Category Archives: bikepacking

bikepacking, bikes, Canada, friends, travel

Back to Canada

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One Friday I was fastening my ski boots for another great day on the slopes of Treble Cone (good snow, excellent views, fun skiing, variable visibility and crazy winds eventually closing the main chairlift) to wind up ten days’ holiday. The next moment I was trying to decipher a screenshot of a bikepacking loop in Canada and NW USA. A few minutes later I was mildly startled to receive an invite for said trip – the following week. Never wanting to turn down bike trip invites, there was no good reason to not go. That was how I found myself back in Canada the following Tuesday, madness!

In the intervening days, I managed to convince my boss to give me another two weeks leave (huzzah for saving annual leave), book last minute flights, arrange travel insurance, AirBnB, airport transfer, rearrange all manner of day-to-day life things, spend time with family, fly home, work two days, pack my bike, throw all manner of clothes and camping gear in my luggage. It’s difficult to plan and organise for a vacation when one is still on the previous one!

All the things got done, and late Tuesday evening I was in Calgary with a surprising amount of sleep had en route – I stayed overnight as it was late and I wanted more sleep. Next morning, I was on the Airporter heading for Canmore. I only spent one year living there (seven years ago), but it was a fantastic year of friendships, biking, skiing & even some work; Canmore will always be a special place to me. Still, it was odd to be suddenly heading back – especially as I’d not been past Australia in four years.

Arriving at Megan’s, greetings to fill the almost-two years over, a busy afternoon ensued before we hit the road to start the bike trip. I assembled my bike, and loaded borrowed luggage while Megan was working and running errands. I managed a nostalgic walk around town past where I used to walk, work, live, shop and eat. It was just a little odd, not to mention busy. Smoke from wildfires rolled in obscuring the mountains and raining ash on me. I loaded the van with bikes, Megan returned and we hit the road for the four hour drive to Fernie, BC.

New bike eagerly anticipating assembly for its first big adventure.

All ready to go find gravel, hills and not too many or too close bears.

Those iconic peaks again – Three Sisters

and Ha Ling

With kind hospitality from friends of Megan’s, beds were provided and, exhausted, I collapsed – after the flurry of the previous five days, riding bikes again in North America was a fast approaching reality.

bikepacking, event, GPS, NZ

Mini Geyserland Gravel Grind 2018

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My swollen left knee caused by a big Easter of biking slowly returned to normal. However, due to having favoured my knee to get through six hundred kilometres of pain – my lower right leg was messed up for a few weeks. Physio treatment just aggravated it and made walking excruciating, but finally the root of the problem was treated and things came right in time for the Mini GGG. I could walk normally again, and riding was even better – as normal.

I was keen to go on this more-social bikepacking event and meet some new people. Pete kindly lent me his spare bike (a bike that has completed the Tour Divide no less) – we decked it with borrowed bags and adjusted it for me Friday night. Saturday in Rotorua dawned misty with drizzle falling. It really wasn’t too bad by the time we rolled to the start at the very agreeable hour of ten o’clock.

The Mini GGG was more social than most bikepacking events I’ve done as the distances each day were short and the camping spots set. This meant that everyone camped together and, arriving late afternoon, we had plenty of time to make camp and hang out in the shelter cooking, eating and sharing various stories.

Eleven of us set off from the centre of Rotorua and followed a now familiar route to, up, along and off the Mamakus (I’d ridden this way on the first GGG and last year’s Mega Grind). The drizzle continued, but it wasn’t cold or windy – our steady pace was most pleasant and the climb was gradual.

What’s this? How am I at the front? This must be socially paced. Waiting in Mamaku for people to talk to…

Traversing along the top of the ranges, the rain petered out and we became more exposed to the souwester. Having regrouped, it was good to spend some time chatting to Erik (one of the two, Pete being the other, organisers of these wonderful GGGs) about his custom bike (I’m still deciding what to replace my stolen Ogre with) and his experiences writing and editing his soon-to-be-published account of riding Tour Aotearoa one and a half times. Riding in a group of about six there were plenty to chat to; we caught up to another two riders who had got a slight head start on the main group, bringing out total to thirteen.

