Reefton and Ikamatua – two small towns joined by 26km of smooth, flat highway. Alternatively, there is another route with more than 1000m of ascent along gravel road, 4WD track and river. I opt for the latter.

Having just consumed an epic feast and having said farewell to Paora, I then wave off Finn and Will as I pedal on out of the town. Quite soon, I am hit by a crossroad and realise that this is my final opportunity to back out and take the highway, adding an extra day of wiggle room to my impending deadline of 25th February. I stick to my guns and turn left, bracing myself for what is to come.

Fortunately, a great deal of the initial 500m of climb is on gravel road and I am able to complete this in less than an hour. I then hit the 4WD track and am greeted by two motorcyclists, a father and son I believe, on their way back down from the Big River Hut. After a friendly exchange, I begin my journey up the unmaintained road. The path is formed of loose rocks – big ones. I switch to my lowest gear and find it difficult to maintain balance as my wheels struggle over the loose and bumpy path. Shortly in, a four-wheel drive can be seen in the distance, chugging along over the unforgiving terrain. With the track being narrow, I take myself over to the side and let them pass. They pause to comment on my bravery and tell me that it has taken them over an hour to reach this point from the Hut. I say that it’s ok – I have four hours of daylight left. They laugh and say “good on you”, before continuing down the rocky road.

The route meanders into a forest and I find myself pedalling in the dark as the sky greys over too. To my delight, on my right, I see something that stands out against the dark green backdrop. It’s a snack box, providing energy and encouragement to those that choose to brave this trail. I treat myself to a little pastry before continuing the second ascent.

A gentle drizzle can be felt as I stumble along the track and I am thankful that the heavy rain forecast is due after I attempt this challenge. I had heard stories of people being swept away by the river when it is in full flood and I really don’t fancy that. The path takes you up and down and in and out of streams that wind their way through the steep forest. I have packed plenty of water with me; my life straw is no good here, with the water and soil being heavily poisoned following decades of gold mining activities in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

I approach the hut at about 7pm, having cycled/walked about 15km over the past three hours. I reach the Big River, which on this particular day, is really not so big, due to the prolonged dry spell the area has endured since Christmas. There is a ridge one can take in order to avoid the river crossing. I opt for this in order to protect my bike and quickly realise that it is significantly more sketchy than simply crossing the river, given how low it is. The path on the ridge is very narrow and formed of loose stones that slip as I trudge along. I am not riding my bike at this point. That would be nuts.

Having crossed the river, in some manner, I reach the location of the Big River Hut. What I am faced with is a derelict building with a sign reading “unstable structure”. This can’t be it. I carefully study the guidebook and follow the instructions intimately. Okay, the hut is further along. Thank goodness. I continue to push the bike through the steep, clay bog, eventually hitting a turn off. This ascent is so steep and bumpy that I have to regularly lift the back of the loaded bike over the muddy hurdles. As I reach the top of the hill, I see a face peering over the other side. There is a man, about my age, sat in a camping chair cheering me on over the last stretch.

I arrive at the top and make pleasantries with my company for the night, Timo, from Southern Germany. We have a nice chat and he offers me some privacy as I use the outside tap to bathe myself – my third sink wash in a row. I am craving a warm shower at this point. Mid-wash, the heavens open and I frantically move my bags under the shelter. At least this will rinse the soap off of my body. I dry myself, get dressed and reunite with Timo as I sort out my luggage.

The Hut is mighty impressive. There are two rooms and several beds that can sleep about 20 people. You need to provide your own sleeping bag of course, as there is no one who can come and wash the bedding. The hut has a wood burning stove, a sink and a table for eating and socialising. I eat my dinner (leftover bread and antipasto from yesterday) whilst chatting with Timo. I am pretty gobsmacked to learn that he has done the whole Tour Aotearoa up until this point in sandals. Some people are made of something different.

The sun sets and we light the hut with some candles that someone has left behind. I find myself struggling to stay awake by 10pm and bid goodnight to Timo who opts for sleeping in his tent, with the hope that the netting will keep him safe from the sandflies.

The next morning, I wake up unscathed by the flying insects and tuck into my breakfast of two apples and half a bag of cookies (I have some weird bits of food that I am trying to eat in order to lose some pannier weight). Timo wakes up shortly after and we enjoy a cracking sunrise. I then bid him farewell as he hangs around to enjoy a morning workout. I descend down the steep gravel track, all the time with my hands squeezing both brakes. I then arrive at the official start of the single track and get pedalling.

