Category Archives: GPS

bikes, family, GPS, travel

A Little Niue Biking

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It didn’t take long for me to assemble my bike, but finding the time in the busy swimming, snorkelling and eating schedule was a different matter. Adele was also keen to explore a little by bike (i.e. get around the island without being confined to a damp, musty van with suspension that groaned with every pothole – of which there were multitudes). So Wednesday morning, she borrowed a bike, with fetching basket, from her friends and set off to follow one or two of the designated cycle routes.

I’d done just enough research to learn that there had been some small effort to attract cyclists to Niue to ride various small loops of main roads (quiet), back roads (even quieter) and jungle tracks (quietest). With the map of island in hand we set off to cross the island and form a couple of small loops. Leaving the main road and the coast, it was straight into a steep climb up to a transmitter tower and onto the plateau.

Soon we were on dirt tracks getting deeper into the jungle. At times we passed small patches of cultivation and the occasional dwelling. Apart from dense tropical jungle, little seems to grow around here. The small fields mostly contained more taro than I would ever care to contemplate.

Joining the sealed road that approximately bisects the island, we headed east to find the Vinivini bush track. The trees were a bit larger through here, even less traffic was to be found and only one pack of dogs – they were rather worrying, but. We reached the trailhead and were surprised to see a car (obviously a rental) parked there – would we actually see other people? It threatened to rain, but was generally warm and humid.

We found more taro, and even a bit of papaya. The one we picked didn’t last so well in the basket.

Trail marking wasn’t great, but we’d preloaded maps onto our devices and could mostly work out where we were supposed to be going. After taking the obvious, clear track at one point it quickly terminated at another taro patch. So that left a partially overgrown path to take – plenty of fallen trees to ride around, lift bikes over and tall scrub (not of the stinging variety) to bash through. A little bit of adventure in what was generally a sedate ride. The trail was clear under the canopy, but anywhere the foliage on the ground got light – it was a little out of control.

I found something to clamber over and #bikesrestingagainstearthmovingmachinery.

With the briefest of showers, we reached the end of the trail and joined the perimeter road.

A leisurely hour took us back across the island, past the schools and university campus (?!), and I had to take a peek at the island’s power station – one diesel generator and a decent solar array. I think I earned my two rotis for lunch from that pleasant little outing.

Determined to at least ride around the island once (it’s only logical), the following morning seemed good as the McKirdys were off on a fishing charter catching dinners for subsequent nights. Once again, the roads were deserted and I found for the most part riding was just as fast as driving. Giant and numerous potholes are far more easily avoided on a bike – and there’s not really any need to slow. Weaving through the obstacles I continued in a clockwise direction, avoiding more annoying (and sometimes worrying) packs of medium-sized dogs. They did me no harm, but after encountering dogs while riding in other countries wariness accompanies me.

Plenty more derelict houses peppered the sights of the jungle.

About two-thirds of the way around, along the rugged and even-more-deserted east coast, I found the trail to Togo Chasm. A wide walking trail through lush and unspoilt jungle, I tried riding it for a few hundred metres; alas, it was covered in too many slippery roots and rocks. The pleasant stroll under the canopy deposited me on top a large section of uplifted fossilised coral. The path descended to the top of the chasm and a ladder built for giants descended to the sand below. Sheltered from the Pacific crashing nearby, in this still and sheltered area a few coconut trees had thrived. I enjoyed the peace for a bit before climbing the ladder out.

My bike had not been consumed by the tropical forest in the time I was away.

Unfortunately the rain returned and, strangely for the daytime, set in. It was still warm and interesting riding – just plenty wet! So no more riding photos; as I went around the south of the island the remoteness faded and I was soon passing the only resort. Thankfully, the main road headed inland and the perimeter road went back to being deserted. Nearing Alofi, I found what came closest to being an industrial area – the island’s tip, a quarry, and container compound. It was curious to see a large barge, on wheels, deposited next to a playground surrounded by isotankers – I guess that’s how all the fuel comes in.

