Category Archives: friends

bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Lady Lake and Lake Brunner loop

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A later start for a less ambitious ride today – a nice gravel loop out of Moana. Recovering from the Paparoa, Pike29 loop I did have the planned advantage of being on a faster, rather than slower, bike than the others – life was a lot easier trying to keep up on the road! I see now that most of the loop was on roads I first rode in my first bikepacking event – the Kiwi Brevet back in 2015, I think about that day every time I drive over Arthurs Pass now. Past the little house at the old Kotuku School, the road turned to gravel as we began the climb to Bell Hill – not a particularly big climb, just the biggest of our day.

Farm land for a bit, looking back towards Lake Brunner, Mt Te Kinga (left).

Turning south, the drop to Lady Lake through native forest was both beautiful and fun. Alas, no great viewpoints were obvious as we whizzed past. We did stop to drop jaws at the clarity and colour of Crooked River.

Wasn’t difficult to spot big trout in there too.

Te Kinga again.

Back on the seal for forty minutes to return to Moana, Richard sure showing signs of Tour Divide prep – keeping a fair clip on his hardtail up the rises. I enjoyed the fun and ease of a lighter bike. Rachel was keen to check out the new, not quite completed but open to ride, Lake Brunner Scenic Trial that starts in Moana and runs around the lake towards Mitchells. A previously existing bridge took us over the lake’s outlet – the Arnold River.

Difficult to believe that’s a river.

Past a few houses and across a grassy section, with a surprising sand trap, we found the trail. It’s a cracker, a credit to the community – it being managed and built by them. Following the edge of the lake through native bush, there are plenty of twists, turns and small rises to keep it engaging. Great fun at the front – with care, as already it’s a well used trail, plenty of others out on foot and wheel. The surface is already mostly good, just one section in the middle was, at the time, bone-rattling on a rigid bike.

After seven kilometres, the trail just stops – currently.

But it’s easy to see why.

It looks that once the Eastern Hohonu River is bridged, it’s not far to join up to the existing Bain Bay walkway back to Mitchells, and then it’s twenty kilometres of backroad to Kumara and the West Coast Wilderness trail… Alas, we had to turn and head back.

Not without stopping at Irishmans Landing, snacking and pointing at things.

Te Kinga again, really should get up there one day.

A fun few hours stretching the legs and seeing some different sights, we parted ways – some back to Christchurch and some of us to Westport for more time with friends and riding bikes.

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, national park, NZ

Paparoa, Pike29 loop

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Not having seen Rachel since her last big bikepacking trip abroad, time was running out to get the Oteake crew back together for a more modest bike trip. The weekend long since decided, the location was only confirmed closer to the time as late-autumn forecasts considered. Andy and I were keen to ride the recently opened Pike29 Memorial Track, off the Paparoa Trail; Rachel was happy to ride it again – possibly as it meant she had the shortest drive. Richard (soon off to Tour Divide), Tom (recently reacquainted with on previous ride) and Ian made up our group assembled in Blackball Friday night. The plan was to ride a loop from Blackball, to and along the southern section of the Paparoa to the Pike29 intersection, the Pike29 and thirty-odd kilometres of road back to Blackball.

A very frosty morning, we were eventually underway after I’d sorted my car loaded for two weeks of adventures (and possibly two weeks of work) out. Getting up to the trailhead at Smoke-ho was an opportunity to warm a bit, but it wasn’t too chilly – even being the only one in shorts. The climb to Ces Clark hut is one of my favourites – an old mining pack track, I’ve always found it an achievable technical challenge on a loaded bikepacking rig. I was looking forward to the Paparoa on my unloaded trail bike; the climb seemed a lot easier – it seemed to have been sanitised in parts, but it was probably mostly the change in set-up.

A few bridges early on; the entries and exits the only non-rideable parts of the trail.

Frosty at the old hotel site, around 400 m elevation.

Ces Clark hut view down the lower Grey River valley.

