Around Christchurch ~ Cycle from Sea to Summit
There are various ways to do this ride. The trip I did (story below) was from Lyttleton to Cashmere via Sumner. Lacking a lift to Lyttleton, you’ll need to ride from Christchurch as follows.
- There are cycleways from Christchurch to Sumner Beach. From there it’s over the Summit Rd back to Christchurch via Cashmere. From city to Sumner is basically flat and about 12 km, depending on which route you take.
- Sumner makes a good pit stop before you head up and over the big hill. Plenty of cafes.
- From Sumner to the city on the Summit Rd is about 35km, all of it hilly until you descend from the Port Hills into Christchurch.
- Sumner to Cashmere is open country without much traffic. If you’re riding through to central Christchurch, allow at least three hours. This gives time for frequent stops to take in the captivating views in both directions. You’ll see the city spread out on one side, and the bays and headlands of the Banks Peninsula on the other.
I recommend the Otautahi Christchurch Bike Map, available in hard copy or at this link. It explains the Christchurch Coastal Pathway, connecting the city centre to Sumner via Puari ki Rapanui cycleway which connects to Te Ara Ihutai at the Ferrymead Bridge. The Summit Rd is on the map, but it’s not a cycleway. However, there’s not much traffic and the highest section is closed to cars due to unrepaired earthquake damage, but no problem for walkers and cyclists.
Stage 1: coffee and e-bike lessons in Lyttleton
It was our last day in Christchurch before heading to the North Island. My cousin offered to drive us to Lyttleton (through a tunnel to the other side of the Port Hills), join us for coffee in a funky café, then leave us with e-bikes to find our way home. Naturally, we said yes. After all, I trusted him.
Lyttleton, as promised, was indeed strangely creative, hip and a refuge for coffee addicts. The main street (which was as far as we explored) appeared to have been teleported out of inner Melbourne, complete with brightly painted old piano on footpath being played by passersby talented or not. Picture book houses gazed down on us from near vertical hills rising around the town centre. So far so good.
After a coffee in the favoured café (industrial chic warehouse conversion) complete with view of authentic industrial port facilities, we adjourned in a quiet carpark for e-bike lessons.
Yes, we were e-bike virgins.
Cousin adjusted seat heights, quietly explained a few things, and suggested we get on.
This we did. I suddenly sped off before braking in panic, while Tim disappeared in the other direction. I tried again and the same thing happened. Feeling nervous and wondering why I couldn’t control the speed, I repeated and fell over. Surprised Cousin to the Rescue. Brushing myself off and declaring I was fine (but wishing I’d put my riding gloves on as I hid my grazed palm), we turned to see Tim crashing to the asphalt. Cousin in a state of disbelief remained calm. Fortunately for us he’s a doctor. Fortunately for him, we didn’t need his medical skills. I reduced my bike’s power level but still didn’t understand about using the throttle to get going on a hill. Cousin needing to get back to work in Christchurch encouraged us to call him if we needed any help. We smiled and waved as he made his retreat.
Ok. On our own. No-one watching. We spent a long time figuring out how to lock the bikes to a fence, went for a walk and bought some apples.
Our mission was to ride the bikes over the hill to the beachside suburb of Sumner, have lunch, then back to the Summit Rd and onward to Cousin’s house in Cashmere, on the Christchurch side of the Port Hills. Childhood memories of the Lyttleton Tunnel being an exciting experience jostled with conflicted memories about Sumner as a beach destination. In the early 1960s my father had moved us to Sydney’s sunshiny Manly Beach, relegating Sumner to the bad old days of sheltering from cold winds behind a large rock.
Stage 2: up and over - Lyttleton to Sumner
In my youth I was a bicycle tour guide, taking groups over Australia’s Snowy Mountains and through the Tasmanian countryside. I wasn’t about to let this e-bike beat me.
Back in the saddles, we set off on the road to Sumner. It was a steep, narrow road with no verge. I pedaled up, up, up without looking left or right, not daring to stop in case I couldn’t start again on the hill. Tim was behind me, hopefully enjoying the power-assisted cruise experience. As I hung on tight, I glimpsed extraordinary water views and finally, pulled over to take it all in and wait for Tim. Where was he? Perhaps it was then I discovered that using the throttle was just the thing for a hill start. Tim eventually appeared from below. We commiserated together and before long were cruising down the other side to Sumner Beach.
