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Te Wae Wae Loop

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An offer of riding through a farm and potentially cutting a significantly nasty part of highway out of HBAT could not be ignored for long. With the forecast looking only a little rainy, phone calls were made and a plan hatched. Marek signed up at the last minute, possibly I hadn’t fully explained what he was getting into, I finally broke twenty minutes at Park Run this year and we were off driving north.

Ten o’clock was a leisurely time to start what could be a very tough day ride; familiar sealed road and favourite views helped to warm us on a mild morning. Thankfully my legs weren’t hurting too much. Turning onto Pohokura Rd, I was looking forward to the long gravelled climb through farmland and native bush.

There was actually some rain overnight, odd to see a wet road – it kept the dust away and only slowed us slightly.

This feels like it should be the top, but it’s not.

Looking forward even more so to finding what’s at the end of the road – rather than turning onto Waitara Rd as on previous trips.

Quickly losing five hundred metres of elevation was only slowed by constantly stopping to take in the changing view of all the hills in their various uses.

There I go, looking even smaller than is usual.

A brief level section for the final plunge to the Mohaka.

Heading into the valley which would take us an hour to traverse from left to right and climb out of. The Mohaka running across the shot from left to centre, the Te Hoe joining it from the background. We were due to climb that grassy face in the middle-distance, far right of shot.

It really was looking a steep climb away from the Te Hoe.

Crossing the Mohaka, looking west and upstream.

I guessed at which track to take off the side of the road, and guessed correctly. It quickly closed in with gorse and blackberry encroaching ever further.

Down on the river flats, the track was gone.

Giving up on the track, we turned towards the river for the shortest possible push through the dense thicket of willow saplings. No derailleurs were harmed, thankfully.

Beyond the foliage, we could easily spy the dozer track that we were to take up the face.

Having been told that the best place to cross was five hundred metres up from the confluence, I was pleased the flats were rideable. Hearing a yell from Ian, but not seeing him, we rode upstream.

Finally I spied a quad bike and two people over the river. With much yelling and little comprehension we found a good place to cross the swift, but thankfully low (droughts are good for something it seems), river.

Safely on the left bank, it was great to meet Ian and his friend Brian. Still very sprightly at over eighty, the yelling continued due to some deafness. Introductions aside, we discussed the best way to get out of the valley – we opted for the shorter, steep dozer track. Next time, it’d be good if it could be the longer route – different views and all that.

Ian led us across a bog and towards the steepness.

Averaging over fifteen percent, it was at times much steeper. I managed to ride the first third, but was constantly stopping to take in the expanding panorama. I’m glad it was dry, or else the whole ascent would have been a slippery push.

Te Kooti’s Lookout just right of centre.

West up the Mohaka.

As well as having people guiding us through and opening and closing gates for us, I thoroughly enjoyed the enthusiastic telling of stories of the land. From the struggles of the early settlers (the land broke them), to Te Kooti’s lookout and stronghold during the Land Wars and eventually the development of a sustainable farm. Now six hundred acres of the property is covenanted native bush and I’d love to get back, explore some more and see some of the huge native trees Ian spoke of.

Generously we were welcomed in for a hearty meal of mince on toast (thanks Carolyn), all the while being regaled further with stories of the farm, the area, the other farms (up near where I’d met son Ian a fortnight previous) and the large family. Bikepacking stories were offered up, but didn’t seem quite as interesting to me. Bellies full, we did eventually go on our way.

By no means was our climbing done, as the near landscape soon turned to forestry – although often affording glimpses of ranges further away.

My game of “how far away is Panekiri?” continued – a bit further away this time.

This certainly was a decent climb, but it did plateau before another fast descent again to the Mohaka. The gravel ended for the day. Nearing the river, unusually a helicopter started buzzing around – Marek pointed out it was the rescue chopper, not a good sign.

Pausing at the Willowflat bridge, the river was low and we marvelled at the size of some of the boulders deposited in the flow.

Willowflat was larger than I expected – that is, there were a few houses and actually people around. But my, the climb up to Kotemaori keeps on giving – steep and steady, it just keeps going. Thankfully, our very pleasant riding conditions held and it wasn’t too hot. Worryingly, a lit police pick-up passed us. I’d plenty of time to wait at the first false summit, so proceeded to devour handfuls of ripe blackberries while wondering about the Mohaka Rafting vehicle parked up – ostensibly for cell coverage. Ridge riding commenced (up and down) and seventy kilometres and two thousand metres of climbing in, my waits grew longer – but that just left more time to savour the scenery, blackberries and a staggeringly spectacular day of riding.