As we reached the tops, the breeze picked up a bit – cooling things off a little. Despite a few prolonged stops, not many photos taken (previous trips here) as I was enjoying riding and being on the trail.

After lunch at Moonlight Tops Hut, it was into one of my highlights of the Paparoa – the goblin forest as you ride along the escarpment. My lack of time on the bike starting to show – I don’t remember there being so many little climbs! With all our stops, it was about six hours before we reached the top of the Pike29 track.

From the top end, the trail starts with a somewhat unexpected climb for half an hour – at my, now, slow speed having walked an alarming amount of it. You’d think I’d have dropped from the 32 tooth chainring by now, but no – at least getting a smaller one is finally in progress. 32t was manageable when I was in some sort of bike-fit condition and I’m definitely no longer that.

More, possibly even better, goblin forest at the top of the Pike29.

All were waiting for me at the final lookout at the top of the descent.

Finally, the long descent to Pike River – which was the main reason for bring the more-fun (on trail anyway) bike today. Wow, I don’t know of a longer downhill on an intermediate, built trail in the country. Dropping eight hundred metres over seven and a half kilometres, that was fun that continued for twenty+ minutes – little effort to give, I just enjoyed the descent twisting through the forest. For the time of year and location, the trail was remarkably dry (well-built and little used so far) – only getting a bit sticky on the lower parts near streams. An extraordinary trail, both in itself and the memorial aspect of it.

I waited for five minutes at the carpark, time to rest, look around and consider some of what had happened here in the previous fifteen years. Realising, as the slowest one on the road, I was wasting time I began what can only be described as a plod thirty kilometres back to Blackball. With big, slow-on-the-road tyres and little energy to push them it was only twenty-five minutes before I was caught and fairly unceremoniously dropped. The rest of the way being character building and good training for something. Thanks to Ian for picking me up just before the final climb to Blackball! A grand day out on two excellent trails.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, friends, NZ

Big Finish Line Party – Naseby

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With a bit of encouragement, Naseby was chosen over Kurow for the second Big Finish Line Party. For my part in that, I came up with some waypoints that gave plenty of options for a good few days of bikepacking in Central Otago, provided some photos and booked the pub. How much and where I would ride depended mostly on how the weather looked and desire to go some new places.

Andy and Eileen happened to be down south for a mix of work and biking; unfortunately I was doing a bit of Rail Trail work Labour Weekend so missed joining them for the long weekend loop north of Naseby. Nevermind, it was fun to have friends visit Naseby and show them around – even if it was a fairly bleak Labour Day. Plans were hatched for riding throughout the week, Andy to join us when work obligations were done with. Eileen and Andy having driven to Clyde, the plan worked better for me to ride over the following day.

After a lot of time driving and working around the Otago Central Rail Trail the preceding few weeks, I was aware I may find riding the flat, easy trail a little tedious. But overnight snow on the hills giving way to a clear, crisp and still day alleviated those fears. It was a stunning day and I revelled in the hundred kilometre commute to the northern trailhead.

Looking east to the Kakanuis.

Across the Ida Valley to Rough Ridge.

Up the Ida Valley, Hawkduns in the distance.

Bit dryer heading into Poolburn Gorge.

Poolburn Viaduct.

Hawkduns again, further north over the Manuherikia Valley.

Just before the gorge, a small group of e-bikers and I started to overtake each other. With a loaded bike, I was fine with eventually being passed on long gradual climbs – but there was pride at stake at not being able to overtake them downhill into Omakau.

Off Tiger Hill looking over to the Dunstan Range.

I only began to warm up mid-afternoon dropping into Alexandra, where it was time for a long-overdue catch-up with Ruth and Jonny. A cuppa and chat turned into dinner and a lovely evening; eventually heading for Mark and Paula’s hospitality and more chat near Clyde.

Still a bit of snow around the next morning, the sun was fleeting.

