I don’t remember it being a particularly early start, but apparently it was well before five o’clock – early enough for me. The climb I knew was coming was steady and emerged from native forest to cleared land to reveal a vast star-scape in the pre-dawn darkness. I’d only heard great things about the Timber Trail (a new trail since I went overseas that delves into the logging history of the area – as well as being a great trail in its own right), so had long been looking forward to it. Just as I went back into the forest I passed Kirsty, Ian & Ness breaking camp – they made it considerably further than me the previous night.

The trail wasn’t too hard to ride in the dark, although I did rather miss most of the scenery while I climbed. Near the summit of Mt Pureora, dawn arrived and there were glimpses to the east of Lake Taupo (NZ’s largest). I was pleased to have a bit of extra visibility for the first part of the descent – a downhill that went pretty much for twenty-five kilometres. But the clear sky I’d enjoyed previously had misted over completely.

There were plenty of valleys to cross and the feature of the trail I’ll remember most vividly were the huge swing-bridges that had been built to span the valleys. Quite an engineering feat, not to mention the cost, in the middle of nowhere – all for a bike trail!

Standing fifty-odd metres above the valley floor, one gets a good idea of how dense the forest really is.

It’s quite a way down – I’m glad this wasn’t a standard-issue DOC swing-bridge.

The trail then followed an old bush tramway that was used to haul logs out from all over this part of the forest – much smoother riding on a gentle gradient.

The Ongarue Spiral – a very small railway spiral, but interesting as it used both a bridge and a tunnel.

Heading for the tunnel exit.

Eighty kilometres and seven and a half hours later, the Timber Trail was over and I’d lost a lot of altitude – it was decidedly muggy down lower. What a great trail, it hadn’t disappointed; I’m looking forward to going back and riding it again more lightly-loaded and with the time to stop and read all the information/history panels. I’d caught up to a guy from Christchurch at the trailhead – we rode the twenty or so clicks to Taumaranui (on the main trunk line – the only town for over two days) together, he didn’t seem to be having a very good time of it.

There were a lot of riders around town stocking up – I expect most from Wave One that I’d caught up to. As I devoured another cooked breakfast (yes, it was well past lunchtime) the heavens opened and I considered how far I’d get that night. The weather was supposed to be closing in the following morning and the Kaiwhakauka trail didn’t sound like one you wanted to do in such weather. The rain cleared and it was remarkably humid as I rolled out of town for the concerted climb up to Owhango.

As if I needed a reminder that the North Island is very hilly. They never get particularly big or mountainous; but by gosh, there are a lot of them.

General consensus seemed to be that the North Island topography was much more punishing than the South. Having done my small amount of training on the hills behind Hawke’s Bay, I was at least a little conditioned for this.

Nearing Owhango, I decided to push on towards Bridge to Nowhere. I arranged a jet boat pick-up at either eight or ten-thirty the following morning (not really sure if I’d make it through the night to the Whanganui River) and set off.

The long gradual ride down to the Retaruke River and Whakohoro in the evening light was a highlight of the trip.

I think it was in this isolated place I started taking photos of curious, remote buildings from another time. This community hall is still occasionally used, apparently – I saw no signs of such.

The gravel road riding was excellent.

Reaching Whakahoro around sunset I had to decide whether to stay in the large DOC bunkhouse there or push on into the unknown to try and meet the boat the next morning. As it wasn’t raining, I kept going – the fact that there were campsites along the way being the contingency. The ex-road that followed the Whanganui River for a short time was a boggy & slippery mess. Turning up a side-valley the trail narrowed and wasn’t a bike track at all, more a rugged hiking trail. Night fell, as did light rain, and it became clear that my dynamo light was little use on such a slow trail. Donning my headlamp, the slipperiness was a bit of a nightmare. After sliding into the bank softly a couple of times, I had more of a crash into another bank. Self-preservation prevailed, and not having any idea what was actually off the left hand side of the trail, I decided walking was the best and safest option. So ten kilometres from Whakahoro took me almost two hours – I was very pleased when the first campsite came into view; I called it a day there.

What’s more – it had a large shelter, I wouldn’t have to put my tent up in the rain. There I met and chatted to Brett & Helen (it turned out that they know well one of my colleagues I share an office with) who had set their tent up in the shelter – & who I probably woke. I slept well, satisfied with another big day – not in terms of distance, but sheer ruggedness of the terrain. I was excited to see finally see the Bridge to Nowhere the following day.

Absolutely itching to get riding and make up some of the miles I hadn’t covered in the previous two days and unable to sleep more than an hour in the hot clubrooms, I got up & packed up as quietly as I could at three o’clock and headed into Auckland determined to miss as much traffic as possible.

