Category Archives: family

bikes, family, friends, MTB, NZ

A Southern Wedding Week

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My winter holiday for the year (I’m still trying to get to a positive leave balance after the summer’s big bike ride) was a week down south for Adele & James’s wedding. A fantastic, but hectic week spent with much family & many friends – and a little bit of biking too, naturally.

After a catching-up with Mum & Dad over dinner in Dunedin, a group of us piled into a van and headed towards Queenstown for the stag weekend.

We stopped en route at about midnight to sight the church where the service would be in a week’s time. It was already frosty, much colder for winter than I’ve grown accustomed to; naturally we skated around on the lawn.

We spent the weekend staying at a house that was stuck in the ’70s, it was brilliant inside & out – the views of The Remarkables & Coronet Peak weren’t too shabby either.

The days were cold and still – we spotted a few hot-air balloons floating around early morning.

Craig turned up with a wood-fired hot-tub he had made on a trailer – brilliant! We quickly got to work thawing the garden hose, filling the tub and heating it up. The tub got a fair bit of use over the week – they’re incredible, check the website.

We drove most of the way up the Coronet Peak access road, for a reason I could not discern. The view was adequate compensation.

As the light faded, we headed up the gondola for a bit of luging (little carts on a concrete track, not the Olympic type of luging.)

Repeated races down the tracks provided much amusement as we battled it out trying to avoid collateral damage to unsuspecting tourists.

Sunday morning’s activity, which ended up being in the afternoon, was skydiving for the stag & a few of us. It was a glorious day for it &, I’m told, the experience was quite amazing.

A very pleasant drive through Central Otago looking at the recent snow contrasting with the dry pasture soon had me at Mum & Dad’s, where Adele had also arrived from Westport.

With a broken night’s sleep and a few little wedding-jobs, there was just enough recovery for me to head off east again to visit friends & family who have, independently, just moved to Wanaka. It was just warm enough to make riding in thawed mud not worth it; nonetheless, it was an enjoyable visit – which was expected, or else I would not have driven three hours back west.

Mid-week a fair crowd of Adele’s family and friends stayed in the sleepy village of Naseby (2000 feet above worry level, apparently) – where James and Adele have a eight hectare section of mostly pines, a pond and large potential for building singletrack, camping, building huts/tiny homes/container homes etc. The first day or so was frigid – which made for good fun mountain-biking (plenty of traction), a lot of people walking on said pond and good hot-tubbing. A nor-west change came through thawing everything out and burning off a lot of the snow. The biking then got quite amusing as we explored many of the unmarked trails and repeatedly lost our front wheels sliding out in unexpected mud. I even got a ride in with Dad & Uncle Geoff – quite a turn up for the books (as Dad, himself, would say)! So that was a great few days socialising with many that I seldom see, eating a lot and riding bikes.

Packing up once again, it was off to the wedding (reception) venue for the last two nights of the week. There followed two days of busy-ness with many errands to run, people to catch up with – oh, and a fantastic wedding that went all rather smoothly (testament to all the planning, I think). But as it’s not really my day to share here, I shan’t – also due in part to the fact that I was so busy I didn’t even think to take a single picture.

But as this photo has been shared publicly (if you know where to look), I’ll put it here just to show I’m not making this all up – there was in fact a wedding.

Also, I’ve just recently clicked that for the first time I can call someone brother; that’s a little weird.

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Thirteen – Big River to Hokitika

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There was no way I was advocating a ride of the beautiful, yet very slippery, Waiuta track in the dark. So we got up at a normal hour and were riding around sunrise at about quarter past seven. It was a grey, damp morning as the cloud was low – but not wet enough to have to wear a jacket, nice.

Looking down to Big River from the hut; it’s not far from Reefton really, but feels a world away.

Within ten or so minutes we were on the boardwalk for another checkpoint.

Hopefully you can get a sense of the denseness of the forest that the trail goes through. Apparently residents of Big River used to walk two hours each way to Waiuta to go to the cinema on Sundays – they must have been desperate for some diversion.

This old mining pack track is open to bikes, but definitely not designed for bikes. It is very damp and every rock is slippery – and there are plenty of those. It was pretty slow progress to get up and continue along at about the same altitude for some kilometres.

