Category Archives: around home

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Escapade

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Long-harboured curiosity and ambitions to ride the notoriously hilly and difficult Gentle Annie road from Napier to Taihape were finally realised over Easter. A fantastic patch of weather forecast amongst unseasonable grey and cool days were more than enough motivation for me to take off for the four days on my bike. I may be one of the few people that is disappointed that the sealing of the Gentle Annie was completed some years back, I’d have much preferred long stretches of gravel and even fewer cars. Alas, I had a very smooth day confident that I’d make it to Taihape before dark.

Managing to get organised, I left before dawn and was quickly out through fields of grapes and apples. The few diary farms passed by as the country slowly got hillier. Very slowly mind you, it wasn’t until after sixty kilometres that the climbing proper started.

In the meantime I occasionally looked back over Hawke’s Bay while making my way through the copious amount of food I’d packed for a day with no services.

The first big climb took me about an hour, but it wasn’t too steep as holiday traffic increased from non-existent to very little. Mostly it was alongside company pine forest, never the most interesting view – but good to see where it was and also pass some places I’d heard mention of. It was warming up and layers were shed as far as my short-sleeved shirt. The whole weekend was a very pleasant temperature – warm while climbing, but the descents were definitely and delightfully cooling.

Looking over to the northern reaches of the Ruahine Ranges.

I made sure to stop regularly to admire the view and eat my way through all the extra weight I was carrying. The four wraps I’d made that morning were spot-on.

Te Manihi (1099 m) – just before dropping down to the popular Kuripapango campground and crossing the headwaters of one of the big Hawke’s Bay rivers, the Ngaruroro.

Having crossed the river, the eponymous climb began and it was a good one. Only twenty minutes and ten percent, it was still slow going. It must have looked hot work as a guy in a car not much bigger than my bike stopped and gave me a nice cool bottle of Powerade. Much appreciated.

It doesn’t look too steep, but this convoy of caravans stopped as they were cooking their brakes.

The Gentle Annie hill done, it was very pleasant to spend ten kilometres up on the tops of those hills – at just under 1000 m above sea level, the views in all directions were grand.

Kaikomata Range.

The views of Ruapehu were excellent, I was surprised by how much snow was up there already.

The road quickly dropped down to the mighty Rangitikei River. And reared steeply out of the valley, probably the toughest climb all day – it was a bit of a grovel.

By this stage I was pretty sure I’d arrive well before dark, so I was in even less of a rush. Now mid-afternoon, the little traffic there was really dropped off. It was a very peaceful ride through small settlements. I started to develop a severe case of sideroad-itis, wondering what was up and how long are the numerous sideroads. For now I have to content myself with looking at maps, but as with most places I ride – there are always plenty of reasons to go back and explore further.

One final climb done, it was a gentle cruise down to Taihape as dusk approached and the air cooled. I was pleased to find a store open so I could stock up for another unserviced day of riding. The Rusty Nail Backpackers was a great find and home for the night – copious amounts of hot-cross buns, a roaring fire and fellow guests that cooked too much and very generously fed me dinner. A ripping day out in the sun and hills, it was well worth the wait.

With only a short Saturday on the cards, I had the luxury of leaving just after daybreak. This did mean that traffic on the short stretch of State Highway One was still mercifully quiet. Fittingly for a day in which, even more so than the previous one, I felt I was constantly plummeting into gorges and groveling out, I turned into Gorge Road and headed towards the Ruahines.

A nice little climb to warm up deposited me into this colourful scene.

I soon dropped sharply to cross the Rangitikei again, riding over a deep and narrow gorge.

Out of that valley I soon found a sublime patch of gravel winding its way through farms littered with golden trees and dropping into the next valley, the Kawhatau.

Climbing out of that one, I had intended to turn right towards Mangaweka but I spied a sign to Rangiwahia. I’d not previously considered that option as it is off the cycle route I was loosely following. When a friendly local stopped to see if I was OK and then advised me the alternative was mostly gravel, that clinched it; I turned left.

