Cycle Touring on the South Island of New Zealand

by Susan Otcenas

Saturday, January 1st, 2005 - Te Anau to Milford Sound

Distance: 122.2 km
Average speed: 16 kph
Time in saddle 7:35
Max speed 55.1kph
Departure 8:00 am
Arrival 7:45 pm
Temperatures -50 F early, with clear skies and warm temperatures most of the day

Our total elapsed time says it all. Today's ride kicked my butt. That said, I think today was the most amazing day I have EVER spent on a bike. I will not soon forget it.

The morning clouds burned off and we were able to fully enjoy and SEE the scenery, for the first time on this heretofore rainy trip. We started out early, before the tourbus traffic began. There is only one overland way in to and out of Milford Sound, and that is the 120km Milford Road. Cyclists share the often narrow, often steep road with large moving-like-a-bat-out-of-hell tour buses running day trips from Queenstown and Te Anau, all manners of "caravans" (motorhomes/RVs in US-speak, though generally smaller than the mansions-on-wheels we often see on US roads), campervans, cars, etc. Shoulders are non-existent. Thankfully, most of the tour buses pass by during the morning when the road is still relatively level. And even then, traffic is still very light as compared to what we're normally accustomed to here at home (Oregon).

Empty roads, but no shoulders

spectacular lupines

The early part of the ride follows the shoreline of the scenic Lake Te Anau. Beyond that is the spectacular Eglington Valley. Due to the cold, wet summer, the lupines are still in bloom, and the entire valley is a riot of pink and purple. We were later told that the lupines are non-native and thus considered a noxious weed that is regularly sprayed. What a shame. They are gorgeous.

Eglington River

Eglington River Valey

The scenery changed with every pedal stoke as we climbed out of the valley. It was like cycling into a postcard fill with jagged snow-capped peaks and rushing, glacier-fed streams. We took oodles of photos.

amazing scenery around every bend

Jeff's 1st flat

By 2 pm or so, the Milford-bound traffic nearly died off and we had the road to ourselves. This was welcome as the road begins to steepen, especially in the final few kilometers approaching the Homer Tunnel.

Climbing is no problem when it is this beautiful!

alpine lake

The Homer Tunnel was built in the early part of the 20th century and took 20 years to complete. The tunnel is rough-hewn out of solid rock. Although internal lighting and traffic signals (one on each end) were added in March 2004, these function only during peak hours. We arrived several hours after the lights were turned off. The tunnel is 1.3km long, and the exit can not be seen from the entrance. It's entrance is a gaping black hole into a seeming-nothingness. Thus we enlisted a car full of friendly Australian guys to follow us closely so we could use their headlights to light the way.

Susan approaching the mouth of the tunnel (at base of snow field).

Nonetheless, the experience is not one I'd like to repeat. The car's headlights seemed swallowed up by the utter darkness. The few cars that approached from the opposite end blinded us, and the roar from their engines was amplified by the closeness of the tunnel walls. The tunnel is wet and extremely drippy, with pavement that ends in a gravelly jumble at the indistinct edges and drainage channels that run across the road at 45 degree angles, startling us each time we suddenly came upon one.

gaping dark tunnel entrance

We emerged from the tunnel at the head of the phenomenal Cleddau Valley. From the top, we could see the serpentine descent that awaited us. The twisty, zippy descent lasted 20K, with barely a pedal stroke required. We crossed countless one-lane bridges and stopped at numerous waterfalls. However, we didn't stop long, as the West Coast's infamous sandflies would descend upon us as soon as we rested.

The serpentine descent into the Cleddau Valley.

These little critters are the bane of cyclists up and down the West Coast. Small and annoying, the have a sharp bite and leave you with a raised welt that itches for weeks afterwards. We soon discovered that the bug juice we brought from home was only slightly effective, and resolved to stock up when we had a chance.

In the Cleddau Valley

We finally arrived at Milford Sound Lodge, the only accommodation available to the public unless you are an organized trip. The "Lodge" is a hostel, and given our late arrival, we ended up in two top bunks in a 4-bunk room. I guess I'm a snob, or I'm getting old, or both, because I hate accommodation like this. No privacy, having to listen to strangers snore, having to get dressed to go down the hall to use the restroom at 2am. Yup, snob, snob, snob.

We made it!

NEXT PAGE: Milford Sound to Queenstown