The final countdown

Mossburn to Winton

72.4km

A chilly departure from the campground. Actually 3.8km from route but it didn't feel like it; maybe there's something in this 'bike fit' malarkey after all. On the way we're caught by an hbiker on his way to Walter Peak, having cycled in from Invercargill yesterday. All part of his prep for the Sounds to Sounds ride. We 'let' him go ahead to get in his order at the Dome cafe, where we're heading for brekkie. Neat bike with a gearbox in the bottom bracket and belt drive. A brekkie roll, bacon roll, two smoothies and some lunch food later, we've just had the most expensive breakfast I can imagine. Our eye has been caught by an artwork displayed for sale in the cafe, and it turns out our server (maybe the proprietor, we didn't ask) is the artist. Bought on the spot, shipping TBA: Penny & Adrian not returning through Mossburn so will be mailed in due course.

At 9:40 we're away down the Around the Mountains trail, playing power-pole slalom beside SH96. Give them their due, there is a warning sign at the start of the track, but just to be sure there are 'bendy bollards' in front of each pole for errant cyclists to hit before meeting concrete (or wood, the debate continues) head on. We discuss the relatively anodyne scenery compared with what's gone before, and conclude that riding beside the highway through this countryside is a bit boring. The turn away from the AtM trail (and the state highway) onto back roads, following the well marked Southland Traverse route, mellows that opinion somewhat. It is almost all a gentle downhill, pedalling easily along the sealed roads in the chill, still air. The kms tick by faster than we realise. We negotiate the dogleg in Dipton West without any navigational drama but are bemused by the sign to 'Squash Court': we're amazed that this one horse town could drum up two players, never mind a venue to host them. Just around Dipton we've negotiated the biggest 'bump' in today's profile, up which Marg has sailed with little extra effort. This is also our halfway point for the day, and it's not yet midday.

The skies are clearing of the earlier high overcast, and in the sunny spells it's warmer but still needs long sleeves and buffs under helmets. Still the road rolls easily under the wheels, the few passing vehicles driven with impeccable consideration (and many friendly waves). Nearly 50km gone, and what's that? A hill. Short but vicious, smoothed out by scale on our map profile, back to power/push/walk for hopefully the last time. It's also near lunchtime; the route mentions Riverside Road a few kms further on, that may yield a nice place to stop for a bite... It does, but don't imagine a bucolic scene of dappled light on a grassy bank beside a rippling brook. The Oreti river is around somewhere, but definitely not beside this Road. Marg points out it should be more accurately named Drainside Road. We settle instead for the grassy verge of the quiet road (a van, a car - which both coincidentally turn in to driveways close to where we're lolling -, two tractors and a Ute are all that pass in an hour). We revise our opinion of the landscape, concluding that if we saw it in England we'd be rapt: the Vale of Eden in Cumbria is our chosen parallel. We snooze in the now constant sun for an hour or so, less than 10km from our destination, but when we sit up the still chilly wind has picked up a bit, from an undesirable direction. It's still an easy ride on toward Winton, it's bakery, their pies, and our B&B; the only drama is the A-train truck and trailer who's driver clearly had no comprehension of the '40kph when cyclists on bridge' rule on the long crossing of the Oreti river.

On the final road into Winton I see something I don't recall ever seeing before: if I have, it was back in childhood. A field of oats, reaped intact, hand bundled into sheaves and neatly stacked in stooks to dry. A local resident who shares her life story with us tells us the farmer employs prisoners to do it.