Straight out of Helensville, the rural-ness and hilly-ness of the roads surprised me – even so close to Auckland, a city I lived near for four years, I was discovering new places. The biggest climb on the route into the city was first up, but it stayed hilly for a while as I quickly warmed up in the dark. The silence and lack of traffic so close to NZ’s biggest city was wonderful and gradually the city lights came into view. The cycle-trail into the centre was mostly off-road – but with major works on the north-western motorway, there were quite a few detours that weren’t on the GPS track and were a bit tricky to work out in the dark.

Two and a half hours later I was at the top of Queen Street and heading for the next photo checkpoint at the top of Mt Eden. Still pre-dawn, there were an astonishing number of people out running and walking to the summit of the volcanic hill. There was another Tour rider up there, so I even got a photo of myself to go with the dawn shots. I lingered awhile stretching and taking in the sunrise from such a great vantage point.

I thought I deserved another breakfast after the early start; while I looked on, the peak traffic built up.

The route through the rest of Auckland was pretty good, considering I ended up riding the second half of it in peak hour, and took us out to the airport before heading north through Manukau. In one of the more surreal sights of the trip, I was bemused to watch sheep dogs herding a flock of sheep in one of the biggest parks in a large first world city – maybe Auckland is just a big country town. The unfortunate part of riding through Auckland so early was I missed seeing quite a few friends who had turned into blue-dot watchers. Answering messages and phone calls helped to break up the city riding a bit. The family connections continued as I cycled past land near the airport my ancestors farmed for generations.

Crossing the Manukau Harbour near Onehunga.

Out of Manukau, by way of the large Totara Park that I had no idea existed, I was shortly heading for the Hunuas. There was a coastal route option, but I’d ridden that before and I’d not seen half of the Hunua Ranges route. The ride up past Ardmore Quarry and the old military prison, now being reclaimed by the trees around it, was steep and probably the hottest I was all tour as the day really began to heat up. The Hunuas were a regular destination for mountain-biking when I lived in Pukekohe but I was pleased to be discovering a different part of the ranges. After about the third food/supply stop for the day it flattened out considerably and I was on familiar roads.

Out of the foothills, the cross-wind off the Hauraki Gulf was not too bad for the fifteen or so kilometres of highway. Four in the afternoon and I’d already done 170 km for the day – knowing that the Hauraki Rail Trail was both flat and oriented so I’d have a tailwind, it was shaping up to be my biggest day yet on tour, and quite possibly ever. As I approached Pipiroa I was not surprised to see a large Australian sedan parked on the side of the highway with two people trying to pick the identity of bikepackers riding towards them. I’d gotten the idea that my aunt and uncle had become hooked on tracking the Tour’s, and my, progress – so it was great to stop and at the cafe have second-lunch while chatting with them.

Another photo checkpoint – dairy cows on the Hauraki Plains.

With that tailwind the Hauraki Rail Trail was fast, and just as flat as ever. With gifts gladly accepted from the first trail angel I’d come across (water, cherry tomatoes and muesli bars left on a table trailside) I was soon in Paeroa and then Te Aroha. This was my intended destination for the day – but I couldn’t give up such a great tailwind. I stopped and rested awhile over dinner and booked a cabin near Matamata. The deserted rural roads were quick with the wind behind me and it was only gradual, easy climb towards Matamata.

I reached my destination after dark – pretty pleased that my Tour was back on schedule (even slighty ahead perhaps). But I was more pleased with the day’s efforts. Over 260 km for the day – thirteen and a half hours of riding with plenty of stops and food (nearly four and a half hours’ worth!), I was still feeling pretty good after my biggest day on a bike. I had picked up a strange strain at the outer top of my left calf – I worked out that it was from unclipping my left leg so often in Auckland traffic. It was generally fine to ride with, but I couldn’t walk properly for quite some days. I loosened my cleats right off and it gradually improved back to normal.

Although expensive for a cabin (I think because of the hot springs I didn’t get take a swim in), it was worth paying for as I slept exceptionally well (not surprising after that day) and was able to get up and do it all again the following day.

As my big illness-induced rest in the middle of the previous day meant there was no question of a big through-the-night ride to the morning ferry, I had all day to ride the 120-odd kilometres to Pouto Point to get the six o’clock boat. So quite a good restraint to make sure I had an easy day and properly got over the nausea. I slept well & comparatively late, on the bike just after seven o’clock. A brief section on the quiet highway had us climbing a bit, before turning off and fanging it down a rather gnarly gravel road. There were many rough parts of the ride where it was great to have proper mountain-bike tyres – this was definitely one of them and there were no complaints from me about the condition of the road.