Eileen and I headed out to ride the Lake Dunstan Trail, first time for her, third for me. After a bit of creak-chasing in Mark’s impressive bike workshop we headed out. Despite the overcast day muting the normally brilliant colour of the lake, it was a far better experience with much less traffic both on the trail and across the gorge on the highway.

At this time of the day, the coffee and burger boats were open. As if we needed another reason for our leisurely pace; tasty burgers.

The trail engineering still impresses.

At Cornish Point, it didn’t take long to prevent each other talking ourselves into riding further to get another BFLP checkpoint. So turn we did to find by mid-afternoon the trail is all but deserted; there’s a lot to be said to be waiting until all the riders hiring bikes from and being shuttled by local companies have had their outing for the day… Our ride finished just in time, sneaking in for gelato just before the shop shut.

As much as I was keen to head up to Poolburn Reservoir and camp at Serpentine Diggings the following day, the forecast suggested it would be a really bad idea up at that elevation. Pity, another time; getting a lift back in a work van I headed home to await Eileen & Andy arriving and further scheming for the two days we had left to get to the BFLP.

The forecast looked good enough that we would get to climb the Rock & Pillar Range and stay in Big Hut – a hut I’d wanted to stay in for a long time. With only a half-day of riding involved and rain due early in the day, it was a leisurely departure hour. Even then, we were stopped at a bakery in about half an hour and topping-up supplies at the last resupply for the route. Managing to sneak in a couple of flat, straight gravel roads new to me was a bonus – even if they did seem to stretch inordinately. Not really having planned this section, we were fortunate that a Bailey bridge across the Taieri had only that week been opened on a minor road – the original bridge having been washed away in floods two Christmases ago. Ignorance is indeed sometimes bliss.

Much too early for the pub to be open, this building next door always catches my eye.

After fifty kilometres of gentle valley floor riding, we finally began to climb joining the Old Dunstan Trail at Styx/Paerau. From a distance, it’s an imposing climb and I’ve had three memorable rides up it. This one would also be so; thankfully it wasn’t baking hot. However, Andy wasn’t feeling great and trooper that he is, struggled through one of his hardest day’s riding (as I’d later learn) with no fuss. The wet gravel sure was slow and energy sucking though.

Upper Taieri windings.

Back over the Maniototo to the Hawkdun and Ida Ranges. Naseby Forest visible back right of valley.

We easily found the turning off the gravel Old Dunstan Trail onto the 4WD track up to and along the Rock & Pillars.

Down to Loganburn Reservoir.

Following old fence lines (signs of farming on ranges around here still bewilder me somewhat) along the ridge; steeper than it looks, some pushing involved.

Just the odd patch of snow stubbornly remaining.

East to the Pacific. Fun spotting those two bumps of hills right of centre – riding between them was part of my standard twenty kilometre loop from parents’ Waikouaiti home.

Plenty of schist fenceposts remain, even if the fences are no use now.

Cutting across to Big Hut.

Avoiding a surprisingly swampy section just above the hut.

Made it, seven hours and not quite eighty kilometres.

Can confirm, it is a big hut.

With plenty of daylight left, we settled into the hut as the wind built. Built in the late ’40s for skiers, reading the exhaustive history boards was both interesting and entertaining. Originally it held seventy intrepid skiers who would mostly travel from Dunedin to Middlemarch and then hike the two or so hours up the range on a Friday night for a weekend of skiing. With no tows or chairlifts, learning to ski up here sounded mostly like falling down the hill for a bit before the exhausting hike back to the top through the snow to try it all again.

Nowadays there are a more modest number of bunks in two rooms, a kitchen, an enormous common room (table tennis anyone?) and a large drying and ski (bike) storage room. The oil burner has long been removed and there is no heating, so I imagine winter trips never manage to warm such a large space – it was cool enough up there late-October. That the hut and outbuildings all have wire guys attached to big metal stakes gives an indication of just how windy it gets up there.