At Sumner we parked the bikes and enjoyed walking along the esplanade, feet on the ground.
There was Cave Rock, a dramatic volcanic feature on the beach and as per my father’s wisdom, a good place to shelter from cold winds. The Maori call it Tuawera. Their story of its origin is one of spurned love and deadly revenge. Read about it here
Stage 3: from sea to summit and down again
After lunch it was time to tackle the summit. Having mastered the mysteries of our e-bikes, we sped up Evans Pass Rd to the Summit Rd junction.
From the junction, the countryside was mostly empty. Occasional walkers appeared from nowhere, traversing the many tracks. Occasional cars wound slowly upward. Occasional cyclists whizzed downhill past us. By now we were e-bike aficionados, changing up, changing down, adjusting the power level, pedaling more, pedaling less, throttling for extra oomph. Nothing to it.
There were views everywhere.
The city lay like a kinetic map to our right, edged by the Avon Heathcote Estuary and the New Brighton peninsula. We watched a hang glider appear from above, drifting lazily before suddenly spinning out and hopefully coming good before landing out of our sight.
On the other side, the industry of Lyttleton Harbour gave way to a serenity of quiet waters and faraway hills. Further along, an abundance of panorama photo opportunities slowed us down, as the bays and headlands of the Banks Peninsula carved endless formations beneath a blue and white sky. A soft breeze blew thin clouds into wispy nothings. There were no cars at all for a happy 5km of road that has been closed since the 2011 earthquake.
Coming off the summit, the descent into Cashmere is quite a narrow, winding road. There’s more traffic here, so take it easy and stay safe. There are bush tracks to explore on foot, and occasional cafes if you need a pit stop.
Our journey ended in Cashmere at my cousin’s house. Needless to say, he was happy to see that we were now e-bike enthusiasts, glowing from an inspirational day out.
The city lay like a kinetic map to our right, edged by the Avon Heathcote Estuary and the New Brighton peninsula. We watched a hang glider appear from above, drifting lazily before suddenly spinning out and hopefully coming good before landing out of our sight.
Helen Cushing
Freerange Journalist
There are various ways to do this ride. The trip I did (story below) was from Lyttleton to Cashmere via Sumner. Lacking a lift to Lyttleton, you’ll need to ride from Christchurch as follows.
- There are cycleways from Christchurch to Sumner Beach. From there it’s over the Summit Rd back to Christchurch via Cashmere. From city to Sumner is basically flat and about 12 km, depending on which route you take.
- Sumner makes a good pit stop before you head up and over the big hill. Plenty of cafes.
- From Sumner to the city on the Summit Rd is about 35km, all of it hilly until you descend from the Port Hills into Christchurch.
- Sumner to Cashmere is open country without much traffic. If you’re riding through to central Christchurch, allow at least three hours. This gives time for frequent stops to take in the captivating views in both directions. You’ll see the city spread out on one side, and the bays and headlands of the Banks Peninsula on the other.
I recommend the Otautahi Christchurch Bike Map, available in hard copy or at this link. It explains the Christchurch Coastal Pathway, connecting the city centre to Sumner via Puari ki Rapanui cycleway which connects to Te Ara Ihutai at the Ferrymead Bridge. The Summit Rd is on the map, but it’s not a cycleway. However, there’s not much traffic and the highest section is closed to cars due to unrepaired earthquake damage, but no problem for walkers and cyclists.
Stage 1: coffee and e-bike lessons in Lyttleton
It was our last day in Christchurch before heading to the North Island. My cousin offered to drive us to Lyttleton (through a tunnel to the other side of the Port Hills), join us for coffee in a funky café, then leave us with e-bikes to find our way home. Naturally, we said yes. After all, I trusted him.
Lyttleton, as promised, was indeed strangely creative, hip and a refuge for coffee addicts. The main street (which was as far as we explored) appeared to have been teleported out of inner Melbourne, complete with brightly painted old piano on footpath being played by passersby talented or not. Picture book houses gazed down on us from near vertical hills rising around the town centre. So far so good.
After a coffee in the favoured café (industrial chic warehouse conversion) complete with view of authentic industrial port facilities, we adjourned in a quiet carpark for e-bike lessons.
