I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve bikepacked through Ohura (having never previously heard of it), always enjoying a generous feed at Michelle’s Fiesta Fare Mexican food cart. This time it was nice to stay overnight and help fill the B&B. With a wide main street of empty shops, each time I’ve wondered what this place like back before the mines and prison closed. This article appeared shortly after my last visit and gives some insight.

A misty morning to drag the bikes outside.

Long since shut, but there is a pay phone…

The low cloud blanketing the area was a great way to start the day – a big climb beckoned. Eventually we broke through, continuing our ascent to see the layer’s tendrils stretch up the connected valleys. Much of this day’s riding I’d seen before, such was the quality of riding (remote, quiet, interesting farmland and native forest) I was very much looking forward to seeing it all again.

From the high point of our day, Waitaanga Saddle, the drop through native bush to another now much-quieter-than-days-past place, Waitaanga itself, and then again to near-sea level through two scenic reserves is spectacular.

Reaching the famed Kiwi Road, it was time to turn south, snack and lather on sunscreen as the day heated. Good timing, as the large group of raucous motorbikes re-announced their arrival – this group had passed us yesterday as we approached Owhango. They seemed to have grown in number; we were happy to wait for them to regroup and see them speed pass in the din of obnoxious noise.

Most were more courteous than others.

The steady, bush clad climb up to the first of the day’s three tunnels is most pleasant.

Always nice to find a tunnel near the top of a climb, knowing the last bit of ascent is not required.

The tunnel spat us out into farmland, mostly flat on much wider gravel before notorious traction seal appeared announcing a steep climb. With the late morning sun beating down on us, we sweltered up the ten percent climb.

It did reward us with our first view of the mountain, Taranaki that is.

Dropping again, east onto Moki Road and another climb to its tunnel before a fabulous descent looking over seemingly unstable papa cliffs to the mountain and onto Uruti Domain and turning south on Uruti Road.

Bit slow with this photo.

Clouds haven’t quite covered it yet.

The sign seemed more about the geography than the tarmac.

A cool, fast-flowing stream just before the last tunnel gave a good chance to refill bottles and soak one’s headwear – it was hot, some reported over thirty degrees (I’m sceptical, but it was plenty hot with little wind).

Uruti Road immediately turned to gravel for the sharp drop before some pleasant valley floor riding through marginal farmland. Before the road dead-ended, we were fortunate to have access through a farm to connect with the next road. A brief section through pines was unremarkable (in part due to tree fall having been cleared) before dropping to the Waitara River. Fascinating to think that this river, from way back on the Moki Track (from this adventurous ride five years ago) winds its way all the way south, west and then north to Waitara.

Apparently the bridge is submerged about ten times each year by the flooding river, I was pleased the river was low and the farm dry.

Back up the river.

Probably getting used to seeing bikepackers by now.

It must have been raining heavily recently and then dried, as the four kilometres of farm track out from the river was heavily rutted. Any remaining mud and puddles were mostly-easily avoided – I enjoyed the technical challenge of it all. The worst section by far was that below, just as we exited the farm for an easy ten kilometres to Matau – where we found a verandah at the hall to shelter from the sun for a bit.

Another baking, but mercifully short, climb took us to Pohokura Saddle and the Forgotten World Highway, much less than an hour back on seal to the Whangamomona oasis.

In a stroke of brilliance, Fay and her mother, Liz, had a B&B on the main street of town (charitably, you could say there are two streets in the town) on the route and had a fantastic rider aid station going. We had plenty of time (the joys of taking it easy) to stop and were soon fed with cracking toasties, pizza, cold drinks, tea, and much home baking. Undecided as to whether we’d embark on the second, much longer, farm section that evening (we’d have to get through the three to four hours as no camping was allowed) we lingered refuelling and chatting about how the event was going as the resident ewes and lambs entertained us with their antics.

It started to drizzle, we ate, drank and chatted more. Then the afternoon thunderstorm broke in spectacular fashion. Much lightning all around, booming thunder nearby. We stayed put. At times it looked like it was clearing, but the storm stubbornly sat in the valleys. Refreshments continued, soon it was absolutely bucketing down. With no qualms, we called it a day and accepted that the farm may be a bit muddy in the morning. Gradually Rachel, Happy and Gina rolled in bedraggled with various tales of having been caught in the storm, sheltering in farm sheds and smelling the lightning’s effects as it hit around and on their refuges. Glad we missed that. Also glad to be able to squat for the night at the other B&B across the road – thanks Gina.

