Category Archives: family

Central Otago Long Way Home – Day Four – Alexandra to Clarks Junction

Long having wanted to ride the Old Dunstan Trail, my plan for the day at the outset of this trip had become ambitious. A hundred or so kilometres of gravel on the trail, leaving it to slog up a 4WD track onto and along the Rock and Pillar Range, a steep plunge off the side to Middlemarch and then another sixty kilometres of gravelly hills to the coast and home. All up around two hundred kilometres with perhaps four thousand metres of climbing on mostly gravel and some more rugged, steep off-road sections. What could go wrong?

But plans on trips like these are fluid at best and I was happy to scale this one back as I had company! With less bike time in Adele’s legs than mine, the plan was modified to stay the night in one of the huts on the Rock and Pillars and ride home the following morning. This was made keeping in mind that the weather was due to pack it in that night, but there were contingencies. With Adele arriving late after work Friday night and her bike still needing to be loaded that night, I was happy with a six-thirty start on a lightly overcast day.

An easy start on the Rail Trail ended after half an hour and we began climbing over the Raggedy Range (mentioned mostly because I like the name). Leaving the valley floor, things very quickly got dry, brown and dusty. The odd vehicle kicking up a fair cloud, but they were few and far behind.

Speaking of fair clouds, the clouds were kind to us that day – providing light cover and no rain.

A good warm-up for the day, taking about ninety minutes, during which I could look back over the hills I’d climbed and traveled over the previous days.

Dropping a little to the upper Ida Valley (I’d crossed further down two days before) things flattened for a short stretch before we turned south on the Old Dunstan Road. The road loosely follows the trail that was used by gold miners traipsing from Dunedin to Dunstan (now Clyde) in the 1860s. This was the most direct route back then, but only passable in fair weather.

The most colourful thing we saw all day; unfortunately we missed all of the tours. We would shortly climb to Poolburn Reservoir, or Rohan Village as some may know it.

That’s a fair summary.

All smiles after the lovely valley floor riding – the Ida Valley behind. The climbing began again at that cattle stop.

Some careless child of the giants left their Tonka toy just sitting there. Young folks these days.

Weaving our way through countless scattered, jagged rocks kept the interest level up as plenty of holiday traffic passed us on the road. By which I mean about ten or twenty cars – basically rush hour.

The climb was steady and it took us about two hours before the reservoir was revealed. Dotted around it were a variety of small huts, all permanent-enough looking – but none of which you’d go so far to call a house, or even a bach. We saw signs posted that further “resurrection” was prohibited. The water was there due to a dam being built in the 1930s to provide irrigation water for the valley below. With trout released it’s a popular fishing spot – although one would go slow in a boat as there are so many rocks around. It looks a wonderful spot to simply explore the many rocks and land around. An extremely quiet area to escape to, Adele was eyeing it up for future breaks.

For a time we rode through a small gorge, the red tussock grasses were abundant. Watching the clock tick over far faster than the odometer, I began to reassess the goals for the day. We needn’t go up onto the Rock and Pillars, rather complete the trail to the highway and ride to Middlemarch for dinner and sleep. But further thought could wait until the day developed a bit; for now, there was a big downhill to enjoy!

#interestingclouds

We’d cross that smaller, greener ridge before then climbing the hills behind that.

The trail diverged from the road near the bottom of the downhill, we found the correct gate and put ourselves on farm track trying to follow the path of those miners long ago. Somehow departing from the trail-proper for the last little bit, that didn’t matter – we ended up on the correct road and then had to look for the next turn off the road. This one was harder to find, but with a route description and a couple of maps we found it.

It was time to climb again and climb we did. The trail was just discernible; the hill was easily recognisable as the sun beat down on us and the gradient stuck to around fifteen percent. There may have been some hike-a-bike – good training for the madness that is Godzone. The schist was ever present and we began to notice tall, skinny slabs of it filling the role of fence posts – and looking like they’d done so for scores of harsh Central Otago years.

