The last time I’d ridden from Westport to the start of the Old Ghost Road, it had been an easy few hours up the highway. But this time we had time, and importantly days beforehand with no rain, to give the Denniston Shortcut a go. It wasn’t a shortcut by any means, but I was well excited to finally explore off the back of the Denniston Plateau – which I’d visited a few times, enjoying the mountain-biking and history up there.

But first things first, ten minutes in it was time to meet Nina in town and have a pie. The wild game (goat in this case) pie from West Coast Pie Company takes the prize for best pie of the trip – it was fabulous. The cinnamon scroll also great, somehow managed to save some for later.

That didn’t last long. Nina’s photo.

Saying farewell to excellent-host Nina, raiding the supermarket for three days’ worth of food and a quick look down the main street we were finally on our way. No rush, a beautiful day of weather and we only had seventy-five kilometres planned and many hours to do it. Out of town on quiet, flat roads to find the coffee cart at Waimangaroa, where we’d leave the main road and start climbing inland, open. Another big pie seemed even too much for me, but Pete fancied another coffee – so more resting in the sun swatting the occasional sandfly. I was surprised to see a small NZ Cycle Trail sign pointing our way; this may make navigation even easier.

Morning smoko done, I was eagerly anticipating the climb to Denniston (from sea level to 600 m) – having only driven up it before. It must be one of the biggest, quiet, sealed climbs around these ways. Thankfully it was pleasantly cool for the most part, only sunny sections down low hot, and a quite reasonable gradient.

The views easily distracted from the task in hand.

An hour of climbing and we were at the top of the Denniston Incline, taking some time to eat while reading fascinating history of coal mining, and living, up here when it was extremely isolated (no road access, just the Incline) – Pete’s great-grandmother having lived up here giving a connection to the desolate place.

Can just spy some of the Incline tracks in the bush.

Off past the few remaining buildings to the back of the plateau, signs of coal still all around. As the road surface degraded from tar seal, to gravel, to rough track we began to wonder which of the two sets of high-voltage lines our pylon road would follow. A small drop to Cedar Creek Road, the scrub was still recovering from mining days as the climb to the highest point of the day began.

Stopped at a corner after a nicely steeper and technical section, I was happy to let a convoy of eight 4WDs drive past in the opposite direction. Assuming they’d come through on our route (which as there was no other, was a reasonable one), the Mackley River can’t have been too high as they weren’t all that well kitted out for deep water. Some encouragement, perhaps; I took it as such.

We must have passed the extent of the mining as the fauna turned more to forest than scrub; just short of the high point.

With the pylon road in surprisingly good condition, it was pleasant riding as we crested the hill and started to get glimpses of afar on such a clear day.

Out to the Brunner Range.

With the forest dropping away briefly, we stopped a few times as the view west kept improving. Fun to see the hills we’d be riding the following day and ponder which range had the distant snowy peaks.

The Glasgow Range on the left, the Lyell right of centre – Old Ghost Road territory, and the distant Richmond Range on the far right. What a clear day!

Rocky Tor, which is so close and prominent while riding the ridge on OGR, clearly visible.

Quickly, we lost almost five hundred metres – steep in places (fifteen percent overall, pleased we weren’t going up!), restraint from having too much fun at borderline speeds was prudent. The surface got a little worse with such grades.

The coal is back.

Stevenson Stream was our first crossing, managed to keep dry feet.

We’d been up at those pylons but minutes before; partway up a grunty little climb to a short plateau.

Before another plunge to Mt William Stream, the section just before was the worst surface of the day. Steep, a bit washed out, but rideable.

Didn’t keep feet completely dry, but the afternoon was warm in the sun and thankfully my newish shoes dry a whole faster than previous ones.

A bit of break as it was Pete’s turn today to deal with a flat tyre. Only a puncture in the tread, it was soon plugged and we climbed again. Another, slighter, climb and more mellow drop over two-plus kilometres deposited us on the right bank of our main obstacle of the day – the Mackley. This was the big unknown, would we be able to safely cross?

A bit wider than I was expecting, it looked deeper too. With damp shoes already, I was happy to let them get soaked as it would make the crossing easier on increasingly cold feet. Bags soon came off the bikes to be carried across, if it didn’t prove too deep. Wading out it was good to see the bottom and no sharp drop-offs as it deepened to cover my legs. This was fine and the current wasn’t too strong. Briefly in the middle it got waist deep, a bit towy for complete comfort. But that didn’t last long and I was soon depositing my bags on the left bank, and returning confident that we’d get our bikes across safely. I think I even managed to keep mine mostly out of the water.

(For those interested in making the crossing, the river level is measured at this point and can be found here, listed as Orikaka Rv at Gorge. When we crossed, the level was reported as 0.92 m – the level having dropped 1.6 m in the preceding two and a half days. For someone my size [171 cm, 58 kg], I wouldn’t want to be crossing alone with it much higher.)

Pete making the third crossing. Limited photos as phone stashed in dry bag, as were a lot of clothes.

Dried off, it was time to get going as still twenty kilometres of who-knows-what to come. Wow, the climb away from the river is a doozy. I see it called Beast of the Mackley somewhere, almost two hundred metres and twenty percent. I was happy to get three-quarters up, with not inconsiderable effort, before my tyre slipped and I was happy to wait, get some water from a stream and walk the rest. Some fitness and climbing legs coming back – it was the only climb I walked all day; pleasing. At the top there were HV lines coming and going every which way; odd to see how it had been unconventionally arranged.

Off the top, it was less steep – but there was still some climbing to be done as the track undulated through more nice bush. Suddenly, an open pit that looked recently worked and abandoned. Shouldn’t have been surprised. Then we were riding through, and on, a lot more coal than earlier in the day, New Creek Mining didn’t look to still be in operation with temporary buildings heavily damaged and littering the road. It was odd and quite a mess with polystyrene insulation spread down a long stretch of the otherwise pleasant road.

Still, the signs kept up – most helpful.

Made it – out to the Buller River on dusk.

Five easy, flattish, kilometres to Lyell and the OGR trailhead. Arriving just after dark, there were pleasantly no sandflies and the shelter had its fly screens intact and made a suitable place to cook, eat and sleep after an excellent and successful day – quite a climby one at that in the middle.