Ropes to the toilets, lest someone get blown away.

Trying to catch the last of the light, but the wind was well up and I soon retreated.

Remains of Top Hut, the original accommodation – somehow thirty people slept in this space.

It blew all night, thankfully Andy was feeling no worse the next morning – possibly even a bit better. We set off towards the summit, half an hour of ridge riding before the exhilarating drop of eleven hundred metres on rugged 4WD track to the rail trail.

I took a brief tour to jog to the actual summit, can’t not when it’s right there. Looking south east to the Pacific. Trig didn’t stand a chance up here.

North west to the Dunstan Range.

Not far down, I took another little detour to check out the recently refurbished and more recently condemned Leaning Lodge – doesn’t meet building code or some such bureaucratic nonsense.

I had a bit of snow to skirt as I approached the hut.

Nice spot.

Looked perfectly fine to me; I didn’t linger, returning to the main track to catch up to Andy and Eileen. Much fun, as dropping off these Central Otago ranges on rough tracks always is – I did miss the company to share the descent with, but that was my doing! Catching up to find Eileen and Andy waiting under a large shelter belt, we were soon out of the farm and on the Rail Trail again. With Andy sensibly opting to head for nearby Middlemarch and a shuttle back to Naseby, there was a chance to further hunt down the creak plaguing Eileen by swapping rear wheels. In doing so, success – it was pinpointed as coming from the rear axle.

That sure is a fun descent!

While bikes were in pieces, along came another bikepacker! I was very pleased to meet Paul and find that he’d had a great week collecting all five waypoints and rode the route – the only rider to do so. Saying bye to Andy, Paul joined us for a couple of hours of pleasant rail trail riding and much chat all the way to a big Waipiata pub lunch.

Thankfully magpies didn’t add me to the tally on this trip. The ones I encountered didn’t seem to make contact when swooping – most odd, but definitely preferable.

Stuffed full of the renowned pies and large fries, lunch legs somehow carried us up the hour-long, gradual two hundred metres climb to Naseby on quiet gravel roads (admittedly most of the gravel roads around here are quiet). The heavy shower that passed by while we lunched didn’t repeat until just as we got in to town – so another trip not requiring a raincoat, bonus. Andy had beaten us home, and we had plenty of time to rest and clean up before wandering down to the Royal for the Big Finish Line Party.

A bit down on numbers from the inaugural event, nonetheless it was a very enjoyable evening hearing people’s stories of their routes to Naseby and catching up with bikepacking friends old and new. Organiser extraordinaire Andy made the drive all the way down from Christchurch to hear what we’d been up to, and take the minutes. A most enjoyable week tootling around Central Otago on bikes, avoiding the worst of the weather, admiring the scenery and spending time with good mates – can’t ask for too much more.

bikes, friends, NZ

Mt White Station

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Postponed five weeks after a lot of rain put paid to the original date, a few days out the forecast wasn’t looking much better this time around. Thankfully it improved enough that we shouldn’t get too wet – from the sky, at least – for our weekend at Mt White Station in the Canterbury high country. Heavy snow as we drove along the Arthurs Pass highway was less encouraging, but as we approached the turnoff the cloud lifted a little. Ten of the original twelve met at the homestead before noon. All our luggage was loaded into a Landcruiser to be delivered to the hut, and our bikes were loaded only for day-rides – luxury, and the not the end of it. I’d even brought my trail bike, willing to trade a faster bike for a much more fun one.

Driving in, and the whole weekend, brought back many happy Tour Te Waipounamu memories – it was even better to be reminiscing with Andy, as we had a very enjoyable ride through the station that day early last year. On that day, we noticed that a lot of money was being spent on the farm – many new buildings being constructed. That has continued with two new huts being built further up the Esk Valley (one of which we would stay in for the weekend), significant roading and fence work was also apparent.

