There are certainly worse places to wake up. I opened my eyes facing a beautiful mountain lake with loud wekas clumsily hunting for food in the brush next to my tent. Without my cooking gear it took me just about 20 minutes to pack up and load Massie, the BMW GS750 for what would be a full day of riding. As I was packing up I was already craving a coffee and a meat pie for breakfast. While stuffing my gear in the panniers I noticed how wet everything was from the dew and being so close to the lake. The sun was out though, so I thought after an hour or so of riding I would dry it out as I ate breakfast.
Riding to breakfast took a bit longer than expected and the one hour turned to three. Not that big of a deal as the sun was fully out now and would allow for my gear to dry while I researched my route and stops for the day. As I pulled into a coffee shop in a small town along my route the waitress stated how it would be a while for my food and coffee. This was my queue to unpack my wet gear and lay it out to dry while I was researching maps and things to do for the day.
During my wait several people introduced themselves and we had some fun conversations about my gear and riding. It was a great environment, or so I thought. After about 20 minutes my coffee and food arrived and I was told that maybe I should take it to go and it was time to pack up my gear. I guess they didn’t like the look of my tent and equipment drying and sprawled out all over their front porch. Which I sort of get, even though many of the clientele had been chatting me up. I apologized and, well, it took me about as long to pack up that gear as it did for them to bring my coffee (it happened to be fully dry by the time it was packed). I found it a bit rude, but I understood that having my gear everywhere could be viewed as a bit of a mess. It was time to get going, anyway, as I had a long day ahead.
During my minimal research and planning at the coffee shop I discovered this one hike that I continually heard about from others. It was the Mount Cook Hooker Trail. The hike wasn’t too long, and it had an incredible view at the end. This was only a couple hours off my planned route. Adding that hike meant I would have to have a long day and miss a lot of stops that tourists hit, such as the Franz and Fox Glaciers and hikes along that area. I decided to prioritize the Hooker Trail and skip the glaciers and other coastal hikes. Having made this decision meant a 350-mile day. Which to me didn’t seem like a lot, but the roads were tight and windy, which I thoroughly enjoyed, probably too much as I used the long day as a reason to really wear the edges of the tires in.
After close to 10 hours of aggressive riding through what I felt was like a mini version of the Western United States and British Columbia, I arrived where I thought would camp for the evening, just outside a city called Wanaka. However, the “campground” resembled something of a tent city I would expect to find under Interstate 5 in Seattle. That made it a hard pass for me. I did have a second option, but it was another 45 minutes north and if it didn’t work out, I would be in a tight position as the day was beginning to wear on me. I decided to shoot for it and hope for the best. What I found was far more than I expected and maybe one of the coolest places I ever moto camped.
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