Category Archives: GPS

Bikepacking Waikaremoana – Wairoa to Rotorua

The possibility of riding between home (Napier) and Rotorua had been mentioned a couple of times at work by Steve and me. While not initially put off by the idea, the thought of doing over two-hundred kilometres of highway (the start hilly and quite narrow) in one day rather discouraged me. Then a cycle-tourist who stayed the night carried on north to Wairoa and then rode the Waikaremoana highway. This is a highway in the loosest sense of the word – winding its way through the rugged and remote Te Urewera National Park, it is mostly gravel, sees little traffic and there are few settlements along the way. It is, however, yet another beautiful part of the country.

Convinced of the brilliance of a two-day bikepacking trip through the area, I just had to bring Steve around to the idea of a lot of unsealed-road riding. Although he’d never been bikepacking or cycle-touring, it wasn’t hard to get Steve onboard with the promise of a big, new type of adventure. A representative triathlete, I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with Steve as he’s one of those people who is so unbelievably active, it’s tiring just thinking about it; also, with Steve’s sizeable dose of Fear-of-Missing-Out I shouldn’t have been surprised he was a surefire starter-for-ten for my mad (the general consensus around the office as our plans leaked out) idea.

Unfortunately, we didn’t even got to Wairoa on our first attempt as I, unusually, got ill just in time for New Year’s weekend. This worked out well, as the weather turned horrid over much of the North Island that long-weekend – I was glad not to be out riding in such weather and sleeping in a tent. All the details worked out well for a repeat attempt the following weekend, so off we set for Wairoa early that Saturday morning. Delightfully, the fabled Osler’s Bakery was just opening as we drove into town – steak and mushroom pies are OK at eight o’clock in the morning for second breakfast, aren’t they? It was already 24ºC as we emptied the car and got our bikes and luggage sorted. It was clearly going to be a hot day, but we had all day to do 120-odd kilometres and the breeze blowing into us wasn’t too strong as we headed north over the Wairoa River and turned inland.

It was all rather flat for quite a while as we went up the broad river valley.

I was pleased to find classic Tip Top ice cream and Fanta advertisements on the side of a long-since-closed corner store in Frasertown.

I’m sure this sign is to warn off inexperienced gravel-road drivers and people who expect state highways in NZ to be up to a much higher standard than some (read: most) of them are. For the bikepacker, this serves to add to the anticipation for lightweight travel through remote places; I was well pleased to see this sign.

It was still all smiles as we had plenty of practice taking photos while riding along. This a particularly good one of Steven’s thumb, and for a change I make a photographic appearance in my own blog.

The sealed road ended after about thirty kilometres, but the climbing up to Lake Waikaremoana didn’t start in earnest for another fifteen or so. Another advantage of not doing this trip the previous weekend, was a lack of public-holiday traffic. That being said, there was a fair few people returning from the lake with boats and caravans at the end of their holidays. But the surface was good and we never had a problem with the traffic. Even the persistent norwester wasn’t too much of a hindrance on such a fine day – it had more of a cooling effect than a slowing one.

Taking a slight detour off the highway, we began a little side-tour; that of the Waikaremoana Hydro Power Scheme. This the lowest of three small power stations linked together, all using water flowing from the Lake Waikaremoana.

Riding across the dam of the hydro lake at Tuai – the power station in the distance. Most of our riding was now surrounded by either water or vast expanses of native bush.

First swim stop of the day for Steve.

As is quite common, a small town (large village, really) was to be found near this hydro power scheme. This one, Tuai, obviously built for the construction of the dams & powerhouses and still looking in really good condition. Just a representative house that I happened to snap while riding past.

We rejoined the highway and the climbing continued, but never steeply. Here we look back down to Tuai.

We lost a bit of altitude taking another detour to the third power station, Kaitawa. These penstocks bring water down from Lake Waikaremoana after it’s travelled through a tunnel. It was at this point Steve suggested we should ride up there as a shortcut; I suggested he go jump in the lake while I had first-lunch.

A rather reflective sign about the power scheme: in case anyone still cares and so I can stop banging on about it so much.

Quite picturesque really, despite the infrastructure. We set off on a short walk around the lake, but it never opened up and gave us good access to or views of the lake. So we turned back.

Steve did take that second swim, while I enjoyed my bacon & egg pie from Osler’s. Only when he tried to get out of the tailrace, did Steve realise the walls were really quite high.

We did make it up the access road beside the penstocks – it did save a bit of backtracking distance and in our granny gears the 20+% gradient was OK.

