Off The Rails: The Otago Central Rail Trail After Hours

Need I say it’s not about the bike? A bike is a means of conveyance, albeit a particularly convivial one for open air travel. But nor is it all about the trail. That is just a path along which to travel; a ribbon draped – cunningly at times – across a landscape.

Yet to say it’s about the landscape is simplistic too; misleading even. Central Otago’s landscape is vast and powerful, filled with such grand wonders as snowy mountains and sinuous, willow-fringed rivers. At the same time it also manages to be intimate, with all those tiny tail-wiggling lambs, for instance. They’re a hint that Otago is rich with the stories of human endeavour and what people have done and continue to do within the landscape. It's the sum of all these that somehow invites you in; makes you want to look more closely.

So at the end of each day’s ride – and let’s be honest, most were only half day rides – we always found something more to see; to do; to uncover. In fact on day one, even before we set bottom on bike, the tone was set by the breakfast stories of our host, John, at Dunstan House in Clyde. As we sat there in our strangely coloured cycling gear, feeling anxious and ill at ease about the challenges ahead, his stories made us feel kin to an array of weird and wonderful characters who had spent time in these parts.

[Ophir's Post Office] 

Many of the stories we heard and saw would have gold at their heart. An example came after day one’s ride. Downing our bikes at Omakau, we set off to explore Ophir, an extraordinarily intact former gold mining town. Its buildings and bridge were indicative of those richer origins. Its ossification was due to the demise of gold, as well as it being by-passed by the railway in 1904. That side-lined status might have been reinforced by it also being by-passed by the rail trail. But all that neglect has had a benign effect. Few 150 year-old towns are as well-preserved as Ophir, and now it’s an attraction in its own right.

[The historic stone bridge at Ophir]

At Oturehua, the end of our second day’s ride, we were met by Sam, a local farmer turned guide. He took us in his people mover to more side-stories with a gilt edge. St Bathans and Cambrian were both founded during the gold rush of the 1860s. In St Bathans the evidence of that could clearly seen in the Blue Lake, a vast hole created by gold diggers and now filled with water. We paused for a drink at another watering hole, the marvellous Vulcan Hotel: a pub that could tell a few tales.

[The Blue Lake at St Bathans] 

[The Vulcan Hotel, St Bathans] 

The history at Cambrian, a little further down the already seldom-trod path, was partly delivered first-hand, when Sam introduced us to Bob. This lucid and pleasantly eccentric character was very keen to show our party his domain, which includes the Cambrian Common Forest. 

[Bob entertains guest at his Cambrian property] 

[Part of the Cambrian Common Forest] 

Bob began planting a forest/garden there in the year 2000, and already its thousands of trees and other plants have become hugely impressive. The town’s larger past – there are now only a dozen or less residents – was evident in the old school house and the remains of many other buildings.

[Inside the old Cambrian School] 

Our own eccentricities were challenged at the end of the next day, when we were taken from Ranfurly to Naseby for an afternoon of curling. I confessed to my brother that this ancient Scottish game, a kind of lawn bowls on ice, sounded as appealing to me as synchronised swimming. An hour later I was totally repentant, and by the end of our session I was begging for more time to perfect my technique.

[The boys practise their curling at the Naseby Indoor Rink] 

I’ll spare you the details of what’s involved in the game, but suffice to say it is a “must do” if ever you get the chance. I’ll add just one note, and that is that the game is competitive, and that sibling rivalry lives on in my family! Fortunately we contrived an honourable draw, rescuing dinner that night from any incivility. 

Our final night, at the Otago Central Hotel in Hyde, proved another highlight. Our host Ngaire not only cooked a three course meal for us, but gave us a spirited recital of her party piece, a poem called The Rail Trail Tale. Without giving too much away, I can tell you it involved cyclists, a car key and a long drop toilet. At the end of four days riding, and on a day which saw our support car break down, I can report that laughter was a good medicine.