Looking over towards the early part of the route.

Back on the highway, cruising down that section to Waikare Gorge is so much better and safer than the grovel up in the opposite direction. With a final few hundred metres to climb, I pushed on – rather enjoying how the hills around here are becoming more familiar and fitting together in my mind more and more. Back to the car, I had plenty of time for a cuppa with its guardians for the day – more tales of local farming history, and bike trips. Bliss; once again, I’m already scheming on bigger rides to further explore another area of the region that in a few short hours proved utterly captivating.

Unfortunately, Graham confirmed that there had been a drowning on the river, which explained all the unusual activity – sad news indeed, but also helps to appreciate wonderful days of being alive and outside.

Also, must get back to Ridgemount…

Thanks to Marek for nine of the photos above and being such a sport on a tough day’s riding; also thanks to Ian and Carolyn for being so welcoming to their special part of Hawke’s Bay.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Post-work Friday Waipatiki Overnighter

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The midday switch to a cooling sea breeze was not to last. Leaving work just before five, the raging norwester was back dragging the mercury up to thirty degrees. Steve and I made slow progress along the flat highway, into the wind funnelled down the valley, before finally turning north and meeting Marek at the start of the climb. Waipunga Rd is one of my favourite local gravel roads and I’m pleased that it’s back in far better condition than for HBAT. It may have been the heat, the wind or just end-of-week tiredness – but my, all that food I packed instead of changes of clothes sure was dense. I was slow.

Up the sealed climb at the start of Waipunga Rd – photo from Marek.

Having discussed it over the lunch table, I’d finally figured out which house, most of the way up the road, was Jess’s. Kennels of dogs barking enthusiastically welcomed us, as did the favourite running free – we happily accepted filled water bottles and a huge bowl of fresh guacamole, such a hardship helping to deal to a glut of avocados. Chatting too long, I was reminded that we’d better get going as the sun dropped – we didn’t have many lights between us.

The end of the road had us turning east and the wind at our backs. Five clicks of seal descended to the highway, which we crossed to join the gravelled upper part of Tangoio Settlement Rd. Following the ridge, the pines up here are generally young and allow views both sides of the road. The haze from the bushfires in Australia continues to linger, the approaching sunset looked likely to be a good’un.

Easy riding down to the highway.

Arriving at the junction with Waipatiki Rd, we had enough daylight yet to pause and watch the sun sink. It was worth it.

Thanks again to Marek for the photo.

Still plenty warm, it was just as well as the last two hundred metres are lost rapidly through a short series of switchbacks.

Waipatiki Beach, another of Marek’s photos.

I didn’t remember the turn-off to the campground, but I certainly remembered the decaying machinery from my previous trip here. Checking in, we managed to get our tents up before the dusk faded into night. Quite a luxury having a camp kitchen to cook in, I set about preparing and consuming (in part, Steve helped) the mass of food I’d hauled in – well worth it. Also odd to have a camp lounge to gather in, it was far later than is normal for me on such rides before we retired to our respective tents.

Gusts really got up in the early hours of the morning, giving a couple of hours of sleeplessness as my tent thrashed around. By dawn the wind abated; we rose, ate and packed before crossing the stream to check out the beach a little.

All calm, and hazy, again.

This relic served a purpose, anchoring one side of this:

An unusual water crossing by bike – definitely better than wet feet and wheels being swallowed by unseen holes. Another of Marek’s pictures.

Water still pretty chilly, I wasn’t staying wet for too long. Marek’s again.

Beach rest for the bikes.

Half-eight by the time we set off, all were keen to take a vaguely described paper road to not reverse the big sealed descent of the previous night. A tiny amount of hike-a-bike landed us, with dry feet, on an old forest road heading north and up to Aropaonui Road. It was barely overgrown, well benched and gained us a hundred and fifty metres pretty easily. Reaching the gravel, we climbed further heading away from the Pacific – occasionally getting sideswiped by the norwester. I adopted my trying-not-to-get-blown-off-my-bike stance, and was unusually successful.

The only mud we had to negotiate during the trip.