Passing the highest point of our route, we turned into the wind and our group slowly spread. Definitely one of those days requiring concerted effort to get downhill. Still, it still wasn’t raining, the surface was good and I was thoroughly enjoying experiencing a different bike. Not much of a day for photos, I had little reason to stop and therefore rolled into Tokoroa looking for a good bakery.

Still finding it a little bewildering to be at the vanguard of our little fleet of bikepacking rigs, I settled in with a glorious steak and mushroom pie and other baked treats. Slowly everyone else rolled into town and about half of the group arrived to further deplete the pie stock (they were very good, I may have had another). It was very odd during an “event” sitting still for well over an hour; eventually getting antsy and feeling I should be riding, I made to leave. Quiet country roads took us to our campground, the Jim Barnett Reserve, and I enjoyed hearing stories of this year’s early Tour Aotearoa as I rode with Tony – I had it easy in 2016!

Through a little bit of native bush, we arrived and set up camp. I still have not used my bivy bag – opting again to roll my sleeping bag out in the two-walled shelter. It was certainly warm enough. Alas, the water supply was turned off. Tony and I trekked to a nearby farmhouse and, after being plied with piping hot tea, returned with enough water for many of us to cook our various meals and hot beverages. Dinners were cooked, eaten and much was discussed as our small group lazed in the shelter. A very pleasant evening in good company.

Having not taken the Monday off work, my plan was to ride Days Two and Three on Sunday, get back to Rotorua and drive the few hours home that evening. I decamped, and set off some time before eight. When I made this plan, it was only to be about 120 km of riding – I should be back at my car early afternoon. I did not account for a partial closure of the Waikato River Trail, which meant the day started with a detour adding about an hour to the riding.

The detour had the effect of me modifying my route to ensure I got back to Rotorua to meet various people on time. As it happened, this meant that I skipped the sections of trail I’d ridden previously and spent about ninety percent of the day riding places I’d not yet taken a bike. I thoroughly enjoyed the detour, especially the gravel section, of Mangare and Huirimu Roads. Once again at the YoYo bakery in Mangakino (it has become a regular stopping point) it felt like another two-pie day (their steak and mushroom of comparable high quality to the previous day’s), I ate and took enough away to make sure I didn’t need to stop at another store over the remaining seventy-odd kilometres.

Earlier on Sunday approaching Arapuni – it was far brighter, warmer and more pleasant. The souwester was still a nagging presence for much of the day.

The part of the set-route I was most looking forward to was the only part I’d not ridden before – the final section of the Waikato River Trail. That is, the Whakamaru to Atiamuri section. Twenty-three kilometres of good fun! In parts fast, in other parts little pinch climbs appeared, along with some twists and all following the Waikato upstream. I was not disappointed, it was thoroughly enjoyable. The trail was in fantastic condition too – not too wet or too dry; also, it was deserted on a fine, Sunday afternoon.

A brief stop opposite a youth camp, on an island over a causeway, that I’m reasonably certain I went to at least once as a child. I vaguely remember go karts…

Done. Time for a snack and to get back to Rotorua.

Conscious of the time and having previously ridden the hilly, gravelled back route through Ngakuru – I opted for the quiet State Highway 30 back to town. With the wind at my back, the gradual climb from one catchment to the next wasn’t too much for my legs. At the watershed, I crossed back into the Bay of Plenty and the weekend’s riding was all but over.

An excellent, leisurely little outing – I was a little sad to not to stick around with the group, but I had a great time riding with others and solo. Not to mention, I now have plenty to ponder from riding a different bike. What will my next one be like, where will it take me? Time shall tell…

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Eastern Gravel Grind

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Until a day or so before, I wasn’t certain I’d be able to join in on Pete’s proposed Eastern Gravel Grind over Easter. A significant milestone in what has been over two years of work for me was April 4 – the deadline for submitting our MHF Safety Case. This date was just after Easter – would we get it all together in time so I could go and ride my bike for six hundred kilometres over three days? Somehow, we got the three hundred-odd pages assembled, printed and bound before Easter – I could go ride bikes and explore new places with others!

Perhaps riding the Timber Trail in both directions the previous day was not the best preparation; somehow I managed to get my bike, gear and self together to roll out with Pete, Leonie and Craig at six in the morning. Still pitch black at that time, the clocks due to roll back to standard time that night, we made good progress on the cycle trail south-east out of Rotorua. With yesterday’s miles in my legs and a increasingly sore knee, I was happier to chat a bit about bikepacking events we’d done, planned to do and so on.

