Cycling Queenstown's stunning Paradise Trail
Justine Tyerman, 61, is a New Zealand journalist, travel writer and sub-editor. Married for 36 years, she lives in rural surroundings near Gisborne on the East Coast of New Zealand with her husband Chris.
They were whimpering in their box – my trusty tramping boots – not able to comprehend why they had been passed over for a pair of leather lightweights.
“We’ve served you well for 10 years and now you’ve decided you would rather cycle than tramp,” they grizzled. “We always go with you to the Great Outdoors – how could you leave us behind in favour of those… flimsy sneaky things with no tread?”
I tried to explain that cycling was vastly different from tramping and the pedalling movement would make them horribly dizzy… but they were soles-up and sulking.
I promised them a lovely muddy tramp as soon as I returned but they had pulled the box lid shut, muttering “traitor”.
The sneakers were not the only new item of clothing I donned on day one of my first-ever cycling expedition. I also pulled on a pair of padded pants which felt like nappies.
Setting off on a late summer cycle trip instead of a tramp was a radical departure from the norm for me – but the Paradise Trail near Queenstown was irresistible. For someone whose spiritual home is the mountains, lakes and rivers of the South Island, this four-day guided trip had it all.
I confess I was so mesmerised by the breath-taking photos on the Revolution Tours website, I developed convenient amnesia about the fact I had not been on a bicycle since school days, and just kept chanting the words I had read on the home page of owner-guides Matt and Kate Belcher: “If you can ride a bike then you can do this trip.”
Midway up the first gentle incline, I realised why the machine I was riding is commonly referred to as a push bike… because when the puffing set in, I became a pusher.
But the panorama of jagged peaks and gleaming glaciers unfolding with each turn of the pedals was so spectacular, my soaring spirits drowned out the protestations of my thigh muscles… and every day the cycling became easier.
I quickly bonded with my ‘hybrid bike’, perfectly pre-set for my height, with its superbly comfortable padded seat, step-through frame, easy-to-manage handgrip gears and ‘upright geometry’ to allow riders to appreciate the views. I even grew to like my nappies.
And I never once felt tempted to get in the support vehicle which trundles along with the cyclists, loaded to the gunwales with enough food and drinks for an army, emergency medical equipment including a defibrillator, a portaloo and tent, rain shelter, spare wet weather gear and the personal belongings of the cyclists. But the presence of the van and the hugely-capable Matt and Kate were so reassuring, half way through day one I felt confident that even in my state of extreme cycle-unfitness I would manage the trip. The van driver was also in constant radio contact with the guide about road conditions and hazards so all risk factors were well under control.
After coffee at Pier 19 in Queenstown on a crisp late summer morning, we steamed across the satin waters of Lake Wakatipu on the iconic TSS Earnslaw, the ‘Lady of the Lake’, watching the muscly young stoker feed a tonne of coal an hour into the hot jaws of the four hungry furnaces that power the 102-year-old vintage steamer.
We had morning tea in bright sunshine at historic Walter Peak Station, founded in 1860, and wandered around the stunning gardens and homestead before cycling along the lake on gently undulating deserted farm tracks, through ancient beech forests to Kinloch at the head of the lake.
We cheated en route with a brief but thrilling water taxi ride where the track was unbikeable from Mt Nicholas Station to the Greenstone Valley. Wakatipu was like a mirror and Matt and the skipper joked about skiing barefoot behind the boat.
The lovely, restored Kinloch Lodge, a tourist destination since 1868, was our luxurious accommodation for the first night. A delightful hot tub on the hill overlooking the lake eased complaining muscles in all sorts of places I never knew I had.
Next day, we meandered up the beautiful braided river valleys of the Dart and Rees which cut deep into the backbone of the Southern Alps. We watched jet boats hoon up the Dart while we ate our picnic lunch in a sunny spot beside the river, gazing spellbound at towering snow-covered peaks named after Greek gods.
Talking of lunch, the Paradise Trail comes with a serious warning. Don't for a moment imagine you will lose weight with all the hearty exercise you are doing, à bicyclette, because delicious gourmet food lurks around every corner. After hearty country breakfasts, yummy lunches and morning and afternoon teas appear on tartan rugs by gorgeous streams and rivers as if by magic… not to mention the veritable feasts we were treated to at the end of every day.
After lunch, we rode through the famous Lord of the Rings’ Forest of Lothlorian, posing for silly photos in Gollum's hollow tree trunk, skirted the shores of glistening Diamond Lake, and by mid-afternoon on day two, found ourselves literally in Paradise, so named for the eponymous duck not the staggering scenery.
The historic Paradise Homestead, built in the 1880s in the most heavenly location, was our home for day two and three.
The deeply-weathered Mt Earnslaw, 2189m, with a crown of silver schist was right on our doorstep and a short walk beyond the trees, a necklace of startling peaks as improbable as a child's scribble of the horizon.
Sadly the kitchen, lounge and dining room of the homestead are no longer there. The building was struck by lightning and burnt down a few months after our visit but the facilities have since been rebuilt to a high standard by the Paradise Trust who own the property.
On the third day we left our bikes behind and hiked up the Routeburn Track alongside an alpine river with colours so intense our Aussie bike mates believed me when I said DoC rangers poured turquoise food colouring into the pools to ‘wow’ the trampers.
A light frost still lingered in the shade as we cycled towards Chinaman’s Bluff on our final day, surrounded by the giants we had seen in the distance as we steamed up the lake four days earlier. The air was so crisp and bright and clear, it made my eyes water. At road’s end, we walked up the grassy valley on the Rees-Dart tramping track and ate our last picnic on a log by the Dart River in the hallowed company of Pluto, Cosmos, Chaos, Minos, Nox and Amphion.
We dawdled as long as we could, reluctant to leave Paradise and return to civilisation, but the drive back to Queenstown along the edge of Lake Wakatipu was as stunning as the trip itself. Matt pointed out the track we had ridden a few days earlier on the far side of the lake and stopped at a lookout for us to take last photos of the lake and mountains, bathed in sunshine on another glorious cloudless day. We had obviously pleased those mighty Greek gods because the weather was near-perfect for the whole four days.
Remote it may be but Paradise is not undiscovered. The secret of its astonishing beauty was out 130 years ago when adventurous travellers in their hundreds came up Lake Wakatipu by steamer and on by dray to stay at Paradise Homestead. For nearly 50 years, an early owner ‘Granny’ Aitken fed up to 120 for lunch and often looked after 28 overnight guests . . . well before electricity.
Sir Peter Jackson also ‘discovered’ Paradise 15 years ago and the area became one of his favourite settings for the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies. Years later, Tolkien fans are still clamouring for tours of the iconic sites by 4WD, jet boat, foot and even horseback.
I had an epiphany on the Paradise Trail which may well see my faithful tramping boots side-lined more often. For every short burst of exertion, there was the heady reward of effortless freewheeling downhill through dappled beech forests with the shafts of sunlight flickering like frames in an old movie, whizzing fast down country lanes ringing my bell and yelling ‘wheee’ to the merino sheep, horses and Angus cattle along the way, charging through clear mountain streams with feet in the air to avoid the splash… and doing it again just for the thrill of it and to capture the scene on video to brag to doubting family members. Such pedal-powered delights cannot happen on foot – short of fitting wheels to one's feet. I also discovered you can cover great distances on bikes and not miss out on the views. I’m just not sure how to break the news to my old tramping mates…
*The four-day, three-night, fully-guided Paradise Trail with Revolution Tours covers 70 kilometres by bike over three days and includes a one-day hike up the Routeburn Track.
*Justine Tyerman was a guest of Revolution Tours.
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