Coming up two years after I went on the first Geyserland Gravel Grind, I lined up with fifty-odd others for this year’s incarnation of the Classic. In the mean time, Erik and Peter’s hard work has led to a series of bikepacking routes and events starting and finishing in Rotorua. I’ve done most of them at least once and thoroughly enjoy them for exploring places so close to my childhood home and haunts, and for the opportunity to spend time riding and camping with likeminded people.
Only able to spare two days (for some reason I have little leave left), I biked into Rotorua Friday night – eager to take my new bikepacking bags on their first overnight outing. A few of us out-of-towners stayed at Pete’s the night before, as always I was well looked after and there was extensive bikepacking chat. Proper interesting to hear about organising various events, and general recent history of NZ bikepacking.
Saturday morning was a little bleak, but it was not cold or even particularly wet. We even managed to get to the start in plenty of time; Pete’s briefing done, and thoroughly jacket clad the assembled group lined up for a few photos.
I’m a little easier to spot here.
I’ve always enjoyed that these Geyserland event start off riding around the shore of Lake Rotorua, past geothermal flats and pools, breathing in that distinctive whiff of hydrogen sulphide that indicates I’m probably in Rotorua.
More difficult to pin point here.
A little bit of forest, some suburban streets and then we were heading north out of Rotorua on the main road. Memories of how things used to be flooding back – scores (hundreds, probably) of times I have travelled this road from my earliest years. Naturally, it’s so much better and engaging by bike.
The road crosses from following the shore of Lake Rotorua to that of Rotoiti – I could look across to the marae in which we stayed on my first bike tour, over twenty years ago. Come to think of it, the route of that tour rather resembled what I would ride this weekend. The main difference being the opposing direction and the longer distances I now ride.
One hour in surely wasn’t too early to stop at Okere Falls for a meal. After all, there were no more stores en route until the end of the day. A few others concurred, most headed off for the hike-a-bike – hopefully carrying more food than I was.
Fair to say it was worth stopping. A few pies may have also been consumed, and food bought for the rest of the day.
Refueled, I carried on alone up the highway. That may have been the only stretch all day I rode by myself. Onto Maniatutu Rd, the route passed the small road we used to drive down when I was wee to visit Dad’s cousin’s family at their bach (traditionally, a primitive Kiwi holiday house). I wonder if it is still there… I must check next week.
Looking across Rotoiti, probably my earliest power boat trips were here.
First gravel of the day, and the highest point (a whopping 360 m), down the apparently dead-end Lichtenstein Rd (curious name for a road in these parts). Huzzah, new roads! This first day of the Classic GGG was new (billed as an alternate route, no one took the original due to the reported heinous condition of the Okataina Walkway) and made possible by a local rider trying to find an alternative off-highway route between Rotorua and Tauranga.
Through pasture, there were still some stands of native bush to be seen.
A paper road through a long-neglected DOC reserve and some forestry joined two dead-end roads and provided the necessary link to keep cyclists off busy roads. As found, it was overgrown in parts but the bench of an old road was mostly there. A few weeks prior a working bee was organised and ninety (!) people turned up to make the route passable. Fantastic.
I caught up to others resting after a locked gate; I was pleased to now have a lighter bike and generally be carrying less weight on said bike. The only difficult part of this section was a steep little hike-a-bike up a recently cleared slope, with a half-lowered (thanks Pete!) fence to scramble over. Once back on the benched route, the going was easy and the clearing work had done wonders. Lovely to be riding through native forest, and the trail really was in good condition.
Out on to Ridge Road and we were greeted by a trail angel with food aplenty. Another good reason to stop and chat a bit more. A little riding down the ridge of Ridge Rd took us past dry stock farms and onto a big plunge down to almost-sea level. We started to pass the the shelter belts of kiwifruit orchards and the names of the roads were familiar to me as many schoolmates used to live on said roads.
To my surprise we were but a few kilometres from Paengaroa, I could easily divert and ride home in an hour – something I thoroughly plan to do next week. Turning east and vaguely running parallel to the coast we dropped into and climbed out of the now wide valleys. Some farms, but plenty of orchards – the oh-so-familiar scents returning to fill my senses.
Turning around to look west – oh look, the Papamoa Hills and Mt Maunganui ever so close. But still further and from a different angle than I was used to.
Another impromptu gathering had formed at Pongakawa School (there was water to be had), much discussion of bike set-ups, route finding and many calories consumed.
Leaving the orchards behind, towards farms and forest. It was warmer than the sleeves suggest – someone had rather forgotten to replace their sunscreen.
A small group of us formed as we took this turn and that – somehow I became chief navigator. Which surprises after my recent efforts out of Libby. Turning away from the coast, on to Campbell Road, the gravel was back – splendid. Jonathan and I figured it was about time for an afternoon tea stop as we began to catch up to others. Eventually the middle of a long, deserted straight seemed reasonable. Camaraderie and more stories shared as we basked in the sun, stretching out our day of riding now that the weather was as good as the route.
A few little climbs later, we rejoined the original route on Pikowai Road for one last climb of note before the final twenty kilometres down to the coast and the beachside campground.