Yes, we were e-bike virgins.
Cousin adjusted seat heights, quietly explained a few things, and suggested we get on.
This we did. I suddenly sped off before braking in panic, while Tim disappeared in the other direction. I tried again and the same thing happened. Feeling nervous and wondering why I couldn’t control the speed, I repeated and fell over. Surprised Cousin to the Rescue. Brushing myself off and declaring I was fine (but wishing I’d put my riding gloves on as I hid my grazed palm), we turned to see Tim crashing to the asphalt. Cousin in a state of disbelief remained calm. Fortunately for us he’s a doctor. Fortunately for him, we didn’t need his medical skills. I reduced my bike’s power level but still didn’t understand about using the throttle to get going on a hill. Cousin needing to get back to work in Christchurch encouraged us to call him if we needed any help. We smiled and waved as he made his retreat.
Ok. On our own. No-one watching. We spent a long time figuring out how to lock the bikes to a fence, went for a walk and bought some apples.
Our mission was to ride the bikes over the hill to the beachside suburb of Sumner, have lunch, then back to the Summit Rd and onward to Cousin’s house in Cashmere, on the Christchurch side of the Port Hills. Childhood memories of the Lyttleton Tunnel being an exciting experience jostled with conflicted memories about Sumner as a beach destination. In the early 1960s my father had moved us to Sydney’s sunshiny Manly Beach, relegating Sumner to the bad old days of sheltering from cold winds behind a large rock.
Stage 2: up and over - Lyttleton to Sumner
In my youth I was a bicycle tour guide, taking groups over Australia’s Snowy Mountains and through the Tasmanian countryside. I wasn’t about to let this e-bike beat me.
Back in the saddles, we set off on the road to Sumner. It was a steep, narrow road with no verge. I pedaled up, up, up without looking left or right, not daring to stop in case I couldn’t start again on the hill. Tim was behind me, hopefully enjoying the power-assisted cruise experience. As I hung on tight, I glimpsed extraordinary water views and finally, pulled over to take it all in and wait for Tim. Where was he? Perhaps it was then I discovered that using the throttle was just the thing for a hill start. Tim eventually appeared from below. We commiserated together and before long were cruising down the other side to Sumner Beach.
At Sumner we parked the bikes and enjoyed walking along the esplanade, feet on the ground.
There was Cave Rock, a dramatic volcanic feature on the beach and as per my father’s wisdom, a good place to shelter from cold winds. The Maori call it Tuawera. Their story of its origin is one of spurned love and deadly revenge. Read about it here
Stage 3: from sea to summit and down again
After lunch it was time to tackle the summit. Having mastered the mysteries of our e-bikes, we sped up Evans Pass Rd to the Summit Rd junction.
From the junction, the countryside was mostly empty. Occasional walkers appeared from nowhere, traversing the many tracks. Occasional cars wound slowly upward. Occasional cyclists whizzed downhill past us. By now we were e-bike aficionados, changing up, changing down, adjusting the power level, pedaling more, pedaling less, throttling for extra oomph. Nothing to it.
There were views everywhere.
The city lay like a kinetic map to our right, edged by the Avon Heathcote Estuary and the New Brighton peninsula. We watched a hang glider appear from above, drifting lazily before suddenly spinning out and hopefully coming good before landing out of our sight.
On the other side, the industry of Lyttleton Harbour gave way to a serenity of quiet waters and faraway hills. Further along, an abundance of panorama photo opportunities slowed us down, as the bays and headlands of the Banks Peninsula carved endless formations beneath a blue and white sky. A soft breeze blew thin clouds into wispy nothings. There were no cars at all for a happy 5km of road that has been closed since the 2011 earthquake.
Coming off the summit, the descent into Cashmere is quite a narrow, winding road. There’s more traffic here, so take it easy and stay safe. There are bush tracks to explore on foot, and occasional cafes if you need a pit stop.
Our journey ended in Cashmere at my cousin’s house. Needless to say, he was happy to see that we were now e-bike enthusiasts, glowing from an inspirational day out.
The city lay like a kinetic map to our right, edged by the Avon Heathcote Estuary and the New Brighton peninsula. We watched a hang glider appear from above, drifting lazily before suddenly spinning out and hopefully coming good before landing out of our sight.
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