This is a good bit of trail.

Suddenly, the trail is a creek bed. At times it looks other worldly.

Then it just becomes easier to push one’s bike up the creek.

At some stage, I’d let Adele go on ahead while I made some bike or luggage adjustment. It took me a little while to catch up. When I did, just the slightest distraction of seeing another rider was enough to remind me of the total concentration that this trail demands. Front wheel sliding and stopping suddenly was enough to send me flying off the bike and over the edge of the bank. It was by far my biggest fall of the Tour, but thankfully the landing was soft in amongst the ferns and no damage was done. I think Evan made the comment later it was nice to be going through there in the company of a doctor – I’d not considered that, but it was true.

The trail flattened out a bit and became less rocky. But there were still frequent creek crossings and one big washout that required a carry – I almost lost my bike, and myself, down the debris field. Oops.

The sun even tried to break through at some stage.

Eventually, we’d put enough work in and we were rewarded with a two-hundred metre drop in altitude. I was waiting at Adele’s car for a little while before it was quickly packed, goodbyes said and Adele took off to work. Even looking a month later, I’m a little sad that I can’t ride that trail more often – it’s rugged, it feels very remote and is in an area filled with fascinating mining history. What a fantastic day and a bit of intermittent bike adventuring with Adele.

Evan was keen to check out the old town of Waiuta – which is well worth it, as I’ve enjoyed poking around the mining and social relics before – so I carried on alone. The gravel road down out of the valley to Blackwater and Ikamatua was fast – so much better than the ride up when doing these trails in the other direction. To my delight, the little store in Ikamatua was open for second-breakfast. I think the storekeeper there had been doing well out of all these cyclists coming out of the Big River wilderness.

Crossing the Grey to the right bank, it was a very gradual descent (mostly) to the coast. Passing the turn-off to the Pike River memorial and then Blackball, I made reasonable time before a light rain set in. I was overly excited to be able to buy nashi pears from a roadside stall in Taylorville.

The whole NZ army did seem to be staying in a village hall along the way.

Stocking up and then eating lunch in Greymouth, it was then time to start the West Coast Wilderness Trail – the part of the South Island route I was most looking forward to riding. I’d heard it is absolutely stunning. It rained the whole trail and I saw little. I minded little as my easy and social start to the South Island was now over and I had to start putting in some bigger days. I’d gotten a text from Dad saying that he couldn’t actually pick me up on the day I was looking most likely to finish. The possible implications of this weighed heavily on my mind; it’s very easy to obsess when you’ve not much else to think about except ride, eat and sleep. I didn’t want to go slower as that would leave no rest before returning to work and I wanted to push myself a little bit. But finishing a whole day earlier would be a big effort, especially with all the rain forecast over the next few days. I continued to think this over, and over.

What I did see of the West Coast Wilderness trail was very nice and the riding is pretty easy – so I made good time in the rain. I hope I have the chance to ride it again and see more.

Easy riding into Kumara.

A reservoir out of the mist!

The trail took almost forty kilometres to climb only three hundred and fifty metres up and out of one valley, before dropping into the next valley and heading back to the coast again. The rain continued to fall as I descended for three hours – thankfully never cold – it was definitely very wet rain.

Probably the only steep-ish bit on the whole trail.

Out of the wilderness, to some degree, and along gravel roads for some time.

I was relieved to arrive in Hokitika before it got dark. Looking like the proverbial drowned rat, a friendly Subway was the easiest option for dinner. It was coming up to the Wildfood Festival and accommodation was at a premium – I was pleased when Evan turned up and confirmed he’d booked a cabin. I was even more thrilled when he let me sleep on the floor of his cabin. While only just over 180 km for day, none of it in the dark, and with little climbing – it felt like a big day with the rain for a hundred kilometres and the two hours to travel eleven kilometres to Waiuta. Almost everything was soaked, we hung as much as we could up to dry – without high hopes – and slept very well as the famous West Coast rain fell all night.