Murphy’s Holiday Camp is just lovely – tip-top facilities, right on the sand dunes, friendly staff. There I found many riders had already made camp, and more rolled in. I seemed to be the only one sleeping in a bivy bag, so had little to do but spend time on the beach, standing in the crashing surf as the cool water soaked my legs, admiring the view around the Bay of Plenty.
Whale Island, looking east.
Definitely a beachfront campground.
Most pretty hungry, fifty-odd riders rode into Matata and may have overwhelmed the two local fish and chip shops. So much food, most ate beside the lagoon as the sun dipped and the sky briefly coloured. A fantastic day of reacquainting with familiar faces and getting to know new ones. The riding was leisurely, but just plain lovely – I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially the slow pace giving me plenty of time to both appreciate new roads and wander pleasantly down memory lane. I fell asleep listening to the waves crash, pleased to be sheltered from the wind.
Sunday dawned wonderfully well, unfortunately I managed to sleep in and miss the sunrise. The long option for the day was only a hundred and twenty kilometres, but I’d already ridden it two years before. The short option was tempting just because it held a few kilometres of road my bike tyres are unacquainted with. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity of more hills and more remote roads – the long option it was.
Not a bad breakfast spot.
For such a short day, I couldn’t work out why Pete, Wendy & I were some of the last to leave at seven-thirty. Still, we had the road completely to ourselves climbing instantly from the coastal highway. Completely pleasant riding up through farmland, so quiet we could comfortably ride side by side chatting all the way – most of the day was spent with Pete swapping riding stories, experiences and vague life thoughts and philosophies. We kept a steady pace and often caught up to others to chat a bit before carrying on.
Strangely, we didn’t turn right – but only because there was more gravel to be found, on a big descent to the Rangitaiki Plains.
Te Teko was the only resupply point on our route until the very end of the day; there were many bikes parked up outside, and the stock of hot pies was severely depleted. I’d remembered the previous evening that a good school friend lived in nearby Kawerau. Kelly kindly drove out to meet me for quarter of an hour or so in which we tried to cram three years of life, family and mutual-friend news; lovely – and reminded me of catching up with so many long-since seen friends on my Tour Aotearoa and other biking trips.
Just enough supplies stashed for the rest of the day, Pete and I set off again. No new roads still, but most agreeable climbing from sea level – a steady climb, it rolled past easily under clear skies (there must have been a bit of a tailwind, as it was easier riding than I remembered). Plenty of people to ride and chat with or stop and chat with is one of the beauties of such events where everyone is starting and ending in the same places each day.
The roads became even more recognisable as we approached Rerewhakaaitu – firstly because I’d ridden them in the opposite direction at Easter, and secondly, those first two cycle tours in the mid-nineties had spent a bit of time around here. An extended stop at the local school enabled lounging on grass under trees, coffee to be brewed (not for me) and water top-ups – all next to a classic NZ primary school dental clinic/murder house. I looked across the road to the community hall that those long ago tours stayed in, remembering fondly when one could ride up and down Mt Tarawera for the princely sum of two dollars.
Out on to the highway heading for Waiotapu, Pete selected the best sections of singletrack – in really good condition considering we were only just coming out of winter. More excessive snacking at the Benny Bee cafe before the last climb (didn’t really seem that we’d managed two thousand metres of climbing all day, that can’t be right) and hurtling down Waikite Hill to the hot pools, my car and the end of my GGG for 2018. Naturally, I thought I was due a nice long soak before the drive home.
A thoroughly enjoyable weekend riding with others, gaining new perspectives on an area so familiar to me. Pretty good weather too for late September. Bring on the Mega in November, and also the Eastern again (I hope to ride it independently next week).
Thanks to Jonathan for the first three photos and the two of me. Thanks also to Pete & Erik for another well-organised ride.
What’s this? How am I at the front? This must be socially paced. Waiting in Mamaku for people to talk to…
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.
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.
First bikepacking trip was whipping through the 
A big dress-up party for the whole city for days – brilliant fun!
If I can see this hill from my house, surely I can see my house from this hill??
Beach walks with parents – not so hilly.
I finally made it to Cape Kidnappers. It’s quite a long, flat, hard walk – but the views make up for it on a hot summer’s day.
Yes, it is a house. But it’s in better condition than it was before. 
Gravel roads and bunches of bikepackers atop the Mamakus.
I think the Ongarue Rugby Club has seen better days – I like to imagine what those may have been like when riding through such places.
Baches at Tongaporutu.
Riding around here, on the flat for a bit, was very pleasant as the day warmed.
Stopping for bacon & eggs after three and a half hours, I’d been feeling a little more sluggish than the previous day. Still I was nowhere near wanting to leave my bike on this fence.
I stopped here a bit to take in the trees forming not merely a canopy, but a blanket of purest green. Mesmerising.
Closer to Raglan, the view opened up north and the traffic increased a little – which wasn’t hard, for an hour or so I’d seen next to none.
We stared at each other a lot; I slept well and woke to find I still had both my eyes. Success.
Time to lie on the grass, too tired to ask the small guided tour group to move so I could get a better photo.