Category Archives: bikes

South Island Rides All Around

After our thwarted attempt to ride the Heaphy and a few days of inclement weather, James and I were itching to get out riding when the weather was more friendly. It’s just as well James obviously doesn’t mind driving hours for a bit of riding – as that’s what it took to find a bit of sun. Looking back on the last week, there was an awful lot of driving as we rode in three quite distant places in the central South Island in the space of five days.

First up it was close to two hours down the coast to Hokitika, where the locals have built a nice network of trails up on Blue Spur Ridge behind the town. I’d taken to borrowing Adele’s bike (which is considerably lighter and more fun than my touring one) and enjoyed a couple of decent climbs and tried to come to terms with riding wet, slippery and twisty singletrack. We rode for a couple of hours – liking the sun, completing a large circuit of most of the trail network, repeating the trails we particularly enjoyed and only once getting a little off-track. I felt a bit cheated by some of the trail names – See-saw didn’t have a see-saw and Tunnels only had one tunnel.

Looking out over the Hokitika River valley.

There was the odd trail feature built – but I thought it a bit slippery to wisely attempt this.

Yes, the trail disappears through a skinny tunnel. I was pleased not vanish into the ether halfway through.

The following day we headed off to Christchurch as most of James’s family was going to be at his brother’s that weekend – also, the weather forecast was better than in Westport, where Adele would be on-call and not able to go riding. I was lured by the talk of a ride up on the Port Hills (on the southern edge of the city) and exploring trails new to me.

Four McKirdy men (James, his two brothers and their father, Don) and I set off early enough that it was still quite fresh on a clear Christchurch morning – oh, Andrew’s dog Jack also joined us as trail dog. After about five miles of road we were at the west base of the hills – and soon climbing steadily up some well laid trails. That much time has been spent on these trails was obvious, we passed one crew of about five still improving some tight corners and another place where trail tools are kept locked to a fence-post for ready access.

It was disturbing to be suddenly spat out next to a new subdivision – at least we could see the mountains across the Canterbury Plains.

When the singletrack ran out, it was 4WD tracks and grass that took us most of the way to the top.

A herd of Banded Galloways were happened upon.

We paused before our descent to look at more things in the distance.

The McKirdy men looking at things in the distance.

How Jack managed almost thirty kilometres, I’ve no idea. A bit slower on the flat, he was much faster uphill than us and surprisingly quick down singletrack.

The upper reaches of Lyttelton Harbour – on the other side of the hills to Christchurch.

About to head into the Flying Nun trail – an enormous amount of time has gone in to this one. Lined, almost paved, with plenty of natural rock it flows so well and is just one big bundle of fun!

After an absolute blast on Flying Nun, there was a little bit of climbing on the road up to Victoria Park where we had fun getting slightly lost making our way down the hill on a myriad of trails. There were some quite big jumps that were beyond me, but mostly I was able to ride it. We even found a big (in the size of its vertical drop, not length) see-saw over a fence to make up for the missing one in Hokitika.

We so enjoyed our Saturday ride, that we went up again Sunday – this time Don shuttled the rest of us to the top as we had a family-lunch deadline to meet.  More good fun on Flying Nun before exploring further around the hill in Bowenvale Park.  Near to the end of the Bowenvale Downhill I had one of my worst crashes in a long time.  Negotiating some rocks next to a tall bank dropping off the right side of the trail, I got it all wrong.  The option of flying head-first down a bank didn’t appeal and I somehow managed to put myself down on the trail with my bike weighing heavily and awkwardly on top – I got off rather lightly, with only some slight bruising and no other damage.  I lived to ride home and ride another day.

The next day, in fact.  On the way back to Westport we stopped briefly in Hanmer Springs – a nice little mountain resort town with some quality hot pools.  But we were there to explore the trails in the forest – which we did.  They were a little wet, which is odd as I always think of Hanmer as rather dry and hot.  When it suddenly started dumping snow on us, we turned down the hill to the car – as we still had to get home and prepare for the following day’s adventure.

The snow continued falling as we drove over Lewis Pass – although a bit grey, it was beautiful.  I snapped a few token shots through the car windows.

Half the Heaphy

Adele lured me back to the West Coast for a few weeks with the promise of different biking and a change from the rather fruitless task of finding a job. The biggest part of the carrot was finally being able to ride the Heaphy Track. For most of the time I’ve been a mountain biking, the name Heaphy has been uttered with mild despair by New Zealand mountain-bikers no longer allowed to ride one of the best multi-day rides in the country. But no more, it is now open to bikes during the off-season.

