The Reset Brevet 2024: Three Tales from Otago

Photos by Georgie Rutherford, Sam Baker, Larissa Mueller, and Matt Quirk

Big Winds Be Damned

Words by Georgie Rutherford (550-kilometer Route)

“I feel more wasted than after the Tour Te Waipounamu,” race organizer Matt Quirk said to me after finishing The Reset Brevet. I could do nothing but agree.

In a recap of a very hilly and demanding but typically central Otago route, all I can say is that Mother Nature could have been a bit kinder. A casual briefing with coffee and scones set the tone for an event that was not meant to be a race. The words “go” were uttered, and all I could do was laugh as no one started moving. Best start ever! The biggest hill of the route came first and provided an early slog with heavy-going grass and some pushing. Thankfully, things got a bit faster towards the top, along with some inspiring central Otago views and the chance to smash a custom Reset Brevet beer before the fun descent. My fun got a little thwarted by some tire-eating rocks, but otherwise, it was a good time, and not long before a pie and a 1.5L coke at the Vulcan Hotel in St. Bathans.

Next up, the West Manuherikia track was a lot bumpier than I remembered and offered many opportunities to wash the socks. With soggy feet and heading into darkness, it was nice to do the reasonably steep climb over the Omarama Saddle with company. At the top, however, a new, loud, and obnoxious friend decided to join the party. The wind was howling and blowing dust everywhere, which added a new level of complexity to my vision of what could have been a fast descent.

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The night ended with ice cream, a beer at the Omarama pub, and a sleep next to Lake Benmore. Since I’d planned to get over and off Poolburn by the end of the following evening, I made an early start the next day but was riding slowly. Keen for treats and breakfast in Kurow, I splurged on an expensive toasted sandwich I’d been told would fill me up for the entire day! I ate the delicious sandwich, thanked the counter staff, and promptly went to the foursquare to scoff a pie.

The rest of the route was quite challenging for me. Not only was my mind and body screaming, “Why are we doing this again!?” only six weeks after TTW. But after what had felt like a spring and summer of being battered by headwinds, it was a struggle dealing with the wind, which was pretty constant from Dansey’s Pass onwards until, eventually, the bike resembled a kite up on Grandview Ridge. On route, however, a lovely tailwind from Naseby to the bottom of the climb up to Poolburn offered much-needed relief and the opportunity to munch on fish and chips while being pushed along at a decent pace. The initial climb was relatively sheltered and offered a nice gradient. Things turned nasty towards the top, and what should have been a fun and fast descent down the other side was a pedaling downhill kind of affair; feeling mentally a bit battered, I took an early sleep at the bottom.

More wind early in the morning out to Omakau and a cold trip over Thomson’s Gorge in the dark, where the Hawea Geezers caught up and a chat lifted the spirits. After developing a slow leak in the tube I’d used to fix an earlier tire gash, things slowed down on Grandview, and I found myself in the thick of the wind I had been hoping to avoid.

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One downside of having a lightly loaded bike was that it now became an object that needed to be protected from catching the wind and sailing off the edge. Holding onto it firmly while opening gates was a necessity, and the usual throw the bike over and climb over was not an option; neither option was elegant. I found the rear wheel floating up at head level a few times if I had been pushing and only holding the handlebars. At one point, I crouched down and walked while holding the bike below the ridgeline so it wouldn’t catch the wind. Coming off Grandview, I just wanted to get it done, but that slow leak was slowing things down, and days later, I realized my pump was also faulty. Thinking I was about to pull the pin only 30 kilometres from the end, I got one good solid amount of air into the tube, which allowed a fast push to the Outlet Camp and the finish, where a beer, chats, and friendly faces were waiting.

The Reset is a solid route that, over a relatively short distance, showcases the kind of adventures and scenery found only in Central Otago. I’ll totally give it another go, but I will study the wind forecast beforehand!

