Thirteen years since I last mountain-biked in Whirinaki Forest Park, it was an easy decision to head over after work Friday to meet a group from the Bay of Plenty to bikepack the since-opened-to-bikes Moerangi Trail. Cutting through some rough and rutted forestry roads was probably a bit of a shock for my little car, which is usually lucky just to get out of the garage. Nonetheless, two hours of driving had me at the Whirinaki Rec. Camp where we would stay Friday night and then leave our vehicles, hopefully, safe and sound.
The three keen ones that had biked over a hundred kilometres from Rotorua already had the fire roaring in the large outdoor kitchen and dining area. Introductions were made, dinners were cooking and the rest of the crew arrived well after dark. Brief and light showers passed as we chatted around the fire and most drifted off to bed early.
Saturday dawned clear and bright. As we had ample time to get to Skips Hut that night, we left our bikepacking kit at the camp and headed off for a warm-up lap around the MTB track. The climb to the trailhead got the heart going.
Continuing to climb through dense forest, the kaka called raucously as we passed. Unloaded bikes were great as we made good time around. Getting further down the track tree fall became more prevalent. Some it was worth stopping to clear, others were too large and required a bit of portage over or around. I had a blast once all the descending started. On a fully rigid bike, line choice became more important as there were plenty of water channels and other obstacles to pick around or through. So much fun on such a short trail.
Back at camp, an early lunch was cooked and eaten amongst packing of bikes and enjoying the sun’s warmth. As we had all afternoon to ride less than forty kilometres to Skips Hut, adding a side-trip to Ruatahuna (there’s a cafe there now) and back was mooted. That would have been another forty kilometres and nigh-on a thousand metres of climbing. We decided to forgo that “opportunity” have a more leisurely afternoon and set off for the Waikaremoana Road.
This camp is fantastic – three ten-bunk cabins ($30/night/cabin), flush toilets, solar-heated showers, no electricity or cell reception and a big sheltered kitchen-dining area.
Up the only decent hill on that section of main road, we regrouped at the top in the sun (trying to ignore the waft of a recently deceased animal somewhere in the bush) before descending to the turn-off. The road gently climbed for most of its length alongside the Okahu stream.
Dense forest surrounded the flood debris and damage.
The kicker was the end of the road that reared steeply to the parking lot and gavevanother opportunity to regroup.
I had plenty of opportunity to lean my bike on trail entrances.
The afternoon started to cool as we lost the sun and headed into the forest. The climbing got even steeper as we wound our way up to the watershed and into Hawke’s Bay. But with the trail twisting and turning to concentrate on, it was easier going than that last stretch of road. Thoroughly enjoying the drop to the hut, a trail crew must have been through as it was clear of fallen trees.
There were a few of these bridges, which in themselves were OK – but the approaches only had a rail on one side and often a precipitous drop close to where the rail forced one to ride. Also, I found the last of the sunlight.
This small waterfall was shortly before Skips Hut.
Slips had made parts of the approach to the hut well exposed, but save a bit of clay mud, all were through OK. With two others already in the nine-bed hut, our group of seven filled it nicely and we didn’t have to carry onto the next hut. Again dinner was cooked, the fire lit and biking-centred chat ensued. Also again, most went to sleep early while Pete and I chatted about biking trips and routes past and future.
Crammed on the third level of bunks up against the ceiling (getting onto the bed and into a sleeping bag demanded all of my limited flexibility), I could have slept a lot worse than I did. We rose with daybreak, ate and packed. A clear morning for the first day of spring, there was a heavy frost. I’d put my bike under the verandah but found myself scraping much frost off it before we departed. Leaving before eight, digits were numb with the cold for the first half hour. The climbing continued, with a lot of the gradient easily over ten percent.
Half an hour later the sunlight started to fall on the canopy not far from where I was; emerging into the open around Rogers Hut, I finally felt its warmth on my skin.
One of the earliest huts in the park, it was built for deer cullers going about their work as deer ran rampant in the forest.