Running between the north of the west coast of the South Island eastwards through rugged hills and valleys, the route dates from mining in the late nineteenth century – after which it was almost forgotten. In the later part of last century, the track came into use again for hiking/tramping and was also open to mountain-bikes as it was in a forest park. But when the North-West Nelson Forest Park became Kahurangi National Park in the mid-nineties, the mountain-bikers were shut out – much to their chagrin. But while I was living overseas, a trial was started allowing bikes on one of New Zealand’s Great Walks in the off-season (May to September) – a lot like how bikes are allowed on the Queen Charlotte Walkway. The trial was obviously successful as it’s now a permanent arrangement. Fantastic!

As Adele has work commitments, unlike James and me, the plan was to drive early Saturday morning to remote Karamea (the west end of the trail) and then catch a light plane with our bikes to the other end of the trail and ride the almost-fifty miles/eighty kilometres back to the car over two days – staying at a hut somewhere in the middle, Saturday night. This was also to be the first time Adele and James had been bikepacking – exciting! Despite the good weather forecast, it was not to be – when we arrived in Karamea it was decidedly wet with very low cloud. The plane couldn’t land – so we adjourned for bacon and eggs while we waited to see what the weather would do. Well fueled by second breakfast, it was now obvious a plane wasn’t coming to get us and we couldn’t be sure one would bring us back Sunday afternoon if we decided to ride the route west to east.

Plans amended consequently, we drove to the trailhead at Kohaihai, sorted our gear out and rode off late-morning into the rain. Immediately crossing the Kohaihai river on the first of many substantial bridges, the route climbed up to Kohaihai Saddle to avoid the cliff-lined coast. That first hill done, it was down to Scott’s Beach as James and Adele got used to riding mountain-bikes while wearing heavy hiking packs. The forest right down to the beach was impressive, but as the drizzle continued to fall we weren’t too interested in sticking around to look at the grey sea. While overall the trail was flat, there were sufficient short ups and downs to keep it interesting.

Quite surprised to bump in to Garry and cohorts riding out the way we had just came, we stopped for a brief chat in the rain. NZ is so small – here unbeknownst to us was a man far from home (as I was too). One of Adele’s previous rural medical teachers and colleagues I’d met him on adventures earlier in the year and then again as he was one of Adele’s teammates on that crazy Godzone adventure race in March. Not quite a bizarre as bumping into your Kiwi third (or fourth, I forget) cousin in a Tuscan village – but odd all the same.

With the tide far enough out, there was a short section on a beach – avoiding the high-tide alternative track.

Plenty of stream and river crossings gave opportunities to emerge from the trees into the rain.

Eventually, it stopped raining – about the time we reached the Heaphy River mouth and our lunch stop at Heaphy Hut.

With tasty, tasty salami and cheese ciabattas fuelling us, we set off inland. The section along the river flats beside the Heaphy was initially through more large groves of nikau palms before winding its way through stands of large native trees – rimu, rata and kahikatea. We eventually crossed the Heaphy on what is apparently the largest swing bridge DOC (Department of Conservation – responsible for much public land in NZ and the associated facilities) has ever built. Almost a hundred and fifty metres long, it is obviously built for when the river is in flood. It looked like most of the bridges have been upgraded recently, possibly for bikes – they are superb and easy to ride across. The one remaining wire-decked swing-bridge looked like hard work for James & his unloaded bike. I couldn’t even get my loaded bike up the ramp, so found it easier just to ride across the stream and risk wet feet.

Adele crossing the Heaphy.

Reaching Lewis Hut the flat coastal riding was done and we began a steady climb to James McKay hut. Generally it’s a very easy climb, taking eleven kilometres to ascend almost seven-hundred metres, but it’s a bit steeper at the start. The track is generally wide and the only really technical parts are some of the frequent, rocky, creek crossings. It was warm work, and some of us were down to short-sleeves before, and even when, the drizzle came back. DOC is working hard to upgrade the surface. If we’d been a week later, I’m told, they’d be finished and we would have missed the in-progress stretches of hundreds of metres of slick mud. This made it tough going at times for our little group, but I found it mostly rideable – even with a rather lightweight rear tyre.

It was with some relief we saw the marker indicating only two kilometres remained until we reached our destination for the night – James Mackay Hut. This was also about the time it started to rain again, albeit lightly. Due to rare wildlife living in the area, kiwi and giant carnivorous land snails (! – I didn’t see one, but saw some of their old shells – disturbingly large), one is not allowed to ride the trail at night – so we had to be at the hut before nightfall.