After that steep climb, we were pretty much at lake (Waikaremoana) level after about five hours and sixty kilometres. From there it was undulating for seven kilometres around the lake edge to Home Bay and second-lunch. You may have noticed a bit of a theme here: not travelling solo meant taking a large tent, which somehow Steve ended up with (still didn’t really help me to tire him out). Which in turn meant I had a lot more room on my bike to carry delicious, and necessary, food.

Finally, more of Panekire Bluffs came into view – much as I remember them from my last visit to the area to do the three-day hike around the lake with Adele.

Once again it proved impossible to keep Steve out of the water – just a swim across Home Bay & back this time, about a mile. I sat under a tree and enjoyed the $80/kg pastrami from the store at the campground.

Following the north edge of the lake on pretty flat road (now with even less traffic than not-much), I was confident that we would easily make the saddle and highest point on the route well before we’d had enough for the day or run out of daylight.

When we rode over the bridge atop Mokau Falls, we didn’t even realise they were there – let alone, that they looked like this.

This was our final view of Panekire Bluffs, perhaps the best yet.

Heading away from the lake towards the saddle, it was a gradual climb up a gentle valley shaded by the dense bush on our left. Crossing from Hawkes Bay to Bay of Plenty it wasn’t long until the summit. While the route was an awful long gravel road, it was interspersed with short stretches of seal – mostly around settlements and on any steep hills. Over the saddle I was pleased that the steep descent was sealed – my cross tyres proving a bit sketchy on anything too loose and fast.

We’d heard much of wild horses all over the road once over the saddle. Here, our first sighting; also memorable as just past all those cars was our first being-chased-by-a-fierce-dog experience of the trip (something else we’d also be warned about).

We took the opportunity to fill water bottles at a derelict motel in Ruatahuna – I haven’t got sick yet – before a few kilometres up to where there was supposed to be a campground. At least I was hoping so, details were elusive online – I think it was once a DOC campsite, but no longer. Anyway, it was there with a picnic table, plenty of space, a toilet, the Whakatane River in its infancy and masses of persistent sandflies (a bit like Scottish midges, small bitey insects that attack by stealth [unlike mosquitoes]). Steve made camp and just for a change from lakes, got in the river for his fourth swim of the day while I whistled up the culinary delights that are freeze-dried meals.

What a fantastic day’s riding – great route, excellent scenery, lovely summer weather, plenty of food, good adventuring company and even a bit of engineering history. Well pleased and well worth the effort.

Our set-up for the evening, I probably should have been not still sitting down.

We even had blue ducks visit our campsite! An endangered species native to NZ, they feature on our ten dollar note/bill and I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before. Fortuitously, we didn’t even have to go searching for them, as they can be hard to find (obviously, they’re endangered & therefore rare) – they came to us.

A few of the locals dropped in for an evening graze.

After a warm, surprisingly restless night considering the previous day’s efforts it was a leisurely start to the day. Fueled up on porridge and many other snacks (jerky for breakfast? – if you’re going to carry excess food, you may as well eat it) we were on our way. The morning had cooled a fair bit and it was slightly cloudy too – just as well we started with an easy climb to warm us up again. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we came across a fair few people just walking along the otherwise deserted road. Rather odd, until we got to a rather small settlement with a marae.

Our gentle climb to start the day, just kept on going and turned out to take us to the highest point of the day – we were done with it within an hour and the road turned back to seal (mostly) for the screaming descent to the Minginui turn-off. And that was the gravel road riding done for the day – things weren’t quite so interesting as we got out of the remoter areas. Actually, things started to look vaguely familiar. When Dad was a dairy management consultant in the Bay in the ’90s, this area was on the outer edges of one of his patches. So when we stopped to talk to local roadies on their Sunday morning rides (not a cafe stop in sight out here), I recognised a fair few place names.

The steelwork of destroyed picnic tables makes for great bike-stands; here at the highest point of the second day – looking back over the Ureweras.

We stopped at this old service station shortly before Murupara to fill water bottles – we’d been warned about the dogs in town, so avoided that.

From Murupara it was a twelve or so kilometre climb up through boring plantation forest with fast-moving traffic into the wind. Definitely not with the pleasure of the previous day’s riding. Still, the closer we got to Rotorua the more familiar things seemed. We started passing places I remember from my first bike tour twenty years ago (crikey) – a school holiday camp.

It was strange seeing Mt Tarawera looming up from a different angle – but all the same, there it was.