I found the others at the Crazy Uga Cafe. It was nice to be out of the rain and get some hot food. The day’s spectacle was the tying up of the monthly-freighter. With the wharf not having a sufficiently deep berth, the small ship had to be tied up out in the bay. What goods was this ship bringing, would they backload empty containers? Just how were they going to get the containers off? That last question at least was soon answered as a very large front-end loader roared down the road towing the aforementioned barge behind it. Over the following days the combined effort of two cranes, a pilot vessel/tug, the barge and the ship’s own crane transferred a series of containers between the ship and shore. It’s a nice reflection of the slow pace of island life that this was quite the spectacle and going-on.

So a couple of nice little rides had me seeing much of the island. I never got around to zig-zagging my way down the centre of the island – but the weather was far more conducive to swimming and there was much to be seen underwater. In that light, it probably wasn’t worth taking my own bike (although that’s always nice) – I could have easily borrowed one and had a less comfortable and reliable adventure!

around home, event, GPS, NZ

Hawke’s Bay Marathon

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For most of the last fifteen years, I’ve been somewhat in awe of anyone that can run a marathon. To me, it seemed an improbably long distance to run. Despite this, there always lurked at the back of my mind the question “could I run a marathon, do I have one in me?”. My detestation of running and never having run more than five kilometres did nothing to quieten these ponderings.

Life continued with only occasional musings about marathons flashing through my mind. Then a strange happened, after losing a bit of weight and hearing running might be good cross-training for my bikepacking, I decided to see if I could actually run a bit. Park Run, which I knew all about from when I was in England, seemed a low-key and supportive way to give running a whirl. Early last year, I rolled up to the local event and to my surprise was actually able to run five kilometres without collapsing or hurting my knees. Hoo-rah!

Intermittent Park Running saw my times improve through last year, and only the occasional slight injury. Twice I even got dragged around by others for ten kilometre runs! Madness; although I must admit it’s far easier to travel with running shoes than a bike.

With such a base, why not find out the answer to those recurring questions? So rather quietly, I signed up to the local marathon (no travel costs, easy reconnaissance, familiar terrain and, most importantly, dead flat), found a training plan and support online and got into it. Would it be possible for this cycling adapted body to go from 10 km to a marathon in less than a hundred days? I was keen to find out. Four hours was the nominal target finish time, but mostly it was about making it to the end.

It was pretty easy to get into the training plan. Each week two short runs and a progressively longer run were interspersed with flexibility and strengthening exercises. It took a lot of time to stick to the program – and much more discipline than I’m used to for my biking (after all, it’s not hard to get out and ride when it’s so enjoyable). For some reason, I was keen to keep my marathon ambitions quiet – mostly because I wanted to see if I could do it independently and didn’t want to get distracted with all sorts of good advice.

Training managed to not get sidetracked by long rides (focusing on running and not going riding was perhaps the most difficult part) for the first couple of months. But then a stunning Easter weekend came around, and I couldn’t forgo four days of bikepacking. I had a grand weekend biking, but with that, a busy weekend following and then getting a cold – I missed the two longest runs in the plan. Oops.

By then it was time to start easing up before marathon day. I did at least not overdo it and went in well rested. The big weekend rolled around with an air of inevitability. I had no doubts that I’d finish. My best run in training was 27 km at a comfortable pace – so I was confident I’d get through the first 30 km OK, and then just suffer through the last 12 km. Not a great plan, but I didn’t really know how my body would react after the 30 km mark.

After some ordinary autumnal weather, race day dawned clear and cold. Possibly the coldest morning we’ve had so far this year. A slightly larger breakfast than normal went down and I still had plenty of time to walk to the start line, stretch a little and assemble in the start pen and wait for the gun.

Following a quick wave to friends spotted in centre of the runners, the gun went off and a mass of nerves and limbs took off around the corner. Through Ahuriri and past the Port of Napier, this was all familiar running surroundings. But the throng of other runners and being on the road was unusual. I was trying to keep to five minute kilometres, but expected to go out a little fast. Once the crowd thinned a little, I started a four hour history podcast going and settled into a slower pace listening to an account of the final throes of the Great War.

On such a glorious morning, there were plenty of supporters out cheering people on. It was especially odd to be running down Marine Parade. Through some back streets, we were soon out into more rural areas – it sure had been easier biking the course. I’d mentally prepared myself for the six kilometre stretch of stopbank to Pakowhai; this part of the course wasn’t particularly interesting or scenic, but did at least pass the halfway point.