Another wet West Coast photo checkpoint, in Hokitika.

bikepacking, event, family, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Twelve – Murchison to Big River

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Regular shift work and being a much more extreme adventurer than me, meant that a six o’clock start on a weekend after a full week of work was no problem for Adele. I faffed a bit when I realised that a gas station was open – always time for a meat pie for breakfast. We rode off south slowly gaining altitude up the Matakitaki valley. There are a fair few farms up here and I was glad to be riding this road early in the morning – last year coming down the gravel road, I had at least one rather close encounter with a milk tanker that was fair hustling.

The early morning ride was very nice and I was pleased with the company, despite the constant noise from Adele’s drivetrain – I’m a bit spoilt as far as maintenance- & noise-free drivetrains go. The mist around the surrounding bluffs slowly lifted and we crossed the river on a concrete bridge that looked about the same vintage and substance as the Bridge to Nowhere.

Shortly after crossing the river, we left it behind and started climbing out of the valley to Maruia Saddle. It’s a fairly gentle (around five percent gradient) climb and I found it much easier than from the other side; the beech forest was as sublime as I remembered and I thoroughly enjoyed the climb and sharing it with one of my most favourite people. Evan, an American-Kiwi from Wellington who also stayed at The Old Bank overnight, was at the top – so we hung around and chatted for a while, listening to the wasps before I said au revoir to Adele. The plan was for her to ride back to her car, while I carried on, and then meet me in Reefton for a late lunch.

We even got a picture together, not as frequent an occurrence as either of us would like.

I was pleased I put an extra layer on for the quick blast down through the trees to another highway. The Touring Gentleman caught me on the road; to no-one’s surprise, I couldn’t stay with their brisk pace – not that it mattered, we were all shortly at the cafe at Maruia for another big meal. It was great seeing the next twenty kilometres (off the highway, on the other side of the Maruia River) as I’d been through this native forest well before it daybreak last year.

Relieved to have no reason to stop in Springs Junction, I also knew I’d have a stiff climb up to Rahu Saddle. It was nowhere near as bad as coming down the road last year in the pelting rain – in fact, it turned out to be a quite reasonable climb to the top.

Looking back along another quiet West Coast highway.

Just a bike picture at the rather agreeable saddle.

I much preferred this direction of going over Rahu Saddle, the climb while steeper wasn’t too onerous and the downhill to Reefton was thirty-five kilometres gradually losing five hundred metres. Admittedly, while climbing that distance out of Reefton last year it did rain heavily – so my opinion may be very clouded by that.

I must have made good time, because Adele drove into Reefton at much the same time I rolled in. Over another big cafe meal, Evan joined us and plans were hatched. A few of us had thought that staying in Big River Hut the night would be a good distance for the day and a cool place to stay. Good news came through, Adele’s colleague once again generously offered to cover for her – so Adele could come to the hut too. I’d often said that the Big River-Waiuta part was the highlight of my Kiwi Brevet and strangely, I’d been to a great place in the South Island that Adele hadn’t. I was eager for her to see it before she moves further south again.

The plan was that I’d carry on on the course, obviously, and Adele would drive around to the ghost-town of Waiuta and then ride in to the hut; hopefully both of us getting there a) before dark and b) at about the same time. I knew I had over twenty kilometres to ride, mostly on rough four-wheel drive track and a big climb to gain over five hundred metres – I should make it in the four hours before dark; whereas Adele had a forty minute drive before even starting on the eleven kilometre walking track (not designed for bikes, frequently slippery and off-camber) that took me over two hours to ride the previous year. First a call to a store to stock up for the night was needed. I’d been inspired by Zach and managed to fit a large can of beer in my frame bag (as well as food) – with all water bottles filled (the water around the old gold mine processing area is not to be trusted), I’d added considerable mass to my bike.

Out of town, as we progressed up the gravel road the valley closed in and the four-wheel drive track took over when the road officially ended.

“Road Closed Use At Own Risk” – I think this road hasn’t been maintained for a very long time.

As it happened, the climb wasn’t nearly as rough and steep as I expected from traveling it in the opposite direction. I think this was because last year it was mostly downhill, but for a steep and rocky climb of 170 m which was how I assumed the rest of the track would be when going up. Thankfully it wasn’t and despite constant drizzle that had set in there was plenty of green forest to look at, as well as mine heads and one red Suzuki SJ413 wrecked down the side of a bank. With the cloud so low and dense it was very gloomy from the beginning of the evening and the metres ticked by with some effort. Eventually it plateaued at the summit before a little descent to where the Big River mining operations used to be.