Ruapehu popped up again.

The promised section of gravel twisted and turned, taking me to the highest point of my day and then pointing me towards Rangiwahia. Here I rejoined the route of my favourite day on my Tour Aotearoa – who knew northern Manawatu was so absolutely lovely? Dropping into and climbing out of more gorges, I turned south on Main South Road – which would be one of the more tedious road names on the trip. But that’s OK, as I soon passed Conspicuous Road – which took the title of best road name.

For some reason the TA course went down the west side of the Pohangina River; I turned onto a new road, Pohangina Valley East Road (fairly self-explanatory), and enjoyed the solitude and autumn sunshine. Requisite riverside climbs and descents passed by easily before crossing the river for the pleasant downhill into Ashhurst. The short section of highway towards Palmerston North was loud and tedious, but thankfully it had a wide shoulder. Before long I was heading along familiar roads from my uni days to the home of dear friends. A very pleasant and much easier day that one, it was great to see familiar faces.

Easter Sunday brought a leisurely seven o’clock and very little traffic as I carried on along the Tour Aotearoa route. It was slated to rain for much of the day, I was thankful for every minute longer I stayed dry under threatening skies. With a nice section of gravel, I was in Pahiatua sooner than expected; but meeting expectations, everything was shut for the public holiday. That didn’t prevent some concerted snacking while I pondered my route choice. Not having ridden either option, I chose the hillier, more direct route to Pongaroa.

Following the Makuri River up its valley, the climbing was gentle with plenty of sheep farms and magpies providing the visual interest.

Watching and listening to dogs mustering sheep was about the most activity I saw all morning.

Native forest! Maybe I’d climbed just a little.

Rounding a corner I was taken by the sight of the Makuri Gorge stretching in front of me – it sure is fun taking roads with no knowledge or expectation as to what one may find. The road narrowed and steepened as the gorge tightened, before opening up at the small village of Makuri (a small school, a church and a smattering of houses). It looks a nice spot to come back to explore some of the gravel roads I’ve since realised are nearby.

The road reared up as much as it had all day and, after a couple of switchbacks, took the direct route up and over the Puketoi Range. Dropping off the ridge the descent was fast towards Pongaroa. I was impressed to look back and see a long bush-clad escarpment stretching away along the range, I’m not used to seeing too many such sights in NZ. I wondered if anything would be open in Pongaroa, I thought probably not.

An Event sign, hmmm, what could be going on?

To my surprise Pongaroa was heaving, the main street covered in people, cones and pick-ups. Turns out, I’d managed to unwittingly arrive on the one busy day of the year in the small settlement. It was the final day of a three-day hunt, and time for the weigh-in. Consequently a wide variety of dead animals, mostly deer and pigs, were spread on pick-up trays and hanging from hooks. Amongst all the gumboots, bush singlets and beer-swilling I cut a strange sight wheeling a loaded MTB in – I’m just glad I gave up wearing lycra well over a decade ago, no need to advertise my leanness in such company.

The pub was, of course, open – so I didn’t have to delve into my luggage to find lunch. Trying to keep out of the sun in the beer garden (the rain still hadn’t turned up), it was a pleasant rest taking it all in. I wasn’t expecting to see someone from work on my little Easter ride, but there you go.

I rolled out of town while things were still getting going, the traffic picking up now – every second vehicle seemingly another truck with antlers or trotters pointing in some direction. Two cheery cycle tourist also rode past, sans large animal carcass – they were the only other bike tourers I saw all weekend, disappointingly. The twenty-odd kilometres to the Weber junction were cruisy and very pleasant, which was welcome as I knew (from a stay in Wimbledon twenty months ago) the next section was hilly.

Quickly I was in my easy gears and an audiobook was playing for the spin up the hill. I was interested to see how much further logging operations had progressed since my last visit. Bombing down into Wimbledon, familiar sights blew past – this pub was certainly closed, I suspect all its patrons were in Pongaroa. As the shadows lengthened I crossed back into Hawke’s Bay, I was basically home – apart from 150 km of riding, that is.