More fenceposts provided handy bike stands at the top of that hour-long climb.

Crowding in for a not-really-a-summit selfie, and trying to get the bikes in too.

The rock and pillars of the Rock and Pillar. Looking over the valley below and at the clouds encroaching, they were looking a bit too far away to be that evening’s goal.

Downhill across open farmland is never as fast as one hopes as one deals with all the bumps and divots on a loaded bike; this was no exception, but it was nice not to be pedaling for a bit.

Back on road again, a brief section of relative pace.

The Upper Tairei River is just around the corner, behind that sign.

Reconciling the maps with the view above left us with the pill to swallow that we were going up that hill. We hid behind the trees for a bit of refueling (a lot more soft brie) before making our assault on the steepest section of the Old Dunstan Road. The nor-wester, while warm did at least help us up the hill.

I restarted my playlist of favourites in the hope it would reduce the suffering, or just distract us from it. There may have been more walking as we climbed at ten percent for an hour or so before it leveled off. Plenty of breaks provided ample rewards with the view across Central getting better with every metre claimed from gravity.

We came from the left of shot, from over those ridges, to intersect with the gravel road

Finally we were up on the plateau, but it still provided enough stream crossings, a strengthening wind and many ups and downs to keep our pace down. Only averaging ten kilometres an hour by now, Middlemarch went out the window and the aim was to get to Clarks Junction before the pub closed. Nary a soul about, I was wary of getting stuck up here in the incoming weather – although I did have sufficient pork scratchings to see us through.

The 4WD track turn-off passed by without mention as we pushed on, trying to ascertain just when the road would turn away from Loganburn Reservoir. It was before the approaching ridge, huzzah.

With the wind at our backs and views like this, it was rather pleasant.

Losing a few hundred metres in a hurry, things flattened out through a sheep station. Dropping to Deep Stream, there was but one more ten percent climb left – this time on the seal. We were going to get to the kitchen before it closed! With only one turn to go and armed with Adele’s dinner order, I waited no longer and got to the pub and placed our orders as the gloom settled.

We made it! I’d finally biked the Old Dunstan Trail and it was fantastic. Some great climbing and wide open views, with very interesting geology and flora to boot. The Clarks Junction pub still had the same proprietor as when I visited three years before (I think if I’d visited twenty years earlier that would have still held), and it was still for sale. We also slept in the same playground as that time. Finally, I got to try out the bivy bag I’d been carrying for this trip – it rained all night. With the help of the trees we hid behind, I was dry – albeit very warm. I’m sold on bivy bags now and will soon have my own to further lessen my bikepacking load on certain trips.

The rain really set in, so Sunday morning we finished by riding in the rain mostly down, but at times noticeably up, to the outskirts of Dunedin where Dad picked us up and we went for a well-deserved cooked breakfast.

I must spend more time in Central Otago, the bikepacking opportunities are immense – my family may also be close by. Also, writing this I’m still most keen to have a go at my original plan. A little unfinished business there.

The 2017 Letter – Just A Little Late

Predictably, the end of the year got busy – organising Christmas surprises is rather more fun and pressing than putting musings of the previous year through the keyboard. After spending most of the year, for various reasons, saying I was not coming home for consecutive Christmases, I got everything lined up and duly arrived in Oamaru for the festive season. Somehow I’d managed to keep the secret, and there was much surprise and many hugs – so much fun, although I don’t imagine I can pull off such a coup again.

Making a surprise visit does make it difficult to plan other activities for the rest of the stay – but it worked out well with lovely time with family, much food and drink and managing to get out bikepacking for a few days over various passes I’d had my eye on for a while – more on that in another post. Biking and traveling at that time of year does give plenty of opportunity to consider the year past and the one to come.

Looking back on 2016’s missive, 2017 did not have such momentous biking or family events – but it was still exceptional and with all sorts of wonderful things going on.