Missing the concerted effort of Saturday morning Park Run, I pushed a little harder than normal to round out the hour of climbing to the highway. Finding a suitably shady spot, there was some serious snacking to be done to ensure we didn’t carry too much food home. The gravelled top section of Tangoio Settlement Road was repeated, and was just as good as the previous night (save the spectacular sunset) and we were soon bombing down to sea level for the last few kilometres back to work.

Can’t quite see my house.

Even stopping at work to pick up some gear, then at Bay View for boysenberry and feijoa ice cream and fresh strawberries, it was before noon when we arrived in town for quality burgers that I’m still thinking of.

What a great little overnight trip (barely managed a hundred kilometres and eighteen hours) with good friends and plenty of food to round out my Hawke’s Bay bikepacking for the year. It’s been such fun, and I’ve seen so much of this little province – finding plenty of hills, views and food along the way.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Mangatu(times)tu Four

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Having had to cancel last year’s annual overnighter to Mangatutu Hot Springs, I was excited to get back out there for the fourth time. Previously it’s been an quick easy trip to kick-off the bikepacking season – but not this year, as it seems I’ve hardly stopped riding over the winter. Also, I was looking forward to sharing this little ride with half a dozen others from the fledging Hawke’s Bay Bikepacking community. Only posted at the start of the week, it required far less organisation and I was looking forward to meeting a few I’d not ridden with before.

Two of the group had set off earlier in the day to make the most of some cooler hours. Four of us left the Taradale clock tower for a pleasant half hour of easy riding and chatting on cycle trail to Puketapu.

Where we promptly stopped at the pub for lunch – would have been wasteful not to make use of the last services.

Kiwi burgers all round, Steve arrived and promptly ordered another. Before noon, we’d managed to avoid the crowds at this spot popular with those on all manner of bikes. Steve was excused for being late as after six months away, he’d had to find his bike buried in the garage and, not having ridden it since I last dragged him bikepacking over three years before, replace a tube and pack it with what gear and food he had. Enthusiasm for adventure does go much further than waiting until you have all the gear and everything just so.

Instead of just heading straight up the sealed Puketitiri Rd as previously, I’d opted for the longer route that would give us more gravel. The river flats lasted until twenty kilometres in and crossing the lower Mangaone River. It was warm, but not hot and for a change the wind was at my back heading out here. I found this route far better than Puketitiri Rd – there was next to no traffic, it climbed steadily (instead of steeply climbing in and out of valleys) and there was some very nice gravel.

Nearing the end of Dartmoor Rd.

Alan peeled off for said sealed route, so Chris, Brent, Steve and I moseyed on at a reasonable and constant pace admiring the views over the Tutaekuri to the Ruahines and Kawekas. Strangely, for what has been a very mild spring for allergies, both Steve and I started to suffer from hayfever – the standard sneezing, runny nose, irritated eyes. Not much for it but to keep on riding and admire the views. Only later did I realise that the source of the allergic reaction was the liberal dose of bushfire smoke that had drifted over the Tasman.

Chris heading up Waihau Rd.

Steve sporting the latest in summer bikepacking bags, as the day starts to get a little hazy from the smoke; the haze would worsen over the weekend.

The afternoon warmed, at Waihau itself there was a big rest in the shade of large trees – dreaming of ice creams that were not to materialise from anywhere. Reaching Puketitiri Rd, we were close to 600 metres high – we wouldn’t get much higher that this all day, but we would drop down plenty of times to return to a similar elevation. Brent well knew this and just how steep the end of the day got – with little loaded riding in his recent past, that was the last we saw of him as he opted for a different route.

To my surprise the golf clubrooms were actually open – I still haven’t seen anyone, sheep excluded, on the fairways. We topped up our bottles, ate and rested a bit. The local search and rescue group were out this way training, hence the open doors. Past Balls Clearing the gravel starts again and far fewer people ride bikes (a road ride to this point is a local roadies’ favourite, I understand). There’s one big plunge before the real work begins to earn the reward of a hot spring soak.

The drop towards the Mohaka River – a repeat of a photo I’ve taken a few times now.

