Day 17 : Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

We woke up to a rainy morning in our little hippie camp of Shambala. Somehow I managed to wake without a hangover - Pete was not so lucky. Everything we owned was soaking wet, so we decided to abandon the harsh lifestyle of Shambala and move to more comfortable lodgings at Collingwood.

We packed our bikes, put on our wet bike stuff and headed off down the driveway of Shambala back to the main road. It is then that we met our favourite river/bridge/ford again, but by this time it was a swollen raging torrent (not unlike pete's headache). The next door neighbors had made a special trip down just to take a photo of it. We were desperate to escape, so Pete started wading across but after 2m it became clear there was no way were getting across the bridge in one piece.

So it was back to Shambala to talk to John about our options - the best option it would seem is to suffer our fate and stay another night at Shambala. Not a bad option if it were not for all our clothes being soaked and not having any food, but we wanted to go somewhere with more facilities (like food) and luxuries like mains power. But for the present time it seems we were stuck. John was happy to sell us the only food he had available - some uncooked spaghetti and a tin of tomato paste. We cooked it up and were just finishing it when John came in and told us there was an option for crossing the river by 4 wheel drive. So we pack the bikes on the back of John's 4WD which had a completely screwed head and could only travel 3km at most (which was perfect for us).

We got to the river and find it still raging and a large tree submerged in the middle. This was not going to stop John who in his relaxed manner just steamed into the middle of the Ford, over the tree, where the car got stuck and slowly but surely started to move sideways. Pete would like to add that he was quite concerned at this point (he was not alone). But all credit to John, he wrestled the vehicle through the river and the safety of the other side. We unpacked our bikes and watched John head back across the river in a cloud of smoke.

We then started our ride to Collingwood. It was only 10km but probably the worst conditions either of us have ever ridden in. It was horribly, filthy, wet and there was a pretty strong wind blowing. But we made it to Collingwood to a lovely hostel with warm showers, mains power, and heating. After a quick shower, we cruised down to an awesome little cafe for some breakfast and coffee. (meanwhile it was still raining heavily). We went back to our hostel to discover our lovely mains power was no more. Electricity to Collingwood had been taken down by the storm. There was only one answer -- back to the pub.

In between pints over candle-light, and bouts of singing from the blitz-spirit, grey hairs, we heard snippets of information from locals. The road to Takaka was closed and it was being reported on TV in Christchurch as the worst flood since 1983. One of the locals kept looking out the window to watch for cows floating past - he wasn't joking - apparently "they are good swimmers, but not that good".

Still no power. The irony of course is that everything was situation-normal back at Shambala where they are off the grid to begin with.

After many hours the power was restored eventually to Collingwood, but with more storms tonight, who knows what tomorrow may bring.