The road back to Clive saw me start to slow noticeably; there was a large contingent of supporters on the way out of Clive (about the 30 km mark) – so that was encouraging. It was nice to be out in the sun, with little wind and trying to imagine all the local scenes as a visitor would see them – this particular event seems to have become a destination race and is heavily promoted (or vice versa, perhaps). My feet started to swell a little, I should have stopped and loosened my laces – but didn’t for some reason.

Getting pretty sore on my feet, after 35 km short stretches of walking eventuated – while slow, they did at least keep me moving towards the finish line. My running was probably pretty ugly by then (there are definitely no good event photos that are worth paying for!), and plenty of people passed me. At Black Bridge, the shorter courses joined and there was only a few kilometres to go! Those still on the half- and 10 km courses were not much faster than me, so that wasn’t too discouraging.

Over the last little bridge and down into Haumoana, I managed to run the last two kilometres. After the good atmosphere and support previously, running through this stretch was disappointing and anti-climatic. There were people wandering every which way, many on the course and it was difficult to weave through them in my tired state. Just as my podcast was winding up, my phone started ringing in my ears – apparently the builders replacing my house’s roof had struck a plumbing emergency with water gushing all over! Leaving them to deal with it as best they could (it worked out fine, and didn’t cost too much) I turned into the finishing chute at Elephant Hill. Still not completely sure how I managed to take a phone call while running to the finish of a marathon – surreal.

I think I managed to at least run over the finish, collect my medal and a lot of fluid. Pretty happy to finish, and at 3:53:14, well within my vague goal. I went and found a nice patch of shady grass to lie on.

So it turns out I did have a marathon in me somewhere, at least that question is answered. Pleasing to find that out and satisfying having put in a concerted effort over the previous months. Now I’ve done one, I’m sure there is a lot of time to be shaved off – but really I’d rather get back to riding my bike more, keep Park Run up, and run shorter distances around hills and trails more.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Escapade

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Long-harboured curiosity and ambitions to ride the notoriously hilly and difficult Gentle Annie road from Napier to Taihape were finally realised over Easter. A fantastic patch of weather forecast amongst unseasonable grey and cool days were more than enough motivation for me to take off for the four days on my bike. I may be one of the few people that is disappointed that the sealing of the Gentle Annie was completed some years back, I’d have much preferred long stretches of gravel and even fewer cars. Alas, I had a very smooth day confident that I’d make it to Taihape before dark.

Managing to get organised, I left before dawn and was quickly out through fields of grapes and apples. The few diary farms passed by as the country slowly got hillier. Very slowly mind you, it wasn’t until after sixty kilometres that the climbing proper started.

In the meantime I occasionally looked back over Hawke’s Bay while making my way through the copious amount of food I’d packed for a day with no services.

The first big climb took me about an hour, but it wasn’t too steep as holiday traffic increased from non-existent to very little. Mostly it was alongside company pine forest, never the most interesting view – but good to see where it was and also pass some places I’d heard mention of. It was warming up and layers were shed as far as my short-sleeved shirt. The whole weekend was a very pleasant temperature – warm while climbing, but the descents were definitely and delightfully cooling.

Looking over to the northern reaches of the Ruahine Ranges.

I made sure to stop regularly to admire the view and eat my way through all the extra weight I was carrying. The four wraps I’d made that morning were spot-on.

Te Manihi (1099 m) – just before dropping down to the popular Kuripapango campground and crossing the headwaters of one of the big Hawke’s Bay rivers, the Ngaruroro.

Having crossed the river, the eponymous climb began and it was a good one. Only twenty minutes and ten percent, it was still slow going. It must have looked hot work as a guy in a car not much bigger than my bike stopped and gave me a nice cool bottle of Powerade. Much appreciated.

It doesn’t look too steep, but this convoy of caravans stopped as they were cooking their brakes.

The Gentle Annie hill done, it was very pleasant to spend ten kilometres up on the tops of those hills – at just under 1000 m above sea level, the views in all directions were grand.

Kaikomata Range.

The views of Ruapehu were excellent, I was surprised by how much snow was up there already.

The road quickly dropped down to the mighty Rangitikei River. And reared steeply out of the valley, probably the toughest climb all day – it was a bit of a grovel.

