Category Archives: bikes

bikes, family, GPS, MTB, NZ

Buster Diggings – Johnstones Creek Track epic

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One of Adele’s teammates for the upcoming adventure race, Garry, thought that a good training MTB ride for Adele would be the Buster Diggings & Johnstones Creek Track combo. Naturally, I thought this was a great idea as Central Otago is beautiful and riding bikes is great. It’s not a well-known trail, not even making it into the NZ MTB trail bible (Classic NZ MTB Rides), so we were a little taken aback as we checked it out the night before. Over two and a half thousand metres of climbing in sixty kilometres?! It looked like it would be a long day – especially as Adele has not spent much time riding recently.

Consequently, it was an early start for the eighty minute drive to Naesby (which I am assured has great MTB trails in the forest – but I’ve not ridden there, yet) to meet Garry. Having arranged a car shuttle we left town & managed to drive a few kilometres up the Mt Buster road before setting off on our bikes – Adele taking her brand new one for its first outing. It was a glorious day and the first few kilometres along the undulating gravel road were pleasant riding. Before long we were entering the Oteake Conservation Park and the first of three tough climbs began. Progress slowed markedly as it took over an hour to go 3.5 km and climb almost 600 m! The surface was pretty good (all of the day was spent on double-track/4WD track), with just one particularly rocky & loose section causing me to push my bike for a hundred or so metres. I had plenty of time to take photos while I waited, so here are a few of typical Central Otago hills & plains – the hills invariably covered in long tussock (a type of grass found in the high country around NZ).

Entering the conservation park, looking ahead to the first big climb of the day.

Part-way up, looking south over Central Otago.

In that pick-up are the only people we saw all day – we were out for over ten hours and only heard birds, streams flowing & the breeze (apart from any sound we made obviously). It’s quite remote up there.

Eventually the hill plateaued and we got some respite. We took a small side trail to look at Buster Diggings – the result of the highest gold mining ever undertaken in NZ at 1200 m above sea level (Otago had quite a gold rush in the nineteenth century).

The results of alluvial mining, and Mt Buster in the background.

A lot of our hard work was undone as we plunged off the plateau down to the head waters of the Otematata River below.

After the quick descent, we followed the small river for about fifteen kilometres. Often we had to cross the river – I lost count of the number of river crossings we made, probably up around twenty. All except three were rideable with the current level of water in the river. Before another climb started, we stopped at Tailings Hut for a bit of lunch. Somehow twenty-six kilometres had taken four hours – I think we deserved some food and a bit of rest.

A typical NZ back-country hut – and Adele’s brand new bike no longer so clean & immaculate.

From the river, it was another steep climb around the end of the ridge – but this was much shorter before plunging to the river for another crossing. Unfortunately, at the high point in this section we could look across the valley and see what was to come.

All the downhills of the day were great, and not just because they were such welcome relief.

Yes, another opportunity to get one’s feet wet – by this point Adele was quite soaked due to a previous unplanned dip further up the river.

That was a small part of what was to come.

This was the most brutal climb of the day – six hundred metres up in only five kilometres along. The first half was noticeably steeper than the second, but the surface was very good and it was all rideable for me. With the sun beating down, it was getting hotter as the we were sheltered from the wind. Regrouping on the next plateau, the riding got easier – but was still generally climbing.

Waiting on the plateau amongst the tussock.

Eventually we came across the second hut of the day – the Ida Railway hut. Originally down on the railway that was converted to the famous Otago Central Rail Trail, the old station was somewhat unbelievably hauled up the route we had just ridden some decades ago for use as a musterers’ hut. I was pretty thrilled when Garry pulled a large slab of Christmas cake from his pack (he was wearing the large, for mountain-biking, pack that seems to be standard equipment for their team in the adventure race). It was good cake and excellent to be sitting out in the sun in the wilderness with great company enjoying it as the stream babbled close by – especially sharing a big bike adventure with my sister.

The climbing reared up a bit more across the plateau as we got to our highest point so far that day – about 1550 m. Across the plateau we could also look north to the Southern Alps and pick out Mt Cook (NZ’s highest mountain) easily.

