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bikepacking, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Twelve – Murchison to Big River

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Regular shift work and being a much more extreme adventurer than me, meant that a six o’clock start on a weekend after a full week of work was no problem for Adele. I faffed a bit when I realised that a gas station was open – always time for a meat pie for breakfast. We rode off south slowly gaining altitude up the Matakitaki valley. There are a fair few farms up here and I was glad to be riding this road early in the morning – last year coming down the gravel road, I had at least one rather close encounter with a milk tanker that was fair hustling.

The early morning ride was very nice and I was pleased with the company, despite the constant noise from Adele’s drivetrain – I’m a bit spoilt as far as maintenance- & noise-free drivetrains go. The mist around the surrounding bluffs slowly lifted and we crossed the river on a concrete bridge that looked about the same vintage and substance as the Bridge to Nowhere.

Shortly after crossing the river, we left it behind and started climbing out of the valley to Maruia Saddle. It’s a fairly gentle (around five percent gradient) climb and I found it much easier than from the other side; the beech forest was as sublime as I remembered and I thoroughly enjoyed the climb and sharing it with one of my most favourite people. Evan, an American-Kiwi from Wellington who also stayed at The Old Bank overnight, was at the top – so we hung around and chatted for a while, listening to the wasps before I said au revoir to Adele. The plan was for her to ride back to her car, while I carried on, and then meet me in Reefton for a late lunch.

We even got a picture together, not as frequent an occurrence as either of us would like.

I was pleased I put an extra layer on for the quick blast down through the trees to another highway. The Touring Gentleman caught me on the road; to no-one’s surprise, I couldn’t stay with their brisk pace – not that it mattered, we were all shortly at the cafe at Maruia for another big meal. It was great seeing the next twenty kilometres (off the highway, on the other side of the Maruia River) as I’d been through this native forest well before it daybreak last year.

Relieved to have no reason to stop in Springs Junction, I also knew I’d have a stiff climb up to Rahu Saddle. It was nowhere near as bad as coming down the road last year in the pelting rain – in fact, it turned out to be a quite reasonable climb to the top.

Looking back along another quiet West Coast highway.

Just a bike picture at the rather agreeable saddle.

I much preferred this direction of going over Rahu Saddle, the climb while steeper wasn’t too onerous and the downhill to Reefton was thirty-five kilometres gradually losing five hundred metres. Admittedly, while climbing that distance out of Reefton last year it did rain heavily – so my opinion may be very clouded by that.

I must have made good time, because Adele drove into Reefton at much the same time I rolled in. Over another big cafe meal, Evan joined us and plans were hatched. A few of us had thought that staying in Big River Hut the night would be a good distance for the day and a cool place to stay. Good news came through, Adele’s colleague once again generously offered to cover for her – so Adele could come to the hut too. I’d often said that the Big River-Waiuta part was the highlight of my Kiwi Brevet and strangely, I’d been to a great place in the South Island that Adele hadn’t. I was eager for her to see it before she moves further south again.

The plan was that I’d carry on on the course, obviously, and Adele would drive around to the ghost-town of Waiuta and then ride in to the hut; hopefully both of us getting there a) before dark and b) at about the same time. I knew I had over twenty kilometres to ride, mostly on rough four-wheel drive track and a big climb to gain over five hundred metres – I should make it in the four hours before dark; whereas Adele had a forty minute drive before even starting on the eleven kilometre walking track (not designed for bikes, frequently slippery and off-camber) that took me over two hours to ride the previous year. First a call to a store to stock up for the night was needed. I’d been inspired by Zach and managed to fit a large can of beer in my frame bag (as well as food) – with all water bottles filled (the water around the old gold mine processing area is not to be trusted), I’d added considerable mass to my bike.

Out of town, as we progressed up the gravel road the valley closed in and the four-wheel drive track took over when the road officially ended.

“Road Closed Use At Own Risk” – I think this road hasn’t been maintained for a very long time.

As it happened, the climb wasn’t nearly as rough and steep as I expected from traveling it in the opposite direction. I think this was because last year it was mostly downhill, but for a steep and rocky climb of 170 m which was how I assumed the rest of the track would be when going up. Thankfully it wasn’t and despite constant drizzle that had set in there was plenty of green forest to look at, as well as mine heads and one red Suzuki SJ413 wrecked down the side of a bank. With the cloud so low and dense it was very gloomy from the beginning of the evening and the metres ticked by with some effort. Eventually it plateaued at the summit before a little descent to where the Big River mining operations used to be.