By this stage I was pretty sure I’d arrive well before dark, so I was in even less of a rush. Now mid-afternoon, the little traffic there was really dropped off. It was a very peaceful ride through small settlements. I started to develop a severe case of sideroad-itis, wondering what was up and how long are the numerous sideroads. For now I have to content myself with looking at maps, but as with most places I ride – there are always plenty of reasons to go back and explore further.

One final climb done, it was a gentle cruise down to Taihape as dusk approached and the air cooled. I was pleased to find a store open so I could stock up for another unserviced day of riding. The Rusty Nail Backpackers was a great find and home for the night – copious amounts of hot-cross buns, a roaring fire and fellow guests that cooked too much and very generously fed me dinner. A ripping day out in the sun and hills, it was well worth the wait.

With only a short Saturday on the cards, I had the luxury of leaving just after daybreak. This did mean that traffic on the short stretch of State Highway One was still mercifully quiet. Fittingly for a day in which, even more so than the previous one, I felt I was constantly plummeting into gorges and groveling out, I turned into Gorge Road and headed towards the Ruahines.

A nice little climb to warm up deposited me into this colourful scene.

I soon dropped sharply to cross the Rangitikei again, riding over a deep and narrow gorge.

Out of that valley I soon found a sublime patch of gravel winding its way through farms littered with golden trees and dropping into the next valley, the Kawhatau.

Climbing out of that one, I had intended to turn right towards Mangaweka but I spied a sign to Rangiwahia. I’d not previously considered that option as it is off the cycle route I was loosely following. When a friendly local stopped to see if I was OK and then advised me the alternative was mostly gravel, that clinched it; I turned left.

Ruapehu popped up again.

The promised section of gravel twisted and turned, taking me to the highest point of my day and then pointing me towards Rangiwahia. Here I rejoined the route of my favourite day on my Tour Aotearoa – who knew northern Manawatu was so absolutely lovely? Dropping into and climbing out of more gorges, I turned south on Main South Road – which would be one of the more tedious road names on the trip. But that’s OK, as I soon passed Conspicuous Road – which took the title of best road name.

For some reason the TA course went down the west side of the Pohangina River; I turned onto a new road, Pohangina Valley East Road (fairly self-explanatory), and enjoyed the solitude and autumn sunshine. Requisite riverside climbs and descents passed by easily before crossing the river for the pleasant downhill into Ashhurst. The short section of highway towards Palmerston North was loud and tedious, but thankfully it had a wide shoulder. Before long I was heading along familiar roads from my uni days to the home of dear friends. A very pleasant and much easier day that one, it was great to see familiar faces.

Easter Sunday brought a leisurely seven o’clock and very little traffic as I carried on along the Tour Aotearoa route. It was slated to rain for much of the day, I was thankful for every minute longer I stayed dry under threatening skies. With a nice section of gravel, I was in Pahiatua sooner than expected; but meeting expectations, everything was shut for the public holiday. That didn’t prevent some concerted snacking while I pondered my route choice. Not having ridden either option, I chose the hillier, more direct route to Pongaroa.

Following the Makuri River up its valley, the climbing was gentle with plenty of sheep farms and magpies providing the visual interest.

Watching and listening to dogs mustering sheep was about the most activity I saw all morning.

Native forest! Maybe I’d climbed just a little.

Rounding a corner I was taken by the sight of the Makuri Gorge stretching in front of me – it sure is fun taking roads with no knowledge or expectation as to what one may find. The road narrowed and steepened as the gorge tightened, before opening up at the small village of Makuri (a small school, a church and a smattering of houses). It looks a nice spot to come back to explore some of the gravel roads I’ve since realised are nearby.

The road reared up as much as it had all day and, after a couple of switchbacks, took the direct route up and over the Puketoi Range. Dropping off the ridge the descent was fast towards Pongaroa. I was impressed to look back and see a long bush-clad escarpment stretching away along the range, I’m not used to seeing too many such sights in NZ. I wondered if anything would be open in Pongaroa, I thought probably not.

An Event sign, hmmm, what could be going on?