A smaller climb out of the valley that had put us in, past more large stands of native forest before a gradual descent to farm land on the flats. Thankfully not much time on the highway and just picking the way through various rural roads. I did hear, later, mention of just how much farmland we went through (particularly in the North Island) – but we were traveling the length of NZ and farming is a large and important part of the country; so of course we were going to see a lot of it. I was having a grand old time and thrilled to be out in the sun seeing so much.

Dargaville was the largest town we’d been to yet, and it was definitely time for second breakfast – after returning to the same supermarket I’d been in but three days prior. With only seventy kilometres to ride in eight available hours, I had plenty of time up my sleeve. The cafe down the side street opposite the supermarket was humming with a large group of teachers and a group of retired. I took my time savouring the food and tea.

Cooked breakfasts quickly became a staple wherever and whenever I could get them. And the favourite of those was always what I could get that was as close as possible to a Full English.

Loaded up with plenty of food and water as it was getting rather hot again, I finally rolled out of town just before noon. For thirty kilometres it was flat through more farms – I’m still annoyed I didn’t pause to take a photo of the large Underground roundel sign that marked a cattle underpass. A pair had passed me as I stopped briefly on the outskirts of town – I eventually caught them as the hills started to get bigger, but consistently returned us to sea level.

It was great riding and chatting with Mike and Richard – a father and son (Richard, I think, about my age and Mike retired) from Wanaka. What a great journey to do together. We were clearly heading for forestry – there were a lot of logging trucks. I was glad I’ve gotten used to riding so close to these behemoths on my commute – I imagine it would have been rather disconcerting otherwise. Good old New Zealand and it’s two degrees of separation – we quickly worked out Mike and I knew a few people in common in the deep south. It rather seemed that the hills wouldn’t end, but eventually we made it to Pouto Point with a couple of hours to spare.

It was said that the boat would only take thirty riders and their bikes, so it was with some relief that I placed my helmet in the queue and found it was twenty-ninth. But I wasn’t too worried as I’d heard rumours that they’d squeezed a few more on earlier sailings. There was ample time to dry out tents, take a swim, sit in the shade, have a beer and wait for the boat to turn up.

A completely normal queuing method, I’m sure.

Looking across the Kaipara towards Auckland. This boat trip is part of the route, one assumes, as otherwise it would be an awful lot of busy and dangerous highway to get into NZ’s biggest city.

Also, it rather adds to the adventure – boarding a boat by walking up & along a long aluminium ladder while wheeling one’s bike along a plank of timber.

The queue stretches – in the end we got about forty-five (reports vary) bikes and riders on. Some of the first of the Wave Three riders just made it on – they’d ridden about 350 km in about twenty-seven hours! Some of them were a bit wrecked, but others were great company.

Looking over to the south head of the entrance to the harbour.

It was a supreme evening for a boat ride across the Kaipara, yet another new NZ experience for me. I was pretty chuffed as Dad had just been telling me that my grandfather use to get a boat across the harbour to Helensville & then get the train into Auckland and boarding school – and here I was doing something very similar just over a hundred years later. Because it was a few hours in a boat across the harbour in the evening, I’d layered up. Unnecessarily as it turned out, it was a warm calm evening and it was also rather cosy aboard – so I was soon removing extra layers.

The service was sublime – cups of tea and large slices of fresh watermelon were brought forth from the cabin. Our orders were taken for dinner from the captain’s favourite fish and chip shop and radioed ashore – brilliant. As the sun set beautifully, we motored up the Kaipara River to Parakai. I’m glad the captain had been sailing these waters for over fifty years – I couldn’t see a lot, but I could see sandbanks seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Safely back on solid ground it was only ten minutes’ ride and we were queuing to get our individual parts of the largest takeaway order I’ve seen in quite some time. The Kaipara Cruising Club had kindly opened their clubrooms (including bar) for us to sleep on the floor for five dollars, so most of us settled there for the night. I was in two minds, but took my (huge) burger (no wonder the captain recommended it) and chips around to eat before deciding whether I would ride into Auckland that night or sleep at the Cruising Club.

As it happened, the burger was so large I could hardly move after finishing it, so had little choice but to try and get some sleep. I was a little disappointed as I was feeling good and absolutely itching to ride (it had been a pretty easy day really), but considering the state I had been in the previous day – a bit of rest would probably be a good idea. It wasn’t a good idea: there were so many people faffing around, it was ages before the lights went off and in the end I slept very little.

With little sleep behind me, it was up & ready to ride before dawn. My appetite had disappeared again, I only managed to get half a muesli bar down. It was a pretty chatty morning as I left the campground with Kevin, a firefighter from Nelson, and we rode at a similar pace to each other as the route got a whole lot hillier than the previous day – that is not to say it was really hilly, rather the beach was obviously lacking in changes in altitude.