One just has to stop for a sign this long.

The few remaining climbs didn’t get me 200 m above sea level, so the last sixty kilometres into Waipukurau were steady going as I set my lights going against the descending darkness. It still had not rained all day, nor had any wind appeared – it was a little surreal riding through the night so late in autumn with bare arms and legs, any extra layers were not required.

Over dinner in town I debated the last 80 – 100 km (route dependent) home. If I had have brought more light, being home by midnight was not out of the question. I’d had a rather leisurely paced 200 km day and still felt good. Alas, I was not certain I could eek that much illumination out of the lights I had, so I opted for the campground. Managing to sneakily find a roof under which to lay my head, I didn’t have to get in my bivy bag and slept well, missing the early morning rain.

Monday morning took me home, actually having to wear my rain gear for the half-hour between Waipukurau and Waipawa (huzzah for the new cycle trail taking bikes off State Highway Two). Quiet back roads took me to the busyness of Havelock North. With the slight shower gone, I couldn’t believe how warm, still and settled the weather had been – this ride was worth the wait. Negotiating Hastings, it was then cycle trail all the way back; using some of the plentiful energy left, and perhaps with an eye to the cloud behind, I made good pace to get home half an hour before the heavens opened.

A top leisurely trip all around: great countryside, little traffic and brilliant autumn weather. Now I just have to deal with that sideroad-itis and get back out there exploring more – it is all rather close to home after all.

around home, bikes, event, GPS, MTB, NZ

Triple Peaks – finally

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Since moving to Hawke’s Bay near on four years ago, I’ve heard much of the long-established Triple Peaks event. It seemed to have a reputation as a punishing race (MTB or run) climbing three peaks (obviously) near Havelock North. As two of the peaks are on private land, this event is one of the few chances to ride all three. I fairly regularly ride up Te Mata Peak and had been fortunate enough to ride up Mt Erin with a group – which just left the tallest, Mt Kahuranaki, for me to check out.

Unfortunately the weather had been dire the previous two years, and with the Tukutuki River running too high the reserve course had to be used – removing Kahuranaki from the event. One of those years it was so wet, Mt Erin was removed too and the race just went up a very slippery Te Mata three times. Keen to see new places, I’ve always reserved my entry until the weather forecast was likely to allow exploring of somewhere new. This year was finally that time; I entered a few days beforehand.

The days leading up to race day were dry, so the river was low and the A-course was good to go. A little rain overnight before the start greased things up just a bit. It had been a long time since I’d done an actual race, and I certainly wasn’t in anything resembling race-mode (whatever that is) – I’d chosen my bikepacking bike and left the frame bag on so I could carry plenty of food for the fifty kilometres, which I hoped would take me about four to four and a half hours. I found a spot near the middle of the field as 120-odd riders waited for the seven-thirty start.

That wasn’t a great idea, I should back myself more, as climbing gently out of town on seal I eased past many people on much bigger bikes – bringing numerous comments about a motor being hidden in my frame bag. I was in no rush as we started the climb of Mt Erin on farm tracks. It certainly was greasy and at times, with the particular tyres I had, it was easier to get off and run through sections of mud and slop. At least I wasn’t on a cyclocross bike – that looked miserable.

Suddenly the track we had been following ended and the course had us carrying and pushing bikes up steep, slippery grass slopes. I wasn’t quite expecting this level of hike-a-bike, but without luggage my bike seemed very light – another bright side. Settling into the adventure, I admired the view over the Heretaunga Plains as it opened up.

There was a camera, so I got back on my bike.

I stopped longer to admire the view, and found the doctor to snap a picture of this close-to-home adventure.

The music emanating from near the transmission tower drew us closer. I may have stopped a while longer to listen a bit.

Just your average piper and drummer on top of a hill at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning as scores of people rode and ran past.

