To the South

Sometimes a man has to know his limitations and his bikes! I've been entered into an adventure ride called the Dusty Butt, a 1400km ride through some of the most beautiful scenery the South Island has to offer, which sounds great, but after hauling my bike over the Rainbow Road and now faced with trying to ride along with guys mainly on either enduro or light weight trail bikes, I have to realise I'm out of my depth, even with all the luggage removed. I do a section called the Densey Pass, which is relatively easy dirt road, but I'm not here to be a hero and fling myself and the bike in to a big hill or canyon, I bow out gracefully.

The following day I head for the South Land and the Catlins, a rugged and weather beaten part of the world, where the world end and the next stop is Antartica. Many of the place names have their roots in Scotland, as many of the settlers heralded from there and the similarity to the west coast of Scotland is striking, perhaps the place names such as Dunedin help with that thought.

I camp for the first time on this trip at Curio Bay, a rugged outcrop of rock, that gives shelter to the calm waters of Porpoise Bay. One side has crashing surf pummelling the rocks, the other has gently rolling waves coming up the golden sands. I set up my tent amongst flax grass, which is not like grass I have seen before, it stands 8 feet high, so offers excellent protection from the stiff sea breeze. It's a glorious sunny afternoon and I take a walk along the headland and sit to watch the relentless motion of the sea doing battle with the rock. I take the opportunity for a snooze as the sounds of nature fill my head, and all of life's worries evaporate.

Of course this all sounds idilic, until the very cold and damp sea mist rolls in and shatters my utopia. I wake in the morning to a sodden tent and a long wait for the sun to get rid of this ghostly monster. I brake camp and ride up to Slope Point, the southern most place in New Zealand, except for a couple of islands. It's a dramatic scene of jagged rock pointing out to the South Pole in one direction and to the east, America, many many miles away.

My guide book leads me past Invercargill, to the town of Rivington, which is famous for something, but right at this point all I'm thinking of is my stomach and I head to the recommended pit stop of the Beach House Cafe, to sample their excellent and well worth the wait, seafood chowder. I remount my bike with the sun in my face and satisfied belly.