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Mangatutu Two Hot Springs S24O

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In what may become a December tradition, I was keen to repeat my Mangatutu Hot Springs overnight ride of last year. With all that’s been going on and an upcoming week on call for work & then Christmas – last weekend was the only one left. The forecast looked fair (just a few showers later afternoon Saturday) and I managed to get all packed in an hour, with some encouragement, in the morning. However I got a bit sidetracked(ed) early afternoon, which was OK as it was so hot, and didn’t leave until after two o’clock.

I rode the same route as last year, so will try not to repeat myself too much. As I knew how long it should take me, I figured I had plenty of time; I was also in a photo-taking mood. The northerly was strong and very warm.

Looking north-east as I climb before reaching Glengarry Road.

Shortly after, looking towards the Kawekas and bit of cloud.

There seem to be a few stud farms up near Rissington – these Charolais.

Climbing more, it’s proper humid – this looking south.

Looking back east, back down the road I’m following – the hills are getting bigger. Much climbing, slightly less descent.

Nearing Patoka, the light rain I’d been enjoying got heavier. I sheltered in a small bus shelter trying to work out if it would pass. It didn’t. Putting on my rain gear I carried on.

Through Puketitiri the rain eased & then stopped. I was only half-heartedly pursued by the same fox terrier that harassed me with such speed last year. I was rewarded with a glorious rainbow.

More glorious green hills – it really is wonderful up there.

Passing Ball’s Clearing, the gravel finally started. I was starting to get concerned that the sky was darkening and I’d spent so long taking photos, that I might be a bit later than intended. Thankfully I’d stashed a bacon and egg pie in my frame bag on my way through Napier. I had that for first dinner, needing the energy – but not feeling that hungry. I was sitting around 600 m of elevation, climbing in general, when the rain came back as a light mist. It set in, so all the rain gear went back on. It was still rather hot as I was riding straight into the northerly.

The views were a bit different to last year – but I was still in high spirits, if not thoroughly wet – not for the first time that day.

I reached the top of a large descent that took me into another valley before turning off to Makahu Rd and the hot springs.

There’s only eleven kilometres left to ride, out of seventy-nine, but three significant hills to climb. The first is so steep the gravel has been sealed.

I paused near the first crest to see how all the livestock were coping – completely unperturbed would be the answer.

The rain continued as I plunged down to the only ford that must be negotiated – I got wetter feet, but at least the river was warm. Next was the longest steep climb of the day – now in dusk, it was so hot I rode up there (it goes on & on) without my helmet or hood on. A couple of cars heading for the pools passed me. Through the private farmland down to the last bridge and there stood another steep climb. That surpassed it was downhill to the campsite at around sunset.

I quickly put my tent up and somehow managed to light my small meths burner in the rain and cook dinner. I crawled into my tent, trying to keep all my dry things as dry as possible and ate dinner there. Now dry, the thought of going out in the rain to the hot springs didn’t appeal – so I listened to wonderful podcasts and was pleased at how this little adventure turned out. I remembered the delight my grandfather took in, as explained in his short autobiography, overcoming the elements when on a bike. This was hardly English cold or rain – but it felt good all the same. The rain continued to fall as I drifted to sleep.

After one of the better night’s sleep I’d had recently, I was up and about early enough under a clear blue sky. Having not been able to finish dinner the previous night, I had the strange taste of freeze-dried chicken curry for breakfast (not for the first time I must admit – Kiwi Brevet Day Two comes to mind). I had the hot springs to myself as I soaked aching muscles and cares away.

A peak of the Mohaka River from the pools – it’s not a bad spot, at all.

I faffed around a bit waiting for the sun to dry out some of my soaked gear – that worked a bit, but eventually I admitted defeat and packed away a lot of wet gear. Setting off before nine o’clock, it was straight into the steep climbs on the gravel.

Looking back towards the northern end of the Kawekas.

Back onto the main road, I went back up yesterday’s plunge – a little bit of a contrast to five photos above.

It’s shearing time, I watched for some time the ebbs and flows of this mob of sheep being herded. It was a strangely relaxing sight as the dogs and shepherds worked away. Sheep in yards and the buzz of shears were a regular occurrence for the rest of the ride back to town.

The setting may have helped some.

Back through Puketitiri, I stopped at the local Par 3 golf course for water and was a little sad about declining rural communities.

I was eager to get home and somehow managed the return trip on half of last night’s dinner and few handfuls of scroggin/trail mix. The sou-wester was even stronger than the northerly of the day before, but my legs were up to it – even if my poor stomach had no idea what it was feeling. Home easily in less than twenty-four hours, I was thankful for the escape of micro-adventures as I set about washing and drying everything. An excellent little trip – I think making that a regular December trip is a good idea; although perhaps I should check the Kaweka forecast more carefully in the future.