Escaping Routine

Words by Sam Baker (550-kilometer Route)

Every so often, I get the itch—an itch to get away from society—its comforts, routine, and relentless pace. Sometimes, I want to be alone, embrace the present moment, and do something out of my comfort zone. When I saw Matt Quirk had developed a new brevet route starting and finishing in Wanaka, I jumped at the chance. It was called The Reset, and that was exactly what I needed.

With a 7 a.m. Saturday morning start, my friend Olly Manson and I loosely decided to complete the 550-kilometre route with 9,300 metres of elevation gain over three days. The enthusiasm was tangible as I rolled out my front door. With coffee, chocolate buns, and excitement among the riders, we were all eager to start. The day was crisp, with no wind and a clear sky. Bikes were heavy, legs fresh, and the first 55 kilometres flew by. In our sights was Cluden Hill, with its hike-a-bike sections and relentless gravel. We were getting what we came for.

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After checking the maps, we knew a big climb was ahead: the high point at 1,644 metres. An hour later, we crested the ridge, relatively shagged. Lunchtime. Mt. Aspiring to the west, the Ida Valley to the east, and the sun overhead—no sign of the fast-paced routine here. After the summit, a 1,100-metre descent led us to St Bathans to refuel. Nine hours in, we arrived only to find the kitchen closed. A jug of Coke and a sausage roll later, we were back on the road.

Omarama Saddle stood at the far end of the West Manuherikia Valley. After skirting Falls Dam and tackling river crossings, we reached the base of the saddle at 7:45 p.m. As darkness fell, we crested the saddle into a cold wind from the southwest. With the road to Omarama slightly downhill and a roaring tailwind, we flew into town, ending our 16-hour day at the Omarama Pub with an ice cream.

Day two started slower. We fired down the Alps to Ocean Trail, skirting Lake Benmore and discovering new landscapes. Otematata, Kurow, and Duntroon featured on our hit list before tackling Danseys Pass. With a blazing sun and little water, we battled through, rolling into the historic Danseys Pass Hotel, a welcome stop. But with Naseby still ahead, the final six kilometres into town came with a headwind and uphill grind. A fried chicken burger rewarded us at the end.

Day three had us navigating Poolburn Reservoir and the Old Dunstan Road, a landscape once traversed by gold miners. But the weather dealt us a challenge: the infamous Norwester, roaring through Thompson’s Gorge. Progress was slow. Exiting the gorge after 85 kilometres in 8.5 hours, we faced more climbs up Grandview Ridge. By 5:30 p.m., dark clouds loomed, and we made the tough call to abandon the last section for safety.

Sodden, battered, and smiling, we rolled home after 141 kilometres and 2,135 metres of climbing that final day. Despite abandoning the last section, we got what we came for: an old-fashioned adventure with good mates. That was a good reset. Work tomorrow.

Note: This is an edited version of an article that first appeared in the NZ Cycling Journal. Read the full piece here.

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Embracing the Bonk

Words by Larissa Mueller (350-kilometer Route)

Day One & Two

This weekend, I got to be support crew for Alex as he made his second attempt at the Northburn 100-mile (160-kilometre!) ultra-running race, along with his best friend Mark, who paced him for the final lap. Then, the morning after finishing that, the two of them dropped me off in Tarras to start The Reset – Wānaka Brevet, a 350-kilometre ride with 6,000 metres of elevation gain. Everyone else doing the brevet had started on Saturday morning from Wanaka, but because I was at Northburn, I didn’t start until Monday from Tarras. Now, I’m almost the last person on the course; the other riders are so fast! And most of them did the long course, which is 550 kilometres.

Yesterday, I rode on to the Cluden Creek track, which had some sneaky steep hills that set my heart palpitations off. I put it down to fatigue from the lack of sleep at Northburn and carried on with more stops than I wanted to take to keep my heart under control. When the palpitations did kick off, I had to drop my bike and sit down for a few minutes to calm them, so it was really slow going. There was a severe wind watch issued for the afternoon, and as I rounded the corner into the full force of the wind, it was a pretty obvious decision not to head onto the tops that day. I rode into the conservation area, and right at the bottom of the zig-zag track was a great camping spot with a bank and a Matagouri bush to shelter my tent from the wind. I set up camp at 2 p.m. and lounged around for the afternoon, catching up on rest and eating my new favourite snack, a cup-a-soup mixed with dehy mashed potato. It blew a lot and rained a bit, and I was very happy with my decision-making.