Around Rerewhakaaitu, I was really slipping behind. The others were all a little faster and stronger than me on last year’s Mega Grind, so this wasn’t surprising – such discomfort however was much less usual. Finally I worked out that my seat was too low – both on my MTB on the Timber Trail, and now my bikepacking bike; most unusual, I long ago learnt the lesson of correct seat height. Tiredness. I sorted that out, but found I had to take it a bit slower and favour my left knee.

Having looked forward to the company, it was a little disheartening to find myself having to take things a bit slower and solo – but it was to be a big day, so no point in blowing up early on. I was hopeful I could still manage 250 km that day, through a pretty remote area. A couple of randonneurs, Chris and Phil (they were following a very similar route for Easter, just with fewer gravel and off-road sections), caught up to me and chatted a bit as we rolled on smooth gravel towards Murupara.

Over ninety kilometres in four and a half hours was a bit beyond my usual pace, so I was pleased to reach Murupara and refuel. The others were just finishing up a big meal, so I ordered and waited for mine as they carried on towards Waikaremoana.

Not bad for second breakfast and fifteen dollars.

Knowing I’d be slow and uncertain just how my knee would do, I didn’t hang around. I was looking forward to riding the Waikaremoana road again, two years since the last trip through – this time in the opposite direction over two, not one, days.

This place looked pretty much the same.

The bottom two lines here being the important one as I left the plateau and headed for the hills and native bush.

Occasionally it would get warm on what was a wonderful day for riding: mild and next to no wind. For the middle of a long weekend, there was little traffic and I found I could get up the hills OK – albeit in easier gears than I normally would, and therefore a bit slower.

Keeping stops to a minimum it was a little while before Chris and Phil caught me again. Chris and I groveled up the first notable climb together, Phil always slightly ahead. I lost them as they sped off on the descents. Through Ruatahuna I passed them as they stopped for water; I made my way up the biggest climb of the day steadily.

There was a fair bit of bush around

Huzzah! Gravel.

Still trying not to stop too much for photos, there are few. But: bike! gravel!

A big plummet to the lake ensued. So much fun. Not to mention nice give the legs a bit of a break. I think the highlight was passing a slow campervan on the outside of a bend. Almost reaching the lake, the road doesn’t quite make it – necessitating more climbing around bluffs. It was windy up there.

Panekire Bluffs across Waikaremoana

Spot the cyclist.

Departing Murupara, Pete had told me that the store at the lake closes at six o’clock and they’d wait for me there. They must have been there a while, as at ten to six they were waiting at the top of the road down to the store to let me know it would stay open for me and I should stock up as it was some time to the next resupply point. The bubbly storekeeper was only too happy to help and I stocked up on Maketu pies, tuna, bier sticks and jerky – much of that I was very happy to have bought over the next thirty-six hours.

Just a little more climbing as the road rose up to trace around, and above, the lake for the last time and at about seven o’clock I pulled on my jacket for the plunge down to lose five hundred metres in the twilight. Great fun. That just left forty kilometres of undulating valley floor riding in the dark to find the others in Frasertown. Goodness knows how much later I was, but I found the camping spot and settled in for what would prove to be a sleepless night for all. While not overly pleased with a sore knee and tired legs, I was still pleased with getting through a 250 km day with plenty of climbing and learning how to manage the pain. That I could hardly walk when off the bike was a different story.

The consensus was none of us slept that night, a mixture of unceasing dog barking, and either of, mutually exclusive, howling wind or mosquito attacks. The others left before five, but I dithered a little. By the time I departed, stopped to put on rain trousers and promptly remove them when the heavy shower passed, it was half-five. This day was the reason I was so keen to come on this trip – places I’d never been, exploring, discovery! Fantastico. With the clocks going back, the day dawned soon – but the layer of cloud kept things gloomy.

Through rural scenes it was mostly valley floor riding with a couple of climbs to Tiniroto. The highlight of the morning was a lively conversation with a young farming family riding together on a quad bike alongside the road between house and shed – the parents friendly and interested in where I was going, the kids excited apparently by a crazy loaded cyclist. Due to a local hunt day (it seemed every second vehicle, there were not many, had a stag’s head on the tray) the Tiniroto pub was open early – which was just as well as it was the only place to buy food. The others left, as I arrived to settle into scrambled eggs, a big pot (rather a milk jug, until the pot was found) of tea and stash some lunch to go.