Eleven kilometres of Makahu Rd leads to the campground at its end; it starts immediately with a climb so steep that it’s sealed. We sweated our way up there in the late afternoon heat, it’s mercifully only a kilometre long. Dropping down to the Makahu River, the ford was just low enough to get through with dry feet. The second climb is longer, and only a little less steep. Mostly shaded, it was sheltered enough from the breeze to be stifling.

Nearing the highest point of the day, the farm gate here is a natural resting and regrouping spot, with a peak of the Kawekas over yonder.

Contemplating one more hill.

Down again to one last stream crossing and to tackle the third in the series of greater-than-ten-percent climbs. This one you can see ahead as you cross the bridge – I’m unsure if that’s better or worse. It looks steep, but you can at least see the end point – although that knowledge may not have been common to all.

Farms and plantation forest left behind, the last descent has one surrounded by native bush.

I rolled into camp, nabbed my usual spot and was pleased to find Jan and Andrew had arrived considerably earlier. Shortly after, Steve, Chris and Alan arrived. With plenty of daylight left it was a relaxed evening of cooking, eating, chat, soaking in the ever-so-hot pools and consuming the vast amount of sweeter food that had been hauled in – special mention to Steve who’d lugged half a Christmas cake in. That cake sure was dense, in wonderful flavour too – not just mass per volume. There were some tired souls around, after all it does get a little hilly at the end – so pleasing to see people having ridden more than they thought themselves capable of and comfortable with. Hopefully the route choice doesn’t repel too many…

The upper Mohaka from the campground.

A leisurely start to Sunday morning, we gradually left at various intervals. The climb from camp was a good one to get the legs and blood moving. To mix up the out and back nature a bit, I opted to turn left at the start of Makahu Road to see what was at the end of Pakaututu Rd. Steve is unable to turn down opportunity for more discovery and exercise so he joined me. Over the Mohaka we found another steep climb, it would turn out to be the largest of the weekend and was fantastic as the mid-morning sun beat down on us. The views of the Kawekas from the north were easily the best we had all weekend, and there were hills, ridges and valleys all around. My mind boggled trying to comprehend just where we were with respect to places so close that I’ve ridden or driven – the bush clad contours just beyond the farmland were so numerous I was a little disoriented.

Crossing the Mohaka – much closer to the headwaters than the crossing six weeks beforehand.

As I neared the ridgeline, I came across a local farmer out moving stock. Correctly presuming he was the father-in-law of a colleague I chatted for some time. Amongst talk of the terrain, farming history and bikepacking, the biggest nugget was learning of the old coach road to Taupo – that begs to be followed up. Taking it easy for the mellow gradient along the ridge, admiring the views, I happened upon Steve waiting for me in some shade. We rode the last kilometre to the road end, me well pleased to finally see what was there.

Yes, there’s a woolshed and some stock at the end of the road. Hardly a shocking discovery.

This little lamb looked almost as pleased as I felt on such a glorious morning.

We turned and headed for home.

Not rubbish riding.

Over the river again, the biggest climb remaining took us back to Balls Clearing where we found the Search and Rescuers sitting some sort of a test at picnic tables – at least, I hope they were under test conditions as, besides colleague Mark who gave us a wave, they were decidedly reserved and stand-offish. Snacking and topping up with water, the Puketapu Pub beckoned for a late lunch.

Back onto the gravel off Puketitiri Rd, this time I didn’t see Steve waiting again in the shade; I blithely carried on assuming he was well ahead of me by now, as he’d been most morning. So we spent the next hour chasing, at a rather sedate pace, each other down all the while battling into a southerly. Unfortunately we were too late to lunch with the others at the pub and were running quite low on snacks. Stopping near the fields, that the previous day were raked and baled, to clear my ever-running nose, I was quite surprised when Steve cruised in after me – rather spent. The last of the chocolate supplies got us to Puketapu and a huge bowl of nachos – which seemed to have an entire tub of sour cream plonked on top.

A most excellent overnighter – so nice to share that ride with more people, not have my knee ache and discover what’s at the end of another road (there are still plenty more we passed that I’m yet to see) and learn of potential new adventures. The alternate route was a huge improvement, I wouldn’t be surprised if this becomes more regular than an annual ride.

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Mega GGG 2019

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With a hilly and tough HBAT only two weeks behind us, I was pleased to see six of us backing up on the 200 km longer Mega. This turned the start into a bit of a HBAT-reminisce and catch-up before Pete sprung the honour of leading the forty-odd riders out through the Rotorua morning “traffic”.