Off Mt Erin on a rigid bike was just brutal. The tracks were rough enough, but crossing steep paddocks threw me all around and slowed me – plenty of people passed me. But that was only ten minutes of bouncing about before a winding trail through some riverside scrub led to the river crossing. With the Tukituki only knee-high, it was a fairly easy carry and rather nice to cool off a little. Through the aid station I’d no need to pause before a short section of road and farm track led to the bottom of Kahuranaki.

I was surprised when Shaun, a colleague and much stronger rider than me, caught up to me and chatted for a bit – surely he was well ahead of me. I’d not recognised him bent over repairing a flat at the bottom of Mt Erin. Climbing around the back of Kahuranaki was a steady gradient of ten percent, the surface was mostly good and I made steady progress. Nearing the summit, loud tunes were blasting down from a huge sound system – this was certainly motivating and took one’s mind off the climb. Cloud rolled in and it got quite misty very briefly, I enjoyed what of the view I could see. Only just below the summit did the hike-a-bike start, picking one’s way through boulders strewn down the slope.

Another camera, time to hold onto mine and get back on the bike.

With a last scramble up to the trig and a tentative carry off the very peak, it was more bumpy crossing of pasture before finally reaching a well-maintained track. The descent turned fast and wild. Forty-one minutes up, thirteen down. It was fantastic fun; made somewhat exciting on the bi-directional part of the course where some people couldn’t grasp the concept of keeping left. Never mind, it was exhilarating weaving at pace through those hardly moving.

Through the river aid-station again, it was encouraging to hear a couple of familiar voices cheering above the rather loud drums (not of the highland variety). Another familiar face was a marshall at a point halfway across flatter farmland. It is nice to see such people unexpectedly in the middle of events. A stretch of quiet dead-end road had us continuing our route paralleling the river, before we turned away and sharply rose through another farm. More ten percent gradient and more pushing.

Back on the bike, we approached the final peak, Te Mata, from the opposite side to that which I am used to. Some familiar spots led to the Back Track, which is normally walking only. Well, going up, it was still walking only. More of a goat track, it was narrow and numerous switchbacks led up the steep slope. It was easy enough to push up it, but at almost twenty percent it was not a climb I’d be riding up anytime soon – I’d definitely not be able to negotiate the corners. I was happy with my progress and energy levels still, every so often I’d haul someone else in and then expect them to pass me on the descents – they didn’t anymore.

With time for a brief drink at the top, familiar trails beckoned me back to town and the finish. Still bumpy on MTB trails, I held on and pointed down. Thankfully we didn’t have to survive the original MTB track – there would have been significant carnage. Instead, flying down the road for a bit, we hit the flowy trails to Chambers Walkway, a brief bit of road and then some more singletrack before the final road section. To my surprise I still had plenty left to pedal hard and get back in four hours and eight minutes.

Even more startling was that I’d got home in tenth place in a field of a hundred and twenty. I wasn’t really expecting that, and perhaps should have not faffed around so much with photos and admiring the view. Never mind, it was a great morning out on the bike seeing new places and views. With far more hike-a-bike than expected, it certainly was a challenging ride – but I loved it and was proper impressed by such a well-run and iconic local event. Definitely worth the wait.

around home, food, friends, hiking, NZ, shoulder

Whirinaki Hiking

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Before heading south to ride the Great Southern Brevet, Steve and I had set aside the following weekend to go hiking in the Whirinaki Forest. Still fatigued all week from the brevet, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But as it happened, a weekend walking with a light pack through beautiful native forest was just the tonic.

Perusing maps and brochures, I came up with this vague plan; it happened to be what Steve had in mind too.

I had Friday off work for my shoulder MRI in Hastings (the dye injection was horrible, the MRI went well – completely different in details to the one I had in the UK seven years ago), so was left in charge of food. Planning only a two night summer trip, there was plenty of room for fresh items – I made sure we would not starve.