Looking back across a small part of the plateau we’d ridden across. For perspective – if you look very closely you can just see Adele rounding the corner at the right of the shot.

Depending on whether one was climbing or descending (for me, at least), unfortunately & then fortunately (respectively) the trail condition got a lot poorer from this point on. The Canterbury greywacke stone used to pave the route suddenly became much larger, looser and more sharply edged. As I alluded to above – this was fantastic on the next steep plunge as the riding became much more technical and thrilling.

But after that steep plunge, we were left looking at this:

About a quarter of the last climb of the day…

While not the toughest, biggest or longest climb of the day – due to the poor surface it was definitely the most technically challenging. Starting off at the bottom I was starting to feel a little tired, but from somewhere found some energy and managed to ride all but about a hundred metres when it just got too loose & tricky. Whether going up or down on the chunky loose rocks, I found it much easier to carry a bit more speed than normal to avoid getting bogged down in the greywacke.

Finally we were at the magic point of no-more-climbing, looking out across Central Otago again. All that hard work in the sun was about to be rewarded by a glorious, fast descent dropping 800 m in five kilometres. That was even steeper than what we had climbed – I would not recommend riding this route in the opposite direction considering the surface at the west end. I know the other two didn’t really enjoy this rather technical, steep downhill (Garry had been preparing us all day to be disappointed with it after all the work taken to get there) – but I was grinning all the way down. So many big rocks moving all over the place, plenty of water bars to jump off and a grand view.

You can just see the trail snaking its way down from the right of the Hawkdun Range.

With a few more miles to ride down on a gravel road to where Garry’s car was waiting for us, there was plenty of time to savour the biggest, hardest and most-epic day mountain-biking I’ve had in ages. If even obscure trails like this that I’ve never heard of are so good, that bodes well for the rest that this country has to offer – perhaps I’ll be able to stay, now I just have to find a job sometime.

bikes, family, MTB, NZ

Alps 2 Ocean – Duntroon to Oamaru section

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In the time since I left New Zealand, extensive work has been done around the country to develop a large number of cycle trails – rather obviously The New Zealand Cycle Trail. While most are a lot tamer than mountain-bike trails I usually prefer to ride, the trails are in some spectacular parts of the country. Browsing the website during my last winter in the UK, I got quite excited by the chance of riding some of these trails over the coming summer (& beyond) to try & reacquaint myself with the country. Especially if they’re anything like the Queen Charlotte Walkway – the only one I’ve done before & the best multi-day bike trail I’ve ridden.

Both Adele & I have to do significant training on our mountain-bikes for upcoming events. Adele is doing her first adventure race – Godzone at the end of February; I think she is mad. I for some reason have signed up for the Kiwi Brevet at the start of February – 1150 km of bikepacking in a maximum of eight days; I may also be crazy – but at least I’ll see a lot of the top of the South Island. So to kickstart our training, an easy little ride at the top of the final section of the Alps 2 Ocean cycle trail coincided well with a dentist appoinment in Oamaru.

The Alps 2 Ocean trail runs from the shadow of Mt Cook (NZ’s highest mountain) in the Southern Alps for just over three hundred kilometres to the Pacific Ocean at Oamaru (overall south-east). Having spent some time in the area previously, I can safely assume the whole route must be a beautiful ride. With only a few hours, not a few days, we drove to the start of the final section of the trail in Duntroon and determined to ride out and back as our time allowed. We had about four hours so I thought we would get half of the distance to Oamaru (55 km) before having to turn back to the car.

The section starts off gently enough on quiet highway towards Elephant Rocks. Very soon there is a dedicated cycle path beside the road – always nice to be off the road, even when there is next to no traffic. Passing Elephant Rocks, Adele managed to deal with not having her rock shoes with her – the limestone rock formations are very popular for bouldering. Passing an abandoned film set (the area has also be used for various films – the Chronicles of Narnia series probably the most well known) the trail departed from beside the road across farmland.

Over Elephant Rocks – very pleasant riding weather, not so good for photos.

