Category Archives: national park

bikes, friends, MTB, national park, NZ

Classic Ruapehu District rides

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Getting wind of Anton’s planned weekend away mountain biking some classic trails near Ruapehu, it wasn’t long before I’d signed up/invited myself along. It had been a very long time since I’d been on a mountain biking weekend away, but I was keen to ride some of these trails relatively unloaded and on a squishy bike for a change.

First up, thirteen of us piled into the shuttle to the start of the Bridge to Nowhere trail on a misty and wet morning. Thankfully the heavy rain overnight had ceased. In hindsight, there was plenty of time to have ridden the thirty-four kilometres from Raetihi to the trailhead and I’d have enjoyed that more than a stuffy bus – but I was trying to be at least a little social and fit in, already feeling like a curiosity for not carrying a pack, having small bags strapped to my bike and generally enthusing too much about riding far on a loaded bike.

This is different.

First up, an easy climb for half an hour; the surface was pleasingly good.

Sitting around 600 m altitude for a while, we passed the Kaiwhakauka junction – from here on, I’d ridden on the Tour Aotearoa five years before. This time I was not nearly as tired, or contemplating such a big day. At the Mangapurua Trig after an hour, it was all downhill more or less to the river.

The quarter of an hour dropping four hundred metres to the stream was the best riding of the weekend for me. Chasing and then leading Dan (a fellow ex-NZ Steel graduate who I’d not seen for over twelve years) down the slippery (papa mud is notorious) double track at speed just on the right side of control was excellent. Being much slighter than Dan, I had to work hard to keep up with his momentum; the whole descent was grin-inducing with only the occasional two wheel slides around some of the sharper corners. So. Much. Fun.

Regrouping at one of the small shelters, the misty drizzle set in. Continuing while chatting about bikepacking (again, eyeroll) to Dan we were just cruising. That is until we were passed and I realised we were wasting a good downhill. Unfortunately I timed picking my speed up with one of the big holes we had been warned about. I managed to avoid it, but fell in the process and was fortunate not to be run over. I got off lightly with only a bruised and scraped knee and a sore wrist – along with being somewhat covered in mud, now slower and with my ego taking a hit.

The trail seemed in excellent condition and rounding slips and bluffs was far less precarious than I remembered. We were at the Bridge in no time, close to an hour and a half before we were to meet the jet boat. Plenty of time to linger and appreciate the bush and remoteness; until the rain set in again, that is, and we moseyed down to the shelter above the landing.

Yup, to nowhere.

All loaded up for the forty minutes down the river, just missing something.

A few kayakers coming to join us at the landing for a bit.

Eventually we got on the boat…

The rain really set in and it could have been a miserable trip down to Pipiriki. But I was just warm and protected enough that I could still enjoy and appreciate the incredible Whanganui River and its dense surrounds – majestical. Alas, no photos worth sharing with so much water flying around.

Loading the bikes again, wet and muddy we did a number on the bus interior for the tortuous trip to the northern trailhead of the Old Coach Rd. Unloading at Horopito the northerly was very strong and strangely chilly – but once moving, it did blow us quickly along the open part of the trail before we entered the bush. Another excellent trail, and being the old road for horse drawn coaches between two railheads gradually converging to form the North Island Main Trunk, it was well made. Heading in this direction was definitely faster than bikepacking in the opposite one, so less time to savour it and read all the historical signs.

A few planks would do it?

Everyone, that I heard, rated the trail very highly and at only an hour of riding twas a great end to a day out in the elements. Mountain Kebabs downed in Ohakune, forty minutes took us back to Raetihi in fading light and then dark. Noting the propensity of mountain bikers to wear mostly black and not carry lights, I was happy to play lantern rouge at the back in my bright green top and with a couple of blinky lights. I did have to find another dinner at the only option in the village, so I must have done some work – but with only sixty kilometres and little climbing in the legs for the day, it can’t have been much. After the murky and atmospheric day through some remote sections of the North Island, it was a contented and subdued group at the house that night.

Sunday I was excited to return to the 42nd Traverse – the first big, backcountry ride I ever did way back in 2005 and when I met some good riding buddies. Well, it seemed a big, remote adventure back then when I was much less experienced, bikes were far less rideable and reliable, and there was a lot less trail beta out there. That first time it was a whole-day undertaking, but I returned three years later and found it only took two and a half hours with one other. I did remember big ruts and holes, and tough long climbs…

Starting at 900 m, the drizzle quickly had us very wet and muddy – but it was warm. Route finding was much easier – there are trail markers now, who’d have thought? We passed a few vehicles coming back from a morning hunt, the surface was very good. Gone were all the big obstacles; sure, it was damp and possibly slippery – but all easily rideable. An hour of gradual downhill and we were then able to rip down the steeper descent – nothing too wild and more good fun. The seven of us were of a similar pace all day so there was little waiting around, it worked well.

Food time at the halfway point, not the whole reason for a big smile – a good wee adventure in progress.

The only walking section of the whole route. Seeing this, jackets came off despite it still raining – it was that warm.

I’m unsurprised that the climbs weren’t nearly as bad as they seemed over a decade ago – I may be a bit more used to hills. Still eight hundred metres in forty-five kilometres is some climbing. I was just happy to be able to keep pedalling as my gear shifting was playing up; time to replace jockey wheels it turns out. The rain ceased and the afternoon started to clear and warm – in time for the climbing of course. The native forest was far denser and more impressive than I remembered; another fun little ride done as we overcame the wet, wheel-sucking gravel into Owhango.

Completing the vehicle shuffle, we loaded up, said our goodbyes and headed home. A very unusual weekend of biking for me – far more time and distance spent in transit between rides (only rode 110 km all up) than I am used to, I found it a bit weird. But never mind, it enabled riding of some excellent routes with a great crew. Thanks to Anton for an incredible job of organising the whole weekend and marshalling us all – no mean feat.

