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around home, bikes, NZ

Tiwhanui

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With a question coming in about biking up to Tiwhanui, I realised that I’d not written about riding to and through my favourite Hawke’s Bay views. It was also a timely reminder that I wanted to ride up there again, and soon – before it gets too hot. Only four riders on last year’s HBAT got so far as to see these views that I seem to rave about, so I was keen to share them a bit more widely.

To my surprise, twelve others assembled at Tutira for the hilly loop. A mixture of familiar and new faces, twas great to see them all. Ridgemount Road doesn’t mess around and gets straight into a stiff climb; repair of a leaking tyre gave us a big rest halfway up the first section. A stunning spring morning was certainly on the warm side as the climb continued. A larger group than I’m used to riding in didn’t spread all that much as we spun up the traction seal – amongst all the gravel, a sure sign the road was steeper than most.

Up around five hundred metres above the ocean, the views opened up in all directions – here looking north, the Mohaka’s outflow visible.

With a steep drop and short sharp climb, I had a bit of time alone trying to catch John way out in front (26″ wheels proving difficult to catch).

Heading into the farm section was a useful time to regroup and have a go at playing ride-leader. No one got lost and ended up down at sea level, so I’m taking that as a win. With a disturbing lack of spring growth, the farm track was firm and undulating along the ridge as we made our way through lambs, sheep, and a few cattle. Frequent gates meant regular bunching up, which certainly helped on keeping a handle on where everyone was.

Trying to ignore the plumes from work in the distance was easy enough with the immediate scenery in the forefront of one’s mind.

Nearing the trig, the track gets properly close to the cliffs. What I like most of this route is being at the top of cliffs four hundred metres high, yet so very close to the Pacific. The views all around Hawke Bay and across the hills I’ve come to know well the last few years are spectacular, and far more than my photography skills are up to capturing well.

Very still and most pleasant for a long lunch stop at the trig, admiring the views and enjoying the company.

The rapid descent through three hundred metres to the farm entrance was as steep as anything we’d climbed all day and such fun to rip down. More regrouping before the undulating Waikare Road out to the highway; mercifully the traffic was light for the short section up to Matahorua Road and one big climb on the loop around back to the cars.

What a fun summery day showing a group much larger than I was expecting a few more of my favourite Hawke’s Bay discoveries.

bikepacking, bikes, NZ

Herbertville to Castlepoint to Riversdale

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Andrew and I have long discussed his dream of linking two coastal cities with a bikepacking route that stays close to the east coast. I was excited to be invited along for a weekend’s ride to explore part of his route for the first time. All new country to me, there ended up being eight of us in the group. With accommodation and main meals (I’m counting breakfasts along with dinners, as they were large) sorted, the bike was lightly loaded for the short route.

After the first of those large breakfasts, we left the most-hospitable Herbertville Inn in good time on Saturday morning. The first few flat kilometres of road south along the coast I realised I had seen before while visiting the area with my parents a few years before.

Didn’t look like this then. Cape Turnagain – a useful landmark for seeing how far we’d gone later in the ride.

Into Akitio Station and a nice little warm-up climb to start to put that breakfast to good use.

We quickly began to see the extensive pine plantations Andrew had mentioned – one reason, I assume, the road through the farm was so substantial and in good condition.

The last of the clear skies for the weekend.

The forecast was for southeasterlies off the sea, which would at some stage bring some rain. It held off pretty well.

Most of the way up the largest climb of the weekend, just a touch on four hundred metres above the ocean.

Waiting for the others at the summit (I did have twenty-odd years on them, and was carrying much less too), I found this venerable old grader to sit and pose for too many photos.

Twas a lovely climb up through these pines.

Cooling down waiting for a while, I dropped off the top before finding some more trees to shelter behind and wait for us to regroup.

Further along, this ridge opened up for us before the drop back to sea level.

Heading out the front entrance of our first station.

A brief section into and then up out of Akitio took me back to about the only TTW training ride I managed before popping my shoulder. A good section of riding gravel with Gerard ensued as we headed up the Owahanga valley a bit, before crossing the river and heading downstream for Owahanga Station.

All the shelter around the visitor sign-in hut seemed to be asking to be used for a lunch break. We obliged.

Bit of a grovel on full stomachs.

