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Tour Aotearoa – My Day Fourteen – Hokitika to Pine Grove

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The rain hadn’t let up overnight, it had been downright heavy. As expected, nothing had dried, but wet clothes had to go on and one must venture out into the rain. But it was a slow start as I wanted to go to the store which didn’t open until eight o’clock – I needed a lot of food immediately and for the longer stretches of no services. The last leg of the West Coast Wilderness Trail is mostly a mix of gravel cycle path and gravel back roads following the coast line south-west.

It may have been damp, but I was very glad it wasn’t cold. I remember little of the hundred and forty-odd kilometre, nine hour ride to Franz Josef. It was wet and grey – but not unpleasant – as I rode past a mixture of sodden farms, and steep bush clad hills. For a lot of highway riding, the traffic is not at all heavy and I had no problems pottering along. The only incidents of note were twofold. The first being I rode past a Canadian cycle tourist that Steve and I had met and chatted to six weeks before west of Napier, on my last overnighter in preparation for the Tour. She’d obviously made her way to the bottom of the South Island and was riding back up the West Coast – recognition was not instantaneous, so we were well past each by the time I realised where I’d seen that face before.

The other happening of note was the most disturbing part of the whole trip. It was about nine in the morning and I was riding south along a long straight flat section. There had not been many people out in the steady rain, so I was surprised to see a runner in the distance. As I got within a few hundred metres, he looked to wearing a lot of white. Getting even closer it was obvious this guy was not wearing much at all – only trainers, white socks, a hat and glasses. This was most bemusing and as it was all a bit flabby and jiggly I was very pleased we were going in the same direction. I held my tongue until right beside the morning streaker and said a cheery “Good Morning”. Poor nutter seemed startled to be passed by a cyclist, on a cycle trail of all places, without warning. In the days following I learned a few other Tour riders had had a similar experience, often with the guy trying to get off the trail and hide in the bushes. Weird.

First photo stop of the day – the checkpoint at Lake Ianthe. I imagine it’s really nice, sometimes.

A big lunch stop and resupply in Harihari was most welcome before continuing into the wet, but gentle terrain that mostly skirted the bottom of the hills on the relatively flat farmland. Towards mid-afternoon the rain strengthened – but I was still warm, so pretty happy to keep grinning (quite literally, I wore a grin for much of the two weeks so thrilled was I with the experience) and bearing it.

A short detour off the highway was signposted as closed to public access, but in this weather – who would be around to enforce it? As the heavens opened completely, I took shelter under a covered walkway at a/the Franz Josef primary school and tried to work out how far I would get that day. My legs felt that they would be good for quite some time – even though I knew there were three steep hills to climb before Fox Glacier. But if I could push past Fox I’d be a much better chance for a Thursday finish – instead of the more likely Friday finish and then having to wait around in Bluff for a day or organise a trip into and out of Queenstown. Such permutations had been swimming around my mind almost constantly, there being little else to distract me from the rain.

I did know, thanks to the handy information all riders got, that there was a motel on the highway thirty-five kilometres past Fox Glacier. I’ve still no idea where that place really was or if there is a village there. I made a call and found that they had a cabin available – for some reason I booked it, in doing so committing to another four or five hours riding in the torrents coming from above. Letting Evan know I’d found a room for the night (they were apparently scarce in Fox) I could shelter no longer and headed off again.

I was pleased with how my legs coped with the three one-after-the-other steep hills – but even more grateful when I rolled into Fox township and found a pub with a big balcony I could use to make myself look less drowned before entering. Large burger devoured, I was suiting up again to receive lashings of rain when the only rider I’d seen since lunch strolled over. Brief chat and introduction over, I was a little less pleased in having had some sort of schedule imposed on me – good company seemed preferable to a soaking ride in the dark. But there was nothing for it, I was there to ride a bike and ride I must.

The off-road trail up to the glacier was really quite fun – I was not surprised to find I had the whole parking lot to myself. Also expected, I couldn’t see the glacier.

Only other photo of the day – and only because it was a checkpoint. Somewhere up there is Fox Glacier.

Another factor in persuading me to push on for the night was that from the glacier the road to the motels was generally downhill losing a couple of hundred metres to return me to sea-level. The rain was now pelting down as darkness fell. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen heavier rain, let alone been out riding in it for hours. It was strangely enjoyable and adventurous. Anything that looked like a waterway was full to overflowing. I had the weird experience of riding down a gentle slope and looking beside me to see the water in the ditch flowing the opposite direction – seemingly uphill. I didn’t think I was that tired.

Eventually “thirty-five kilometres from Fox Glacier” ticked over on my odometer and sure enough, there sprung a motel out of the sheets of water that made up my field of vision. The cabin handily had a big carport; once I evicted the small van and its freedom-camping residents, I was able to sort my bike and wet gear out – the tokens for the drier were well worth it. Evan even turned up, I wasn’t expecting to see him as I’d not heard back from him.

What a day – over two hundred kilometres of rain, the last sixty could be generously described as a constant downpour. But it was warm and I was pleased with the progress. It would have been disappointing to visit the West Coast and not have over three hundred kilometres of riding in the rain – at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Sleep came easy, even if the cabin smelt a little funky as we tried to dry the non-drier clothes over heaters.