Time for a few stories with some HBATers.

A bit more time for a group photo.

This is a bit different to my usual dithering and chatting at the back of the start group.

A few kilometres in we regrouped off the road and headed out of town on the easy cycle trail to Ngongotaha – much time for meeting new faces riding towards the climb up the Mamakus. The route familiar to me, I figured I may as well cut my stops out until the resupply 120 kilometres in at Mangakino. A mild morning with no wind to haunt my memory, the riding was good as riders ebbed and flowed relative to me. Knees still noticeably achey from charging up too many Hawke’s Bay hills, I determined to spend far less time standing on the pedals uphill – which is tough, as I do like climbing.

I allowed myself a brief photo stop; tellingly, my best photo of the day is of a giant scar of a quarry contrasting with the more picturesque backdrop.

Subsequently, I was in no rush over the stretch of the Waikato River Trail that is notoriously punishing with plenty of sharp climbs. As the day warmed I continued to take it easy and walked far more of the sharp climbs than I ordinarily would.

Not stopping had me in the first few into Mangakino where I had plenty to eat and drink, including a big bottle of electrolytes. Many others arrived before I headed for the infamous wire-bridge at the end of Arataki Rd. Mid-afternoon it was hot by now, so much for the forecast 20ºC. While it was toasty, I’d not got it into my head that it was well above that temperature – most reports came back around 30ºC. Mentally, and therefore physically, I was not prepared for such heat and quite rapidly I was cooked. Succumbing to the dehydration of which I seem particularly prone (a disadvantage of having little mass and barrier against such swings?), a rest in the shade was in order as the waves of nausea swept over me and suddenly most of the food I’d eaten that day was rejected.

Completely spent, I tried not to berate myself too much. With some more electrolytes to sip on and cooling a little, almost an hour later I could face limping towards the cabins at Pureora – only twenty-five kilometres, but with most of a 400 metre climb. Moving so slowly, walking much and generally feeling awful gave me far too much time to question why and how I like to ride long distances. Having read my post of the first Mega two years prior recently to remind me of the course, I recalled a discussion about how such rides need to be fun. I wasn’t having much fun as thoughts turned to neglected friends in the Bay of Plenty I could be visiting instead of punishing myself. What’s more, with too many people close to me having significant medical diagnoses recently riding seemed a little selfish and pointless. On the other hand, if I could continue I would – what a privilege to have the time, health, means and freedom to explore our fair land. There was much to see and I knew I’d soon be back enjoying myself; I was really looking forward to seeing the roads from Taumarunui to Kawhia Habour – the most significant change to the course. Also, after last year’s magpie incident I was really keen to avoid another DNF – even if it meant adjusting my expectations, and taking more time off work.

The first time I’ve had to put the much-repeated lesson of “don’t pull the pin at the end of a bad day, wait for morning to decide” to good use, it paid dividends. After taking two hours to crawl to the cabins, some downtime, plenty of food and a thoroughly poor, but just sufficient sleep I was good to go again before five-thirty Saturday morning, albeit a little tentatively. But first, where did this rain come from? The lightest of misty rain, it set in for the gloomy climb to the summit of the Timber Trail. Only near the top did it get sufficiently heavy to have full raingear on. Relaxed enough, the trail was in the best condition I’d seen it and I reminded myself yet again to come back and ride it over more than half a day.

Eighty-odd kilometres of trail went by in a bit of a blur, I passed the lodge and campground mid-trail at around the time those that stay in such places hit the trail – so different people to chat to. Comments above aside, the last part from the Ongarue Spiral to the end was a fair mess. Nice to get off that and ride the deserted gravel to town and a big lunch. Many other riders were coming, eating and going from town; I enjoyed a Full English in good company at the same place I stopped on the Tour Aotearoa. Time for new roads!

Two sustained gravel climbs followed in quick succession and my legs were back – the refuelling must have helped, as did the mild closer-to-forecast temperatures, as I caught up to, chatted with and eventually passed a fair collection of riders. Yesterday’s dehydration effects were long gone, but the memory wasn’t – I ate and drink even more. Dropping into Ohura, I finally got to visit the much-vaunted Fiesta Food Cart. In a town where very little seems to be, let alone be open – a food cart that serves a large plate of fresh Mexican food is quite a novelty.