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Today I was up at 4 a.m. with a mission to get up the big hill climb and over the tops before more strong winds hit in the afternoon. As I loaded the bike by moonlight the wind started up as if to say, “Hey, come on, no time to waste!” The climb was brutally steep with a bonus muddy section in the middle, and I needed lots of stops again, but thankfully, my heart didn’t go into palpitations, so the rest must have done it good. Near the top, the wind was blowing already, and I layered up with most of my clothes. The sun started rising, and I couldn’t help but stop every few minutes to take photos of all the pretty sights. It was pretty special! I carried on up, and after a lot of pushing, eventually got to rideable country, which was a relief. The wind was building, and it was definitely sub-zero with the wind chill. I came across a few puddles that were frozen solid with ice! I stopped to take in the view from the top for a minute. At 1,644 metres, it feels like you’re on top of the world. Then, I hustled down to get out of the wind. I had a quick snack with a view, and then it was down, down, down for so long that my fingers got sore holding the brakes.

It was awesome to look back and see the impressive range I’d ridden over, and looking ahead I could see the big cloud banks marching across the sky being shaped by the wind. Off with all the layers again and onto a gravel then tarseal road where it felt like bliss to be able to just ride freely and not have to watch the terrain constantly. I detoured to the pub at Becks for a tasty lunch, then reluctantly headed back out for another 50 kilometres to Ranfurly. An unexpected hill was only 200 metres high but nearly broke this camel’s back after the day I’d had. Onto the Otago Central Rail Trail, which was bliss at first but soon got a bit tedious, and I put on podcasts and music to distract myself. I thought railways were dead flat, but apparently not. After quite a few kilometres, I came to a sign saying I’d reached the top! From there, it was a fast ride to Ranfurly, freewheeling most of the way and getting there exactly 12 hours after I’d left camp. Now I’m full of takeaways and tucked in behind a hedge at the holiday park to wait out an overnight storm before seeing what tomorrow brings!

Day Three

Yesterday was quite possibly the best day I’ve ever had on my bike. It didn’t start out that well, with morning rain and freezing winds greeting me as I crawled out of the tent. There was fresh snow on the hills, too. I knew I had 40 kilometres to ride into a strong headwind to get to Old Dunstan Road, which didn’t make getting started any easier. I went for a big breakfast at a cafe and filled every available bag or pocket with supermarket and bakery food to keep me going. They say ultra-bikepacking is really just an eating competition with some biking thrown in!

You need to eat heaps of food to avoid going into a calorie deficit, which is so elegantly known as bonking. I went into full cold-weather mode with my layers and set off into the long grind, entertaining myself by talking to the animals I passed and singing silly songs. I thought of my two favourite quotes: “Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” (Mahatma Gandhi) and “Adventure without adversity is just a venture.” (Graeme Dingle). The great thing about having ridden a horse around the whole coast of New Zealand is that I know first-hand that these two things are true, and that I can indeed do hard things.

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I’d just gone around an uphill corner when I heard an awful screeching noise and instinctively got off the road. A girl had come roaring up the hill with her phone in her hand and had to slam her brakes on hard as she couldn’t go around me because of an oncoming car. I reckon if I hadn’t had my hi-vis on and had been less visible, I may well have become road kill. A quick stop at Patearoa to scoff a pie from one of the pockets, then it was mostly downhill, though I still had to pedal because of the wind. The big hill to Poolburn slowly grew in front of me until I was at the base of it. I love the signs on these roads; they always indicate that a good adventure is ahead. I hadn’t realized until I got to this gate how much it meant to me to ride this route! It had been on my bucket list for a long time, and I was beyond ecstatic to finally be there. I started riding up the hill and soon a car came by, going down. The occupants rolled down their window and told me I must be so brave to be heading up there and asked if I knew what I was in for. You should have seen their faces when I said I was riding to Omakau and would probably finish in the dark! They were self-described city slickers out for a Sunday drive and thought there were shops and cafes at the top, so they hadn’t brought anything with them.

