Inter Islander, not your typical view of the ferry from the North to South Island

I took the Inter Islander ferry from Wellington on the North Island to Picton on the South Island. It was a very odd experience to take my bike aboard. I thought it would be like riding the Washington State ferry, where people are used to cyclists walking on board. Not here, folks. Apparently, I'd paid to be treated like a piece of freight.

I got to the terminal in plenty of time, and chose to pay $15 NZD to wheel the bike on board, vs. fold it up and check it as luggage. It's one thing to load William the Conqueror onto an InterCity long haul bus. I've found all the drivers so far have been very willing to have me set the bike upright in the luggage hold, so it doesn't get damaged during transit. It's another thing entirely trusting someone unseen behind a wall to know that the bike is supposed to stand upright. So I ante'd up the cash, thinking I'd insure peace of mind. Was I wrong.

First, I had to wait for ages, until the very, very last rail car was loaded onto the Inter Islander. Lucky for me I had company: another long distance cyclist, Yves, who told me he lives near Montpellier. Our 2nd companion was a large black dog waiting patiently with his owner to be loaded into a cage for the ferry trip.

Well, after an interminable wait, the dog, Yves and I were waved onboard. The poor dog got stuck in a dark cage, and I know it must have freaked him out a bit. The owner made a big fuss about getting a dish of water put in the cage along with Fido. We two cyclists gingerly wheeled our bikes across huge gaps in the metal ramps, and then had to jitter the bikes over superslick, greasy rails, tying the bikes up in the dark inner recesses of the "rail" level of the ferry. I felt like I was in a German Expressionist movie. Super dark and scary down there. Once Yves and I tied the bikes with some frayed ropes and a couple of dirty blue straps, we had to figure how to get out. Forget about signs pointing the way. Oh no, nothing like that. You had to guess that a barely illuminated sign about midway down the railcar was where you needed to be. OK, in order to reach the stairs leading up to level 4, in the sunlight, where all the normal passengers were, we had to literally step over a whole bunch of arm-thick chains attached to enormous hooks that held each rail car in place. The whole place was as dark as a tomb, squeaked ominously, and walking a narrow path between crushingly large freight cars and metal walls studded with bolts was a trip, but not in a good way.

As if the outward part wasn't enough of a trial, retrieving our bikes at the end was equally horrible. As we were pulling into Picton harbor, there were a bunch of garbled announcements about disembarking. I think I heard bits of a cryptic announcement about getting bikes off. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I was supposed to do. I took the first elevator I found down to the level 2, car deck, but this was a dead end. I went back up, found another elevator, and descended to the rail deck. When I poked my head through the door, I saw immediately that all the rail cars had been untethered from their cable/hooks. There were a lot more eery squeaks and bangs coming from the rail cars. As far as I could tell, they were about to roll off the ferry, sucking me, my bike and all my gear under as they went by. It was still inky black down here, so I quickly pulled my head back in, went back up a 3rd time, looked around in vain for some official maritime officer type. Finally I buttonholed a guy vacuuming the restaurant, who told me, so unhelpfully, that I should already be "down there" as I was supposed to unload first. Shit, I thought. Now I'm really in trouble. Those rail cars are likely rolling off right this moment, sucking William underneath as I speak.

I rushed back down. Miraculously, the rail cars hadn't moved. I made a dash for it. At the very last rail car, there was a worker using a giant drill to unscrew the last chain/hook. I found William the Conqueror, still tied up, undamaged. No sign of doggie, no sign of Yves, though I think Yves had retied my bike as we'd lost each other in the crazy "up and down" I'd done trying to find the right level of the ferry. I untied my bike, wheeled it back across the slick-as-heck rails, pretending to be tough and knowing exactly what I was doing, and tried not to look down through the gratings at the surf below my feet as I exited to Picton. Welcome to the South Island, cyclists!

For this experience I got to pay $15?!

Hmm. The Inter Islander has a glossy tourist magazine called Onboard. I had picked up a copy in the departure lounge back in Wellington. Last night I read it. They're running a competition to gather "great pictures and stories of your Interislander journeys..." and are offering a $50 travel voucher as a prize.

Alrighty then. I'm really thinking of sending them this experience. Should I be looking for that $50 voucher in my mailbox real soon? Hmm.