It’s a pretty damp climate with plenty of interesting flora and fauna.

After one final slog atop the slick and muddy track, we made it to the hut easily before five o’clock – not bad considering the late start. This was where we had intended to stay originally – but approaching from the other end of the track. It’s very weird turning up at such a palatial back-country DOC hut and finding it only contains mountain-bikers. What’s more, in the middle of nowhere it has bike-racks and even a bike wash stand (much needed)! Having cleaned our bikes, we went inside to find the coal range roaring and even such things as basic electric lighting, gas cooking, running water and flush toilets – luxury. Being such a new hut, it is very good and has wonderful facilities – but does lack in character.

It turns out large groups of mountain-bikers have very poor hut etiquette, being generally loud through the night – walking/stomping around, talking loudly, and getting up at four o’clock to shovel coal noisily (who does that?). Thankfully, they were gone by the leisurely hour we got up, had breakfast, packed up, talked bikes and brevets (I even got an unexpected handshake for completing the Kiwi Brevet – I was quietly chuffed) with the other more considerate mountain-bikers. With slightly better weather, we could see all the way down to the Tasman Sea and the mouth of the Heaphy.

Looking all the way back down to where we’d been for lunch the previous day.

Bike racks and wash area – at a hut, wow!

Although it was mid-morning by the time we set-off back down the hill, it was quite chilly and we got a little wet from the spray off the muddy surface. While much easier to ride through the mud assisted by gravity, it still had its tricky moments.

Adele enjoying the downhill – possibly this was before she fell off the side of a bridge, but it’s hard to tell as she’s always got a smile on her face.

While waiting for Adele, James and I tried talking to the friendly locals. This robin was particularly curious, and the many fantails we saw elsewhere were super inquisitive.

The ride out being the same way we rode in is thankfully much shorter to describe, but with much improved weather we saw so much more – and there was an eleven kilometre downhill too! Thankfully, the lack of rain meant I could get my camera out a bit more and I had plenty of time to take photos as well.

Occasionally there were glimpses of the Heaphy River – but annoyingly there were no great lookout spots on the way down.

Looking east up a tributary of the Heaphy – some good limestone cliffs to on the right.

After a rapid pace on the flats back to Heaphy Hut we got strangely hot – a good time for lunch; the nikau palms began to reappear also.

With lunch done, it was only sixteen kilometres back to the trailhead mostly following the coast. It’s a great fun trail and I was expecting to enjoy it more in the dry – it had dried out well since the previous morning. I was not expecting to be so blown away by the scenery – it all seemed so foreign to New Zealand. Apart from the temperature (which was mild), I could have easily believed we were riding alongside tropical rainforest on an island somewhere – perhaps in the Caribbean. The beaches were gorgeous, the surf was wild and the palm groves – wow.

Over the last saddle separating Scott’s Beach from Kohaihai, we enjoyed the final downhill back to the car and the end of our little adventure. I’m pretty sure Adele & James enjoyed their first bikepacking experience – we may not have gone that far, but there was so much to see. Now that all the bikes are cleaned of the grit and mud and all the washing is done, I’m waiting for a two-day window in the weather so I can ride the whole trail. I’m not hopeful, but if the eastern end is anywhere near as scenic as the part we rode it must be quite something.

Old Ghost Road – Lyell Section

While I was overseas I’d started to hear mention of an epic backcountry mountain-bike trail being constructed somewhere on the West Coast. Once back in New Zealand, I’d picked up a bit of excitement for the Old Ghost Road from various places. When completed it will be eighty-five kilometres of trail in remote West Coast hills and valleys – and will be part of the NZ Cycle Trail.

But it’s not complete yet – the trail is the brainchild of a charitable organisation intent on opening such remote backcountry to mountain-bikers using old dray roads from gold-mining in the nineteenth century, and finally putting through trail where the miners dreamed of doing so (before the gold ran out). About thirty kilometres at either end of the route are officially open, leaving about twenty kilometres in the middle (that goes through some of the most rugged terrain) to be completed and opened. It is hoped, with a final push of fundraising and volunteer efforts that the whole trail will be opened later this year.

While in Westport I was keen to make use of the good weather and check it out – James was easily persuaded, although it may have been his idea in the first place. We wanted to do the Lyell end of the trail as this was hillier – as we would be riding the trail as a “there and back”, we’d just take the day as it came and see how far we’d get before turning around. Setting off from the Lyell carpark and camping area, it was immediately over a new bridge and the climbing began through typically damp native forest. The gradient was gentle, but constant, and the trail was wide, well-made and a pretty easy surface to ride on.