The manuka did an average job of keeping overnight showers off me, but I was warm and comfortable enough in my bivy bag. Despite the broken night’s sleep, I arose feeling well – which was a vast improvement on the previous day’s riding. A leisurely seven o’clock start and we hit the gravel heading up the Ruatiti Valley – delayed slightly by a big yarn to the neighbouring farmer. Pleasant riding, there were a couple of minor ascents that I was pleased we’d not tackled the night before – the Ruatiti Domain being a most suitable overnight stop.

Back on the Mangapurua Track for the second time in six months, I did at least remember the climb is steady and not too bad. The soft gravel I certainly could not remember – it having only been laid the day before, apparently just as the front runners went through! Thankfully there was usually a line on the edge of the trail which meant one needn’t spend much time wasting energy wallowing in the fresh gravel.

Ooh, new signs – doing a far better job of explaining the fascinating history of the area than the simple wooden markers denoting the name of the settlers of each unforgiving plot of land.

It had turned into a fine, clear and beautiful morning.

The three volcanoes were mostly capped with clouds, so here’s an idea of the country we were travelling through.

I was keen to see how the Kaiwhakauka Track rode downhill – my only previous experience on it some six years before I remember for an unwise attempt to ride up it in the dark. Much more of a hiking than a bike trail, there was a lot of pushing and it was exposed to some decent drops – I was most relieved to find the Mosley Campsite shelter and give up for the night.

This time, the downhill section to the intermediate farm was much fun and pretty fast. Down closer to Kaiwhakauka Stream, the trail deteriorated into plenty of deep puddles and bogs – particularly either side of each wee bridge. Nowadays there is extensive fencing along the edge, confirming that I was right to be concerned of falling into the abyss all those years ago. All that said, I thoroughly enjoyed the technical nature of it and the challenge to ride as much as possible. Eventually the energy required to muscle and balance a loaded bike was not worth expending, and I walked more as I waited for Brent. The final section, more gravel doubletrack, to Whakahoro (only two weeks before I’d been here setting off on the excellent paddle down the Whanganui, odd to be back in this remote place so soon) was in far better condition and we were soon delighted to find the cafe at Blue Duck Lodge was open.

The morning had really warmed and a big piece of bacon and egg pie with a pot of tea was in order; alas, no ice creams. As we lingered and covered ourselves with sunscreen for the afternoon, Rachel, Gina and Happy arrived. We lingered before departing together. It promptly clouded over, which was quite pleasant for the forty kilometre, mostly gravel, climb towards Owhango.

Oio Rd was excellent and not as much of a climb as I expected from riding down it in 2016.

Plenty of papa cliffs to wonder how they were still standing.

Kawautahi Road kicked up and the rain turned from drizzle to a decent shower – which helped cool us a little from the muggy afternoon. The gravel wetted, things slowed further – at the back of the field enjoying ourselves, we were hardly setting things alight. The reward for such a climb to the plateau was to promptly give up all the elevation with the long, remote and rural descent to Taumaranui – unfortunately it’s mostly sealed and therefore less interesting, but that does make it faster.

Time for a resupply; as another shower rolled through, the accommodation option that Gina and Rachel had gone for was once again tempting. But it wasn’t even four o’clock and knocking off the forty-five kilometres to another good overnight option made sense as there was plenty of day left and, while hilly, it was easily achievable.

Dinner and B&B booked with Michelle, who has been so supportive of bikepackers rolling through sleepy Ohura for years, into the rain Brent and I went. Past the hospital, it’s soon into a three-hundred metre climb on quiet Kururau Road – a favourite. The rain soon lessened and jackets were stowed for the rest of the day, actually – the rest of the trip for me.

The gravel was wet and slow, but soon steaming as the rain passed and the afternoon warmed again.

Past Otunui, we climbed again and as I tired from the day and the energy-sucking surface we seemed to reach the extent of the afternoon storm (we missed the thunder and lightning, others reported they were not so fortunate) as the road dried out and sped up.

Top of the descent to the brief section on the Forgotten World Highway.

Had to stop on the way down to bask in the evening light.