Leaving the valley floor after riding under these bluffs.

Apparently Tiniroto is named for its many lakes. I saw but a few, here’s one from the pub.

It turned out Tiniroto was only halfway up a sustained climb. I was still nursing my knee, which I realised in the light was fairly swollen. Walking was still a struggle, but riding seemed to be going OK – I didn’t have a lot of options, biking it was. Turning off the route to Gisborne, and heading west again Pehiri Rd was deserted, flat and then turned to lovely gravel. That is, except the small patches of freshly laid aggregate that was big, chunky, uncompacted and very difficult to negotiate – horrid.

The first of two toasties of cheese, onion and bacon from the pub (toasted hamburger buns instead of slices of bread) went down a treat for first lunch as the climbing began again. Climbing up and over I dropped into the next valley. The countryside was deserted, hilly and just lovely. I was so pleased to be out exploring yet another part of NZ.

Gravel roads winding up, down and around.

Down the valley, there was then a small stretch of moderate traffic – daytrippers from Gisborne visiting Rere Falls. I stopped briefly and had my second toastie. The cloud had long since started to break up and it was a charming day with little wind and pleasant warmth.

Rere Falls, nope – had not been here before either.

Passing the Rere Rockslide, the climb switched to gravel to meader towards the highest point of the day. Very rural up here, although in hindsight we weren’t really that far from the highway – it certainly felt like we were. I lost count of how many signs I saw at entranceways for various cattle stations. One peculiarity I noticed in the area was that each property didn’t just have a mailbox – they each had a mailbag stashed. Surely they don’t get that many letters; maybe deliveries of other necessities.

As the shadows lengthened and the climbs kept coming (while not getting nearly as high as the day before, there was almost as much climbing in three-quarters of the distance), it was still excellent to be out there. One last little seventy metre climb and I was besides the headwaters of the Motu River, hoping to get to the highway before dark. I did, lights on and the twenty-five minutes of traffic wasn’t too bad. Turning off at Matawai I made good time on the gradual downhill to Motu village – where the others might have been. They weren’t.

After a long day and wanting to ride the upcoming Pakihi Trail in daylight, I couldn’t motivate myself further – so settled for a nice cup of tea and whatever food I still had left for dinner. Sleeping inside, I managed a wonderful sleep and some much needed rest for my weary legs. While a bit slower than normal, it was a great day of gravel roads, solitude (I didn’t speak to anyone for about twelve hours I think), sun and exploring.

Departing early again, I was wondering how I would make the two hundred-odd kilometres back to Rotorua in time to drive home to Napier – if it was just gravel road, I may have been OK but Pakihi track (which I thought would be the highlight of the day) would slow things a bit. Heading up the Motu Road a few hundred metres was steady with a nice gradient and well-graded gravel. Misty rain became decidedly wetting halfway up and clouded any view I might have had as Easter Monday dawned.

Seven o’clock had me at the trailhead and I was excited to get under the canopy and enjoy a long downhill section of trail. Ten kilometres of descent through native bush that subtlely changed had me grinning ear-to-ear. A big storm had been through the previous week, but the trail was in good condition. I bypassed the hut and tackled the second half of the trail which follows the Pakihi Stream – this was a bit more technical, with some good exposure to decent falls into the water and one big slip that required portage.

Finishing the trail by nine, I figured I could refuel in Opotiki at ten and then try to get back to Rotorua (about 150 km) by early evening – I could always take a shortcut if needed, which was looking likely at my pace. As it happened, while I was eating the last of my food at the trailend, three novice bikepackers turned up after staying in the hut overnight. I’m glad I didn’t stay there, it sounded packed and not at all conducive to sleep. There followed a lot of chat about bikepacking, my bike, gear, previous adventures and getting plied with snacks out of sympathy. By the time we rode into Opotiki together, I decided I would take the ride back to Rotorua that was offered – couldn’t find the motivation or sense in riding on my sore and swollen knee back.

I even found someone to take a picture of me and my bike.