The ache in my shoulder lessened enough to drive out and meet Steve at work; an hour of Napier-Taupo Road before turning north for forty minutes of gravel brought us to the trailhead right on the Hawke’s Bay – Bay of Plenty boundary, having climbed to the watershed at about 900 m. The walk into Central Whirinaki Hut that evening was a glorious and easy ten kilometres. From the start, we lost altitude over half the distance on a wide well-maintained trail to reach the Whirinaki River, which we followed to the hut.

It was a balmy evening for walking, and we were soon impressed by the number and variety of both large native trees and ferns. I don’t know that I’ve seen so many different ferns in such number in one place that I saw over the next two days and fifty kilometres. My left thigh gave me a bit of gip that evening going downhill, most unusual – thankfully I’d put in my ski/hiking poles and they helped no end, that niggle didn’t bother me the following days.

Friday evening and we didn’t see another soul that night – so we had the entire large hut to ourselves, a bunk room each. Luxury. It also meant we didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s slumber as we turned up, cooked and ate a small pile of nachos well after dark.

I got outside in the morning for a hut photo before the rain came in.

A stone’s throw away from the hut was the river and wonderfully there were two pairs of whio (blue ducks) slowly making their way upstream finding breakfast as they went.

Endangered, these ducks are also rare among water birds in that they live year-round on fast flowing rivers.

Thanks to Steve for the video.

The rain persisted as we set off, but it was inconsequential under the vast canopy. The trail tended down as we loosely followed the river. It seemed that a lot of the cuttings made to smooth the gradient weren’t really necessary – the walking was easy. There was even a tunnel!

Outrageous.

Did I mention there were ferns?

A short diversion had us standing on a bridge above the thundering Whirinaki Falls, alas there was no lookout spot. We left the Whirinaki River to turn to walk up a tributary – Mangamate Stream. With that we left the crowds behind; that morning we’d seen two men (and a dog) heading up to do some pest control and a group of five walking up to Central Hut, we were to see no one else for another twenty-four hours. Knowing we were about to get our feet wet, it seemed a good time break for lunch.

Quite a spread it was too; hooray for short hiking trips when much fresh food can be carried.

The trail notes told us we’d be following the stream most of the way up to the hut and to expect more than sixty crossings.

Finding the orange marker, I contemplated all the crossings to come before wading in. It was luxuriously warm, and like most of the crossings to come – around my knee-height.

I took to counting stream crossings, but that became difficult when much of the time the trail was simply walking up the watercourse. I was well pleased that we were doing this in the height of summer and it was a clear, warm day. For about six kilometres we did our best to follow the elusive orange markers upstream. Along the way the trail often disappeared and we were left immersed in toe-toe (cutty grass, pronounced “toy-toy”), failing to avoid nettles and, most of all, brushing increasingly-sensitive leg hairs across hook grass.

Oh, there’s the marker. I guess we’re walking up the stream again. A welcome respite from the hook grass.

We escaped from the sea of toe-toe!

Finding the site of the previous hut, we left the now-much-smaller stream and climbed to the hut. A couple of hundred metres to climb was a nice change from picking our way through water, rocks and grass and a suitable way to work up an appetite before suddenly emerging from the bush at a saddle to find the hut. For the record, I stopped counting at eighty stream crossings when the stream became small enough to barely get my boots wet.

Once again, our digs for the night were otherwise deserted. (Mangamate Hut)

Looking north as the day ends, in much more friendly grass.

Not a bad spot to devour more of the food we’d hauled in, all in the name of lightening the load for the following day of course.

Reading in fading light back-issues of the Auckland University Tramping Club magazine left in the hut showed a few things. Firstly, this area had been well visited by the club. Secondly, hunting orange markers, masses of hook grass and having wet feet were all part of getting here. Thirdly, I really should have done/do more hiking – while it’s not biking, it can be surprisingly good fun (I can imagine the eye-rolls that comment is getting from certain people).