Big River looking rather benign – this can rise very quickly and did a few days later. So much so, that the Big River-Waiuta part of the course became optional.

Old cyanide tanks for the leaching part of the operation.

Looking around for the hut, which I vaguely remembered passing last year, I was hopeful that this wasn’t it.

Perhaps one day I’ll return to have a proper look around the old mining equipment that is further off our route.

One only had to look up and see the hut prominent as the night drew in.

I’d got through the river crossings with dry feet, but that didn’t last traipsing through the grass up to the hut. Evan had worked a lot harder than I did and was there to greet me, trying to get the coal range going. But five or ten minutes after my arrival, Adele turned up having conquered the long, slow, slippery and gradual climb from Waiuta. It was almost dark while I was stashing my bike on the balcony and I looked down to see a lone cyclist down near the chemical tanks. Zach had put in a big effort to make the hut before dark and was very pleased to hear my excited shouts of greeting – he’d had a big detour, & had to retrace his path, after missing the turn off the highway after Maruia.

In the end there were seven of us in the hut, well satisfied with being there. It was a great hut and Evan did eventually get the coal range roaring – it was a rather warm night despite the weather outside. Even if I wasn’t too excited by riding places I’d been before, this was easily my favourite day of the South Island. The dinner of cold meats and bread and so on went down a treat and it was well worth dragging that almost-kilogram of beer (Sapporo cans are remarkably hefty and strong it turns out) up the hill. Maruia Saddle was just beautiful in the morning, I do like the area around Reefton and Big River is a special place, with a satisfying ride in to get there. What’s more, I was on one last hut-trip with Adele before her upcoming wedding.

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Eleven – Richmond to Murchison

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With no excuse for a late start, it was a gentle pre-dawn ride up the Great Taste Trail towards Wakefield.

Rolling into Wakefield.

I caught up with some other riders at the bakery. It turned out that the only other two guys I’d seen briefly the day before were the two riders I spent most of the first day with battling down Ninety Mile Beach. The eccles cake at the bakery was one of the best I’d ever had – and I had a fair few while living in England. The steak pie for second-breakfast was also fantastic. I’d started to hear tales of a single-speeding Alaskan who’d come out especially for the Tour – he seemed to be noted for always carrying a few beers and stopping every so often for a drink and a quick smoke. So finally, I briefly met Zach before I rode off over to Tapawera.

It was a pleasant little ride through wide farmed valleys and then up over a bit of a climb through plantation pines. At the relaxed pace I was now going, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I remembered in the opposite direction the previous year. Possibly because it wasn’t overly hot yet. I figured I had enough food still from stocking up in Wakefield, so skipped Tapawera and headed up the Tadmor Valley – the smell of hops heavy in the morning air.

Heading up to Dovedale.

There were plenty of old buildings to see; this one unusually was having a lot work done on it.

Through all the pasture, hop growing and orchards one could easily catch glimpses of what was the old railway. It was meant to connect Nelson to the rest of the South Island rail network, but over many decades it only made it about this far and the final seventy kilometre gap to Inangahua Junction was never filled. As use declined in the 1950s, the line was closed and removed over time. Now there were just plaques and signboards to read of it – the old station site at Kiwi was just off the course, but I passed it by.

Continuing up the valley, it finally got a bit steeper and changed back to pine forest. I was caught by Shelley & Ross from Dargaville and passed by the Touring Gentlemen from Auckland as I stopped to have lunch – the trees not tall enough yet to give any shade. Over the summit, the gravel road dropped back to the highway and there was one of those annoying winds coming up the valley that mean pedaling downhill was necessary. Ross & Shelley were stopped at a junction of highways, so I paused for a chat and more food – the ever-present buzzing of wasps were now joined by many sandflies intent on feasting on me.

I was pleased to have good company and we rolled off down the highway towards the turnoff to Lake Rotoroa. Despite having a climb up to the lake, Shelley set a good pace as the wind was now at our backs. We stopped to buy pop from a small store at a backpackers – it would have been pleasant, but the proprietor was a real complainypants and the sandflies were still rampant. I was relieved to leave and roll the short distance to the lake.