Before long we were passing various old mining relics and the occasional ghost town on the old dray road – as this used to connect the towns, I assume this was why the trail was plenty wide almost in its entirety.

After almost thirteen kilometres, we arrived at the Big Slips and rather ominous looking signs telling us to dismount. Two big slips had completely destroyed the dray road decades ago during an earthquake – these were the biggest challenges the track builders faced to that point. I could see why as we pushed our bikes along the narrow stone path, the fall to the right was sudden and there would be no stopping if one were to go over. Not a chance I was stopping to take a photo for you. The slips safely negotiated, the trail crew’s confidence that they could go on and complete the ambitious project grew.

Near the slips the tree canopy at last was broken a little so we could start to see how big the hills were getting – and under the clear blue sky, there was little else to see but hills and trees, and more hills.

For the twenty or so minutes after the slips, the trail flattened off and pretty much followed the contour around to Lyell Saddle. Reaching the saddle after a steady two hours of riding we found the first of the four huts the trust has built on the trail (there are also two DOC huts on the trail). It is consequently quite new, sleeps eleven (there are also two small summer-summer only sleepouts nearby) and has extensive views over the south branch of the Mokihinui and the Glasgow Range. Annoyingly, I seem have not taken any photos there – it was beautiful on such a clear day.

Leaving the hut, it became apparent we were now on brand new trail; as it got steeper, we went through a series of switchbacks. The surface, being new, was quite different with the stones in the gravel seeming much larger. Still, it was all rideable and we were soon out on the ridge making sure not to ride off the edge while looking at the views.

Switching over to the other side of the ridge as we continued north, the trail stretched impressively in front of us – a thin white ribbon seemingly just hanging on the sheer hillside. It became clear that this would be the eight hundred metre section where it was compulsory to walk. I’m pretty sure most of it was rideable, but I’m also sure there was no way I wanted to be put in a body-bag at the bottom. Realising that we would have to turn around soon to get back to the car before dark and home for dinner, we left our bikes and walked to the highest point of the trail – keen to see the view and check out what really is some incredible trail-building.

Looking east towards the Kaikouras.

Turning around and heading for home.

Needless to say, the return downhill was quality. A bit of a pity I got a small puncture that took many little stops to inflate my tyre before the tubeless finally sealed up; and then I slashed my tyre landing a jump on some rocks with a kilometre to go, damn. Nonetheless, it was a fantastic few hours and I’m well looking forward to the whole trail being open and I hope I get to bikepack the whole thing soon.

West Coast Week

Probably coming close to doubling the amount of time I’ve spent on the West Coast ever, it was a great week exploring various parts of the area previously unseen by me. Unfortunately Adele had to work for most of our stay – that after all being the whole reason she is there – but at least there was a long weekend in there to enjoy together. Activities were varied for the week, hopefully James enjoyed having a few extra people around during the working week – at least, he was pretty easy to persuade to go mountain-biking with.

First up we headed up to the Denniston Plateau, an old coal mining area just north east of Westport. Considering its proximity to town it was remarkably remote – helped by the very steep hill we had to drive up to get onto the plateau. We timed our ride well and didn’t get wet at all as we explored a loop, recommended by the local bike shop, taking in part of the trail network up there. It was a great fun loop with a variety of trail surfaces that seemed to change in an instant. From bog standard gravel road, to smooth almost-slickrock double track to quite rocky singletrack. Well worth the drive up and with a few decent little pinch climbs to keep us honest.

At times the trail got rocky, narrow and steep.

I’ve not seen such an interesting sign-in hut before – this for the coal mine just down the road.

Back near the car, I couldn’t resist poking around some of the old mine buildings long since abandoned. These, below, near the powerhouse and changehouse. A little bit down the hill we found the main historic displays detailing working in the various mines and life in such a wet and isolated place as the company town must have been. We also happened across Mum & Dad out exploring a bit; unfortunately the cloud and rain really rolled in, so I abandoned a scheme to ride down the closed bridle track to sea-level.

The next day’s ride was a stunner on the Old Ghost Road – which is not quite completed; even so, there’s more than enough there for its own post.

The warm sunny weather persisted, much to our surprise and pleasure (the West Coast is notorious for its rainfall), into Friday. With a day off the bikes, James & Dad headed out for a round of golf while Mum & I took the drive south to Cape Foulwind. It was a much better visit that the one twenty years previous – where both of us were completely overcome with hayfever and remember little else. The beach and coast was looking fantastic and we spent some time watching the seals basking in the sunshine or playing in various rocky pools.