It was a beautifully clear morning, there was little traffic on these backroads of Northland and I was really enjoying the riding as it warmed up and the mist eventually burnt off. Stopping for a quick snack and to de-layer at Broadwood (another little town I had no idea existed), I still couldn’t manage to eat much – but was feeling good. Soon after we turned off the sealed road to a graveled forestry road, once again passing pretty close to the same oversized truck that we’d now seen three times.

A lovely misty morning riding through small, but numerous hills.

This road was a late addition to the route – and a much hillier one. I didn’t know this at the time, but I was not resenting the hills over the flatter more-normal route. It was good riding and a whole lot more interesting than eighty kilometres of beach! Looking at the GPS file, I’m surprised to see that in the sixty-odd kilometres to the Hokianga ferry there was over a thousand metres of climbing.

As the day warmed and we had the big downhill finally to sea level, the lack of appetite and food began to catch up with me as I started to feel rather peaky. I vaguely remember the harbour being glasslike and a tranquil scene; but on the short ferry trip waves of nausea cascaded down – somehow I made it off the ferry & into Rawene. I’ve never been particularly good if I don’t/can’t eat (can’t imagine why), and also somewhat susceptible to heat – so this was hardly surprising. I sat in a cafe for a while, wanting desperately to be able to eat something – but just couldn’t bring myself to. Eventually I gathered the strength and was pleased to find a small pharmacy. The pharmacist was very nice and quite helpful.

Heading into Rawene – the first of the five boat rides on the course.

A bit more of the Hokianga.

I faithfully made up the electrolyte solution in the shade. But this was far too much liquid at once for my stomach to handle; thankfully there was little else in there, but that was also the cause of the problem I suppose.

An amusing diversion from my ills was watching these boys and horses playing in the shallows of the harbour. They were all having a much better time than I was; their laughter was pleasing. Note the boy in the water being towed through the water by the horse on the right.

Not much good for anything else (especially the 180 km I had been debating on trying to ride by tomorrow morning to catch the morning ferry to Helensville from Poutu Point), I went and found a nice patch of grass by the harbour shaded by a big tree. I promptly had a big nap; that, and some doctorly and sisterly messaging had me feeling comparatively great in a couple of hours. All of a sudden I had an appetite again and was craving carbs and salt. Salt and vinegar crisps (which became staple Tour Aotearoa food for me), helped a bit – but I was still hungry. What else does one do after vomiting a couple of hours before, but go to the chippie and order their biggest burger and a scoop of chips? They went down a treat as I chatted to a local nan and her grandkids about our ride to Bluff – like most people along the way, she was really interested and supportive.

That unplanned four hour break over, I was sufficiently better to carry on into the afternoon heat a little slower than normal. Mostly it was sea-level road around to the mouth of the Hokianga, but there were a couple of climbs nudging ten percent gradient – but not that tall – to make it a bit of work. I rested and ate a bit more at Opononi before the hills started in earnest.

The steepest climb so far, or so it felt, was out of Omapere – at least it gave a good view of the Hokianga meeting the Tasman.

For a while we followed the Waimamaku River upstream, stopping in its eponymous village for more wonderful food & flavoured milk (long bike rides really do give an excuse to eat & and drink all sorts of things I wouldn’t otherwise) before climbing out of the valley and heading south. Despite it being early evening, the heat of the day had not dissipated and this slow steady climb was the biggest yet by three hundred metres. Some consolation was the road was quiet and the native forest wonderful to be riding through. Nearing the next photo checkpoint, I caught up to Marilyn – because of my big mid-day break I got to meet a few people I would not have otherwise. Still with a thick Newfoundland accent after decades in NZ, she had her whole North Island accommodation planned out and on track to do the event in approximately hundred-kilometre days. A fantastic effort! I was very pleased when she said she’d booked a cabin at the only campground in ages, just a bit down the road, and there were extra bunks. I really needed a good sleep that I knew my tent wouldn’t provide. I was grateful for such generosity to let me take one of those extra bunks.

We stopped and took our photo of the giant Tane Mahuta. It’s hard to get a sense of scale as it is some way from the viewing platform: the trunk is eighteen metres tall, total height about fifty one metres and trunk girth of nearly fourteen metres.

A wonderfully fast descent through light, cooling drizzle took us down to a river and we had to ride a couple of miles off-course downstream to the campground. It was so good not to have to worry about where I’d sleep – I even got a shower, that was two in two nights – luxury! Despite my four hour break in the middle of the day and the horrible nausea, I’d still managed a respectable day of 120 km and a fair few hills (over 2000 m of climbing) in the heat. Not quite as far along as I had wanted to be, but I wasn’t displeased – in fact I was very happy, I could eat again. There was much rejoicing; actually, there was much sleeping.