Big River looking rather benign – this can rise very quickly and did a few days later. So much so, that the Big River-Waiuta part of the course became optional.

Old cyanide tanks for the leaching part of the operation.

Looking around for the hut, which I vaguely remembered passing last year, I was hopeful that this wasn’t it.

Perhaps one day I’ll return to have a proper look around the old mining equipment that is further off our route.

One only had to look up and see the hut prominent as the night drew in.

I’d got through the river crossings with dry feet, but that didn’t last traipsing through the grass up to the hut. Evan had worked a lot harder than I did and was there to greet me, trying to get the coal range going. But five or ten minutes after my arrival, Adele turned up having conquered the long, slow, slippery and gradual climb from Waiuta. It was almost dark while I was stashing my bike on the balcony and I looked down to see a lone cyclist down near the chemical tanks. Zach had put in a big effort to make the hut before dark and was very pleased to hear my excited shouts of greeting – he’d had a big detour, & had to retrace his path, after missing the turn off the highway after Maruia.

In the end there were seven of us in the hut, well satisfied with being there. It was a great hut and Evan did eventually get the coal range roaring – it was a rather warm night despite the weather outside. Even if I wasn’t too excited by riding places I’d been before, this was easily my favourite day of the South Island. The dinner of cold meats and bread and so on went down a treat and it was well worth dragging that almost-kilogram of beer (Sapporo cans are remarkably hefty and strong it turns out) up the hill. Maruia Saddle was just beautiful in the morning, I do like the area around Reefton and Big River is a special place, with a satisfying ride in to get there. What’s more, I was on one last hut-trip with Adele before her upcoming wedding.

bikepacking, bikes, event, family, friends, GPS, NZ

Tour Aotearoa – My Day Nine – Palmerston North to Wellington

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With all the hills of northern Manawatu still in my legs, I’d no real plan for how far I’d make it. I also realised I hadn’t seen a single rider on the route the previous day – a first for my Tour. That was quite alright as I’d so enjoyed the day. The day from Palmerston North turned out to be quite social in other ways. Having seen university flatmates, Terry & Kate, in town I was pleased to see a car pull over in front of me as I ground up the Pahiatua Track. After battling with a typically dastardly Palmy gale for ninety-odd minutes, the chance to stop was welcome. It was Louis, a childhood friend & uni flatmate of the same flat, on his way to work in Pahiatua – great to catch up, albeit in an unusual place.

Not far past the summit was a turn off to a rural road – it was nice to escape the morning traffic crossing the Tararuas. Most of the day was on rural back roads through more hilly farms – first dairying country, before it got drier and more inclined to sheep & beef farming. I was disappointed not to get a full English breakfast in Pahiatua, but still ate well for second breakfast. After the steep downhill off the ranges, the route climbed gradually for fifty or so clicks – thankfully the wind was much less forceful on the east of the Tararuas. Still a headwind for much of the day, it was not quite a nuisance or too much of a hindrance.

More rural scenes, it started out green.

I stopped for the photo checkpoint, and pies, in Eketahuna. The giant kiwi has gone albino.

Around noon, a friend met me in the middle of nowhere to ride the thirty-five kilometres down into Masterton. Craig, a Pukekohe & NZ Steel mountain-biking buddy, was now back learning the ropes to take over the family farm. It was great to have someone to chat with (there was a lot of catching up to do as we hadn’t seen each other since the fantastic Queen Charlotte ride seven years before) – obviously Craig was pretty interested in the Tour and bikes too, so the time passed quickly.

I did find a proper breakfast (second-lunch, or third-breakfast, by this stage) in Masterton. There were even beans! Little did I know that that would be the last full English I’d find on my trip – despair.

Masterton even got in on this swing-bridge thing, but I suspect they’d had their’s long before DOC even existed.