We pottered to the hut, seventeen kilometres and a modest amount of climbing, on the main road over a couple of hours high above the Esk River – of which we caught occasional glimpses. The rain stayed away, the snow was disturbingly low and it was cold. The road rode well; that is, until we got beyond the big, shiny, new bulldozer and the surface was mud of the tacky variety – drivetrains didn’t sound so good after those few kilometres.

Up on the terraces above the river; as for TTW, a lot of riding would be on these, with frequent drops to streams, rivers and then grovels back up.

Up the Esk Valley.

Back down the valley.

Sticky.

Home for the weekend.

Twelve bunks, insulated, fireplace, hot water, showers, well-equipped kitchen, a fridge-freezer – couldn’t ask for much more in the middle of nowhere! Soon the kettle was boiling; I couldn’t leave my tea to join the rush to go further up a side valley straightaway. Instead enjoying the cuppa, some quieter moments and then a shorter ride up Camp Stream and down Baldy Stream with Nina and Bryan.

Up the Pukio valley, we’d shortly head off left, in front of the nearest patch of bush. Unsure what pearls Bryan is expounding here.

There was a dozer track adjacent to the creek, so it was easy going. We spent sometime exploring for the best route to the saddle at the head of the valley. I think we just wanted to mosey around a bit before accepting our fate and pushing up the steep and obvious dozer track to a small lake.

Back at the hut before the others, there was more tea and we began trying to make our way through the excessive amount of food that had been driven. Between courses, Bryan, Nina and I went for a stroll down from the hut to see if we could get closer to the waterfall flowing into the Pukio just above where it joins the Esk. We didn’t make it, but did manage to get halfway down to the river and generally amble around in the cool of the evening. It helped to make room for the huge and tasty curry that Andy had made.

The plan for Saturday (cold, no wind, low cloud, but not rain) was to head further up the main valley, cross the Esk then head up Grant Creek and climb to the historic Cattle Creek Hut. Plenty more TTW memories, it was nice to have a bit more time to appreciate the area – even if the weather wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

Down to cross the Pukio.

Before climbing back to another terrace.

Now time to get across Ant Stream.

More terraces; but this time we stayed low, crossed the Esk, followed it up a bit before turning up the Grant valley just to the right of centre-shot.

Rob and Andy rescued a ewe from down a bank. The almost-completed Terrace Hut in background (turn-off before drop to Ant Stream).

Up the Grant Valley.

Before long, we left the stream and pointed up for a two-hundred metre climb. Steep and with no gravel surface, just more mud, we were all walking up there.

Twas a decent push.

Could be the intriguingly-named The Candlesticks range in the background.

I reached the hut right on noon and had a bit of time to poke around in solitude. Quaint hut and still well used by mustering gangs, but my word it was cold. Set back in the beech forest, it wasn’t getting much light and the wind was blowing straight in. Lunch inside

The skeleton of the hut hadn’t travelled far.

Others came and went, but I was trying to appreciate the time there and was in no rush – waiting to eat some more with Bryan and Nina. Andy had mentioned going back to Anderson Hut (further up the Esk, and where we’d had a freezing night on TTW), but I had no desire to go back in the cold and see it again.

Nina’s photo.

Forty-five minutes was enough in the ice box, I bid Nina and Bryan farewell and turned to see if I could catch the others. Turned out, I could – even with a big head start, some return on pedalling a bigger-bike-than-necessary around all weekend. Catching Andy, as so often, stopped shooting video it was much warmer down at 800 m; suddenly I was keen not to return straight to Esk Hut but instead make the most of exploring this vast place a fraction more. We could cut from the Grant-Esk confluence to further up the Esk on a recent track and miss out a fair bit of backtracking and then climbing to the main road.

Off the two of us went, it only took twenty minutes to join the road for the last three kilometres to Anderson Hut.

Anderson Hut just beyond the upper Esk. The spur we rode off the Dampier Range on TTW just behind it.

The door closes now! Not that it mattered to me; only room for two in the hut, most of us slept out that freezing night.