So I finished off my weekend with a fun mini-roadtrip back to Rotorua with only a slight pang of disappointment for not completing the route as intended. I was super pleased with all I saw, keen to explore the area around Gisborne more, and satisfied that I’d ridden so far with a gammy knee and sore legs. What great countryside!

P.S. That previous photo will, probably, be the last of me with my trusty, sturdy Surly Ogre. After five years, over twenty-thousand kilometres, about a dozen countries and countless memories it disappeared from my garage last night 🙁 It probably deserves a post of its own, once I’ve had a bit time to get on with finding the next bike 🙂 .

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

No. 8 Wired – Southern Loop

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Attempting the southern loop of the No. 8 Wired route in one day, I wasn’t absolutely sure that I’d actually be able to make it. With promises of significant hike-a-bike in the Aorangi Forest Park in the route description, I carried my camping gear just in case I was out overnight. A hundred and fifty kilometres of mostly gravel road should have been easily achievable in a day, but the warnings of not attempting the forest park section alone (exactly what I was doing) due to its rugged nature and remoteness had me a little apprehensive.

I at least managed to get away before eight o’clock, turning on to the beginning of White Rock Road as the day lightened and the wind at my back. Not ten kilometres later I left that road, hit gravel and began to head up the Ruakokoputuna valley. Outlying Martinborough vineyards, olive farms and eventually a recently logged pine forest passed by at an easy gradient. The valley was always pretty narrow, but past the pines the sides got steeper and higher. A reasonable height above the river, the views opened up and it was beautiful gravel road riding. The wind pushing me along may have helped this assessment.

Watching border collies herding a mob of sheep, it was very much sheep country. So I was surprised shortly after when plenty of signs appeared on the road side notifying that the land was now a deer farm and hunting was prohibited.

Considering I’d climbed over five hundred metres and stopped to take in the views, I thought reaching the end of the road at ten o’clock was reasonable progress. I stopped at the boundary of the forest park, snacked, read the signs and generally stood wide eyed looking at the steepness of the country.

Met by this as the end of the road I hoped it wasn’t a sign of the next twenty-five kilometres.

The trail improved markedly and it was a fun and long descent to the valley floor. I passed a few hunters on foot and noting the roughness and narrowness I wondered if 4WDs would even make it in here. The track crossed the Turanganui River (East Branch) a fair few times, but it was all rideable – even if I did get a wet foot, it was a brilliantly sunny day. The GPS route supplied seemed to diverge from the actual track, but I followed my nose and found Sutherlands Hut.

Originally a Forest Service hut, from back in the days this was a state forest, it’s a simple hut in good condition.

Looking at the wiggle on my GPS screen I could see that I was soon to be climbing very steeply. Here come’s the hike-a-bike… And it certainly did. Soon I was pushing my bike up a loose rocky steep trail.

Within not much distance, and with a bit of energy spent, the hut was a speck down there in the centre of the frame. This about a fifth of the way up the climb.

The hike-a-bike didn’t let up for 250 m of pushing up, it leveled out a bit for me to ride some before another 25 % gradient kick to conquer the highest point of the route.

This doesn’t look too bad…

Oh, the trail goes up beside a cliff. Brilliant.

Nice and rocky too – a good work out for the upper body.

Views east across to the Rimutaka Ranges.

The forest was a curious mix of natives, various pines and some stands of eucalypts. I couldn’t quite figure it out. Topping out in a nice sheltered clearing at 750 m there was time for a short breather, enough cell coverage to respond to important messages before heading down to the coast. Which was easier said than done. It was steep down too, easily 15 %, at times more. I could barely ride it and almost got off the bike in an act of self-preservation.

The work was not done yet. The trail undulated in its steep fashion. With the sun blazing, the norwester picking up and great views, I was kept on my toes. Rather, I was kept off the bike with three or four more significant sections of pushing up loose rocky surfaces. Certainly the most hike-a-bike I’d done with a loaded bike – but I was making progress and was pretty sure I’d make it through.

Until I got a decent cut in my front tyre and sealant sprayed everywhere. Eventually it sealed, just, and I could pump more air back in. Hitting a section of road that looked to have been recently cleared and widened with a bulldozer (it was pretty awful), I was soon down at Hurupi Stream. So close to the coast, I thought this would take me there. Alas, there was one wicked push uphill to go.

But it did lead to views such as this looking across Palliser Bay.