First bikepacking trip was whipping through the Alps2Ocean with Adele in two and a half days – ably supported, and ridden in parts, by Mum and Dad.

Living in Napier continues to be delight me. I enjoyed much time walking, biking and generally exploring the surrounds. With my house within easy walking distance of the city centre and many attractions, there’s never a shortage of places to wander and things to see. I particularly enjoyed my first proper taste of the Art Deco festival – even if it was curtailed a little by unseasonably wet weather.

A big dress-up party for the whole city for days – brilliant fun!

The odd local bikepacking overnighter kept my hand in, as did the occasional sortie on gravel roads out in the hills. There’s still plenty more to explore, many places left to bike. Somehow I ended up competing in the local winter cyclocross series – on my full-suspension mountain bike. It was even muddy. To my surprise, I did enough in the first three races to win the B Grade series (skipping the final race as biking in Rotorua is so much more fun!) – turns out big chunky tyres are useful in such conditions, who knew?

Seven thousand kilometres per year on various bikes seems to be the norm now, achieving that mark for the fourth consecutive year (2016 being bigger with the 3000 km Tour Aotearoa blip); well pleased to be able to spend so much time outside doing one of the things I love most. With the MTB park at work closed for a lot of the year after extensive storm damage, there were many rides up and down Te Mata Peak – always worth it for the ever-changing view. The descents are rather fun too.

If I can see this hill from my house, surely I can see my house from this hill??

I didn’t take a lot of leave from work during the year, preferring to save it for when I really want to take it. But two visits from family were definitely such times. Mum and Dad’s getting-close-to-annual winter visit was the most fun yet – the highlight getting away for a few days to the remote and hilly north-east Manawatu to stay on a big sheep station; the bike ride was pretty cool too. After two years, Adele and James finally visited for early-Christmas (I managed to get through that week without letting slip that I’d see them in less than two weeks) and it was a busy six days of biking, walking, seeing sights, eating, drinking and generally enjoying the company of loved ones.

Beach walks with parents – not so hilly.

I finally made it to Cape Kidnappers. It’s quite a long, flat, hard walk – but the views make up for it on a hot summer’s day.

Continuing to host the occasional cycle tourist through warmshowers, I got inspired early in the year to start hosting AirBnB guests. As well as bringing in a bit of extra money for home maintenance, it’s nice to sometimes have a bit of company in the house – as with the cycle tourists, it’s also great to hear accents from around the globe. Traveling abroad without leaving home in some ways.

I’ve enjoyed slowly learning various home maintenance tasks. AirBnB was very busy early on and helped to fund the major house maintenance and improvements of the year – a large scaffold for me to paint the north wall over two busy weeks and to have the window I’d been thinking about for two years installed. Well pleased with the result, & surprised that I rather enjoyed the painting (I did get to listen to a lot of audiobooks). I just have to wait for winter to see the real effect of the new window.

Yes, it is a house. But it’s in better condition than it was before.

Small steps of self-improvement made for an interesting year. The most unexpected was the difference making my diet a lot healthier had on my bikepacking. I signed up to the Mega Grind keen to do 800 km of bikepacking in an area of the North Island that I’d spent little time – despite being so close to where I grew up, and not far from my first job. It certainly delivered in that respect with fantastic North Island hilly terrain, coastal view and gravel roads.

What I was not expecting was the profound difference losing five or so kilograms of unnecessary mass would do to my biking. Previously, I’d been pleased with my ~180 km/day average on the Tour Aotearoa . Suddenly, with no real difference in preparation, bike or gear carried, I finished the event averaging 250 km/day! What in the how? Carrying less mass, and being able to bike stronger for longer was a revelation that quickly had me pondering what else I may be able to achieve. I’m excited to find out. Also, I’m no longer content with a sixteen day finish on the TA – I may have to go back sooner than previously anticipated.