Thirty kilometres, mostly deserted gravel, had only the slightest of gradients to contend with. The northerly wasn’t too bad to contend with, unfortunately it was rather cloudy. A sudden drop took us down to Aria, before the last little bit of climbing for the day. Here the wind picked up and 200 kilometres into the day, the last stretch became pretty slow. I was pleased to get into Piopio (delightfully pronounced locally “Pew Pew”) in daylight. Well aware of the upcoming downpours, I scouted out some shelter on the way to find the Cossie Club – where a truly massive burger, fries and ice cream sundae were demolished. This was clearly the local and with four of us there in our riding gear devouring large volumes of food, we attracted plenty of good-humoured attention. A local dot-watcher came down to chat all things bikepacking and local AB rounds before we headed off to get out of the incoming weather. That was a far more successful day.

The rain didn’t arrive that night and I caught plenty of sleep with the wind blowing around and through my shelter. Up early and straight into a big climb out of town, it promptly started raining. The lightest rain imaginable as dark slowly gave way to a grey gloom. Gravel, native bush, farmland – all on the winding path north. At times the rain was heavy enough to don full raingear, but that didn’t usually last long. Raingear was promptly removed as, while it was head-windy, it was never cold. I’d love to go back and ride these roads again and see a bit more – so quiet and they felt so remote. Four and a half hours into the day, the first car passed me.

Shortly before ten o’clock was just in time for the breakfast menu at the Oparau Roadhouse. I arrived as the heavens opened again.

Catching up for the last five hours, and fuelling for the next six.

A few of the riders I’d passed with my early start, and that I’d not seen since Rotorua, arrived with various tales – most involving rain. With a good rest and meal in, I was ready to leave. The heavens promptly opened, so I retreated inside before eventually setting off in the rain – it soon abated and by the end of the climb up to Raglan Road I had to delayer without delay.

More great gravel backroads heading to my favourite part of the 2017 course – the coastal detour around to Raglan. Mostly dry, mostly into the wind; out of nowhere, boom, torrential downpour. From the first spits I stopped and couldn’t get my jacket on in time. Good fun, and it abated after ten minutes for the scenic coastal foray of repeated climbs and descents. Raglan by mid-afternoon for a short refuel and to get going while it was dry. That didn’t last long, another big downpour, but at least briefly the wind was less of a hindrance as the course turned east. Old Mountain Road was a new section, and being the steepest long climb of the route one of my favourite parts.

From the summit, Hamilton was within touching distance east; we promptly turned north, back into the wind for quite the dog leg to Ngaruawahia. Just the sort of thing I’d do, and did do, when course-setting. Joining the paved river trail at the northern-most point of the ride, the whole day’s toil into the wind paid back in spades. A very helpful push had me in Hamilton as dark descended, in time for a large dinner. It may have rained again. I’d long ago lost count of the raingear-on, raingear-off routine.

I was definitely making a point of eating well, and all was well on a big day.

Into the dark through the tedious cycle-path route out of Hamilton to Cambridge, it rained again but the wind was still mostly helpful. Nearing eleven o’clock I considered the last hundred-plus kilometres back to Rotorua, the ominous thunder-storm heavy forecast, crossing the Mamakus at night and opted for finding some shelter and finishing this thing in the daylight. Very happy with a big 255 km day in less than ideal conditions – just a pity about the lack of photos.

To my surprise I slept late and was not properly going until six-thirty, keen for the familiar path back to Rotorua. The multitude of small hills to Arapuni felt good, I was disappointed not to see my magpie nemesis. Second breakfast at the Cow Cafe in Putaruru is now a tradition, and a thoroughly good one. The wind was still at my back and I hardly even got rained on – it was a grand morning to finish up, especially learning later of all the thunderstorms I’d managed to avoid the previous night. Even the blockades on Cecil Rd weren’t as bad as expected and running down the hill to town I was pleased to find I had plenty left in the tank.

Finishing in three days and six hours-ish, it was great to see Pete, Roger and Chris there and just sit in some sunshine for a while sharing stories, before another big meal. While things didn’t go quite as planned that first afternoon, I got to ride my bike a lot, see plenty, learn loads, share the ride with others and actually finish it this year – fantastic. Thanks to Pete for organising it all, I look forward to the next such ride.

Thanks to Roger for bordered photos.