Having both spent a lot of time in the area (Adele in particular – my family spent most of the last fifteen years living in Oamaru after I finished high school), we weren’t expecting too much from the scenery – just wanting to go for a nice ride. However, soon we were riding up a narrow valley surrounded by limestone cliffs before some tight switchbacks took us above the cliffs and through more farmland and it was lovely; at times the views opened up.

Since leaving the highway we had been climbing gently; cresting the hill the trail surface deteriorated – up until this point it had been very good, but here it seemed most people chose to ride on the adjacent farm track thus the cycle trail was a bit loose. We descended nicely through more farmland and beside cliffs to rejoin quiet roads for a relatively flat three kilometres. Back on cycle trail across farmland we were soon following the route of the old Tokorahi branch railway line – this didn’t last long as we diverged and started the second and last noteworthy climb of the section.

Part-way up that climb we rejoined gravel roads to the highpoint of the section, we continued along the ridge for a little while to get a more riding in, before reaching the top of Tunnel Rd and deciding that it was time to turn around and head for the car. Having cycled a lot more than Adele recently (and ever), I had the opportunity to stop and take photos – so here a few typical of the area.

I think Adele is trying to match the sign. The A2O is very well signposted – we didn’t bother carrying a map (except that on my GPS) and had no problems following the trail.

Coming back down the switchbacks from earlier – they’re definitely designed for climbing in the small space available for their construction.

Somehow, a classic roadside reflector, that I remember from my childhood (they’re no longer wooden), has found its place beside the trail.

Slightly disappointed that logistics meant we couldn’t ride the whole of the section, when I learnt Dad was going to Oamaru the following day for a few hours I jumped at the opportunity to return and complete the remainder of the section. The lower half of the section is pretty flat and mostly goes through dairy farms. Dad dropped me off at the start of the rail trail portion on Saleyards Rd and I headed out east. Riding by myself I stopped less frequently and was much quicker. It was strange riding past and through many farms that our family has been involved in for almost twenty years. That is, mostly Dad has been involved in setting the companies up and converting them from sheep to dairy and their management – but Adele milked cows on two of the farms as a summer job and even I spent one university holiday period working on two of the farms (I remember almost losing control of a large tractor down a hill).

This end of the section was even more familiar to me than the Duntroon end, so I didn’t stop to take many pictures. Heading back to the ridge where we turned around the previous day, there was a little bit more effort needed as the climb started on gravel. Not having studied the map in any detail, I was a little surprised when the sign pointed away from the road and along the edge of a forest. Rejoining the old rail line I rounded a corner to see the trail disappear into a tunnel – this I was not expecting at all, but the name Tunnel Road should have been a bit of a giveaway.

Without any bike-lights I ventured into the gloom wondering how far I could ride before having to resort to cell-phone light. As it happens, the east end of the tunnel is pretty straight so one can get a fair way in with a slight awareness of where the walls may be. The west end of the tunnel is curved, so not much light is available as you pass the halfway point. Just as it was about to become pitch black, I got far enough around the curve not to be in danger of riding into a wall and could even avoid the drips from the roof. It was a short ride up Tunnel Rd to where we had got to yesterday – I duly turned around and headed for the ocean. The tunnel was a little more difficult heading east – mostly because it was now slightly downhill & I was travelling faster & it was further into the darkness before my eyes adjusted.

I did think I should stop & get at least a few photos of typical dairy farm country – you can probably see why I didn’t stop more often.

I was in Oamaru looking around well before I’d told Dad I’d be back – so I had time to have a look around the “Historic Area”, which after so long in Europe was rather bemusing. But it is quite nice and there are some interesting shops – especially nice as the clouds had rolled back a bit. Strangely, someone has declared Oamaru the Steampunk Capital of NZ since I’ve been gone – that’s just a little odd in conservative North Otago. I eventually found the end of the Alps 2 Ocean trail down near the recently done-up harbourside area at Friendly Bay (I had lost the trail downtown Oamaru as a section was closed temporarily for tree-felling and no-one had thought or bothered to put up a detour).

What this is all about I can’t really tell – but it’s curious.