I had too much food on board, if anything, and stopped to eat a snack and take in the view, huddled behind a big rock out of the wind. It was still a pretty strong headwind but was expected to ease as the afternoon went on—my favourite kind of forecast. The track went up and up and up, but was mostly rideable which was a big improvement on the Cluden hill climb. Nothing could dampen my spirits, not even my sore knee of the day (they like to take turns), which started pinging at me at the bottom of the climb. I told it to shut up and stop trying to interfere with my happiness, and amazingly, it did! Eventually, I topped out and zoomed along to Poolburn Reservoir, where there’s lots of little fishing huts dotted around the place. I’d had ideas of watching the sunset there before riding down, but the sun had other ideas and went behind a big bank of clouds. So, I layered up again and went for a thrilling hoon down the other side and out to Moa Creek.

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I used the cute Bonspiel tour shelter to chow down some more food and get ALL the layers on: double gloves, double socks, beanie under the helmet, lots of thermals, rain gear for wind protection… everything except the down jacket. Lights went on the bike and head torch on my helmet, and by the time all that was sorted, it was dark. Off I went for the last 20 kilometres to Omakau, where I was going to decide what to do next. I was surprised by how much traffic there was on the roads, and then I realised it was only 9 p.m. It felt like the middle of the night and was super dark, too, with the moon hiding behind clouds.

I got to Omakau and collapsed on a bench to decide on my plan. I’d been thinking about carrying on toward Tarras but decided to stay put and leave that for the next day. I thought I’d try my luck at the campground and rolled in just after 10 p.m. Sue’s number was on the office window, so I contacted her, and instead of telling me to piss off, she came round to book me into a cheap cabin. She couldn’t have been nicer about it despite my late arrival. Thanks, Sue! I had a long hot shower and collapsed into bed while it rained overnight. What a day!

Day Four

I didn’t have much of a plan when I set out on this ride, just wanting to take it as it comes. It’s not a race, but most people ride these courses pretty quick on not much sleep, with some of the long course riders finishing the 550 kilometres in 2.5 days! I wanted to see how far I could go, too, but ultimately settled on my main strategy being to avoid the worst of the weather, and pick my weather windows especially for the tops. That worked well for Cluden and really well for Poolburn, where everyone else had pushed through in gale-force winds while I just had a light breeze. Once I got to Omakau I was prepared to push through most of the way to Tarras, but I realised that would put me on Grandview Ridge in less-than-ideal weather and most likely riding it into the night, too. I went for the long game instead, stopping at Omakau and riding to Tarras the next day.

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In the morning, I waited out a bit of rain then had a four-hour window to get up the hill on Thomson Gorge Road. There was a lot more fresh snow on the surrounding hills too. I was glad I hadn’t done this in the dark when I saw how impressive the gorge is. I was feeling pretty dazed and sore, to the point that the cafe lady that morning had to ask me three times whether I wanted my lunch toastie wrapped up in foil. Lots of breaks got me up the first climb. Near the top, I felt a cold gust and looked around to see a massive rain cloud headed my way! I set off at pace and got hailed on as I raced along to the old stone hut. It turned to sleet and snow for a second but mostly hailed on and off. Once I got there, the sun came out again, and sitting in the lee of the hut, I could actually feel its warmth for the first time in two days! It was bliss that lasted about half an hour while I ate more food and had a little lie-down. Then, more clouds rolled in, and it was forecast to be rainy and windy for a few hours, so I moved into the hut to wait it out. Besides, I needed to stealth camp at Tarras, so I didn’t want to be rolling into there too early. It was sad to see the amount of rubbish and graffiti inside this historic hut. There was even a rubbish bag in there, so if anyone is going in with a 4WD, it would be an easy cleanup.

