the lake to Walters Peak Country Farm. 

That sailing is cancelled and I am instead allowed on the much smallér staff boat. There must be 50 people on the smaller boat and as far as I can tell, I am the only tourist.

I set off on the beginning of a long gravel ride. Everywhere is beautiful.

Where the road is in good shape, or looks like this.

Cows, sheep, and horses are my only company.

Where the road is in bad shape, it is underwater. I consider putting my waterproof socks on to ride through. That seems like a timewaster. I ride through and soak both feet.

The next crossing is even deeper. I walk through, again without waterproof socks. It is shockingly cold and the rear of my bike starts to drift away. Some all knowing cows stare at the stupid human and his bicycle.

I encounter 3 cyclists heading the other direction at Mavora Lakes. This is 50 km from where I got off the boat and where most people doing this trail stop for the night. I assume there will be drinkable water here. There is not. I brought 4 bottles and have 1 and a half left. 

I ride another 20 km and reach a junction. I hope there is something in Burwood, because I cannot pedal 45 more km with no water.

96 km in and I reach a sealed road. I'm getting ready to knock on the next door I see (there have been no doors for 100 km) when a "Cafe 500 m on left" sign comes into view. It's more of a coffee truck than a cafe and the woman inside says she has just closed, but I can buy cookies and drinks. She offers tap water from the hose but a couple of bottles of water seem safer. I drink one in seconds. I'm 20+ km from Te Anau and feeling good. 

Soon I am somehow out of water again. I am not worried. Only 10 km more.

First flat tire. My fingers are cold and there are bags in the way. 15 minutes later I'm on my way and so, so thirsty.

Flat white #4(?) and carrot cake and lots of water and I'm feeling better. I check into my hotel (which I spent way too little on), take a shower, and meet some Mauiians for dinner. I look crazy goofy after 9 hours of gravel roads. I feel a helmet strap on my chin and everything is vibrating.

Strava says 80 miles and 2732 feet.