Aus, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, national park

Grampians Gravel – a late DirtyRat16

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I was excited to have a reason to drag myself out of the tent at dawn. It turned out to be worth getting up just to see the sun rise on the rock – the best light I saw all week.

I drove into Horsham to breakfast and get supplies for the day. I was horrified to discover that the first two bakeries I went to weren’t even open at seven o’clock! What kind of country is this? I had to resort to a chain bakery, as such my subsistence for the day was bread-heavy with little in the way of tasty fillings or toppings.

It took about an hour to get to the parking lot at Reed Lookout in Grampians National Park. On the slow, narrow windy road (by Australian standards, not so much NZ) the bush thickened as I left the plains and climbed. Up a hill! A very large deer leapt from nowhere and thoroughly put the wind up me as I avoided narrowly, through no emergency action on my part, the biggest scare I’ve had on the road in a long time. The day continued to brighten as forecast, but I was beginning to notice a bank of cloud behind the approaching ridge – where I was going.

Megan had provided inspiration for this ride, noticing that some of her friends had been on a gravel ride the weekend before. Before departing NZ I managed to contact the organiser of DirtyRat16 and get the GPS file and useful trail beta. Unfortunately Megan couldn’t source a suitable bike (there was little interest in the hardtail I’d seen seemingly abandoned on the edge of the Arapiles Big Sky Trail), so it was left to me selflessly to go and have a big day in the saddle, exploring solitarily.

I’d chosen a different start point of the DirtyRat16 loop to cut down on the driving. This was Reed Lookout, the parking lot was strangely busy with tourists at eight-ish in the morning. There wasn’t much to see however, as the entire valley was filled with cloud.

Nothing to see hear folks, move along.

But that was where I was going, so I set off climbing a little more on the road before turning off onto a dirt road. It wasn’t long before I came across a road-closure sign, which reminded me that the park had had an awful lot of rain recently and there was much related damage. I figured as the event had run this route ten days previously, I’d be OK. The gravel dumped me down to the valley floor, very quickly losing four hundred metres of elevation. At speed, under the cloud it was very chilly – but I knew the cloud would burn off eventually, so enjoyed the freshness while it lasted.

The road widened for a while before I turned off.

Onto another closed track, which narrowed, I startled many a kangaroo. They, sensibly, all bounded off away from me.

I’d been warned that the roughed-up Henham Trail had nearly finished off a few of the riders on the event – but suspected that was because they did it near the end of a big day. As it was, it was all rideable bar ten or twenty metres. There was signs of storm damage, particularly at the many creek crossing – but they were all negotiable.

The roughest bit of the day & the only bit I ended up walking. There’s a bit of a climb there and the surface deteriorates half way up.

Some of the creek crossing were fun to try and get across without dabbing. I soaked a foot in an earlier, deep, one – but as the cloud burned off this didn’t bother me.

The hills that had been in the distance, steadily got closer.

The nineteen kilometre track took me to the furtherest extremity of my loop, but only just over a third of the distance – the return took me west to the other side of the valley. I turned on to a road and it was much faster. I took to riding on the right side of the road to take advantage of the shade – and sometimes I like to pretend I’m in a country that drives on the right.

Easy gravel road riding. Smooth, wide – & red!

The route turned off the road to another 4WD track, to thread between two hills over a slight saddle. To no one’s surprise it was closed, but easily passable on a bike.

Just another sign to ride around.

I stopped for lunch where there was half a view, and finally decided it was warm enough to remove my gilet; sleeves stayed on as they are good sun protection and it still wasn’t hot. Perfect.

The road north up the western side of the valley was also fast & easy going. I hadn’t seen anyone since that sole car early on. I was having a blast, but thought it might be more fun with some company to remark at various animals, trees and other sights. Maybe they’d have been able to educate me on the types of eucalyptus trees I was seeing – they all look very similar to me and I saw thousands of them. The washboard surface of the road became a little tiresome, but that’s a very minor complaint in the scheme of how good a time I was having.

Even the swamp in the bottom of the valley, was looking good – I’m not sure if it had a castle or two lurking in the bottom.

Suddenly a water-logged airfield. The top of the hill on the left was my start and end point.

After crossing the valley floor, I passed where I’d originally turned off the big dirt road and headed north through a camping area. About this time I started to startle pairs of emus. This was alarming as they are big, fast, have big pointy beaks, fearsome feet – and seem to be rather skittish, preferring to run back in front of an opposing threat rather than away from it. I was hoping I was big enough on my bike that they’d leave me alone.