Leaving the highway and crossing the Buller River.

Another photo checkpoint – Lake Rotoroa.

The sandflies are notorious here.

Zach had caught up to us, the others all seemed to know each other well from the previous days and hundreds of miles. There was talk of Shelley having inadvertently booked accommodation in Murchison that had far more beds than she & Ross needed – it sounded preferable than going a few hours more over Maruia Saddle alone. I really did not want to get stuck staying in the rather dire motel in Springs Junction for the third time in a year. Plus, my biggest supporter, follwer & encourager, (sister) Adele, had somehow managed to get out of working Friday night and Saturday in Westport and may be able to pop over for dinner & to stay the night. Being more social with such good company sounded excellent – I think I was also still a little tired from the 265 km day to get the ferry as well.

The chatter about the upcoming Braeburn track climb seemed to be rather fearful; but I remembered it being OK from the other side (which started a lot lower), so wasn’t too worried. We all found that the seven percent climb for a couple of kilometres really wasn’t that bad and then it was just a long descent into Murchison and the pub. Late afternoon it was a nice cruise down through the valley chatting with Zach and explaining to a local farmer, once again, what all these people on loaded bikes were doing in his neck of the woods.

It was all very civilised finishing the day’s riding at five-thirty and going to the pub. I was surprised at just how cheap jugs of beer were in this part of the world. Out on the patio in the sun, we met the Gentleman Tourers again before Shelley & Ross turned up. Stocking up from the corner-store it was off to The Old Bank, our digs for the night. While plenty big enough for us, it wasn’t a particularly old Old Bank – the cinder block construction lacking any sort of character. Being a repurposed building, the layout was interesting – unfortunately we didn’t find any bullion lying around, but I wouldn’t have wanted to carry that anyway. But it more than served our needs with plenty of space, good showers and a good cafe for dinner next door.

I was thrilled Adele joined us for dinner, I’d not seen here since my move north eight months prior and there was plenty of catching up. Even better, she’d be able to join me for the next morning’s riding – this going a bit slower thing was definitely working out well.

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Ten – Picton to Richmond

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Hustling to pack-up my sleeping gear, the irony of first being told to hurry and get on the ferry and then a few hours later to hurry and get off the ferry was not lost on me. As I’d only been off the bike for three and a half hours, I still had some time of the six hour mandated daily rest remaining. I pootled down to Picton looking for anything that might be open. There was a greasy spoon open – I hadn’t had both first- and second-breakfast in the same place yet, but here I was trying to eat and kill time; so that was what happened.

The six-hours over, I rode off a bit more subdued than previous days. In part this was due to the big day and night ride just completed, but mostly I just wasn’t as excited about this part of the route. That was only because I’d done pretty much all of it the year before over three days on the Kiwi Brevet, albeit in the opposite direction (one of the big hike-a-bike hills was optional on Tour Aotearoa – apparently only one person took that option; I had no desire to tackle Porika again if I didn’t have to). So I’d seen most of the next few hundred kilometres before and the excitement of exploration was gone. On top of that, I was familiar with most of the rest of the course – only really looking forward to the West Coast Wilderness Trail and the Around the Mountains section.

Having said that, I knew it was going to be beautiful riding – knowing that I was now ahead of schedule, I decided to take things rather more slowly. Following Queen Charlotte Drive to Havelock there are great views of Queen Charlotte Sound. There was another optional trail beside the rode – keen to see something new, I took that for its short distance. It was a wise choice, despite it adding almost two hundred metres of climbing in the first two of its five kilometres – the views were so much better from this vantage point.

Leaving Picton

Up on the optional trail.

Also on the optional bit.

No dolphins this year at Grove, much to my disappointment. That dusk sighting is an enduring memory of last year’s Kiwi Brevet.

Leaving Queen Charlotte Sound, it’s a pretty flat hour (at the relaxed pace I was going that day) to Havelock. The last town before the big hill I knew was coming soon, it seemed a good place to stop for an early lunch (and stock up for second-lunch). Somewhere along the way, I’d started drinking milkshakes – they always seem to go down well and became another staple of the trip. From Havelock it was another twenty flat kilometres, this on quiet highway, before we turned off to tackle Maungatapu. I thought a nap and second-lunch was called for. It was a warm day and forty winks over thirty minutes in the shade was just lovely.