With an earlier night’s sleep, we got away a bit earlier the next morning to walk down from the other side of the saddle. The morning would mostly be spent following a stream down a valley, before picking up another to walk up the next valley. At times the trail was wide and well-defined, but mostly it was not and occasionally downright difficult to find. Two more hours of hook grass exclamations and I decided it wasn’t too hot to wear trousers and save my hair – why did I not do that earlier? I could just walk straight through everything non-plussed and use far less energy not carefully maneuvering legs to avoid the dreaded hooks.

Steve carrying a relatively low inventory.

Upper Whirinaki Hut – only subtlety different to the previous night’s hut.

Stopping to lunch at the hut, we met the group of five that we’d seen the previous morning. We were lucky to escape with our lives, as our ample lunch consisting of such delicacies as fresh produce and cheese had our new acquaintances turning green. We didn’t hang around to see if we’d be skinned alive for daring to pull such items out of our packs.

Another kilometre of river walking, we crossed the Whirinaki River one last time and contemplated the climb back to the car. It was steep, but the most challenging and enjoyable hiking of the weekend. Climbing over three hundred metres in less than a mile probably should have been harder and less fun than it was. Thankfully we’d eaten most of the food by then and our packs were light, also the trail, while steep, was easy enough to follow.

The birdlife changed too, wood pigeon (kereru) up here.

Disappearing in seas of ferns is preferable to cutty grass.

Up on the ridge, we began to get a better impression of the vastness and density of the bush we’d walked through. As well as finding it was a pretty warm day.

One final pose, near another big tree – there were plenty of those.

Slight undulations took us back to the main track just short of the car with plenty of time to get home before dark. A fantastic weekend of walking in sublime native New Zealand forest; great food, company, birdlife and weather really helped more. I may have to do a bit more hiking – if only to recover after a week of intense bikepacking! Now to get back there again and do a longer loop, or take the bike.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, Canada, event, family, friends, MTB, NZ, shoulder, USA

The Christmas Letter 2018

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It’s that time again when I reflect on the previous year and consider what is in store for next year. It has been another great year filled with plenty of biking and also many new experiences; as happens, the good times are sometimes tempered – but with only a couple of annoying injuries keeping me inactive briefly (and missing out on two events I wanted to ride) and the loss of a bike to note, they’re not really worth focusing on.

In an attempt at a little cross-training for bikepacking, I thoroughly enjoyed the local Park Run and was surprised that it didn’t take too much effort to get my five kilometre time consistently below twenty minutes. I hope to slow my running down and work on longer distances next year. Trying to improve my swimming (/ability to drown) proved far more challenging, but just as I felt I was making decent progress my shoulder got loose again – so swimming seems out of the picture for a while.

I once again hosted many visitors to my little home in Napier. Amongst regular visits from family and friends, I’ve had a fair few cycle tourists stay (always happy to chat bikes, touring and bikepacking) and AirBnB continues to help use my spare rooms more than they would be otherwise – while contributing to house maintenance and minor upgrades and allowing me to keep repayments in check. If you’re ever around the Hawke’s Bay, get in touch and visit. I’ve also managed to travel a little this year to visit immediate family, extended family and friends; this Christmas and New Year will be spent down in Otago with family.

Here’s a more photographic account of the year:

After surprising the family for Christmas last year, I skived off for a few days of Central Otago bikepacking. It was brilliant and I’m looking forward to revisiting some of my route, and more, shortly.

Adele joined me for a memorable, fairly big, hilly and hot day on the Old Dunstan Trail.

Local bikepacking trips were fairly scarce, this one south of Havelock North sticks in the mind for the insane mud.

Further south, the Number 8 Wired route was a blinder. One easy day of gravel roads and hills.

And one tough day getting to the coast and back – significant hike-a-bike, rugged trails and battling into a warm NWer all the way home.

With a significant milestone in the Major Hazard Facility project I’ve been involved with at work being reached at the end of March, I was ready for Easter adventures. Riding the Timber Trail there and back on Good Friday was the start. Great fun, but unfortunately I hurt my knee which led me to not finish the ambitious Eastern Bay of Plenty bikepacking loop planned for the rest of the long weekend.