Just a few days later I was back in Rotorua for a completely different kind of bike event – the Singlespeed World Championships. Really it’s just a big fancy dress party of five hundred people on mountain bikes with only one gear. And beer. What’s not to like? A complete blast with friends old and new.

Which rather leaves this year to consider. Excitingly, there are plenty of new things to learn. With a few visits of family and friends on the cards, I’ll mostly stick around exploring home and the vicinity. There’s plenty more strength to be gained, all in the name of riding slightly further and a little faster to explore more new places; I’d really like to do a different bikepacking event of over a thousand kilometres.

Most definitely excited to find what this year holds, I hope it’s great for you too.

Sibling visit

A proposed Christmas in Napier was enough to finally get Adele and James to visit me. As it transpired, it was an early Christmas without the full complement of Pheasants. The warm dry December that allowed me to paint an exterior wall of my house at every spare moment continued for the six days they were here. It was wonderfully warm (Adele may have melted a bit) which meant we spent much time outside visiting many local attractions – many of which I’d not quite managed to get to previously.

First up, Shine Falls was about an hour drive north – the furtherest afield we’d venture during the whole stay. Situated in the Boundary Stream mainland island, I’d gotten close on previous bikepacking trips, but had never made it to the tallest falls in Hawke’s Bay.

Leaving the car, the open pasture quickly narrowed to walking up a bush clad gorge.

Purported to be an hour’s walk, the bushwalking reminded Adele and I of many such walks we did as a family when younger.

But we are fitter and stronger than we used to be; half an hour later – waterfalls. The mist and downdraft generated cooled us nicely after the warm later afternoon stroll. Pheasants don’t seem to have the “swim at every opportunity” gene, so we left that to James.

The walk down the valley only took twenty minutes so it turned out that the drive each way took longer than the entire walk! But that didn’t dampen our enthusiasm for being outdoors, discovering new sights and enjoying the native forest; there may have also been ice cream on the return journey.

Adele was determined that my house should be decorated for Christmas – as I’m not usually home for Christmas, this has never occurred to me. I managed to minimise unnecessary consumption and am quite pleased with the lights adorning my deck, the miniature tree and tinsel down the bannisters. With all the weatherboard painting my barbecue had remained neglected; but with visitors keen to cook amazingly, it made a reappearance.

The following morning, mountain bikes were assembled and loaded for a quick introduction to the local trails.

Since the trees have been cleared from Gateway, the views to work and home have really opened up. The price of that being part of the trail network is now exposed to the sun.

The tides lined up well to walk along the beach to Cape Kidnappers. Cape Kidnappers, which I’d frequently looked over to from the end of my street, marveling at the cliffs rising out of the Pacific. With a quick turnaround from mountain-biking, we rushed out the door, stopped at Clive for pies, parked at Clifton and began the nine kilometre beach walk beneath the cliffs. The day was hot, but there was sufficient breeze that it was bearable as we made good time pounding along the increasingly revealed hard sand.

Leaving Clifton and looking back around the bay towards Napier.

The cliffs did stretch a long way, but I did at least know that before deciding we should walk rather than take the tourist bus through the sheep station.

At Black Reef we saw our first gannet colony.

Followed closely with the best views of the cape we would get, as the route then left the beach to climb above the cape.

Gannets! There were, literally, thousands.

How fascinating they were as they nested, fed young fur-ball chicks, landed, partners cutely preened each other on one’s return, took off, fought and generally made quite a racket. Very much worth the long walk – well, it was a long time to be walking on a flat surface in the sun. I really noticed all the walking over the following days – it turns out just two weeks of using spare time clambering over a scaffold and not walking around the Hill has quite an effect.

Heading back to the beach to return to Clifton, Black Reef is off the point at the end of that beach.