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I did some writing, then got cold and bored and didn’t want to pull more gear out, so after a couple of hours, I decided to make a run for it. When I looked outside, there was a wee deer on the hill staring at me, and it stayed there for ages, just looking down while I packed up. It was a short climb up to the saddle, which warmed me up nicely despite more hail, then it started snowing, which was a nice change from hail because it hurt less! A bit more climbing to the top while I admired the snow on the Pisa range, then it was a fast descent into Tarras where I could see an impressive amount of snow on the Saint Bathans Range too. I rolled in just on dark and lucked out with my chosen camping spot in a teeny tiny bit of conservation land next to the Lindis River. It was right by the road but hidden in some willow trees where no one could see me. I smugly made my dinner and tucked up in all the warm things for the coldest night yet. With a bit of luck this was going to be my last night out and I couldn’t wait to get back to my nice cosy bed!

Day Five

I was so sure of the stealthiness of my wee campsite that I left my very precious tent and sleeping bag there stashed under a tree and committed to finishing the course that day. I rode to Tarras to use the loo and fill up on water and cafe food and found someone fundraising with their horse, which gave me flashbacks to the trek days! It was manic there with all the holiday traffic, so I was happy to head off along a gravel road towards the last big hill of the course, Grandview Ridge. The climbing kicked off right away, and soon I was into my usual routine of pushing 20 metres then stopping to catch my breath. On the way up, I thought about how this trip had made me enjoy hills more, knowing how worthwhile the climbs were to get to the great tops and trails off the other side. I was extra motivated to get up this hill because, for the last three summers, Grandview has been the view from my house truck, parked opposite at Luggate. I didn’t know it then, but Grandview was about to destroy that positive thinking!

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Traversing the ridge in this direction involves a series of climbs with short downhills between, but overall, it gains elevation, and the highest point is at the end. This translates to endless bike pushing, and the usually enjoyable downhills became depressing because I knew it just meant more elevation to gain back again on the next climb! At first, I was still pretty chipper, distracted by the beautiful views and spotting my house truck across the way. But my mood matched the weather as it deteriorated throughout the day, and by the afternoon, I had to dig really deep to find the will to continue. If the way back had been a lot easier than the way forward, I probably would have quit and gone home. I thought of anything positive I could find, like how grateful I was to have no wind and not to have the full load on my bike. Most of the other riders had come through with fully loaded bikes in very strong winds, and their tire tracks showing in the occasional patch of mud encouraged me to continue.

After what felt like a lifetime, I got to the steep shingle descent off Bluenose, then the final 300-metre climb to Grandview Mountain. Three hundred meters of elevation doesn’t sound like much, but after four exhausting days, it was brutal! A roaring stag helped distract me, though I couldn’t spot him for the life of me. I didn’t have much time to waste anyway and hustled to start the zig zag descent. I’d had fanciful ideas of getting food at Hawea and being home by dark, but now I was just on a mission to get off this god-forsaken hill before dark!

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I made it down just in time, rolling into the carpark as the last light disappeared. To my surprise, there was a familiar face waiting there: my lovely friend Jess, who had come out to cheer me on! She had hot chocolate for me, which I couldn’t accept with the brevet rules, but how sweet is that? It was so nice to see a familiar face who understood what I’d just been through, having been up there herself. After a quick chat, I headed to Hawea for a pit stop at the public toilet instead of the takeaway shop, then munched through my remaining supply of muesli bars as I raced in darkness through 55 kilometres of mostly flat riverside trails and roads back to Tarras. Alex was waiting there for me as I rolled in at 1:30 a.m., exhausted but so happy to have done it. I enjoyed this brevet so much and was glad to have done Grandview too, though I’m in no hurry to ever go back up there!

There is a beautiful simplicity to travelling in this way, where all you have to think about is eating, sleeping, and following the route. If anyone out there is thinking of trying a brevet, I’d very much encourage you to go for it! But be careful—it’s addictive.

The Reset Brevet #2 is scheduled for February 28th, 2025. Learn more at ResetBrevet.com.

Further Reading

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