The next 12km are scenic, but agonising. The track is bumpy and rocky and often meets a cliff edge. I will admit to one close shave in which I nearly fell off the bike in the wrong direction. There are trees that have fallen across the path and some simply growing on it. I had heard from Timo that one fallen tree was so large that it couldn’t be chainsawed and they had to dynamite it instead. Others seem to have been left here to perish. The fallen obstacles are so large that I have to carry the bike over them, which is a struggle with large panniers. At one point, when releasing the back of the bike from the hurdle, the pedal smacks into my ankle and I fall to the ground in pain. I pick myself up and make an assessment. Nothing is broken, so I push on.

Having hoped for an early finish today, I am rather concerned to check my Strava and realise that in an hour and a half, I have made it 5km. It doesn’t help that the next section of the track is literally a dried up river, with big steps over large rocks. I am thinking of poor Timo who will have done a heavy morning workout when there is really no need.

Throughout the journey, I have at least enjoyed the forest. The deafening chorus of the cicadas back in the North Island has been replaced by the gentle hum of sandflies and bees, which, in fairness, is somewhat menacing, but is soft enough that through it many bird songs can be heard. I take a shine to one bird in particular, with a truly enchanting chirp. I see this same bird throughout the length of the track. After about 10km, when I am feeling quite deflated and fatigued, the little bird makes a comeback and lands on my front wheel as I am resting over the handlebars. We look right at each other, a foot apart. Maybe I am just wishful thinking, but I feel it in my heart for a moment and grow a little emotional. It’s mum. She’s watching over me on this perilous section.

I pick myself up and glide through the last 2km of single track before hitting the gravel road again. Never have I been so happy to see gravel road. I take a rest and as I am setting off again, the little bird lands right beside me on the sign for the trail and I say thank you and goodbye before embarking on my downward descent into Ikamatua.

I arrive at the dairy and buy myself some hot food and dinner for tonight. As I am resting outside, Timo pulls up and we laugh about what we have just endured. We sit and eat our lunch together and I wave him off as I pop back in for a cheeky milkshake. With the sun shining intensely and a belly now full of food, I don’t commit myself to tackling the next 60km very quickly. Nevertheless, this leg is done in less than three hours – a shorter time period than I required to complete that 12km of single track this morning.

I arrive in Greymouth as the clouds draw in. A gentle trickle of rain can be felt and I push onto the holiday park, with hope of setting my tent up before the monsoon arrives. My last section of cycling today is the start of the West Coast Wilderness Trail. Tomorrow, I plan on riding the next 120km of it all the way into Ross. We will see how that goes in the rain.

I setup my tent and give my bike a good clean. The rain arrives and I hop into a hot shower for the first time in several days. I also make use of the laundrette and wash my clothes. These moments feel like little triumphs on a trip like this. With the tent looking a bit undesirable in the wet weather, I hang about in the communal area, planning out the days ahead and eating my dinner. Late into the eve, Timo pops his head around the door. He didn’t fancy wild camping with the weather being this way and also enjoyed his first hot shower in a long time.

I am pleased to have completed what one may argue is the toughest part of the tour. I now have 862km to Bluff and eight days of cycling to complete it in. If the decision to tackle the river costs me the deadline, then it is okay. I’ve heard that Bluff is pretty dull. I am still determined though. I want to make the finish.

Afterword: For those thinking of attempting Big River, here is some advice.

Keep your personal locator beacon upon your person. If you do have an accident, it is unlikely that you will end up near your bike. The phone signal is also a bit non-existent.

Ideally, go with someone so that you can help lift eachother’s bikes over the hurdles. Alternatively, remove baggage before lifting the bike. Committing to carrying 35kg in one go with a sudden drop on one side of you is a bad idea.

Go slow and keep an eye out for sharp edges. There is no warning of these like on other trails. Out of nowhere, you can find yourself on a loose narrow path with a cliff edge on one side. You don’t want to lose your balance here.

Stay in the Hut! I think six hours  of tackling just the 27km of 4WD track and single track is a bit demoralising. Breaking this section into two may keep you sane. You can pedal on beyond Ikamatua or Reefton if you still have the beans at the end. Plus, the hut is cool.