We were pretty spent that evening, so had a restful one waiting for good friends Dan and Jacqui to arrive from New Plymouth. There ensued a Saturday of winery tours, on which I drove everyone around – which was far more enjoyable than it sounds. I did get fed plenty of tasty food and got to do another staple Hawke’s Bay activity that I’d sadly neglected over the last thirty months.

Saturday night was the aforementioned early Christmas celebration which consisted of fantastic food, predictably lame crackers, great friends and receiving the big outdoor bean bag on which I’m currently sitting typing this. Sunday morning was equally slow to start – we went back out to the Mill Block to ride a few more trails in the heat. That necessitated a stop on the way back to town to swim in a river before Jacqui and Dan left for home.

I’d been keen to show off both the views from and bike trails of Te Mata Peak, so that was Monday morning sorted. Shielded from the blazing sun on the lower half of the climb, we did at least have a bit of a breeze to cool us on the more exposed parts. The peak was crawling with cruise ship tourists, many of whom you’d think had never seen mountain bikes before judging by their amusing comments. Even on a poor-weather day I appreciate the varying views – this day we enjoyed picking out the various places we’d visited as we turned and headed down most of the trail options.

Somehow I’d forgotten than Emma and Brent have a pool; really, cooling off in there was not the real reason we visited. Lunch at Chalk and Cheese was topped off by irresistible cheese tasting, which may be almost as good as wine tasting – so much delicious cheese, we may have bought a bit. With the mercury through thirty degrees Celsius, how could I not take my guests to the oldest ice creamery in the country? It was plain to see how they’ve been trading for ninety-odd years – delicious.

Somewhere in here I think there was another Napier Hill walk (still one of my favourite things to do out my front door), but a week later those six days are a bit of a blur of activity. The final day of the visit was spent packing bikes before a final art deco drive and tasty lunch on a patio down at West Quay (a kilogram of mussels, you say? Don’t mind if I do) – nice to do that as I so often ride home from work and see people drinking at Shed 2 and think how lovely it looks.

Just like that it was time for the trip to airport, plans for future trips were made and goodbyes said. It was worth the wait, Hawke’s Bay definitely turned on cracking weather which allowed much activity with dear family.

Wombling in Wimbledon

With Mum and Dad having come to stay for a ten days or so mid-winter, it was decided that we should go away for a few days together. Often I’d driven the highway south of home and looked east towards the coast and wondered at the long line of big hills and what might be there. This was as good a reason as any to choose north-eastern Manawatu for a quiet few days in the countryside. A house was duly booked on a big sheep farm.

Taking a couple of days off work, my birthday got off to a wonderful start – I even had presents to unwrap, most unusual. A leisurely morning of sorting bikes, strolling in the sun and packing over – we were off south on rural roads I’d not been on before. Lovely countryside, many hills and turns – we arrived at Spring Creek, just past Wimbledon (which seems to be pretty much a pub and little else).

We had this lovely old, spacious farmhouse for a few days.

The house was great to poke around and find all sorts of old things – just the general day-to-day items were interesting enough.

Birthday dinner was down the road at the Wimbledon pub – the seafood basket is huge and delicious. So big, that I found out two days later that a half serving satisfies even my hunger. I’ve long wanted to bikepack along Route 52 (a road that lost its state highway designation) – I may have to make that a priority just so I can have the seafood basket again.

1886 counts for a pretty old pub in NZ.

We were enjoying learning of the pioneering history of the area, how it was cleared of native forest (unfortunate as the hills are so steep, erosion and slips are now quite a problem), supplied from the coast (there was no road to Dannevirke, or anywhere for that matter). Our hosts, Shaun and Sue, were fifth generation farmers – so there were plenty of stories to hear.

With enough bikes for the three of us, we were keen to go for a ride to the coast. With only a couple of small hills and a stunning day on Friday, the thirteen kilometres was achievable for Mum & Dad – who hadn’t done a lot of riding recently.

I had plenty of time to stop for photos, admire the scenery.

Heading for Herbertville – we turned right at the foot of those hills.