Castlepoint and Castle Rock in the distance, but of more immediate interest to me was the lighter coloured hill in front.

Down to the coast we dove again before a nice section next to the ocean.

Another slight rise took me to what was a divergence in the GPS track and the farm road. When Andrew asked me to plot the route through the farms, I didn’t have a lot of detail to go on. Here I used the only track that connected on the topo map, but on the ground the road we were happily following stayed inland and descended. For some reason, no one else was keen to head up to check out the view from the hill I’d spied previously.

In such good conditions, I was confident I’d be ok off solo – I was hardly going to fall into the sea. The track quickly disappeared into tussocks, across fences and then into a big slump. The coastal views were certainly better than staying on the inland, low road.

Happily I shouldered my bike and negotiated my way across the big slip and then up the paddock until something resembling a farm track reappeared. More pushing and then some actual riding and I was nearing the top.

Looking out on all the clouds, I was unsure as to how we’d managed to stay dry all day.

From the summit I could easily see the track down, partway down it had been recently bulldozed – I flew down to the river and was surprised to go screaming past the others as they approached the bridge on the low road. Out of the farm, gravel around the coast took us past some curious little baches nestled in pines. Certainly well shaded. The slightest of hills and I was in Castlepoint by three, soon joined by the others as we settled into roomy accommodation.

Having only ridden seventy kilometres, albeit on some engaging new territory with 1600 m of climbing, over seven hours – I still had energy left. Energy that I was keen to spend running around somewhere I’d not been before. In a small area there was a beach to run down, a lighthouse and headland to check out and a big coastal rock to scramble up. That was a good little run, I even managed to pull up ok having run in my biking shoes.

Crayfishing boats resting for the night.

That was a fun scramble; at least the rock was super grippy.

Checking out tomorrow’s riding.

Cape Turnagain looking a bit further off now.

With cooler, stronger winds and more rain forecast, tired legs and a long drive home – Sunday’s plan reverted to the original: heading to Riversdale, not quite fifty kilometres away through Castlepoint Station and along backroads. The rain mostly held off, the wind didn’t slow us too much and we had plenty more time riding next to the Pacific. The hills were even smaller than the previous day. Only coming off the largest one did I have to don my raincoat.

Through Castlepoint Station.

Heading out from Otahome.

Oh, Castle Rock again.

Plenty of time to wait here out of the rain, not much to do apart from pick up litter.

It cleared a bit?

Still checking out the Whareama sights.

Into Riversdale by half-eleven, it had a been a nice leisurely morning along the coast. I spent much of it by myself, but with a short day and a lightly loaded bike I enjoyed pushing the legs around a bit harder than I usually do. Andrew, a far better organiser of such rides than I, had even arranged for hot showers at the Surf Club – spoilt! That was probably prudent, considering we’d have four hours or so in the van together.

With a bit of time to spare, getting an ice cream and heading to the beach seemed just the ticket – never mind the rain.

Loaded up for the trek back to Napier.

What a great weekend exploring new places with excellent company and plenty of fascinating sights and stories. Thanks for inviting me along Andrew, I eagerly await the completed route…

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Five Beaches

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With vague notions of meeting others for some long-weekend bikepacking not eventuating, when Gill posted about riding Five Beaches I was keen – it promised to be a leisurely ride and I didn’t have to drive far. Based on the first hundred kilometres of the inaugural Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour, it had somehow made it into last year’s Bikepacking Aotearoa – to my delight. Having not ridden the whole loop in one trip, it seemed a good use of a couple of days.

Mild autumn weather greeted us as I met Gill and Bernard in Waipukurau. Bikes assembled and cars stashed, we were off along very familiar roads. The backroads were typically quiet and I very much enjoyed seeing the area in a different season – still looking generally very dry, there was at least some colour remaining in the trees. With only sixty kilometres on the plan for the day, it was nice to take our time – plenty of food stops and general rests. Riding with Bernard a bit it was most gratifying to see his face light up with the delight of ever changing rural views – much how I felt the first time riding through here.

Old Hill Road ridge riding always a favourite.

In Porangahau before half-two, the day’s riding was pretty much done! Plenty of time for an ice cream and chat with Orlando at Flotsam and Jetsam – slowly possibilities for this year’s HBAT are interesting me. Bernard was keen to see the world’s longest place name, so we duly obliged with a short detour before heading for the campground at the beach.