The only photo I managed to nab of an emu.

Through more closed track, where I actually had to lift my bike over a fallen tree – as opposed to riding around the dozens I’d encountered already – the only climb of the day began in earnest. Considering I had almost five hundred metres to gain, it was mostly gentle as the kilometres-to-go clicked down with moderate ascent.

I took a small side-trip to some falls, reasoning that they might have water over them.

There was only one kicker in the climb, where a track back to the road quickly gained metres and I sweated my way up. Then back to the road for a little seal to Reed Lookout. It was a ninety-five kilometre gravel section – fantastic riding and an excellent route by Will. I was looking forward to seeing where I’d been now that the cloud had burnt off. I was not disappointed.

I’d basically ridden from the bottom of the left of shot, towards the reservoir before continuing beyond it to the left, going between those two small hills and then heading back right on the other side of the reservoir.

Following that, I came back towards the camera in this shot before heading around the spur in the centre and finally back up to the lookout.

And there are even some rocks.

I took some time to cool down, admire the view and load the bike in the car. Getting word the others were down in Halls Gap, I made haste to be slightly social, and refuel on salt & vinegar crisps and gelato. While I’d taken plenty of water, I’d eaten all my food and was peckish.

It was most definitely worth bringing my bike all the way to western Victoria for a well good loop of gravel and exploring unfamiliar lands.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Geyserland Gravel Grind: Day Four

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In typical fashion, Steve came up with a way to cram even more into the event. Getting up before five o’clock, he was off to an early start on the final day to meet some friends as they passed through Tokoroa riding the length of the country (tag-teaming it) in a week (!) fundraising. I was having none of that and stayed out of the rain until at least it was not dark. Eventually I decided I couldn’t justify staying warm & dry any longer and got up on a proper bleak morning. Colin pulled the pin, finding it even more difficult than I was to motivate himself to ride 150 km in the rain to end up back in the same place.

With the rain strengthening and a slight wind at my back, at least the bakery was open – best pie of the four days, & “I should know, I’ve followed a few”. This was the day of the route I had been most looking forward to as the Mamaku Ranges were a place I’d driven over many times, without exploring off the highway; also, I knew little of the South Waikato – which was where most of the middle portion of the day took us. The rain was consistently soaking me as I gained about three hundred metres in the morning traffic of school buses and trucks; I was dismayed at how much litter was on the side of this particular road – by far the worst I’d seen in quite some time. Even with the steady rain, I had to stop and remove some layers from under my jacket as it was hot work climbing.

Reaching the village of Mamaku, the route turned south and followed the ridge line as it climbed up to 700 metres altitude. Soon it was a fantastic gravel road with little traffic. There was a variety of farms, native bush and plantation forest. Unfortunately the views weren’t much in the gloom. The gravel surface slowly deteriorated, without getting too bad, and the potholes were now filled with water. Unusually for a gravel road, riding in the worn tracks was noticeably slower – it was the rough bits with jagged exposed rock that were faster, easier riding; these bits were somewhat jarring and uncomfortable though.

The rain eased the further I got from Rotorua, but it was still a rather bleak morning.

Turning off the ridge, it was a fast whizz down to Tokoroa, where Steve was waiting after having ridden an extra thirty kilometres at road bike pace down State Highway with the Pink Stripe (or whatever they were calling themselves). Sometimes I think I’m relatively sane.

Main Street Tokoroa was a, ahem, cultural experience. At least the food was cheap and the portions large – which may have been deduced without walking into the bakery.

Erik’s (that’s him sitting with a milkshake and a coffee above) route now took us on rural backroads north to Putaruru. There was one notable pinch climb, but generally it was rather pleasant going as the rain had long left us (or vice versa). Steve was starting to feel either the effects of four days in a row in a saddle or putting his little extra excursions on top of that; we continued at an agreeable pace (well, it was agreeable to me).

There was a strange prevalence of Series I Land Rovers around Lichfield.

Putaruru also added to our cultural learnings for the day as we stopped for a small lunch.

Leaving town and dropping to our lowest point of the day, we basically only had to cross back over the Mamakus, descend to Lake Rotorua and that would be the hard work over. Off the sealed road, it was a steady climb up a long gravel road. While surrounded by trees it was easy to feel as though we were making our way on to a big plateau – but occasional glimpses showed steep valleys dropping off the side of where the road threaded its way up.

Great gravel grinding.

Steve realised we’d not got a selfie yet. I think you can see a bit of a grimace there. After five hundred kilometres and four days, the place had been found where it hurts to sit on the saddle, yet it hurts just as much to stand up on the pedals. I never doubted he’d make it, but apparently that was a little naive.