Open farmland took me closer to Cook Strait, and gave views of the South Island.

One last super steep bit to get down to the coastal road, which may involved an elegant running jump from the bike as I lost control on the sketchy gravel.

Refilling water bottles at DOC’s Te Kopi holiday cabins, it was time to take full advantage of the strong tail wind to push me down to the southern extremity of the route. Head down and legs getting meteorological assistance, I was soon at Ngawi ordering fresh fish and mussels from the little caravan-housed fish and chip shop. At the halfway point of the day’s route, I thought I was on track being three o’clock – I just had to get around the cape, through a sheep station and then it was road all the way back. Into the wind; I had not forgotten that part.

Blown all the way to Cape Palliser, I skipped climbing the big staircase in cleats – having done so on my previous ride here.

Soon after the lighthouse, the road ends and there’s just a track (behind a large gate that warns that there is no access to White Rock Road – I ignored this, knowing that there was access for bikes). Shingly and sandy the double track splits and rejoins in main places as it winds its way along the grass barely holding onto life on the windswept coast. The wind became much more difficult to predict as it hustled through the little valleys that run down to the coast; the blustery nature of it was no longer helpful.

The track became gravelly and rose a bit give a slightly higher vantage point.

I’d long since passed the last vehicle out for a spot of fishing or wild-camping and as afternoon drew to a close, the remoteness and isolation of the setting became more apparent. If I thought the hike-a-bike was over for the day, it definitely was not. The shingle got bigger and looser – not possible to ride through on a standard MTB tyre. I resorted to pushing up a relatively small hill. When it was a rideable surface again, there was another steep pitch that I got halfway up before dismounting yet again and walking to the top. The trail dropped off suddenly to an imposing high, heavy, locked steel gate – the boundary with Ngapotiki Station.

White Rock sitting across the bay. I turned north and inland at about that place.

While locked and difficult to get around, the gate bars legal access along a paper road through the station. I’d phoned two days prior and told the station owner I was coming through, he had no problems with this. I muscled my bike over the gate, slowly, and enjoyed a better surface across the farm for a brief time – before hitting an equally large gate on the other side of the station.

Back on gravel road, I was soon at the other end of White Rock Road – all I had to do was follow it for near on sixty kilometres back home. Being five o’clock there was plenty of daylight left, all I had to contend with were a few small hills. Oh, and a howling norwester headwind. Leaving the coast the road gradually climbed seventy-five metres. I struggled against the wind and chased a small bird up the road.

In a parallel with my toil, it would walk a few steps to get away from me and then attempt to fly. On each attempt the wind rushing down the hill would thwart it and send it back to the gravel. Finally it was close enough to the top of the rise and the wind lifted it and it flew gracefully away. I was not so graceful; near the top I came to a literal standstill in my easiest gear. As was becoming normal, I got off and walked again. On a gravel road! Believe it or not, I can actually ride a bike. A bit.

I was greeted with a view of an oddly braided river, the Opouawe, which I would follow upstream for sometime with little climbing. Occasionally I could even hide from the wind.

The gravel road riding was great, the wind not so.

Getting pretty low on energy from the day’s efforts, I stopped to eat my meagre dinner at six before two small climbs took me over to Tuturumuri. The school conveniently provided water refills and the road was paved from there.

I’d like to say progress now sped up, but it really did not. The wind was still fierce and the road climbed through three hundred metres, up to a wind farm – a ominous sign if there ever was one. Dealing with what was now a massive crosswind, I rode along the ridge and listened to the wind whistling. At first I thought the sound was the wind turbines, but I soon realised that the extraordinary noise was the wind rushing through the basic triple-wire power lines. Somehow my bike didn’t turn into a short-lived aircraft.

Finally the pay-off came as I, comparatively, whizzed down the hill to cross the Ruakokoputuna again, deal with a few undulations, turn my lights on and arrive back thirteen hours after departing. Those last sixty kilometres of road, with few hills took me four hours! It was a little breezy.

It was a fantastic day out exploring new places, but definitely a day with much hike-a-bike and toil. Three weeks later I’m wondering if I should try it again on a calmer day. Perhaps, but there are other places I’ve not been yet… Hindsight does of course tell me that my original plan to do this southern loop the previous day would have been much easier – but I got to spend more time with family, so all worth it.