To my surprise Pongaroa was heaving, the main street covered in people, cones and pick-ups. Turns out, I’d managed to unwittingly arrive on the one busy day of the year in the small settlement. It was the final day of a three-day hunt, and time for the weigh-in. Consequently a wide variety of dead animals, mostly deer and pigs, were spread on pick-up trays and hanging from hooks. Amongst all the gumboots, bush singlets and beer-swilling I cut a strange sight wheeling a loaded MTB in – I’m just glad I gave up wearing lycra well over a decade ago, no need to advertise my leanness in such company.

The pub was, of course, open – so I didn’t have to delve into my luggage to find lunch. Trying to keep out of the sun in the beer garden (the rain still hadn’t turned up), it was a pleasant rest taking it all in. I wasn’t expecting to see someone from work on my little Easter ride, but there you go.

I rolled out of town while things were still getting going, the traffic picking up now – every second vehicle seemingly another truck with antlers or trotters pointing in some direction. Two cheery cycle tourist also rode past, sans large animal carcass – they were the only other bike tourers I saw all weekend, disappointingly. The twenty-odd kilometres to the Weber junction were cruisy and very pleasant, which was welcome as I knew (from a stay in Wimbledon twenty months ago) the next section was hilly.

Quickly I was in my easy gears and an audiobook was playing for the spin up the hill. I was interested to see how much further logging operations had progressed since my last visit. Bombing down into Wimbledon, familiar sights blew past – this pub was certainly closed, I suspect all its patrons were in Pongaroa. As the shadows lengthened I crossed back into Hawke’s Bay, I was basically home – apart from 150 km of riding, that is.

One just has to stop for a sign this long.

The few remaining climbs didn’t get me 200 m above sea level, so the last sixty kilometres into Waipukurau were steady going as I set my lights going against the descending darkness. It still had not rained all day, nor had any wind appeared – it was a little surreal riding through the night so late in autumn with bare arms and legs, any extra layers were not required.

Over dinner in town I debated the last 80 – 100 km (route dependent) home. If I had have brought more light, being home by midnight was not out of the question. I’d had a rather leisurely paced 200 km day and still felt good. Alas, I was not certain I could eek that much illumination out of the lights I had, so I opted for the campground. Managing to sneakily find a roof under which to lay my head, I didn’t have to get in my bivy bag and slept well, missing the early morning rain.

Monday morning took me home, actually having to wear my rain gear for the half-hour between Waipukurau and Waipawa (huzzah for the new cycle trail taking bikes off State Highway Two). Quiet back roads took me to the busyness of Havelock North. With the slight shower gone, I couldn’t believe how warm, still and settled the weather had been – this ride was worth the wait. Negotiating Hastings, it was then cycle trail all the way back; using some of the plentiful energy left, and perhaps with an eye to the cloud behind, I made good pace to get home half an hour before the heavens opened.

A top leisurely trip all around: great countryside, little traffic and brilliant autumn weather. Now I just have to deal with that sideroad-itis and get back out there exploring more – it is all rather close to home after all.

around home, bikes, event, GPS, MTB, NZ

Triple Peaks – finally

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Since moving to Hawke’s Bay near on four years ago, I’ve heard much of the long-established Triple Peaks event. It seemed to have a reputation as a punishing race (MTB or run) climbing three peaks (obviously) near Havelock North. As two of the peaks are on private land, this event is one of the few chances to ride all three. I fairly regularly ride up Te Mata Peak and had been fortunate enough to ride up Mt Erin with a group – which just left the tallest, Mt Kahuranaki, for me to check out.

Unfortunately the weather had been dire the previous two years, and with the Tukutuki River running too high the reserve course had to be used – removing Kahuranaki from the event. One of those years it was so wet, Mt Erin was removed too and the race just went up a very slippery Te Mata three times. Keen to see new places, I’ve always reserved my entry until the weather forecast was likely to allow exploring of somewhere new. This year was finally that time; I entered a few days beforehand.

The days leading up to race day were dry, so the river was low and the A-course was good to go. A little rain overnight before the start greased things up just a bit. It had been a long time since I’d done an actual race, and I certainly wasn’t in anything resembling race-mode (whatever that is) – I’d chosen my bikepacking bike and left the frame bag on so I could carry plenty of food for the fifty kilometres, which I hoped would take me about four to four and a half hours. I found a spot near the middle of the field as 120-odd riders waited for the seven-thirty start.

