The Hawksburn - Thomsons Gorge Gravel Bike Double

Laminate dawn.
Slate water, damp-ash sky.
Scattered fringes of autumnal brilliance, pressed flat between the seam of the lake edge and mist.

Easter Saturday. Hawksburn Road -Thomsons Gorge Road double. Inspired by The Flahute Presents Perambulator. 200-and-a-bit odd kilometres, 11 hours of daylight. Unexpected sunshine forecast: should be just enough time to make peace with my gravel bike, and to make appropriate use of a well-earned Easter break.

Starting on my own schedule and retaining the flexibility to tailor my route to weather, daylight and the will to live, sees me strike out along the Lake Dunstan Trail from Cromwell while the day is still inky and indistinct.

Tail wind, fast leg tracking south.

It’s a liquorice allsorts type of day: strata of cloud, schist and livid water. Frothy trail; jig-sawed into the flanks of the Cairnmuir Range.

Clyde. A patchwork quilt of stone-fruit-coloured leaves, and cosily smoking chimneys.

Into the wall.

I have awe-dreaded the notoriously vicious climb above the Clyde Dam, quietly forming the opinion, that an anticlockwise Cairnmuir Circuit, in which this pitch is enjoyed as descent, was 100% the best way to tackle it.

Turns out I was wrong: I had severely underestimated my own masochistic love for crank-bendingly-steep hills - the ascent out of Clyde is freaking brilliant!

Climb. Hard and fast. Into low cloud. I push hard - aiming to keep my average speed as high as possible for the entire day. Heart rate high. Effort in and out of red. I have missed riding this powerfully.

Hawksburn Road plateau. The sardine-can-lid cloud peels back to brilliant sunshine sky. Powerlines loop between the cloud bank to the south and the shit cap to the north, the air is cold and a bit like being hit with a brick: head down; into the wind.

Tick off the climbs in reverse; tantalising anticipation of long and fast descent after steady and consistent ups.

Shit-cap-cloud streams over the ridge ahead: billowing, broiling, plunging me into a world of wet, silvery light. Heavy, damp eyelashes. Chill wind. Descend. Descend. Swoop into Bannockburn Valley, pedal hard and fast: on schedule, but not enough to justify sitting down for coffee.

Cromwell. 4 hours in. 2 pies and a Coke. SH8 to Lindis Crossing and on to Thomson’s: busy road, narrow shoulder, interminable rumble strip. Push, push, ride this bit fast – backroad peace beckons.

Sunlight soaks in, tattering cloud and warming the day. Thomson Gorge Road: into the next long, delicious climb. Winding into the sky, valleys of the Lindis and Clutha stretch taught below, forecast storm closing from the west - already pouring it in Wanaka.

Make the saddle in good time. Undulate across the tops. More climbing, the last languorous pinch before the gorge slices clean through to the Manuherikia below.

Long descent. Delicate balance of gripping drops for dear life and breaking with the dexterity of a concert pianist. Claw hands: ballerina fingertips. Absorb the rough ground through suspension knees and shoulders, fast but mostly controlled. Mostly.

Gravel road gives way to fast, smooth seal. Technicolour autumn of Central Otago is super magnificent: golden poplars, cardinal pin-oaks, lurid cherries. Season on steroids: hyper-real.

Muddy Creek Café, Omakau still open at 4pm for coffee and Florentine - utterly brilliant!

Side loop to historic Ophir Bridge proves irresistible – I revel in the golden hour, marvelling at the elegance of stacked stone, trusses and dead-man anchors – bridges are devastatingly sexy.

Rain settles in with comfortable conviction - its bloody well going to rain properly. And for quite a long time. It’s not cold though, and given the questionable forecast for the weekend, and my day jammed full of sunshine and warmth, I will happily take a couple of hours in the pouring rain as tithe.

The familiar stink of billy goats saturates the darkness and eventually I encounter two enormous specimens, lumbering along the trail, completely unperturbed by my nighttime shenanigans. I baaaa loudly at them (because, of course, that’s how you warn a goat of your speeding presence).

More goats on the trail ahead. No. Wait. Those are pigs! They’re not massive, but not tiny either. I really hope there isn’t a colossal and protective sow on the prowl. The pigs scamper off and I ride fast for a while, hoping to outwit any rabid porcine specimens with an impressive and intimidating show of speed.

It's raining really heavily. Hyperspace rain-drops sparkle in lamp light and I am mesmerized for a quite a long time by the clay-coloured water spraying up from my front tire into the beam: angle-grinder sparks cascading into the night.

Cornish Point, twinkling lights of old Cromwell smear across the waxy rind of the lake. Not far to go now.

Back across the Bannockburn Bridge, then straight back on the road to Cromwell. I extract myself from the gritty, wet cocoon ensconcing my body and my bike.

Lake Dunstan - Hawksburn Road – Thomson Gorge Road Double is an exceptional gravel loop.

Highly recommend. 5 stars. Would ride again.