Alexandra - Roxburgh Gorge

With the Otago rail trail running right through Ranfurly I took it as a good opportunity to get in a long run first thing in the morning. The skies were cloudy and the temperature was cool with no wind. Perfect for running. I headed out one direction across a gradually rising open plain with occasional trees as I passed farmers fields. At the top of a rise I turned around with a comfortable stride aided by a slight downhill grade. I continued past town the other direction and checked my watch. I rounded back to town and finished at the hostel a little over an hour and a half later feeling strong and smooth.

Check out time is usually 10 am everywhere in New Zealand but I asked the hostel owner if I could stay until 10:30. No problem. Even though I had the place to myself the previous night I didn’t sleep that well. Sleep quality is a varied thing when traveling. I’ve had good and bad nights in a tent, hostel, or nice hotel. Sometimes when you think your not going to sleep great, you do, and other times when you think your in the ideal place for a good night rest, your not.

It took me two hours to get my first ride out of Ranfurly. There were not many cars passing and those who passed didn’t look like they were going far. Ranfurly struck me as a closed town. The kind of place where people are friendly as you spend money passing through but don’t expect much more unless you dig your heels in for a good while. As I’ve said before, small town is small town and Ranfurly could have been Nebraska minus the mountains in the distance.

My first ride was a short ride to a turnoff in the middle of nowhere. The driver first struck me as a typical older local farmer but kind of odd at the same time. His vehicle was a two seat work truck with a flat bed. He had some building materials in the back. I asked if he was a farmer and he gave me a look as to why I would assume that. He then voiced some kind of response that I didn’t understand. I then asked if he grew up in the area. Again his expression was one of why would I assume that. He responded that he chose to live there. He asked if I knew where I was and I responded, “Otago Valley”, hoping I was giving the right answer. After that the conversation became a little more normal with general chit chat as he told me about the area. I believe he was an ok guy as he was helping me with a ride but his social skills need a little work. I was happy for it to be a ride of only ten or fifteen minutes.

Sometimes the middle of nowhere is not a bad place to be. I didn’t wait long for Antoine to pick me up. A perfectly normal Frenchman from Alsace. Probably in his mid to late twenties. He’s been in New Zealand several months. He hitched for the first couple of months before buying a cheap car that is working out well for him. He was headed to a hostel in Alexandra that offers long term housing for fruit pickers. He wanted to get settled in for the grape harvest which makes perfect sense for someone like himself who is into food and wine. For Antoine life is about food and skiing. He came to New Zealand for their ski season but is a little torn about being in New Zealand right now. Apparently the European Alps are having the best ski season in decades. I told him how great the skiing is in Colorado and Utah. It’s on his list.

At this point of my trip it really doesn’t matter what I do. I’ve been playing the weather and have quite frankly enjoyed being off the main tourist track. Antoine and I arrived at Marj’s place around 2 pm. It consists of a backpackers bunkhouse hostel on one side of the street and their home with added on rooms on the other side. It’s in a very quiet residential area and owned by a retired plumber and his wife. Both are around 70 years of age. Marj and Murray are the nicest friendliest people you could ever meet. Again, a flashback to my travels in 1989. The way I remember it.

Beyond Alexandra is the tourist track with the crowds, high prices, and few options for places to stay because everything is booked. For example, I’ve been checking regularly for a hostel dorm room for one night in Queenstown. There are 13 hostels there and I have yet to see one bed come available. Totally booked. Queenstown is tourist hell in a beautiful setting.

Anyway, It just made sense to go for the clean quiet single at Marj’s for around $32 USD. It’s attached but seperate from the house and includes excellent facilities, kitchen, and wifi. Somehow getting blown out of Mt Cook set me on a very affordable easy track. I went to bed at 8:30 pm and slept for 11 hours. I guess I was tired.

Alexandra has turned out to be kind of a surprise. It sits in an arid valley that reminds of somewhere you might find in in the American west. A place in the desert. It has a rich gold mining history, a broad river that turns and flows through a rocky gorge. Roxburg Gorge. It’s a great place for mountain biking.

I had originally planned to stay one night and blow through Queenstown on my way to do some hiking but I awoke to clear blue skies. The weather has been varied. I chose to take advantage of the sun in Alexandra. I decided to stay another night and rent a bike so that’s what I did.

From Alexandra I biked out into the Roxburg Gorge to Dr’s point where stone shelters had been built by gold miners. I could see the tailing piles between the homes across the river. I backtracked to Alexandra and headed down the Clutha River Trail on an excellent trail that weaves it’s way through a forest next to the river for 13 km. At the end I arrived at the very appealing village of Clyde. After a cafe stop I continued and easy 8 km on the Otago rail trail back to Alexandra. The wonderful cycling combined with excellent weather made for a perfect day. Very much worth stopping over in Alexandra..

So, after two nights I figured I’d be on my way for sure but I was thinking rationally and chose to stay a third night. The weather is not that great and Alexandra sits in a rain shadow. I figured the closer I go west to the fjord lands the worse the weather will be. I counted my days and all I really want to do before my flight home is a hike that takes 3 ½ days with huts along the way. So, I figured out a plan. I’ll move on tomorrow to Glenorchy where I was able to book a bunk in four bed cabin or something of the sort then start the hike the next day. After that I’ll only have a couple of days left before wrapping it up and heading home. Time passes very quickly.