Spot the seals and rocks.

Friday evening walk on the beach and sundowners.

Saturday the weather turned somewhat, but we were keen for a day out to Reefton. Somehow we got our three mountain bikes on and in the Vitara and the five of us piled in for the hour drive south-east. Bikes assembled, we rode from town to do the Murray Creek Circuit that had been given four stars in the most recent edition of the NZ MTBing bible – which interestingly uses a scale of zero to four. We would have liked to do a bigger ride, but didn’t want to keep Mum & Dad waiting too long.

Leaving the highway after a couple of kilometres, it was a steady climb through beautiful native forest beside the creek passing various mining relics and even an old town site – Cementown, one of the more boring names for a town possible. It got a bit muggy at times as we were surrounded by all the trees keeping the moisture in. For most of the climb we followed an old road from gold-mining days that was still a good wide and even surface.

Opting for the singletrack route, we continued climbing as we turned left at Waitahu Junction back towards town. It was a rare point when the thick canopy of trees opened enough to look down on the view below – this down to the Waitahu River:

The track narrowed and soon it became apparent we were on some new singletrack. Around the time we were passing the last gold mines (well the head of the shafts – a look at a plan on a signboard showed that the hill was riddled with various mines off two deep vertical shafts) the trail became really quite good. There wasn’t a lot of overall altitude gain or loss for a while and trail was lush – there was one point where they’d worked really hard to put some tight switchbacks in, much too steep and compact for me to climb. With littles bits where one still had to work hard to crest a rise, it was a good mixture with the flowing singletrack. I was disappointed when the trail became gravel closer to town – even if it was still fun.

Reefton looking pretty much as it is – small and surrounded by hills and native forest.

Back in town to savour a fun little ride and eat lunch, we loaded up again and headed out to Waiuta. I’d never heard of Waiuta until the Kiwi Brevet earlier in the year and was then disappointed I didn’t have time to stop as I rode past and into my favourite part of the entire brevet course – the Big River Trail. Once a company town for yet another gold mine, this one lasting about fifty years; Waiuta went into decline in the fifties after the mine closed. I thought the rest of the family would enjoy going up to this remote corner of the country and enjoy poking around what is left. I think I was right, even if it made for a long day by the time we got back to Westport.

Sunday the weather proper rolled in and was quite wild. But that didn’t put us off driving south along the coast to harvest large mussels (Adele & James had been talking of them for a while) off the rocks at low-tide. Unfortunately, with the stormy weather the tide wasn’t quite as low as it might have been on a calm day – but how wet we got was worth it for this rather large pan filled with fresh mussels, white wine, butter and garlic. It’s even better considering Adele doesn’t like mussels, so there were more for the rest of us.

The Charming Creek ride/walk was reported as being beautiful by Adele & James – following an old river-side railway through tunnels, over swing bridges, beside huge native trees and past, once again, old mining equipment. I decided to ride, naturally, while Mum, Dad & Adele walked on the public holiday Monday. While happy to walk and ride in the rain, we didn’t factor in the cumulative rainfall over the previous day or so.

The river was absolutely raging and the trail wet under wheel (so much so, that I put my over-trousers on to keep the spray from my wheels away). All that wasn’t much of a problem, but the number of waterfalls seen became an issue when I emerged from a tunnel to find a torrent of water dumping right on to the trail. I pondered awhile – it didn’t take long to see that I’d be absolutely soaked trying to pass under it or, worse, swept into the river. Not keen on either outcome, it was disappointing but prudent to turn around after only two and a half kilometres. That trail will have to keep for another visit.

That was about our stay in Westport – most enjoyable, there’s so much to do and still left to explore. One just needs to be able to time outdoor activities with the famed rain to make the most of it. Tuesday Mum, Dad & I left for home down the West Coast. It sure is a long, & at times slow, drive to Haast. It’s definitely just short of twenty years since I’ve been down that way, so we stopped to look at some of the more famous sights – the Pancake Rocks at Punakaiki and a brief glance at Fox Glacier.

It’s a long time since I’ve seen so much flax in one spot.

The wild West Coast – a whole lot less wild than the previous two days.

There definitely isn’t a lot to do in Haast Township of a cold, dark evening – but that didn’t matter as we were exhausted from the slow and winding drive. The whitebait was excellent.

Following day we set off for home to complete our little road-trip.

Over Haast Pass and away from the West Coast, the rain was gone and the sun was out.

Not a bad spot for lunch, near Bannockburn.