|Journal for 17-Feb-2002 : Cameron Flat (Makaro|
|Date: 17/02/2002 (Location=Cameron Flat (Makaro, Dist=73km, Total=672km)|
We stayed in the backpacker's dorm at the Wilderness Hotel, and we were kept awake by the snoriring and stench of our motor cycling roommate. I felt very tired and stressed inthe morning, like I needed a day off the bike, but instead we set about climbing Haast Pass.
More fantastic sunny weather, and the morning ride up the Haast river has to be one of the best bits of cycling I've ever enjoyed. Incredible snow capped mountians strewn with rainforrests borderd and turquoise river who's vally our road hugged for hours. Every view, from just about every angle was a postcard from paridise sceen. More sensationsal sunny weather to complement the perfect morning ride. So good that I crshed out asleep at lunch at the aptly named pleasant flat. (I was flat, and felt very
We stopped to take a photo at snapshot creek.
The roads here have an unusual road sign, a graphic which could best be described as road breasts. I think it means there are crests in the road, either that or the sign is saying "stop watching the signes and start watching the road".
The climb up Haast Pass was the whopper everyone told us it would be. Most of it was quite reasonable, but a 2k stretch around "The Gates of Haast" (a section of narrow gorge where the river the road follows crashes down a waterfall) were horrendously steep. We managed to stay on the bikes for this climb, as it was marginally less steep than Porter's pass, and not quite as terrifying s Arthur's pass.
Cameron's Flat campground a bit of a dissapointment, in an exposed windy spot away from running water and adjacent a sandfly factory. The views are of course brilliant, but our sceneic standards have risen quite a bit this past week.
Walked downto the Wanaka River for a very brisk swim/wash. Linda took a *lot* of pursuasion to go in, especially after the yelp of "excitement" I let out when I hit the water.
I'm sitting here in the tent listening to the rain patter on the canvas. Except it isn't rain,it's the sound of thousands of sand flies head butting our tent. I almost prefer the rain.
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