An hour following the Pelorus River upstream on undulating, but gradually climbing of course, gravel ensued before the toughest climb of the whole route began. I assume the track up there is basically just a rugged service road for the powerlines that go over the hill to/from Nelson. It’s double track and I took it rather slowly, knowing at least that going in this direction should be a lot easier than riding over from the Nelson side. And it was, I probably rode most of it until the last kilometre (or two, now that I look at the GPS data) before the surface became too loose for my tired legs and slicker-than-last-year tyres. With little wind and the sun beating down on me it was also stinking hot. I had a bit of a rest at the top – that seven kilometres and seven hundred metres of climbing took me the best part of two hours. So much for an easy day.

We went where the powerlines ended up, thankfully not by the same route.

The trail before it got steeper and looser – still pretty steep at this point.

Hard to believe I was at sea-level but twenty kilometres before – that’s quite a few hills in amongst the sea.

The descent was even steeper, as I remembered, dropping over five hundred metres in about four kilometres – and, boy, was it rough! I managed to grit it out with my fully-rigid and loaded bike bouncing around. I was not surprised to hear later that quite a few people walked this descent; still, better than riding up it – that was tough!

We dropped down to this reservoir, before having to steeply climb a short distance before it was mostly gently down the Maitai Valley to Nelson.

Nearing Nelson, I was pretty tired from the ride to Wellington and, particularly, Maungatapu – I thought a early knock-off was prudent. There were quite a few open homes around Nelson, but there was enough reserves to go a little further, although not much. I ended up staying in the lounge of Mike the Scout just off the route in Richmond. I think I’d missed this previously – Mike earned that nickname by pre-riding the course in the school holidays (as he’s a teacher he couldn’t join the rest of us). I gratefully accepted a roast dinner and enjoyed comparing notes on riding the course at different times.

Clearly five meals wasn’t enough for the day – I rode down to the supermarket to resupply snacks for the following day and was hungry again, so just had to get a large burger and another milkshake. Rest day over, I was pleased to have the toughest climb of the trip out of the way; I slept well. But looking at my spreadsheet confirms my feeling that it wasn’t really a rest day – Maungatapu easily made it the day with the highest specific climbing (that’s a term I just made up, it sounds good and I’m sure I’m not the first to coin the term – the units are metres climbed per hundred kilometres travelled).

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, friends, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Nine – Palmerston North to Wellington

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With all the hills of northern Manawatu still in my legs, I’d no real plan for how far I’d make it. I also realised I hadn’t seen a single rider on the route the previous day – a first for my Tour. That was quite alright as I’d so enjoyed the day. The day from Palmerston North turned out to be quite social in other ways. Having seen university flatmates, Terry & Kate, in town I was pleased to see a car pull over in front of me as I ground up the Pahiatua Track. After battling with a typically dastardly Palmy gale for ninety-odd minutes, the chance to stop was welcome. It was Louis, a childhood friend & uni flatmate of the same flat, on his way to work in Pahiatua – great to catch up, albeit in an unusual place.

Not far past the summit was a turn off to a rural road – it was nice to escape the morning traffic crossing the Tararuas. Most of the day was on rural back roads through more hilly farms – first dairying country, before it got drier and more inclined to sheep & beef farming. I was disappointed not to get a full English breakfast in Pahiatua, but still ate well for second breakfast. After the steep downhill off the ranges, the route climbed gradually for fifty or so clicks – thankfully the wind was much less forceful on the east of the Tararuas. Still a headwind for much of the day, it was not quite a nuisance or too much of a hindrance.

More rural scenes, it started out green.

I stopped for the photo checkpoint, and pies, in Eketahuna. The giant kiwi has gone albino.

Around noon, a friend met me in the middle of nowhere to ride the thirty-five kilometres down into Masterton. Craig, a Pukekohe & NZ Steel mountain-biking buddy, was now back learning the ropes to take over the family farm. It was great to have someone to chat with (there was a lot of catching up to do as we hadn’t seen each other since the fantastic Queen Charlotte ride seven years before) – obviously Craig was pretty interested in the Tour and bikes too, so the time passed quickly.

I did find a proper breakfast (second-lunch, or third-breakfast, by this stage) in Masterton. There were even beans! Little did I know that that would be the last full English I’d find on my trip – despair.