Andy, for some reason, was not keen to push our bikes back up the Dampier for the fun downhill. I escaped Anderson Hut this time with neither of my socks being stolen, we turned for twenty kilometres down the valley to Esk Hut. Of all places to find a fiver lying on the trail, the back of Mt White Station would be one I’d least expect!

This tree held my attention for quite sometime, most of its roots seemingly doing a poor job of being in the ground.

Another Esk crossing; Andy having no memory of the steep little climbs between the terraces. I remembered them all too well.

Fun riding down this valley with Andy again, which gratifyingly again came with frequent requests to pause and then ride for the camera. I took a short detour up the Ant Valley to check out Anna Hut (unsure why it’s not beside Anna Stream) before returning to the main road and finding Andy setting up another shot.

A short stroll up Surveyors Knob to get a different perspective. Esk Hut is on the end of the terrace extending from below the bush at right of shot.

Fifty kilometres and seven hours on mixed surfaces, I was starting to tire – the price for the fun bike. The last climb really was a grovel; I walked a lot of what I’d normally ride. Sign of a good day exploring? I think so. We got back to find most everyone had been back at the hut for hours – they missed out. But they did a grand job of keeping the food appearing – I was delighted to find out Yorkshire Tea loaf is a thing (how I didn’t know before, I can only marvel), and it’s delicious and commonly served with cheese (just gets better); I may have finished it, yum!

Definitely not a eat-what-you-carry bikepacking trip.

Another pre-dinner walk was in order to break up all the eating. This time, an easier, more direct way down to view the falls near the hut.

The closeness of such hairpin turns in the river caught my eye.

This stream rises near Surveyors Knob, and from such flat surroundings I was surprised by how much water was cascading.

After another large dinner, we were treated to Nina’s slideshow of her experiences dogsledding, attending a fat(-bike) training camp and then returning the following year to ride in, and complete, the 350 mile Iditarod Trail Invitational in the Alaskan winter. Biking in, or just trying to survive, temperatures down to -50 degrees Celsius was adventure far beyond what most of us could comprehend. Absolutely fascinating, and humbled our own efforts and hardships overcome.

Sunday morning and there was still ridiculous amounts of food left and, considering it was only seventeen kilometres out, we made a good effort at not taking much home. Seventeen kilometres for those keen to ride straight out, that is. I was not – there was still more exploring to be done and who knows if I ever might get the opportunity to return? Nina was keen, and Andy may have been as well – but as I had the car key, he may have felt he had little choice! Up the Pukio we went for ninety minutes, past the part of the valley where a family long ago lived for thirty years with a dairy herd – carting their cheese over the Dampier Range to market (it was bad enough with a bike). Perhaps they named the Mounds of Misery. (I’ve since heard how difficult farming Mt White is – stories not-uncommon winters where all stock are lost.) We dropped to get a view of Lake Grace, the Cox River and McArthur Gorge (where the river, for seemingly no reason, changes name to Poulter East Branch).

Up through the old dairy farm area.

From the top of the Mounds, looking up the Cox valley.

Over to Brown Hill, on the other side of the Poulter.

Lake Grace.

Cox River.

We turned and headed to Camp Stream, making faster time – the downhill overcoming the breeze in our faces, just; but not fast enough to catch Nina, who’d turned around thirty minutes before us. Plenty of undulations on the main road back, I may have been a bit tired – but we were zooming down to the remaining vehicles before noon.

Back to the homestead.

So that was an excellent weekend exploring some of the interesting and staggeringly vast Mt White Station – very much recommended. Cold, but not windy and I never had to put my raincoat on. Thanks to all the group for making it the weekend it was, especially all that food! Extra thanks to Nina for organising and sharing her snow and ice biking stories with us.

The usual bonus from riding with Andy, and for making it through such a long post – a different take on the same trip that takes far less time than reading this far (the second half of which just seems mostly to be of me having fun on a bike, oops).