WORDS & PHOTOS:
Peter Elliot
A JOURNEY
IN SOME
PARTS
(PART 4)
t’s black, damn black. A
“sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack,
fishingboatbobbing sea” kinda
black... to steal Dylan Thomas’ great
line. Its 6am. I had packed up the night
before, so I sling everything quietly
aboard the Triumph, secure it with the
bungies, down a few mouthfuls of hot
tea with my host, and quietly rumble
away from the house.
Dawn is rising fast and I’m riding into
it. It's cold, seriously cold, for only
the second (and last) time this trip.
As the light creeps up and makes dim
outlines solid I am winding my way up
the Crown Range. Every corner reveals
a waking world of pastoral alpine
beauty. I can hardly breathe, it’s so
crushingly gorgeous. At sunrise I crest
the mountain, and briefly gasp at the
blazing orange ball instantly heating
me. Down I swirl, into deep dark cold
corners, far from the sunlight, knowing
that these corners Wanaka-side would
never thaw in winter. I’m grateful for
the fair weather, and these magnificent
Peter’s tour takes him
from Queenstown to Nelson
up the West Coast.
cornering roads, as I roll the Triumph
into a thrumming gallop down the hill.
Yesss.
The REVER app tries to send me on my
way to Haast without the aid of coffee.
NEVER going to happen, REVER. I switch
off, re-route to Wanaka and find an
early opening café, packed with tourists
who are as excited about where they
are and their day ahead, as I am. The
night before I had been invited to join
the Queenstown riders on a foray
today, to Jackson - left at Haast and
keep going till it stops – but knowing
they were not to leave until 9am meant
I would encounter the looming weather
bomb off the West Coast ,and it would
follow me up the entire west coast
of the island as far as Nelson. The
Norwegians once again gave me great
insight as to hourly forecasts in remote
spots, and were uncannily accurate. My
early exit from Queenstown meant I
could miss the wet, and see the divide
in clear weather - but by 10am it would
be frightful on the coast.
KIWI RIDER 25