Home is where I remember that the occasional corner has OCD meaning. It’s where that shelf in the cylinder cupboard is off bounds because I believe it is contaminated. Or that noise I have to get away from or maybe some other obsessive thought I may have.  Don’t those thoughts drive you crazy? Yes I know it not PC to say crazy but that is what OCD makes me feel like sometimes.  

Back to the ‘Travelling OCD Show’ I had planned. OK, so I jest about the OCD show but the travelling bit is true. The travel was to the Central Otago Rail Trail and the method of travel on the trail was a mountain bike with a comfortable seat.
In another part of my life I am a member of a Lion’s Club. Some members planned a trip and asked if I would like to join them. Having always had the ambition to ‘do’ the trail I jumped at the invite and was packing my bike shorts ready for the adventure before you could say ‘Obsessive Compulsive Disorder’!

Our first day on the track began at a small town called Middlemarch. We all began on the journey of 157 kms. On this first day we did a massive bum crunching 57 kms.  It was a long day but very rewarding. What was rewarding was not only the beauty of the river and hills we crossed but the animal life. We encountered hawks, native birds and wild cats. I truly loved the isolation. What I also found very appealing was the complete absence of cars, graffiti and city noise. Ah the peace. There was only the whistle of the wind and the sound of insects and other wild life.  Not an OCD thought on that first whole day (well maybe one or two, but only thoughts).

What was also surprising about the trail was the average age of the peddlers. The average age would have to have been 60. Now I am 47 and that meant I was a mere babe in comparison. The Central Otago Rail Trail was originally a railway (no kidding) and many small towns along the trail are now feeling an economic boom as people spend money on accommodation, food, drink and souvenirs.
One pub worker told me that 50% of the hotels in the region now owe their survival to the trail. I stayed in cheaper pub accommodation with a couple of blokes. Staying in the pubs gave us the chance to meet the locals and there were definitely some characters amongst them. Some of the locals had not washed since Muldoon was Prime Minister but then we can’t all be sophisticated city folk, like me.

Many a pub had a very fat Pub Dog and a very friendly Pub Cat. One Pub Dog was so fat that he could hardly move. I wonder who was responsible for this condition? The décor in some of these pubs was circa 1974 although not intentionally. Much like being in an episode of  The Brady Bunch go to the farm. One pub owner we nicknamed Basil. There was a Sybil but no Spanish waiter. Basil did find out we called him that behind his back. There were no retributions that we know of.

Food was consumed with great gusto by me and others (well mainly by me). I had the best Whitebait Fritters in the world at one pub. Chocolate bars in my back pack provided that extra energy when needed. Beer was also consumed at some lunch stops. Normally this would put me to sleep in the afternoon but when you are out peddling after lunch your ‘I want to  sleep’ feelings disappear. Toilet stops come quicker but then the great outdoors is one big toilet!

I became a photographer supreme on the trail. The autumn colours were beautiful to photograph and taking photos was a real thrill. This included beautiful scenery with action shots of folk biking past me. Yes I was the slowest biker of our group but I enjoyed the solitude and this meant the chance to stop and click away.   Resting my weary butt was also important.  Note - always have a comfortable 'worn in' bike seat or you will suffer.

How was my OCD during this trip you ask? Well I am your classic contamination obsessive compulsive and the trip had its challenges but I can say that my OCD also took a holiday. So don’t think you cannot travel because you are concerned about your OCD. Think of it as an exposure/response exercise and just do it!  

By Hamish