Off the “highway” for the last hour of easy and most-pleasant valley floor riding along Roto and Huia Roads, there was one last hill to crest before rolling into town with plenty of daylight left before catching up with Michelle, cleaning up and devouring a big plate of always-tasty Mexican food. A most excellent day riding with good company through some lumpy and remote terrain. I was pleased to be feeling pretty normal, albeit less fit and energetic, being out and exploring; while missing time with the friends I’d ordinarily be riding with mid-pack, I was happy just to be riding. Sleep came easily, after Happy turned up around ten o’clock and some astonishingly loud fireworks later (I assume those two were unrelated).

Forty riders gathered at the Durie Hill Memorial Tower after sun-up. While there had been some rain overnight, none fell as the usual chatter and checking-out of bike set-ups ensued. Pleasingly, there had been the chance to catch-up with many familiar faces, and some new ones, the previous night – the morning of was a bit more subdued. Shortly after quarter-to-seven we were off east.

Start photo from Fay – the reason we had such an exciting ride to look forward to.

In what now seems to be my standard approach, I waited until the mad rush had subsided and pootled off. Feeling pretty flat, I was in no hurry across this section – which I’d ridden last on the TA, seemingly an age ago. I was soon riding by myself into the nagging wind for the hour before we turned north up the Whangaehu Valley. This section was new to me and I enjoyed the gradual ascent on quiet rural roads. Brent and I eventually caught up to Rachel and Gina, and our little group bimbled on. I was feeling pretty rough all day, so I was pleased for the company. As my body worked to replace the bag of blood taken the previous day, it was all I could do to keep supplying it with much food and many fluids – not much of a hardship really, but a bit of a time-suck. It was manageable, but I was hardly bursting with energy and just felt off all day.

The Burma Hill provided a steep challenge as the morning warmed. Satisfyingly, I could still climb – albeit slowly.

Big snack, sunscreen and regrouping stop at the top. The signs say it all.

Dropping back to the river, the steady gradient increased as we got up on the plateau. Things started to look more familiar as we soon joined the route I took across the island on my double traverse last year. The fifteen kilometre run into Ohakune was fast (half highway, half backroad) as we turned with the sou-easter.

Rangataua provided some surprise.

Serendipitous.

I was adamant I needed to go all the way into town, the five extra kilometres worth it for a big refuel and replacing all the snacks I’d devoured. The kebab was huge, and maybe not the best option – sitting rather heavily – but the berry smoothie went down a treat, as it was warm out.

Perhaps we’re doing gear-carrying wrong.

We four regrouped somewhere on the Old Coach Road; perhaps in a sign of how out of sorts I was, details are hazy. But I do remember we all suffered with full bellies on the the bumpy, practically-cobbled trail with big lumpy rocks. The third time in the last two years, it’s still a fascinating trail with the native bush and some significant NZ engineering history too.

Maybe it was because I’d seen much of the day’s route before, but another sure sign that the whole day had been a struggle was that I’d taken very few photos. Just focussing on keeping on was enough – I was confident that I’d be back to some sort of normal the following day, I just had to make it that far and not pull out of the ride before then. Decision time loomed at Horopito, where Gina and Rachel had a B&B organised. As tempting as calling it a day there was, it was only 135 kilometres in – a bit short to keep on our five-day plan. Thankfully, the next thirty kilometres were basically free – a big downhill and a very helpful tailwind.

Another big snack break and topping up of bottles before saying goodbyes, we rolled out for a lovely evening’s ride to Ruatiti Domain. The road predominantly sealed, it was easy going. A sudden cloudburst had me sheltering in the porch of an abandoned house, but that didn’t last long and it was warm enough that riding in the resulting drizzle didn’t require a jacket. I was pleased we were not thirty kilometres ahead dealing with rain on the notoriously sloppy Kaiwhakauka Trail.

Crossing the Maunganuioteao at the end of the day.

The domain was a delight by the river (sweet swimming hole!) – we scoped it top out and found it basically empty. Further down we found a lone Renegade – Happy had set up his tent in a stand of manuka, we made camp nearby and shared stories of the day. It had been a tough one for me – I don’t think I’ve felt so rubbish for a whole day on a bike. Sure, there are usually highs and lows – I’d certainly had lower lows, but not consistently like this. Thankfully the riding was kind and not very hilly, I’d put in a reasonable day, not blown up and in the morning would see how I felt about tackling a more remote and tougher section of the route.