The Otago Rail Trail allows you to fully immerse yourself in the area's beautiful landscape. Photo / Supplied
The Otago Rail Trail allows you to fully immerse yourself in the area's beautiful landscape. Photo / Supplied
The decades-long battle for Otago's cycle route was worth it, finds Cassandra Mason.
What do you mean you can't eat mushrooms? Are you allergic?"
"No, they just make me angry."
These are the kinds of topics you cover when you've been grunting alongside a perfect stranger on a bicycle for four days. My companion and I - two of a group of nine doing the Otago Central Rail Trail - are finally kicking back on a historic train as it snakes through the Taieri Gorge. We're feeling smug because we've knocked off the 150km bike trail and we're headed for Dunedin. But the trip isn't quite over yet.
Turn the clock back four days and we're embarking on our journey through the countryside immortalised by artist Grahame Sydney. Having always wanted a closer look at the heart of gold mining country I've signed up for the trail - with a few extra kilometres either side.
I haven't ridden a bike since college but, as apprehensive as I am, this isn't a problem.
Day one is our warm-up ride from Arrowtown to the Kawerau bungy bridge. I'm easily distracted; the sensory overload almost sends me over the edge.
The next three days we absorb the 150km of the trail. A fairly flat ride, the landscape is peppered with viaducts and eerie rail tunnels. There's something exhilarating about the air rushing past your face, and every upwards effort is rewarded with a liberating downhill flight.
The trail takes us from the historic township of Clyde through to Lauder, Ranfurly and Middlemarch. The bits in between are peaceful and quaint. In this time we drink cold beers at a "haunted" pub, jump in a freezing lake, bunk up at what used to be a railroad school, and make ourselves sick on lamb and gravy. We share moments applying "butt butter" behind the tour van, and cheer heartily when one of our companions tries to squash through a small hole in a pub ceiling for a free drink - an establishment tradition.
The locals are proud of their history and quick to fill you in on the specifics of their patch. In a way, you can still almost smell the miners, hear the clacking of their horses and tools, and imagine the chaos of thousands of men drinking themselves stupid to get through the week.
Ian, our guide, is somewhere between dependable and perennially nonplussed. He gives us regular "briefings" so we don't descend into hysteria, and wears more than one hat - one minute he's scrambling eggs, the next he's peeling off his gloves for those who didn't read the clothing list.
The Otago Rail Trail allows you to fully immerse yourself in the area's beautiful landscape. Photo / Supplied
Two decades of unflagging negotiation went into bringing the trail into being. Today's track is largely thanks to a small core of dedicated battlers - some who have been on board the entire 20 years.
Apparently it was the farmers' wives who saw the opportunity of renewed traffic through these parts - and thank God they did. Not only has the revived line breathed life into numerous small towns, but it holds a solid spot on the global stage. One of the couples in our group of nine has come all the way from Oregon to ride the trail; another from Cairns.
The last day seems a little like a cruel joke. Having completed the trail the previous afternoon we unwind over pizza and wine in Dunedin. The next morning we embark on the final lap up the coast towards Oamaru - the toughest segment yet.
Even so, the coastal road is breathtaking. Vast and windswept, it's easy to forget you're on a major route until a car comes rushing up behind you. As a former student of Otago, I think I know this stretch well, having wobbled through there multiple times in a banged-up Subaru. I'm so impressed with the landscape, however, I overshoot the final turn-off and Ian has to rescue me.
Throwing people together outside their real lives almost always produces some laughs. It's a less self-conscious version of school camp - the shared breakfasts, the in-jokes, the camaraderie that comes from a communal grind.
Guided tours smooth out the wrinkles of tackling a trail like this alone. Whether you look at details like carrying your own luggage as part of the experience, or a hindrance, is entirely a matter of taste. Like another of our fellow cyclists says: "I like to sleep under the stars. Five stars."
I went in hoping to see a little more of our beautiful country, and came out with a new-found passion. I'm off to buy myself a bike.