Bidding farewell to Craig, I continued south into the breeze, enjoying the scenery and the lack of traffic. I always found plenty to look at – at some stage there was even a big sign out encouraging Tour Aotearoa riders. It was definitely drier this far south in the Wairarapa. There was plenty of time to think with no other riders around. As I considered the previous week, thoughts turned to the Tour Divide – what I like to call the grandaddy of these types of events. That event has been on my radar for a few years now and I was beginning to think that I might be a possibility of having a good attempt at it.

But it’s so much more epic, that it would require much more planning and time. At about 4500 km (fifty percent longer) and with over sixty thousand metres of climbing (almost twice as much) following the Continental Divide from Canada through five US states to the Mexican border it is more extreme in almost every way. Longer, colder (up north), hotter (down south), with dangerous animals, proper mountain passes, and greater distances between resupply – I’d be a fool to turn up with amount of preparation I did for Tour Aotearoa. One day, in a few years, I’ll have sufficient leave and time to have a go – at least, I sure hope so as Tour Aotearoa had been so fantastic so far.

I turned east towards Martinborough as the sun sunk.

It was great to stop in Martinborough and to catch up my uncle and aunt. As always, Tour stories and practicalities dominated the conversation. The week so far was certainly different for me – having so much to talk about. From here, I had a few options: call an early day in Martinborough, or carry on riding and either camp at the top of the Rimutakas, stay the night at one of the open homes (there were homes of supporters of the Tour on the route that were open to riders to stay in) around Wellington or make the early morning Cook Strait ferry.

After a nap and dinner, I went with the theory it’s good to do something a little crazy & push oneself every so often; I jumped online and booked a ticket on the two-thirty ferry. I had six hours to ride a hundred kilometres and cross the Rimutakas by night. It would be close, but I was confident as the wind would be at my back from Martinborough to the hills and I’d previously crossed the Rimutaka Incline and knew it wasn’t too difficult (being an old, albeit steeper-than-normal, rail route). All went pretty much according to plan, I easily made the Incline trailhead before dark and the trail up was easily ridden in the dark.

Heading for the hills.

Another checkpoint – the Rimutaka summit tunnel, at about twenty to ten.

It was a pleasant night for riding (I don’t think I would have bothered otherwise) and the ride off the hills was great fun. Things started to slow a bit as I followed the Hutt River down to Wellington harbour. The navigation through all the little turns wasn’t particularly easy in the dark, even with the GPS track to follow, and it just went on and on. I was starting to cut it fine, but finally I was on the cycle path sandwiched between dual-carriageway and the harbourside railway heading for the ferry terminal. I was surprised to have to stop and get marshalled through midnight track work that had taken over the cycle path.

With only seven kilometres to go I started getting calls from the ferry company wondering where I was. Apparently boarding was an hour before sailing for foot passengers (!) – I’d not read that in my rush to book a ticket. I assured them I was almost there and then stepped on the gas. Another phone call from someone else at the ferry halted progress – “I’d be there by now if you’d stop bloody phoning me”. Past parliament and I checked in – & then promptly waited fifteen minutes until boarding.

There were far more Tour Aotearoa riders waiting in the boarding lounge than I imagined – they’e all been in Wellington far longer than I had. I was pleased to finally catch up to and chat to Jonathon Kennett – thanks to his tireless work putting the route together and basically organising everything, we were all on this grand adventure. The adrenaline was still coursing through me after the mad dash at the end of a pleasant night ride, so I found it a little difficult to settle into a slumber after we boarded.

I did remember to get the obligatory checkpoint photo from the ferry, before trying to get some sleep on the rest of the voyage.

Stretched out over a few seats, I took some time to consider that I’d just ridden (more than, really) the length of the North Island in eight and a half days. Over half the trip was done and I was therefore well on track to finish in the eighteen days I had – this was good to know. But even more pleasing was that I’d put some consecutive long, hilly, rough, hot and tough days together without too much bother – that is after the stomach upsets of the first twenty-four hours. I wasn’t expecting that. With this general satisfaction of my Tour so far and anticipation of the remaining adventure I drifted off to a surprisingly reasonable, albeit only three hours, of sleep. Oh, and this was my longest day on a bike ever – but by no means the toughest.