That wasn’t a great idea, I should back myself more, as climbing gently out of town on seal I eased past many people on much bigger bikes – bringing numerous comments about a motor being hidden in my frame bag. I was in no rush as we started the climb of Mt Erin on farm tracks. It certainly was greasy and at times, with the particular tyres I had, it was easier to get off and run through sections of mud and slop. At least I wasn’t on a cyclocross bike – that looked miserable.

Suddenly the track we had been following ended and the course had us carrying and pushing bikes up steep, slippery grass slopes. I wasn’t quite expecting this level of hike-a-bike, but without luggage my bike seemed very light – another bright side. Settling into the adventure, I admired the view over the Heretaunga Plains as it opened up.

There was a camera, so I got back on my bike.

I stopped longer to admire the view, and found the doctor to snap a picture of this close-to-home adventure.

The music emanating from near the transmission tower drew us closer. I may have stopped a while longer to listen a bit.

Just your average piper and drummer on top of a hill at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning as scores of people rode and ran past.

Off Mt Erin on a rigid bike was just brutal. The tracks were rough enough, but crossing steep paddocks threw me all around and slowed me – plenty of people passed me. But that was only ten minutes of bouncing about before a winding trail through some riverside scrub led to the river crossing. With the Tukituki only knee-high, it was a fairly easy carry and rather nice to cool off a little. Through the aid station I’d no need to pause before a short section of road and farm track led to the bottom of Kahuranaki.

I was surprised when Shaun, a colleague and much stronger rider than me, caught up to me and chatted for a bit – surely he was well ahead of me. I’d not recognised him bent over repairing a flat at the bottom of Mt Erin. Climbing around the back of Kahuranaki was a steady gradient of ten percent, the surface was mostly good and I made steady progress. Nearing the summit, loud tunes were blasting down from a huge sound system – this was certainly motivating and took one’s mind off the climb. Cloud rolled in and it got quite misty very briefly, I enjoyed what of the view I could see. Only just below the summit did the hike-a-bike start, picking one’s way through boulders strewn down the slope.

Another camera, time to hold onto mine and get back on the bike.

With a last scramble up to the trig and a tentative carry off the very peak, it was more bumpy crossing of pasture before finally reaching a well-maintained track. The descent turned fast and wild. Forty-one minutes up, thirteen down. It was fantastic fun; made somewhat exciting on the bi-directional part of the course where some people couldn’t grasp the concept of keeping left. Never mind, it was exhilarating weaving at pace through those hardly moving.

Through the river aid-station again, it was encouraging to hear a couple of familiar voices cheering above the rather loud drums (not of the highland variety). Another familiar face was a marshall at a point halfway across flatter farmland. It is nice to see such people unexpectedly in the middle of events. A stretch of quiet dead-end road had us continuing our route paralleling the river, before we turned away and sharply rose through another farm. More ten percent gradient and more pushing.

Back on the bike, we approached the final peak, Te Mata, from the opposite side to that which I am used to. Some familiar spots led to the Back Track, which is normally walking only. Well, going up, it was still walking only. More of a goat track, it was narrow and numerous switchbacks led up the steep slope. It was easy enough to push up it, but at almost twenty percent it was not a climb I’d be riding up anytime soon – I’d definitely not be able to negotiate the corners. I was happy with my progress and energy levels still, every so often I’d haul someone else in and then expect them to pass me on the descents – they didn’t anymore.

With time for a brief drink at the top, familiar trails beckoned me back to town and the finish. Still bumpy on MTB trails, I held on and pointed down. Thankfully we didn’t have to survive the original MTB track – there would have been significant carnage. Instead, flying down the road for a bit, we hit the flowy trails to Chambers Walkway, a brief bit of road and then some more singletrack before the final road section. To my surprise I still had plenty left to pedal hard and get back in four hours and eight minutes.

Even more startling was that I’d got home in tenth place in a field of a hundred and twenty. I wasn’t really expecting that, and perhaps should have not faffed around so much with photos and admiring the view. Never mind, it was a great morning out on the bike seeing new places and views. With far more hike-a-bike than expected, it certainly was a challenging ride – but I loved it and was proper impressed by such a well-run and iconic local event. Definitely worth the wait.