Sound to Sound: an Aotearoa adventure on two wheels
“Those were my days. Head down, hold the handlebars, one pedal after the other,” Callum Radford says. “I lost track of the days, lost track of the dates, lost track of everything.”
And it all started with a grand idea.
Callum’s uncle was flying from France, where he lived, for a visit back home to New Zealand. What better way to catch up with family and take in the soaring sights of Aotearoa than by biking the 1000-plus kilometres of the South Island?
About twelve days of cycling. From the pine forests of Queen Charlotte Sound in the north to the mists of Milford Sound in the deep south.
Callum’s part in the quest began like all good adventures do: spontaneously. Meant to be just his dad and uncle, Callum ordered some cheap bikepacking kit a few days before the journey and decided to tag along for the ride.
The adventure began on March 4, 6 am. Cruising through Marlborough’s shadowy blue waters on the Beachcomber ferry, the trio made it to the outer sounds by sunrise, watching it reach its rays out across the peninsula.
Day one was brutal, Callum says. “We basically cycled the entirety of the Queen Charlotte track, then added an extra 30km to the end of the day, biking to the family home past Blenheim.”
The trio eventually made it to Christchurch a few days later, and then Callum found himself alone. His dad and uncle had decided to pull the pin. “But I thought, I’ve started this, so I might as well try and finish it,” he says.
He took his tent with him, sneaking into campsites after dark and stealthily exiting in the early morning hours. His phone charger broke halfway, so with only a battery pack, he’d try to stay off his phone as much as possible. “It was good to have a break from technology, life and to see the countryside in such a different way,” he says. Everything just simplified itself down. The only thing on the to-do list was to pedal all day and eat some kai (food).
With freedom to bike however far he wanted, Callum cycled some massive days, averaging around 150km. Some days he’d be biking and feel all sweet to continue on, but the fading daylight encouraged him to pitch his tent for the night and rest. There was even a 240km mission from Ōtautahi to Pleasant Point in southern Canterbury.
“Yeah, that was a big day,” he says. “I mean it sounds like a massive deal, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, and it wasn’t my hardest day by far.”
He explains: “I left camp by 5:30 in the morning and by the time I’d cycled past Rakaia Gorge and Mt Hutt, it was all just downhill to Pleasant Point. And there was a bit of tailwind too. I just thought I’d crack on and see how it went.”
But on other days, the hills would kill him. The next day after the easier, proved one of the toughest. Strong headwind, gravel hills along the backroads of Fairlie, 180km all up.
“This day nearly broke me,” he says. “I got to Tekpo and I was dead. I was just completely done at midday. All I’d eaten was half a bacon and egg sandwich.” But then, Flynn, his mate, came into view, waving from the township.
“We got pizza and a coffee, and I had an apple, and I was like: “Oh my god, I feel amazing now. But it was 1pm already, and I quickly changed my mind and said: Nope, I’m done, I can’t do this.”
But Flynn, who hadn’t spent the last week battling headwinds on a bike, chirped up: “Nah, you’re sweet, you’re all right. Let’s go.” The moral booster Flynn broke the wind and towed Callum to Ōhau.
“That was good for me because it was such a windy day. He got blown off his bike, it was just sucked out from underneath him. That’s how strong the wind was. It felt like we were cycling 5km an hour, a brutal day,” he says. “But cycling together, yarning, it made the day so much easier.”
Callum even got a flat tyre on his tubeless while biking out of Tekapo. He’d cracked his rear wheel. “I didn’t realise at the time, and so I lost all the air. Then I was trying to refill it with gas canisters, but it wasn’t working because it was cracked on the rim.”
An inner tube got him to Ōhau, but after that, he got another flat right after a climb. No supplies left, Callum says he thought: “There better be a bike shop in Omarama or else I am toasted.” …(Luckily, there was a bike shop).
As with life, there were a lot of highs and a lot of lows, Callum says, mental lows more than anything. “What it really just came down to, though, was that I was hungry as well as tired. That, paired with a headwind and a flat tire, well it breaks you a bit because all you want to do is get to your next point and have a break.”
His knees seized up out of Hanmer Springs, and in “so much pain,” he thought he was done for. “But I pushed through, had some breakfast, and then was fine, my knees came right, and so I carried on.” His legs just needed to warm up a little to the idea of pedalling 100 km.
And the highs were pretty boundless and breathtaking when they hit:
Like cycling through Ōtautahi and knowing he’d biked 100s of kilometres from Ship’s Cove to his flat. A pint of Speights at the day’s end in tiny township Oturehua, perched off the rail trail (he was then told the campsite was 30km away, but luckily it was downhill and he had the cheeky beer fuelling him). Like reuniting with his girlfriend in Bannockburn and seeing the enthralling scenery of new sights, including cycling through the rolling farmlands and sprawling vines of the Hurunui district.
“I’d also never been through Muller Station in the Molesworth, and that was incredible with scenery just out of this world,” he says. “I didn’t realise cowboys actually still existed until there was a man on a horse rounding up sheep. And he had a cowboy hat. I thought he’d be on a motorbike or something.”
And then, of course, twelve days later, the ultimate high… Biking his last climb through Homer Tunnel to destination fin: Milford Sound.
Relief spread through him as he saw the 20km downhill descent to the tiny township. “I didn’t even have to pedal at all. I could finally slow down and enjoy it,” Callum says.
He sat in a cafe and yarned with some other bikepackers, then caught the bus home to Christchurch via Queenstown, where he had a few beers to celebrate. A pretty humble end to a pretty sick feat.
He says it’s hard to describe the feeling he felt when he made it to Mildford Sound.
“It’s not a feeling you get every day. It’s surreal, it’s stoke.”
Before the trip began, with not a day of training or any prior long-distance cycling experience, he just had an inkling that he could probably do it…
“And yeah, I just went in and did it, and it was probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”