Camp made, there was so much time to spare. Into the westerly, we returned to town for dinner at the pub. Outside the diary we found two more bikepackers (also from Wellington) with fish and chips. Turned out we’d spied them removing bikes from their van as we started off; more delight to learn that they were also following the Five Beaches route and thoroughly enjoying it. We ditched the pub idea and went for burgers and chips – tasty.

Barely dark returning to camp, after showering and a cup of tea I was unsure what to do with all the extra time. Nine o’clock wasn’t too early to snuggle into my tent for a good night’s sleep? I hope not, as that’s what I did – on a very mild night, despite the clear skies. With good company it had been a fantastic relaxing day, after finally breaking nineteen minutes at Park Run with some effort.

An even more glorious day dawned for us Sunday, a bit of breeze overnight keeping our little tent collection pretty dry. Not having two days to spare to ride the remaining hundred-plus kilometres, I bid farewell to the Wellington crew and set off for the rest of the beaches and Waipukurau – a gentle breeze behind me.

The hills seemed smaller than previously, the wind must have been stronger than I thought. A strange amount of traffic passed me on Blackhead Rd, but that hardly slowed me in reaching the Blackhead to Pourerere beach section just before low tide. With few people around and that wind, it was far easier on the hard packed sand than my previous visit. A beautiful morning to soak in the sun and scenery.

With so much space, I got to practice snapping photos while riding in the opposite direction.

First of the two hills of note dealt with, Clareinch Rd is always a delight. Finally I made the short detour to see a sixth beach – Mangakura. With far fewer houses, it was for many years a private beach on a farm – but over time a small number of sections were divided amongst the family and some then sold on. I learnt all this from a friendly family that farm back on Ugly Hill Rd (which forms part of the start of the route) and they were happy to share some history, and top up my water bottle.

Just up the road was the fifth of the five beaches, Kairakau; it was easy to pop down there and see it again. Not so easy turning back into the wind. Up the other hill of note for the day, the wind didn’t make the drop down to the Tukituki that fast – but the Patangata Tavern appeared for lunch sooner than I was expecting.

With the last of the rural scenes still showing autumn colours, I was back in Waipawa and soon Waipukurau having had a thoroughly enjoyable day and a bit on the wee Five Beaches route. It’s like someone knew the type of riding I like.


bikes, friends, MTB, national park, NZ

Classic Ruapehu District rides

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Getting wind of Anton’s planned weekend away mountain biking some classic trails near Ruapehu, it wasn’t long before I’d signed up/invited myself along. It had been a very long time since I’d been on a mountain biking weekend away, but I was keen to ride some of these trails relatively unloaded and on a squishy bike for a change.

First up, thirteen of us piled into the shuttle to the start of the Bridge to Nowhere trail on a misty and wet morning. Thankfully the heavy rain overnight had ceased. In hindsight, there was plenty of time to have ridden the thirty-four kilometres from Raetihi to the trailhead and I’d have enjoyed that more than a stuffy bus – but I was trying to be at least a little social and fit in, already feeling like a curiosity for not carrying a pack, having small bags strapped to my bike and generally enthusing too much about riding far on a loaded bike.

This is different.

First up, an easy climb for half an hour; the surface was pleasingly good.

Sitting around 600 m altitude for a while, we passed the Kaiwhakauka junction – from here on, I’d ridden on the Tour Aotearoa five years before. This time I was not nearly as tired, or contemplating such a big day. At the Mangapurua Trig after an hour, it was all downhill more or less to the river.

The quarter of an hour dropping four hundred metres to the stream was the best riding of the weekend for me. Chasing and then leading Dan (a fellow ex-NZ Steel graduate who I’d not seen for over twelve years) down the slippery (papa mud is notorious) double track at speed just on the right side of control was excellent. Being much slighter than Dan, I had to work hard to keep up with his momentum; the whole descent was grin-inducing with only the occasional two wheel slides around some of the sharper corners. So. Much. Fun.