Not many huts I’ve been to have stained glass windows.
Word came through that the tail were fixing a puncture; John and Tony weren’t hanging around as they were riding back to Rotorua, so I continued with them as I was keen to keep warm and make short work of remaining twenty kilometres. That did include a two-hour climb back over the watershed returning to the Bay of Plenty. Thickly forested, there were occasional glimpses further afield.
One of the highlights of the weekend was watching a pair of blue ducks noisily make their way down this rather turbulent bit of stream.
Waiting quarter of an hour at the turn-off to Moerangi Hut seemed a bit much, so I continued to the top before thoroughly enjoying the long and fun descent all the way to the end of the trail.
Looking out over Bay of Plenty hills again.
With plenty of time before noon, on the few kilometres of gravel back to the car I tweaked a few things after my bike fit the previous weekend. While it was a short weekend by distance (less than a hundred kilometres), there was a fair bit of climbing and time on the bike. I’m pleased so far with how minor adjustments to riding position, a new saddle, and arch support in my shoes has made my riding position more neutral and comfortable, while also seeming to give a better base for, and transfer of, power to the pedals. There is of course the chance that I’m fooling myself, but I guess time shall tell.
Lunching in the sun, I packed the car and enjoyed the drive home reflecting on a most excellent weekend and scheming up more rides in the area. It was a great group – most are preparing for next year’s Tour Aotearoa and seemed interested to hear bikepacking stories and tips. Good fun learning from others and sharing the ride, I’m looking forward to more such rides soon. Thanks to Malcolm (from Te Puke, no less) for organising it all.
After four years, I finally turned off the highway and checked out Waipunga Falls – mostly because I’d been driving beside the river for quite a while that afternoon.
Decidedly unshabby resting spot.
Tide was assuredly out, this boded well.
By nine o’clock it was well too hot for gloves and a helmet. What is this winter madness?
Halfway along this stretch, I decided no one would thank me for this rough going – and I was well aware there may be no other way out. So with the tide advancing, I retreated to the road up onto the main road along the ridge.
Briefly the actual road diverted from the paper road, I managed to get across this stretch of private land without reaching for some koha.
Have I mentioned I quite liked the ridge riding – Pacific on one side, Hawke Bay on the other?
Portland Island.
Looking down to Rocket Lab’s launch site.
A brief visit to the beach of Mahia Beach as Saturday dawned.
The sixteen kilometres back to the highway had a little climbing in it. Wairoa is further west, around the coast some more.
Wairoa River.
Finally I learned why there is a lighthouse inland – it was originally on Portland Island (the island off the end of the peninsula), and moved to and restored in Wairoa after it was decommissioned.
I never worked out where these two were walking to – it was ages to anywhere.
There’s the road down there, I’m about halfway up by this stage. I see now that the end of Mangaone Rd gets pretty close to where I was but two hours before.
The terrain flattened a bit and I found myself running across paddocks, somewhat excited to be discovering something that previously wasn’t on my radar at all. Although, it is possible my legs were so relieved to not be pushing pedals around that they couldn’t help but run. Perhaps I really was missing Park Run that Saturday?
Suddenly, a gate into a patch of bush materialised.
I soon found myself in a narrow long cave looking up at the stalactites. A cool little find, although I probably won’t send the route up all the way up here. 
Pinning it back downhill, I did manage to pause briefly and spy Mahia Beach and the Peninsula behind it.
This bandstand will certainly do.
Another rainbow? That’s just getting greedy as the rain left us for the day.
Time for another snack stop, looking north and attracting the inquisitive farm animals again.
The coast appeared, finally, after many hopeful glances east.
Pleasant riding in the sun with the wind behind us.
Over a little rise, we spied Blackhead Point. The beach is further up the coast and we contemplated the path the road would take to get through or over the hills.
Grin inducing, in fact.
Marek, and we, celebrated his first ever 100 km ride. A top effort.
Much fun was had.