We turned off the highway just before Rainbow Mountain and joined the Te Ara Ahi for our final stretch to Rotorua and Steve’s car. Stopping at Lake Okaro (a rather nice little lake I didn’t even know was there – there are many lakes in the area) to finish off the food for lunch, I was surprised that Steve didn’t have a swim. There’s a slim chance he was getting a little tired, but I think it unlikely. Heading west from Waimangu, we bore the brunt of a vigourous westerly – it was awful. But then the cycle trial turned for twenty kilometres of downhill to town – the wind didn’t matter so much then. I don’t recommend that cycle trail – it’s basically a concrete path right next to the highway: dead boring and quite horrible.

At least it was an easy finish to a most excellent adventure – with a bit of luck I’ve opened Steve’s eyes to the possibilities of exploring all sorts of places by bike. We got to Steve’s parents’ place, cleaned up, ate a bit more and filled the car.  Somehow we fitted in three bikes, all our touring luggage, some Christmas presents, two collapsible workshop benches and countless tools.

Mangatutu Hot Springs Bikepacking Overnighter

Even before I moved to Napier (albeit the day before) I was told of some hot springs up the hills to the west of town. Being at the end of a long gravel road, that it is almost two hours’ drive from home for a relatively short distance hints at the sort of country one must pass through to reach the reward of a hot soak. Any suitable opportunity to go up there and do a bit of hiking was not forthcoming and a quick look at the map had me thinking such a route would make a great bikepacking trip from home.
I wasn’t wrong. After a large Saturday lunch and vaguely remembering where everything camping is supposed to go on my bike, I set off for the hills. Into the foothills on a day of patchy clouds and a cooling (and helpful) southerly, the climbing was modest for thirty-odd kilometres – a good opportunity to get used to a cumbersome loaded bike again. Weekend traffic was light and the views started to stretch further afield.

Loaded up again for, hopefully, another summer of bikepacking adventures.

Progress was steady, as was the climbing and three hours in a plateau at about 600 m was reached. I was surprised to see a reasonably sized school at Patoka, and a golf course at Puketitiri – unfortunately the little school there closed some years ago. I was chased remarkably well by a spirited fox terrier – that thing must have topped thirty kilometres per hour. Thankfully I have no fang marks around my ankles.

It was three-quarters of the trip before the seal ended and the gravel started – mercifully it has been a long time since it was last graded, so the tracks were smooth. There was so little traffic I enjoyed riding on the right hand side of the road as if I was back in the northern hemisphere. In the early evening light, everything started looking even nicer and the Kaweka Ranges came into view.

The road kept dropping down a fair bit before remembering it really should be around 600 m, energy levels dropped accordingly. But I was pleased my legs weren’t really complaining. As I entered the DOC (Dept. of Conservation) land the flowering manuka (tea-tree) stands were staggering. The little white flowers blanketed the hillsides, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen so much manuka in bloom before.

My arrival at the campground at the end of the road was greeted by all sorts of astonishment. They said I was mad for biking all the way in here – “but I built it all the same”. Perhaps I was, but that’s fine as I quickly found a secluded little spot to pitch my tent, cook my dinner and marvel in the beauty of the area and just how fantastic the afternoon was. I was well chuffed with the little adventure.

Water bottles topped up from a steep walk down to the Mohaka River, it was time to reward my muscles with a hot soak. A short walk down the hill from the campground are two small pools which are filled by water flowing down from a spring above. I must have sat in, or half-in, there for a good two hours. The campground was well populated, but not overly so as I imagine it will be in a few days, and there was a steady stream of people to chat to. It was a little strange being treated as a crazy-man/minor celebrity for being the guy that biked all the way in – but everyone was very generous and after a couple of offered drinks I had to start turning them down. The oddest thing was a young guy who went all the way back up the hill to get a cooker so he could have pancakes – hot pool pancakes and ice cream were quality.

After a fitful sleep and a leisurely Sunday morning start to the day, I got to ride down all the hills I’d ridden up (but there were still a reasonable number to ride up) and get chased by the same dog again before returning home twenty-four hours, to the minute, after departing. Such fun!

Kiwi Brevet 2015 – My Day Seven

Overnight rain had passed through and after a good sleep it was a leisurely start to Friday. With a large civilised breakfast around a table, it was after eight o’clock before Oliver and I pedaled out of Tapawera. Before long we were riding through more boring plantation forest, cresting the hill and rolling down to Wakefield – at least we found a lot of ripe blackberries on the roadside. With a day and a half to do only 240 km, we were taking plenty of stops. It warmed up some and as we came to cross the main road we got stopped in our tracks by a large procession of hot rods – it was Waitangi Day (NZ’s national day) so a lot of people were out and about.