Just as we neared the end of Leslie Road, there was a seven hundred metre stretch mired with huge puddles and masses of mud churned up by 4WDs. I negotiated most of it until decided I could ride through the edge of this one:

I couldn’t, much to Steve’s amusement when I ended up with rather wet & muddy feet.

Back surrounded by farmland, we got a good look at scores of these unusual formations. For some reason I thought them volcanic plugs, I’ve no idea if that’s correct.

Reaching the ridge again near Mamaku village, this time we turned north and rode into the wind along the ridge. Finally we had a big downhill back to lake level. We weren’t in too much of a rush to finish a great weekend’s riding, so stopped in at the bakery again for more pies.

And then fought off the local birdlife as pies were devoured.

The last ten kilometres to the finish was flat and appropriately it followed a new cycle path through Kuirau Park, past all the steaming pools. We didn’t crash through any of the barriers, thus avoiding become another newspaper story of being scalded to terminal demise.

The last little bit on this unusual cycle path – a little bit of frivolity snaking along the Green Corridor (although this bit is patently not green).

Just like that, four great days of 550 km riding, exploring, eating & hot pooling was over. Typically there was no fanfare or anyone to mark the occasion. Except, suddenly there was. Coincidentally, Colin strolled by and then Rob (who did the two-day event) rode past on his way home from work. That was a nice little finish. A most excellent long weekend, thank for all the hard work planning & organising it, Erik.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Geyserland Gravel Grind: Day Three

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The previous day must have been somewhat tiring as I slept unusually well in a small tent. Packed-up we cycled off – that was the last we saw of most of group, as they were doing the three-day option and taking an entirely different route to us four-dayers. In a contrast to Day Two, the day started gently with the easiest section of the day. It was reasonably flat along Te Kopia Rd for a while as we watched the geothermal steam languidly rise.

The climbing started in earnest, and so began a day which felt like we were constantly going up or down. It probably wasn’t quite like that, but that is how I remember it. As we neared the Waikato River (the longest in the country) the land use turned to forestry again, the road became shingle and turned sharply south-east. With a few more rises and falls, going past some beautifully remote-feeling spots we reached an intersection and were shortly stopping to snack and look as we crossed the river. I thought it remarkably still.

Turning onto State Highway One I was surprised to see we were only twenty-two kilometres from Taupo! And we were about to get closer as we were dumped beside a passing lane with little shoulder and holiday weekend traffic. Thankfully that was over soon enough as we passed our highest point of the day. On the back road to Kinloch we passed plenty of lifestyle blocks before heading through more forestry and dairy farms; of note was a sprawling complex of tomato glasshouses heated geothermally, a new diary factory and geothermal power generation.

There was some respite from the climbing before a prolonged descent towards the river again and catching up to Colin as he was standing perplexed by an irregularity in the GPS route, much as I had been. We didn’t quite get to the river, but did pass this conspicuous formation that one usually sees from the other side driving past on the highway.

Once again we rode beside a horrid passing lane on the highway – thankfully only three kilometres of rushing traffic before turning off, climbing once more before stopping on the grass of Ohakuri Dam for a very long lunch watching the activity on the lake.

Admittedly, there is not much activity to be seen in this picture.

Maleme Road provided the only other stretch of gravel for the day, unfortunately. Or perhaps fortunately, as although it was a beauty it climbed a couple of hundred metres. Coming off the hill, we ended back down at the level of Lake Ohakuri, and about six kilometres from where we had been at the start of the day. Psychologically this was difficult – to have ridden 110 km just to end up basically where we’d started, with an awful lot of climbing in between time and not really any particularly unique scenery. I tried to keep this frustration quiet as I think Steve was struggling with so many hours in the saddle over consecutive days – at least he couldn’t see the GPS track and its seeming futility.

Things flattened out, relatively speaking, as we headed back to Rotorua to skirt its edges. We reached the first shop of the day in Springfield, resupplied and chatted to Colin again. With a decent cup of tea downed, we set off to finish the last twenty kilometres of the day around the back of Mt Ngongataha. The climb up to the saddle wasn’t as long or high as it looked and the change in scenery, from the farms and forests, around the back of the mountain made everything wonderful again and I was happy to be out riding bikes in the gathering gloom.

We found the campground easily enough, got a different view of Lake Rotorua and made camp. With recommendations for the best takeaway shop on the main street, we set off to collect rather large bowls of Chinese food. Eventually Erik rolled into camp having taken a twenty-four kilometre detour in the middle of the day for a cafe. I was a bit tired, so settled into my sleeping bag for what was to be a rather rainy night.

Lake Rotorua looking a little gloomy as a strong wind whips off the lake towards our tents.