Masterton even got in on this swing-bridge thing, but I suspect they’d had their’s long before DOC even existed.

Bidding farewell to Craig, I continued south into the breeze, enjoying the scenery and the lack of traffic. I always found plenty to look at – at some stage there was even a big sign out encouraging Tour Aotearoa riders. It was definitely drier this far south in the Wairarapa. There was plenty of time to think with no other riders around. As I considered the previous week, thoughts turned to the Tour Divide – what I like to call the grandaddy of these types of events. That event has been on my radar for a few years now and I was beginning to think that I might be a possibility of having a good attempt at it.

But it’s so much more epic, that it would require much more planning and time. At about 4500 km (fifty percent longer) and with over sixty thousand metres of climbing (almost twice as much) following the Continental Divide from Canada through five US states to the Mexican border it is more extreme in almost every way. Longer, colder (up north), hotter (down south), with dangerous animals, proper mountain passes, and greater distances between resupply – I’d be a fool to turn up with amount of preparation I did for Tour Aotearoa. One day, in a few years, I’ll have sufficient leave and time to have a go – at least, I sure hope so as Tour Aotearoa had been so fantastic so far.

I turned east towards Martinborough as the sun sunk.

It was great to stop in Martinborough and to catch up my uncle and aunt. As always, Tour stories and practicalities dominated the conversation. The week so far was certainly different for me – having so much to talk about. From here, I had a few options: call an early day in Martinborough, or carry on riding and either camp at the top of the Rimutakas, stay the night at one of the open homes (there were homes of supporters of the Tour on the route that were open to riders to stay in) around Wellington or make the early morning Cook Strait ferry.

After a nap and dinner, I went with the theory it’s good to do something a little crazy & push oneself every so often; I jumped online and booked a ticket on the two-thirty ferry. I had six hours to ride a hundred kilometres and cross the Rimutakas by night. It would be close, but I was confident as the wind would be at my back from Martinborough to the hills and I’d previously crossed the Rimutaka Incline and knew it wasn’t too difficult (being an old, albeit steeper-than-normal, rail route). All went pretty much according to plan, I easily made the Incline trailhead before dark and the trail up was easily ridden in the dark.

Heading for the hills.

Another checkpoint – the Rimutaka summit tunnel, at about twenty to ten.

It was a pleasant night for riding (I don’t think I would have bothered otherwise) and the ride off the hills was great fun. Things started to slow a bit as I followed the Hutt River down to Wellington harbour. The navigation through all the little turns wasn’t particularly easy in the dark, even with the GPS track to follow, and it just went on and on. I was starting to cut it fine, but finally I was on the cycle path sandwiched between dual-carriageway and the harbourside railway heading for the ferry terminal. I was surprised to have to stop and get marshalled through midnight track work that had taken over the cycle path.

With only seven kilometres to go I started getting calls from the ferry company wondering where I was. Apparently boarding was an hour before sailing for foot passengers (!) – I’d not read that in my rush to book a ticket. I assured them I was almost there and then stepped on the gas. Another phone call from someone else at the ferry halted progress – “I’d be there by now if you’d stop bloody phoning me”. Past parliament and I checked in – & then promptly waited fifteen minutes until boarding.

There were far more Tour Aotearoa riders waiting in the boarding lounge than I imagined – they’e all been in Wellington far longer than I had. I was pleased to finally catch up to and chat to Jonathon Kennett – thanks to his tireless work putting the route together and basically organising everything, we were all on this grand adventure. The adrenaline was still coursing through me after the mad dash at the end of a pleasant night ride, so I found it a little difficult to settle into a slumber after we boarded.

I did remember to get the obligatory checkpoint photo from the ferry, before trying to get some sleep on the rest of the voyage.

Stretched out over a few seats, I took some time to consider that I’d just ridden (more than, really) the length of the North Island in eight and a half days. Over half the trip was done and I was therefore well on track to finish in the eighteen days I had – this was good to know. But even more pleasing was that I’d put some consecutive long, hilly, rough, hot and tough days together without too much bother – that is after the stomach upsets of the first twenty-four hours. I wasn’t expecting that. With this general satisfaction of my Tour so far and anticipation of the remaining adventure I drifted off to a surprisingly reasonable, albeit only three hours, of sleep. Oh, and this was my longest day on a bike ever – but by no means the toughest.