Thankfully the store was open late morning on a public holiday, so it was a stock up for lunch and my seventh and last pie in five days. The large bag of salt & vinegar crisps I bought required some creative stowing – eventually they ended up stuffed down my shirt; ready access – brilliant. I had hoped the Taste (cycle) Trail into Nelson would provide plenty of opportunities to sample local food and wines – disappointingly, it didn’t. In fact it was quite boring; but it was flat, smooth and fast and we were in Nelson to have a brief rest beside a small river in the shade. That break was supposed to be lunch, but we’d eaten too much in Wakefield.

Somewhere along the way we’d got to deciding that it would be cool to finish the course in less than seven days – that would mean being back in Blenheim by ten o’clock Saturday morning. Instead of camping the night at Aussie Bay along Queen Charlotte Drive, we would instead get to Picton that night and see if we wanted to go much further. If Picton was the overnight stop, that would only leave sixty-five kilometres and about four hours’ riding the next morning. I was starting to get a bit bored with the scenery so was wondering if I might be able to push through the night to finish – also pitching a tent for only few hours seemed a waste of riding time.

Leaving Nelson up the Maitai Valley was all very pleasant as we passed some big parks with plenty of people out enjoying the warm weather. Fortuitously, as we hit a nasty nasty climb the clouds started to roll in from the west and it wasn’t nearly as hot and uncomfortable as it could have been. The ascent of the Maungatapu was more than enough unpleasantness without sweltering in harsh sunlight. Once again, as on Day Five, it took two hours to go ten kilometres – but this time there was a unrelenting six hundred metres of vertical gain to also be earned. This was mostly pushing, but at least a higher proportion was rideable (just) than Porika Road the day before.

The only photo of the day – looking back towards Nelson from the saddle.

With not too much cursing, we attained the saddle to see the only person for hours, a young guy wandering around with a rifle – brilliant. After a brief chat it was a fast, fun & rocky descent to Pelorus Bridge. Just as we popped into the DOC campsite office to fill water bottles, the big cloud that had been chasing us since Nelson unrelentingly dumped rain as we sheltered near the cafe. Thankful to have avoided that, we waited it out and hit the highway to Havelock. We’d both been craving hot chips for a while, so finding the grocery store closed we headed to a chippie and stocked up on delicious chips.

Out of Havelock was the most tired I felt all day, I struggled along for half an hour or so until we left Pelorus Sound. Reaching the very top of Queen Charlotte Sound, near The Grove jetty, was the dead-cert highlight of the day – and easily the wildlife viewing moment of the week. Initially we rode past a bunch of tourists stopped on the side of the road, as tourist are want to do, before thinking there might be something to see. There definitely was – in the low light of the evening one could just make out a faint disturbance in the water’s surface between some boats anchored fifty metres off shore.

Gradually, a large pod of quite sizeable dolphins came towards us spending more and more time above the water. They came in quite close to the jetty and as they kept going in & out of the water it was difficult to work out how many there were – I think about fifteen. It was one of those majestic memories that will have to stay in my mind as my camera was buried deep due to the heavy shower earlier. The rest of the day seemed quite boring in comparison.

It was only another fifteen-odd kilometres to Picton around the edge of the sound as night closed in and we tried our best to not be hit by slow-driving tourists. We’d decided to keep going & see how far we might make it – if too tired, we’d simply camp somewhere. Thus Picton was our last chance to stock up for the night-ride ahead; after finding the only eating places in town open were bars and restaurants we went towards the main ferry terminal – I’ve never been so happy to see a Subway open. Foot-longs devoured it was about ten o’clock before we left Picton for the last sixty-five kilometres to Blenheim via Port Underwood and the coastal road.

I’d been well warned that this was a rather hilly route and would take hours – also, Oliver had toured it not so long ago. It persistently rained upon leaving Picton for about ninety minutes – until the top of the biggest remaining climb (crossing from Waikawa to Port Underwood). We managed to grind out all the climbing, the quick downhills were freezing in night and the about twenty-five kilometres of gravel road was in pretty poor condition. With quite a few stops to snack, put on a layer or take layers off (it was quite warm going up the hills) I was pleasantly surprised by my ability to keep pushing the pedals around, however slowly, as it was soon the early hours of Saturday morning. It’s nice to do something completely mad every so often.

Finally we were out of the hills after forty kilometres that took over four hours (that is proper slow on the road) – it was probably good that darkness concealed all but what was immediately in front of us. I couldn’t see how big the looming hills were or just how awful the road surface was. On the plains back to Blenheim the sky finally cleared and as the roads were straight and progress was much easier, Oliver started to get a bit sleepy – understandable as it was about three o’clock by this stage.