I carried on a bit past Herbertville, just because – gravel!

Looking back towards the wonderfully named Cape Turnagain – where Captain Cook decided he’d gone far enough south, and turned back north.

South towards Castle Point – another place I’m yet to make it to.

Back to the house for a late lunch, we were all well pleased with our rides. Sue and Shaun had said we could drive to the top and back of the farm, passing some old buildings on the way. The Corolla somehow made its way up the steep hill and we found a old woolshed and some ruined houses.

Circling the woolshed trying to find a way in.

Mum made it in.

Said disused woolshed.

Carrying on up the hill – a bit of fun for the little car.

South over Manawatu.

Back north over the farm which reaches across the valley to the hills in the middle distance.

We went hunting for old farm houses – instead Dad got dwarfed by old pine trees.

The living room could do with a bit of a touch up.

I was determined to ride around the farm, so dragged the mountain-bike out Saturday morning and was rather chilled riding back up the same steep road we’d driven up the previous afternoon. Crossing a muddy ford opposite the abandoned woolshed, I finally discovered the elusive tumble-down house and laden lemon tree we’d been looking for yesterday.

Most of the remaining structure seemed to be supported by ivy.

Ivy did at least frame the windows nicely.

This may be a part of why we initially struggled to find the ruined house – yes, there is a house in there. Somewhere.

I ground my way to the top, huzzah for single chainrings up steep hills, and was rewarded with clearer views over eastern Manawatu.

The Ruahines in the distance.

I had a blast following rugged farm tracks along the ridge line before a steep, steep plummet back to the house.

The afternoon’s outing was to head back to the beach for a walk to Cape Turnagain, or thereabouts. We drove there this time. Wide, flat and with the cape rising out of the sea it was a very nice walk in the afternoon sun. Two hardy surfers followed and passed us, before heading into the Pacific. There were a few others out on quad bikes, but the crashing of the waves easily drowned out any potentially annoying motors.

We found dozens of seals enjoying the sun at the cape, so turned around and returned with the wind at our backs.

The tiki-touring continued – we drove past where I’d ridden south the day before to see how far the road went. Not much further was the answer. Back to the pub that night for dinner – Dad managed to find somewhere to watch the Bledisloe Cup test. Mum and I had one of our occasional close-fought Scrabble battles, I was particularly average.

I was determined to find some gravel roads and thought I’d planned a good loop around Birch Rd. Dad joined me on the Route 52 section getting up a couple of decent hills. Turning off the tarseal, it got much steeper and I bade farewell to Dad. As expected, it was all very hilly. The land use alternated between sheep pasture and pine forest; forestry dominated. Every section of pasture gave a different view. At times I could look right back across the farm and spy the route I’d ridden around the farm previously.

There was clearly some logging operations going on somewhere up the road. The gravel varied from nice smooth, old road to big chunky gravel that had recently been laid. Areas of perpetual winter shade were quite damp and the surface up the last big climb was hard going – almost muddy gravel that hadn’t packed down. I was keen to get to Weber, mainly just to explore more back roads and see what was in the village. But aware that that would be cutting short even more the time spent with Mum & Dad, I opted for the short loop and hurtled down the hill to Route 52.

I was surprised not to lose even half the altitude that would take me back to the house. The short section of Route 52 that remained really must be steep. Certainly, it was. Mum was also out riding when I returned. The rest of our wonderful break away from it all was spent lunching, packing and loading bikes. What a great stay – so much to do in a place that seems to have little of the trappings one is used to.

With plenty of time up our sleeves, we could stop and read off the longest place name in the world. Yes, it’s quite easily pronounceable – it’s not Welsh after all.

The even-more scenic (roundabout) route was taken as we didn’t have to be at friends of Mum & Dad’s until five-thirty for a very informative walk around their vineyard, sampling of their wine and a fantastic “simple” dinner. A late return home after a very relaxing weekend.