So, that was my time on but a short part of the Alps 2 Ocean cycle trail. Thoroughly enjoyable, well thought-out & designed and pleasant – what a great resource for the areas it passes through. I look forward to riding the whole path in the New Year (here’s hoping) and exploring more such trails around the country.

Here are the gps (gpx) trails of Section 8 – Duntroon to Oamaru – Alps 2 Ocean cycle trail for reference.

Africa, around home, bikepacking, bikes, Canada, combe raiders, Europe, family, friends, London, MTB, national park, roadtrip, snow, travel, UK, USA

Five and a half years

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Well, my bike is packed up in its bag again, most of my possessions were collected yesterday for shipping back to New Zealand and, really, I’m a bit bored of packing. I leave London for NZ – five and a half years to the week after I left to see a little bit of the world – curious if I can settle back in a beautiful country far at the bottom of the globe. At the least, I should get a good summer of riding in. Over dinner with Trish at our favourite local Italian pizzeria the other night, there was plenty to reflect on – many excellent things, only two or three not so great happenings, all memorable.

So excuse me while I try to remember most of them and jot them down for posterity. Naturally I’ll start with the highlights in no particular order, as there are many.

As I delve into the archives, this is proving more difficult to narrow it down than I expected, …

My first port of call was the States – little did I know that would be the first of four visits and about six months in total in the country, it turns out the west is fantastic for scenery and mountain-biking.

A west-USA road-trip with plenty of mountain-biking was always a pipe-dream for when I was in my forties or fifties – thanks to living in Canada & the company of my aunt, Valerie, it became a reality much earlier.

The best biking holiday was my return to Moab last year – fantastic trails, great company & beautiful scenery – click on the photo above to watch the video Megan put together.

I also never intended to visit Africa four times, but somehow that happened. Each of the four safaris were quite different, but all excellent.

But the first one in the Masai Mara was the best.

Seeing the Pyramids on Christmas day was excellent – not very crowded either.

I only briefly went to Asia, on a visit to Turkey:


Gliding over the spectacular landscape of Cappadocia in a hot air balloon is indelibly in my memory.

Five weeks’ vacation almost five years ago in the Canadian Rockies saw me learn to ski, a bit, and then all of a sudden, living in Bow Valley for a year of mountain-biking in the summer and skiing in the winter.


Returning to the UK, I managed to settle into a job that I quite liked – that was, until the rather horrible drawn-out experience of plant closure & many redundancies. It was a good base for travels near & far while it lasted – the long, dry & hot summer of 2013 was especially good with many mountain-biking trips around the south-west. Always good to visit Taunton & also ride with my Somerset riding buddies, the Combe Raiders – whatever the weather.

That summer saw me enter a few biking events too – a six-hour solo (nice trail, but boring riding round & round the same thing for six hours), a couple of marathon events, & culminating in my first multi-day stage event.

That event, as you can probably tell from this photo taken while riding along, was in Africa.

Apart from the redundancy experience already mentioned, only two other notable low-points are worth bringing up. The mugging incident in San Diego the day after I left NZ is still the best if I ever have to tell one story from my travels. The ongoing shoulder dislocation saga was painful in a different way – but after four dislocations I had surgery and it’s been fine ever since.

With all the trips to North America & Africa, I perhaps didn’t see as much of Europe as I originally hoped. But I managed a fair few trips – with Italy being the most visited country, five times now I think. I also loved the time spent living in London wandering around all parts of the city & delving into the history. Due to the demise of work, my bikepacking tour of western Europe was brought forward to this year & shortened (& then shortened even more when I got sick of travelling alone in the August rain & mud).

Straddling the German-Belgian border somewhere.

One of the most pleasing & proud parts of the trip was crossing the Alps over Great Saint Bernard Pass – because my grandfather did the same on a bike sixty-five years ago.

Somehow I ended up spending four weeks living & working on a small vineyard in the north-west of Italy – eating a lot, hiking a bit, making new friends & thoroughly enjoying myself. Learning a second-language, Italian – thanks to work, was something I never thought I’d do – but it turned out I really enjoyed it.

Hiking near Monto Bianco.