Eventually, we were back in Seymour Square in Blenheim at 3.40 to absolutely no fanfare – as you’d expect, there wasn’t even a passerby or stray dog to witness our achievement at this time of the day. So that was that – 1150 km around the upper South Island in seven days less four hours. Naturally I was pleased to finish and with the achievement; dog-tired, I was almost just as pleased at how well we’d come through what turned out to be a twenty-hour day to cover 240 km with one bloody big hill in the middle and then multiple smaller steep climbs in the dead of the night. What a great event and I got to see so many new things!

Back to Doug & Shirley’s I found we’d been locked out, so had to pitch my tent anyway. With a few solid hours kip on the lawn, we were up in time to make it to a fun nine o’clock breakfast sharing campaign stories with a few of those riders we’d seen quite a bit of the previous days and who’d finished at a sensible hour the evening before.

Footnote:

I had enough time the following day before catching the ferry from Picton to Wellington to drive the rugged Port Underwood road in the daylight and appreciate the views we missed at night and see just how big the hills were. I’m not sure how we made it through in the dark – probably not being to see the challenges helped. It was hard enough to drive in a 4WD! At times the road was so steep and corrugated that the rear tyres would not grip and I had to put the truck into 4WD. Goodness knows what we were thinking riding through that after already having spent fifteen hours riding that day!

Picton was looking much nicer in the sunshine too:

I suspect this Chevy is carrying one of the Model Ts that was in Blackball just before us a few days previously.

Kiwi Brevet 2015 – My Day Six

To make up for the early rain-induced finish the previous day, Oliver and I managed to collect all the various clothes drying around the room and hit the road just after five o’clock. It was a cool morning rolling through the dark – Oliver seemed to take perverse pleasure in giving me updates on the low temperature from his GPS.

After an hour or so we were on the highway for a brief stretch, the day lightened and we turned off again and climbed through more native forest to Mariua Saddle. The two groups of riders that had stayed the night further down the road than us at Mariua caught us around here, annoyingly raving about the motel we didn’t stay in, and stuck in our general proximity to Murchison. Following the Matakitai River through more forest and then dairy farms, pleasingly we weren’t flattened by a milk tanker steaming through.

With a big refuel stop at the Murchison Four Square (nine-thirty is not too early for a big meat pie – not when you’ve already had a bacon and egg one for breakfast before five o’clock) we took our time repacking for the warming day and all the food we’d just bought – plenty of familiar faces rolled into town as we trundled out. Up the wonderfully named Mangles Valley, it was back on to gravel up a small saddle and dropping down to Lake Rotoroa in Nelson Lakes National Park – where I took my only photos of the day.

Lake Rotoroa – I’ve finally seen it, it wasn’t very exciting.

We’d been warned about the Porika Rd climb that was our route away from the lake and back to State Highway 63 by other competitors and people on the street in Murchison who seemed to gleefully delight in our impending torment. It was a pretty hard slog – a shade under five kilometres, seventy minutes of mostly pushing up a 4WD track to climb five hundred metres. But we made it with a bit of work and a few stops to look at the views and were rewarded with what was probably the highlight of the day – another big downhill on reasonable rough track through forest to the road.

That I only got photos at one point of the day, probably reflects the fact that this was the least interesting of event for me. There was no singletrack and it just felt like miles for miles sake – I was getting to the stage of just wanting to finish, but there was still three hundred kilometres to go. Then we reached the Buller River and followed it downstream for a while. Unfortunately as the valley narrowed, the nice tailwind we’d had in the morning funneled ever stronger straight into our faces. Progress was so slow and tough (at times I looked down to see I was going a measly eight kilometres an hour – pedaling downhill!) it was ridiculous to the point of being funny.

Thankfully that only lasted half an hour and we turned to ride up the Hope River Valley a little, before branching off into rather boring forestry (plantation forestry = boring; native forest = beautiful and interesting) to Tadmor Saddle and dropping down to the hop growing area around Tadmor – an indication we were getting into Tasman and nearing Nelson. Oliver was struggling to stay awake on this section and I was a little worn out too – so when we came across a charming little campground in Tapawera (I’d never heard of it, either), it was pretty easy to call it a day. That left us with two hundred and forty kilometres to go – an easy day and a half to get back to Blenheim sometime after noon on the Saturday, which had been my vague goal the whole way around. When we found the campsite had a fully equipped kitchen we were strangely excited – we could cook for ourselves! A five hundred gram packet of pasta was finished there.