At first it may seem odd to end a post called “Off the Rails” by boarding a train, but our final act on the Otago Central Rail Trail was to join the Taieri Gorge Railway at Middlemarch. And rather than odd, it seemed fitting to travel via the mode of transport that led to this trail ever happening in the first place. If we ogled at the view partly from a cyclist’s viewpoint, dreaming of how spectacular it would be to ride that final section down to Dunedin, we were more than happy to be travelling under someone else’s steam.

[A happy conclusion: aboard the Taieri Railway] 

Otago Central Rail Trail: Part 5

Breakfast on our final day. It’s early, and we’ve not slept well. We wander in like Brown’s cows, each grazing at different times from the good spread laid out for us. But we do have one thing in common: we’re all anxious to know if the support car will start.

The plan is for my sister and sister-in-law to leave early, drive to Dunedin, then catch the Taieri Gorge train back up to meet us at Middlemarch; the end of our trail. The timing is tight, hence our anxiety about the car.

If our ploy is to start the car using fuss and worry, it works. Without any hesitation the little beast sputters into life, and we wave Jude and Di off on their windy way to Dunedin.

[Ready to roll out of Hyde] 

The rest of us then relax a little, taking our time to fit in a little more breakfast, before packing our gear and settling up with the host. Then it’s one final time into the saddle for the 27km ride to Middlemarch. According to some it will be one of the less interesting day’s ride. For us it’s one to savour, so we take our time at the start of the gradual downhill run.

Before the landscape opens out onto the Strath Taieri valley, we have some hills to wind through. Just out of Hyde the Rock and Pillar Range, which will accompany us all day, bends close by the trail. Largely treeless and studded with quartz-rich schist tors, this characterful range was a skifield for Dunedin in cooler times. Latterly it has been part of “Middle Earth”, being used in various scenes in Peter Jackson’s fantasy films.

[The trail nears the Rock & Pillar Range]

The land closer to the trail holds other stories, and today we want to mark the site of one particularly sad tale. It takes place in 1943. While World War Two drags on, a crowded passenger train is bringing 113 passengers from Cromwell to Dunedin on the Otago Central line. It enters these hills at a reckless speed, and in a tight cutting it derails disastrously. 21 people die and 46 others are injured.

[Pausing at the rail disaster site near Hyde]

We find the exact spot, which is marked by an interpretation panel, and pause to reflect on this terrible event. For the locals the disaster was made worse by the fact that the government seemed to quickly forget the event. Perhaps its own decisions, which led to staff shortages and overwork on the railways, in turn contributed to the crash. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t until 1991 that a public memorial to those who died was erected at a roadside reserve near the crash site. We clamber over a stile to look at the pyramidal memorial, which includes a plaque with the names of the dead.

[Moody clouds over the Hyde memorial]

The weather has been overcast, and a dark cloud hangs above us. To our right the Rock and Pillar Range takes on the look of an elevated graveyard. As we push on the weather improves and the range starts to hang back a little, now taking on a bluer, more benign appearance.

Just after the tiny station of Rock and Pillar, the trail flattens out and makes a straight run – the longest of the whole trip - towards Middlemarch. We’ve never been good at predicting the exact line of the trail. Time and again we’ve been surprised, astounded even, by the skill of the rail engineers in picking a line through this rumpled terrain. But here there is no skill needed. A bullet straight line takes us the final 6.3km into the small town of Middlemarch.

In planning our day we’d hoped for a cool, overcast morning, but with sun and blue sky to welcome us into Middlemarch. That’s exactly how it pans out, so much so that we’re more than warm by the time we reach the trail end marker.

[The boys at trail's end]

But Lynne and I remember the delights of the Kissing Gate Café from previous visits. With an hour before the Taieri Gorge train is due, we indulge in both cool drinks and deep coffees in the shady grounds of the café. We stretch, chat, smile and relax, then make our way back to the train station. Our full celebration begins when the “support crew” arrives on the train. In a buoyant mood we return our bikes and collect our gear from shebikeshebikes, the fantastic folk we booked our trip through.

Then there’s just time to down our lunch before all six of us hop aboard the Taieri Gorge Railway for the trip into Dunedin. That’s where the idea for our trip had its genesis 8 years ago, so it’s apt that we should end our journey in that lovely southern city.

[... and then it's all aboard the Taieri Gorge Railway]