Oh, almost forgot the whirlwind two-week trip back to NZ (the only one) for some friends’ wedding, and coincidentally my thirtieth birthday & many celebrations with friends & family all over the country. Hectic, but most enjoyable.

The visit also coincided with my shoulder being declared fit – so after six months of no biking, it was great to be active again – here skiing near Wanaka.

I’ll be back with these fine folks next week – hard to believe we’ll have our first Christmas all together since 2006.

That’ll do for unashamed self-indulgence – thanks to all the family & friends that made all this possible in many different ways (usually providing somewhere to sleep & plenty to eat). Biggest thanks goes to cousin Trish in London for repeatedly opening up her home to this often-vagabond – all this would not have been possible or lasted nearly as long otherwise.

bikepacking, bikes, combe raiders, family, friends, MTB, UK

The South & South-West Farewell Tour

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With redundancy rather inconveniently (in more ways than just timing, it must be noted) for me being timed for the middle of summer, I didn’t waste any time in moving out & leaving the area before heading off on my European bike travels lest the weather get colder.  As such,  I never really said a proper goodbye to all the people in the south & south-west that I’d spent so much time with over the previous three years.

So, another little bike tour was in order to do so.  At least as winter approached & then took hold, I had the luxury of knowing I’d be staying with friends & family – & therefore could carry more clothes in place of sleeping bag, mattress & tent. Luxury. I managed to see many people & almost all that I really wanted to see.  Most of the riding was a means-to-an-end (except for two great final MTB outings around Winchester & on Exmoor), but pleasant as the leaves are all sorts of shades at the moment and the English countryside doesn’t fail to be pretty.  I also managed to time rides so that I’d mostly miss the rain.

Schedules dictated I depart a day earlier than I intended, but as the weather was strangely warm and the first of only two big days was spent riding all day & into the night in shorts & short-sleeve top.  Threading my way across south London & then beyond I followed the Basingstoke canal to the eponymous city before taking the train to Bournemouth.

The next morning it was around 20oC, so I hardly needed much persuasion (actually, it was probably my idea) to get some gelato.

Popping back into the plant (former-work) that afternoon, it was eerily quiet and all rather strange. A couple of hours was enough it was so silent. But it was nice wandering around chatting to those that still survive, for however long that may be.

Great to get out for one last ride on the trails around Winchester with Dan & Chris – my only regular riding buddies I had in the area.

Chris recommended an American burger joint, Seven Bones, excellent food & value. Once again, riding so much just provides an excuse to eat excessively.

Due to timings of visits, I ended up crossing the New Forest four or five times – here along the Bournemouth beachfront as the sun sets.

And my last look at the Isle of Wight – I had some nice long & hilly MTB trips out there.

After a couple of nights in Poole, I used the other half of my return train ticket to get back to Basingstoke and ride north of Reading to Rich’s.

I’m going to miss the history of being in Europe; this a typical discovery while just riding along – a Roman amphitheatre seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

As I was riding through a park in the north-west outskirts of Reading I heard a loud & obnoxious ringing – eventually I saw that it was coming from a phone on top of a bin. Thinking that someone had probably lost it, I answered it feeling I was in some strange bicycle-touring Spooks crossover. I was right, a woman had lost her phone & I tried to describe where I was not really having much idea. I wanted to hand it in at a nearby business and carry on my way as the light was fading fast, but she insisted I wait ten minutes. Eventually, a rather old Ford Galaxy rolled up and I was almost forced to take a tenner from a large roll of cash as payment for my waiting around doing nothing. All rather weird, but it paid for my lunch.

Startling pheasants of the game variety was becoming more normal as I continued; I must note that the pheasants in Berkshire and Oxfordshire are much more handsome – darker colouring. And just rolling down the hill to cross the Thames, again, on a quiet country lane I came across the largest bouquet (who knew?) of pheasants I’ve seen.

The goal for the next day was Bristol & it promised to be one of my longest on a bike.  But as I planned to do most of it alongside the Kennet & Avon Canal, it wasn’t to be too hilly.  Rich kindly plotted a route for me to follow on my GPS that would take me most-directly to the canal on quiet roads.  With rain overnight, the tow-path was decidedly wet – and the rain that continued to fall didn’t help all that much.  Unfortunately, the National Cycle Route I was following left the canal for quite a while and seemed to insist on gradually climbing into a stiff sou-wester – not some of my favourite moments on a bike.