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Thirteen – Big River to Hokitika

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There was no way I was advocating a ride of the beautiful, yet very slippery, Waiuta track in the dark. So we got up at a normal hour and were riding around sunrise at about quarter past seven. It was a grey, damp morning as the cloud was low – but not wet enough to have to wear a jacket, nice.

Looking down to Big River from the hut; it’s not far from Reefton really, but feels a world away.

Within ten or so minutes we were on the boardwalk for another checkpoint.

Hopefully you can get a sense of the denseness of the forest that the trail goes through. Apparently residents of Big River used to walk two hours each way to Waiuta to go to the cinema on Sundays – they must have been desperate for some diversion.

This old mining pack track is open to bikes, but definitely not designed for bikes. It is very damp and every rock is slippery – and there are plenty of those. It was pretty slow progress to get up and continue along at about the same altitude for some kilometres.

This is a good bit of trail.

Suddenly, the trail is a creek bed. At times it looks other worldly.

Then it just becomes easier to push one’s bike up the creek.

At some stage, I’d let Adele go on ahead while I made some bike or luggage adjustment. It took me a little while to catch up. When I did, just the slightest distraction of seeing another rider was enough to remind me of the total concentration that this trail demands. Front wheel sliding and stopping suddenly was enough to send me flying off the bike and over the edge of the bank. It was by far my biggest fall of the Tour, but thankfully the landing was soft in amongst the ferns and no damage was done. I think Evan made the comment later it was nice to be going through there in the company of a doctor – I’d not considered that, but it was true.

The trail flattened out a bit and became less rocky. But there were still frequent creek crossings and one big washout that required a carry – I almost lost my bike, and myself, down the debris field. Oops.

The sun even tried to break through at some stage.

Eventually, we’d put enough work in and we were rewarded with a two-hundred metre drop in altitude. I was waiting at Adele’s car for a little while before it was quickly packed, goodbyes said and Adele took off to work. Even looking a month later, I’m a little sad that I can’t ride that trail more often – it’s rugged, it feels very remote and is in an area filled with fascinating mining history. What a fantastic day and a bit of intermittent bike adventuring with Adele.

Evan was keen to check out the old town of Waiuta – which is well worth it, as I’ve enjoyed poking around the mining and social relics before – so I carried on alone. The gravel road down out of the valley to Blackwater and Ikamatua was fast – so much better than the ride up when doing these trails in the other direction. To my delight, the little store in Ikamatua was open for second-breakfast. I think the storekeeper there had been doing well out of all these cyclists coming out of the Big River wilderness.

Crossing the Grey to the right bank, it was a very gradual descent (mostly) to the coast. Passing the turn-off to the Pike River memorial and then Blackball, I made reasonable time before a light rain set in. I was overly excited to be able to buy nashi pears from a roadside stall in Taylorville.

The whole NZ army did seem to be staying in a village hall along the way.

Stocking up and then eating lunch in Greymouth, it was then time to start the West Coast Wilderness Trail – the part of the South Island route I was most looking forward to riding. I’d heard it is absolutely stunning. It rained the whole trail and I saw little. I minded little as my easy and social start to the South Island was now over and I had to start putting in some bigger days. I’d gotten a text from Dad saying that he couldn’t actually pick me up on the day I was looking most likely to finish. The possible implications of this weighed heavily on my mind; it’s very easy to obsess when you’ve not much else to think about except ride, eat and sleep. I didn’t want to go slower as that would leave no rest before returning to work and I wanted to push myself a little bit. But finishing a whole day earlier would be a big effort, especially with all the rain forecast over the next few days. I continued to think this over, and over.

What I did see of the West Coast Wilderness trail was very nice and the riding is pretty easy – so I made good time in the rain. I hope I have the chance to ride it again and see more.

Easy riding into Kumara.

A reservoir out of the mist!

The trail took almost forty kilometres to climb only three hundred and fifty metres up and out of one valley, before dropping into the next valley and heading back to the coast again. The rain continued to fall as I descended for three hours – thankfully never cold – it was definitely very wet rain.

Probably the only steep-ish bit on the whole trail.

Out of the wilderness, to some degree, and along gravel roads for some time.

I was relieved to arrive in Hokitika before it got dark. Looking like the proverbial drowned rat, a friendly Subway was the easiest option for dinner. It was coming up to the Wildfood Festival and accommodation was at a premium – I was pleased when Evan turned up and confirmed he’d booked a cabin. I was even more thrilled when he let me sleep on the floor of his cabin. While only just over 180 km for day, none of it in the dark, and with little climbing – it felt like a big day with the rain for a hundred kilometres and the two hours to travel eleven kilometres to Waiuta. Almost everything was soaked, we hung as much as we could up to dry – without high hopes – and slept very well as the famous West Coast rain fell all night.

Another wet West Coast photo checkpoint, in Hokitika.

bikepacking, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Twelve – Murchison to Big River

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking back along another quiet West Coast highway.

Just a bike picture at the rather agreeable saddle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old cyanide tanks for the leaching part of the operation.

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

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

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

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

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

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Eleven – Richmond to Murchison

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

Rolling into Wakefield.

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

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

Heading up to Dovedale.

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

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

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

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

Leaving the highway and crossing the Buller River.

Another photo checkpoint – Lake Rotoroa.

The sandflies are notorious here.

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

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

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

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