Regrouping at one of the small shelters, the misty drizzle set in. Continuing while chatting about bikepacking (again, eyeroll) to Dan we were just cruising. That is until we were passed and I realised we were wasting a good downhill. Unfortunately I timed picking my speed up with one of the big holes we had been warned about. I managed to avoid it, but fell in the process and was fortunate not to be run over. I got off lightly with only a bruised and scraped knee and a sore wrist – along with being somewhat covered in mud, now slower and with my ego taking a hit.

The trail seemed in excellent condition and rounding slips and bluffs was far less precarious than I remembered. We were at the Bridge in no time, close to an hour and a half before we were to meet the jet boat. Plenty of time to linger and appreciate the bush and remoteness; until the rain set in again, that is, and we moseyed down to the shelter above the landing.

Yup, to nowhere.

All loaded up for the forty minutes down the river, just missing something.

A few kayakers coming to join us at the landing for a bit.

Eventually we got on the boat…

The rain really set in and it could have been a miserable trip down to Pipiriki. But I was just warm and protected enough that I could still enjoy and appreciate the incredible Whanganui River and its dense surrounds – majestical. Alas, no photos worth sharing with so much water flying around.

Loading the bikes again, wet and muddy we did a number on the bus interior for the tortuous trip to the northern trailhead of the Old Coach Rd. Unloading at Horopito the northerly was very strong and strangely chilly – but once moving, it did blow us quickly along the open part of the trail before we entered the bush. Another excellent trail, and being the old road for horse drawn coaches between two railheads gradually converging to form the North Island Main Trunk, it was well made. Heading in this direction was definitely faster than bikepacking in the opposite one, so less time to savour it and read all the historical signs.

A few planks would do it?

Everyone, that I heard, rated the trail very highly and at only an hour of riding twas a great end to a day out in the elements. Mountain Kebabs downed in Ohakune, forty minutes took us back to Raetihi in fading light and then dark. Noting the propensity of mountain bikers to wear mostly black and not carry lights, I was happy to play lantern rouge at the back in my bright green top and with a couple of blinky lights. I did have to find another dinner at the only option in the village, so I must have done some work – but with only sixty kilometres and little climbing in the legs for the day, it can’t have been much. After the murky and atmospheric day through some remote sections of the North Island, it was a contented and subdued group at the house that night.

Sunday I was excited to return to the 42nd Traverse – the first big, backcountry ride I ever did way back in 2005 and when I met some good riding buddies. Well, it seemed a big, remote adventure back then when I was much less experienced, bikes were far less rideable and reliable, and there was a lot less trail beta out there. That first time it was a whole-day undertaking, but I returned three years later and found it only took two and a half hours with one other. I did remember big ruts and holes, and tough long climbs…

Starting at 900 m, the drizzle quickly had us very wet and muddy – but it was warm. Route finding was much easier – there are trail markers now, who’d have thought? We passed a few vehicles coming back from a morning hunt, the surface was very good. Gone were all the big obstacles; sure, it was damp and possibly slippery – but all easily rideable. An hour of gradual downhill and we were then able to rip down the steeper descent – nothing too wild and more good fun. The seven of us were of a similar pace all day so there was little waiting around, it worked well.

Food time at the halfway point, not the whole reason for a big smile – a good wee adventure in progress.

The only walking section of the whole route. Seeing this, jackets came off despite it still raining – it was that warm.

I’m unsurprised that the climbs weren’t nearly as bad as they seemed over a decade ago – I may be a bit more used to hills. Still eight hundred metres in forty-five kilometres is some climbing. I was just happy to be able to keep pedalling as my gear shifting was playing up; time to replace jockey wheels it turns out. The rain ceased and the afternoon started to clear and warm – in time for the climbing of course. The native forest was far denser and more impressive than I remembered; another fun little ride done as we overcame the wet, wheel-sucking gravel into Owhango.

Completing the vehicle shuffle, we loaded up, said our goodbyes and headed home. A very unusual weekend of biking for me – far more time and distance spent in transit between rides (only rode 110 km all up) than I am used to, I found it a bit weird. But never mind, it enabled riding of some excellent routes with a great crew. Thanks to Anton for an incredible job of organising the whole weekend and marshalling us all – no mean feat.

Finally got to see the mountains we’d been playing in the shadow of all weekend when we stopped in Taupo on the way home for an early dinner.

Strange seeing my under-utilised mountain bike lightly loaded – before it got filthy.