In time I reached Devises and what turned to out to be the end of the climbing. Deciding I was much too muddy & wet for the cafe recommended by a passing cycle tourist, so I quickly snacked before rolling quickly down beside the Caen Hill Locks.  With sixteen locks all in a row here, they do form a rather impressive staircase – navigating in a boat must be tedious, five to six hours apparently.

Caen.hill.locks.in.devizes.arp.jpg

The rest of the way into Bath was pretty flat, but with about twenty miles to go on top of what I’d already done wasn’t particularly fast. As the night closed in I decided I didn’t have the light or energy to ride for another couple of hours – so I took the train to north Bristol to arrive at Laura & Luis’s. I was quite pleased with about 145 km/90 miles for the day and over eight hours moving time. While I had remembered that L&L’s first house is undergoing extensive work, I’d forgotten there was no shower – one was much needed after all the mud & work into the wind. Never mind, nothing a walk in the rain around the corner to the gym couldn’t fix.

A most enjoyable weekend catching up, watching the All Blacks narrowly beat England, checking out a local fireworks night, ripping the kitchen ceiling off and popping down to the centre of Bristol to learn a bit of the city and walk in the sun. I’m still of the mind, if I was to come back to England for any length of time, this is an area I’d try to live.

Builders turning up early Monday morning meant an early start to my departure from Bristol for Winscombe. But this did mean that I got to see the day dawning on Bristol as I rode across the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Carrying on through Ashton Court I enjoyed trying to spot bits of the course I rode & rode for six hours last year in the Bristol Bike Fest – six hours of riding the same short lap is rather boring. It was a pleasant dry morning for a ride across Somerset Moors and through cider country; I was pleased to do the half of the Strawberry Line that Mum & I didn’t ride in April (that is, the Yatton – Winscombe half).

While Andy & Jo were still at work I managed to occupy myself getting stuck into War & Peace, wandering around the village, cleaning the mud off my bike (an exercise in futility considering the subsequent ride to Taunton), sitting out a truly miserable Tuesday of rain and generally relaxing. Somehow I found myself recounting my travels since April (my previous visit) in greater detail than anyone else has been subjected too – for once I became a very slow eater.

Across more of the moors on the Wednesday I once again escaped the rain before reaching Taunton – which must be one of my most visited places over the last five years, considering how much John & Anna have had me to stay under the guise of popping over from Hampshire for many great rides in the south-west with the Combe Raiders. Unfortunately, Thursday was rather wet so John & I couldn’t get out for a long ride while Anna was at work and Lydia & Esther were at school – a much needed bike maintenance session wasn’t all that successful for my creaking pedal.

The Final Pheasant ride for the Saturday Combe Raiders outing was back on Exmoor – where I first rode over six years ago with John, Andy & Rich. It was great to have all of them back for my farewell ride and with a few others we had a good group of eight to head out on a day that promised all sorts of weather. A very enjoyable and memorable ride that had some decent climbs, stunning views over the Bristol Channel, some rain, the standard navigational debate, a short very muddy hike-a-bike section (that turned out not to be on the route) and much fun on some long rocky descents. Near the end the cloud really rolled in and above Dunster the woods were so misty one could hardly see twenty metres in front – it was all rather eerie. With one last pastie stop in Dunster my Combe Raiders riding career was over; I’ll miss it all the more as I don’t even get to defend my Christmas Hill Climb title this year.

Map discussions – my stopping to take photos was rather woeful throughout this whole trip.

Before long I’d said all my goodbyes to many friends & family in the south & south-west and I was on the train back to Paddington and then riding across London (which I really enjoy, I suspect I’m in the minority) – home for a couple of days’ breather. Thanks to all who took the time to see me & especially those that had me to stay – it sure beat wild-camping in winter! For the record – it was quite a leisurely tour: nearly 800 km/500 miles in two and a half weeks, only two big days over 120 km, the rest nicely between 30 and 70 km.