The hills west of Gisborne did whet the appetite with some stunning rural scenery and riding.

Just before reaching Opotiki and ending that painful (favouring my left knee led problems in my other foot and barely being able to walk for two weeks – I got better) ride, I met some other bikepackers that took me back to Rotorua and snapped this last photo of my trusty Surly.

I’d like to say I was delirious with pain and that led me to leaving my garage door open one night, but that’s not quite the case. The result was the ever-reliable bike that I’d had for five years and over twenty thousand kilometres was stolen. I have many happy memories of that bike: from my first forays into bikepacking in England, the Rift Valley Odyssey in Kenya, riding to Italy, around Kilimanjaro, one Australian trip, many local rides and the few NZ events I’ve done (Kiwi Brevet, Tour Aotearoa, and a few Geyserland Gravel Grinds). But in the end, it’s a bike and replaceable – which is just what I did, of course.

I thoroughly enjoyed the continuing Geyserland Gravel Grind series of bikepacking events based out of Rotorua again this year – I lined up for five in total. For the Mini-, Pete leant me his spare bike.

I liked it so much, I promptly test-rode and ordered the latest model. Here it is, unusually, unloaded – it’s certainly lighter than I was used to for bikepacking. I’m looking forward to just as many good trips and memories.

All ready for a few days away; having all one’s luggage stolen has an advantage in getting newer, improved gear.

Finally I made it down south for one of Adele’s birthday trips. A thoroughly enjoyable week of skiing, family, friends and beautiful Otago scenery. I finally got ski-touring with a super-fun day up and down Mt Kyeburn.

It was just as well I had a whole year’s worth of leave stored up before I went south, as near the end of that trip while enjoying one final day skiing, a bikepacking trip in Canada & NW USA was mentioned. Surprised to be invited along, I was suddenly trying to convince my boss I could have another two weeks off, booking flights, and so on.

Heading off bikepacking for two weeks on a bike I’d only ridden a hundred kilometres on, what could go wrong? Megan put together an excellent route down into Montana, across the top of Idaho, into Washington before closing the loop back in British Columbia. It was great being unexpectedly back riding bikes in North America and seeing good friends. A wonderful trip that will be remembered for trees, heat, bushfire smoke, quiet gravel roads, long climbs, some more trees, wildlife (so many eagles, not so many bears thankfully), wild berries, trees and many food items.

The first big climb in Montana.

Avoiding wildfires was a regular consideration.

The fire reroute turned out golden – with another long downhill.

Back home, I had just enough leave later that month to head off to New Plymouth to see Adele, James, Jacqui and Dan. Someone thought I should climb this mountain; which meant learning to use an ice axe and crampons.

We made it above the cloud, I climbed a mountain! That excitement was only tempered by the descent hammering my quads and being reduced to a hobble for the following week.

The Classic Geyserland Gravel Grind was a nostalgic trip back to the Bay of Plenty and many places I went while growing up nearby and on my first bike tours.

Labour Weekend was set aside to finish the Eastern loop I’d bailed on at Easter, with an extra diversion to and from childhood home of Te Puke – another ripping good long weekend exploring different bits of New Zealand. Riding over 700 km in four days didn’t seem that onerous, and with two big rides planned for November I was well on track to reach my stretch target for the year.

I was particularly looking forward to the Hunt 1000 (Canberra to Melbourne – ruggedly up, down and along the Snowy Mountains) – having followed the 2017 edition and being captivated by the scenery and remoteness of the terrain. Alas, that was not to be as I found a new and creative way to dislocate my shoulder again. So the last six weeks have been pretty quiet, but I’m back on the bike and thinking of next year…

There’s already a South Island event booked, I expect there will be an Australian one too as I still have the Hunt 1000 flight credit to use, and there are still plenty of places close to home that I need to explore. Further surgery, and six months of rehab, on my shoulder is a possibility, but until I have an MRI it’s not worth considering too much.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to all.