Picton always kindles in me a keen sense of anticipation. Whether approaching by road from the south along the rugged, rocky Kaikoura coast and bush-clad Marlborough hills or gently cruising down the Queen Charlotte Sound on the inter-island ferry, Picton, for me, heralds holidays and adventure.

This small town is the gateway to New Zealand’s South Island (known by the indigenous Maori as Te Wahi Pounamu – the place of greenstone) were the bush still tumbles down to the water’s edge and torturous roads offer tantalizing views of the myriad inlets and coves of the Marlborough Sounds. 

Picton is where I meet with the 11 fellow cyclists – from Scotland, England, Canada and the US – who will join me for a week’s guided cycling on unspoiled back roads to South Island’s west coast. There we will travel on the region’s only road, nestled between the Southern Alps and the Tasman Sea.  

I’m just a little apprehensive, as most of my training has been at my desk in front of a computer screen rather than in the saddle, but any worries are unfounded, as everyone cycles at his own pace. Some choose to cycle “every foot and inch;” others are more relaxed about taking the odd ride in the support van. 

As a Kiwi, travelling with visitors opened my eyes to little things I’d often taken for granted: how almost every small town , even communities of a mere few dozen houses, has a war memorial, usually dating back to World War 1, and a free  public toilet. (I’d assumed the latter were universal, but apparently not.) I watched my companions experience their first hokey-pokey ice cream in a cone and experiment with Marmite (a yeast extract) on toast for breakfast. 

The early morning mist cleared and after a delicious lunch featuring fresh mussels in the shell, in a café overlooking the harbor, we set off on a warm-up ride to familiarize ourselves with our excellent rental bikes and for the Americans to get accustomed to riding on the left side of the road. Within a couple of kilometers we’ve left town behind and wend along quiet coastal roads, passing goats tethered by the roadside and pigs fossicking in scrubby fields. That night we all sample “pavlova queen,” our national dessert – a concoction of marshmallowy meringue and cream, variously decorated with sliced kiwifruit, banana or passionfruit. (Every self-respecting New Zealand housewife has her own recipe for this iconic pudding). 

Day two starts with an idyllic, hilly ride around Mahau Sound to the sleepy town of Havelock. The climbs are rewarded with views over bushy fingers of land extending into the silvered waters of the sounds. We join the busier highway at Havelock, becoming accustomed to the whoosh of the occasional passing logging trucks. A gourmet picnic lunch, prepared by our guides, awaits us at Pelorous Bridge. Then some of us tackle the steep climbs over the Rai and Whangamoa saddles (370m/1,215 ft.), arriving in Nelson tired but elated, some 110km (68 miles) since leaving Picton. 

A fertile country

The ride the next day showcases the Nelson region as an agricultural cornucopia – from our saddles we can see vineyards, hops, apple orchards, raspberries, kiwifruit vines and sheep and dairy farms. The Motueka Valley affords quiet cycling past the odd country pub and, after a picnic lunch, we climb gently through the pine forests of Golden Downs.  We encounter the only rain of the tour: a short 10-minute downpour and just as quickly the roads are steaming in the sunshine.   

My muscles and my behind are not accustomed to pedaling such distances, but the guides are very encouraging and although the prospect of a ride in the support vehicle is tempting, I cycle onwards and upwards along almost deserted roads to St Arnaud.  A final blissful freewheel down to the village and the rustically comfortable Alpine Lodge set in beech forest at over 700m (2,300 feet) by beautiful Lake Rotoiti. 

The keener souls are up before daylight to experience the dawn chorus with our ornithologist guide, John. However, with the exception of a lone thrush and a couple of paradise ducks the birds are elusive this morning.  Still we have plenty of other chances to encounter cheeky fantails, bellbirds, white-throated tuis lumbering wood-pigeons and the ubiquitous pukeko’s (colourful blue and red swamp-hens that are unfazed by passing traffic and humans). 

Our fourth day is one of breathtaking semi-alpine and river scenery along the course of the Buller River to Murchison – 61km (36 miles) of mostly downhill cycling!  A crisp clear March morning (almost autumnal and chilly by North Island standards) sees our fingers tingling, but a couple of hours on our bikes soon sees our brightly clad peleton (clump of bicyclists) peeling off layers of clothing.  Our guides often drive on ahead, then cycle back to join us on the road for a while, before driving on to ensure our luggage is waiting in our rooms at journey’s end. As today’s ride is shorter, some choose to raft the spectacular Buller River rapids; some of us take a bushwalk for panoramic views over the township, while a party of five tackles the local golf course, sharing a few begged and borrowed clubs and one single tee between them. By all accounts a hilarious time was had by all. 

We cycle through the impressive Buller Gorge, with gorgeous river views and negotiate the narrow Kilkenny Bluff, where the road is hacked out of the cliff, before stopping for  lunch in the grounds of an attractive old  hotel. The sandflies make their presence known for the first time, but insect repellent keeps them at bay.  We head downhill to the sea, where Westport sprawls at the mouth of the Buller River.  Several of our group notch up their first ever 100-km (62-mile) ride today and we celebrate with a superb meal at a restaurant overlooking remote Tauranga Bay. We walk out to view a resident seal colony and enjoy our seafood and wine as a full moon casts a silver glow over surfers riding the waves only a few hundred meters from where we dine. 

The final stretch

Now we’ve reached the real West Coast, remote and wild, with a couple of strenuous climbs through the bush before we encounter spectacular sea views that stretch on forever (or at least to Australia). The rolling road to Punakaiki passes enticing sandy coves and wild surf beaches, numerous rocky headlands and islets and the splendid pancake rocks for which the area is renowned. At high tide blowholes belch spume up through gaps in the labyrinthine rocks and beautiful nikau palms frame picture-perfect views. Our hotel is a touch of luxury right on the rugged beach, where tangled kelp and driftwood attest to the power of the sea. 

There is time for bush walks or a quick kayak on the serenely beautiful Porarari River, which flows between dramatic limestone cliffs, before we pack away our bicycles and farewell those of the group who are continuing on down the West Coast for nine more days to Queenstown.  I’ve found my cycling legs and would love to continue the holiday, with its wonderful combination of exercise and pampering and good company. Still, the dramatic drive over Arthur’s Pass and the Southern Alps is a highlight in itself and soon the city lights of Christchurch are beckoning.