Finally got to see the mountains we’d been playing in the shadow of all weekend when we stopped in Taupo on the way home for an early dinner.

Strange seeing my under-utilised mountain bike lightly loaded – before it got filthy.

bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, national park, NZ

Paparoa Loop

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Looking as it did, completely clagged in, after some deliberation we ditched our plan to ride the Paparoa Trail south that day. Raining at sea level, none of us were too disappointed not to be on the exposed tops. So that left us all day to ride the quiet West Coast highway to Blackball, where we’d booked a room in anticipation of riding the trail north in much better weather.

Rain came and went throughout the day, there certainly was plenty of water to see – between the ocean, streams from the hills and that falling on and spraying up at us it certainly was the Wet Coast. The wind and lack of traffic were kind as we ambled south, finding Barrytown’s closed bar and the make-your-own knife experience – we popped into have a look, or just to stand near the blazing forge.

A long cafe stay had us out of the Runanga rain and delivered another pie-light before a short detour to the Coal Creek Falls.

Turning inland and up the Grey Valley, the memorial and panels at the Brunner Mine Disaster site were worthwhile both as a poignant history lesson and more shelter as the rain increased again. As we climbed the largest hill of a flat day’s riding, the skies started to clear. Checking into the Hilton, this worked well for having drinks out the front of the hotel, drying soaked gear and more drinks on the balcony as the sun streamed down and steam started to rise off the streets. It was really quite nice to arrive somewhere early and have time to wander the streets of a place I’ve been a few times, but never really ventured past the Hilton.

We’d head for those hills in the morning.

Having been hurried through our dinner by the wait staff and successfully avoiding the ’80s music quiz, there wasn’t much for it but an early night. The motley assortment of beds and bunks were surprisingly comfortable, sleep was had and we were off into the hills around seven on Saturday. A solid thousand metre climb ensued in the murk; the first part on the recently widened road to the trailhead.

Just more coal casually lying about.

I’m told the bridges are pretty recent, otherwise the first part of the Paparoa is the old Croesus Track – a historic mining track up and over the range to Barrytown. That means that it’s a rocky surface firmly embedded in the benching that’s been there for over a hundred years of West Coast excessive-rain. That made it a slow, technical challenge of a climb and I loved it.

Out into the alpine at 900 m, Ces Clark Hut immediately appeared.

But we got to this cute wee hut first.

Up at the main hut, we watched as clouds rolled up the valley occasionally allowing us a view of our surroundings.

Out on the tops for the next two hours, this was the most exposed part of the trail – I was particularly glad we didn’t come up here the previous day. It wasn’t raining too much on us and it was only rather windy, not very or extremely windy – so we got off lightly.

This could have been a lot worse with a gale rushing up the slope from the sea, to the right.

There were enough glimpses down to know that it’d be worth waiting for a clear day (or few hours might be all that one could reasonably ask for) to ride through.

Suddenly, there is the Tasman Sea; not often I’m this high so close to the sea.

Moonlight Tops Hut is a big, new hut befitting the track’s Great Walk status. We stopped for lunch, chatting with the group of MTBers that had also left the Hilton that morning – two of the group we’d been leapfrogging most of the morning. As we left another group of five rode in, they were travelling lightly and it sounded as though it had been utterly miserable up there for them on Saturday.

We were now past the high point, the trail now gradually tending down for quite some time along the ridges. Of course there were plenty more little climbs.

Clouds dissipated long enough to see the large escarpment we would ride just behind the ridge line of.

The next hut, also new, was just perceptible left of centre of this shot – we’d approach along the ridge from the right.

Straight into a goblin forest we went as we neared the escarpment. Almost spooky, the mystical light, and the old-growth trees all so gnarled and covered in moss.

Rachel escaping the lair.

Quite the well made trail in rugged, inhospitable terrain – I was impressed.

Out of dense forest, the view opened and we could just spy a few Pike River Mine structures. I knew it was remote, but this was a level beyond what I was expecting; the sight was fairly incongruous and gave pause to reflect.

That hut’s getting closer, the route to be taken not much clearer.

The descent starting in earnest around here with a big series of switchbacks.

Seemed rude not to make the most of the various trailside seats we found. Lone Hand, on the right of that little range, fair captivated me – upturned towards the heavens as it was.

Stopping at Pororari Hut (another of Great Walk standard), we met our first hikers of the day. The skies cleared to a brilliant afternoon and it was much too pleasant chatting in the afternoon sun to want to roll on down to the valley floor and complete a fantastic day’s riding. But do so, we must eventually. Alas one doesn’t roll along a trail such as this – it was lumpy enough to require some effort with one final wee hill to cross to finish up around five. All my rain gear went on straight away, not because it was raining but to give the midges less to feast on.

What a trail. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and having company through such scenery. I’m looking forward to returning and seeing it again in – either summer or winter it could easily be a very different ride. No word yet when the Pike29 commemorative side trail will be open, but I suspect before I return; with the climb back up to the main trail, there will be plenty of time for reflection. Back home for more pie-lights (venison and rabbit) and to prepare for the following day’s adventure as I tried to make the most of a clear, but rapidly closing, weather window.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, national park, NZ

Heaphy Day

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Twas worth waiting for the weather, leaving the campground in the dark a cracker of a day dawned. Using the Heaphy Track as my gateway to the West Coast, I hoped to ride to and through it in the day. First there was fifty-odd kilometres of gentle road riding, but the big question was how much snow would be on the track? With a biking curfew during darkness (due to giant land snails, I kid you not), would I get off the track in time or be forced to overnight in a hut or campground? With form of riding the whole trail there and back in two short days around winter solstice, I figured I could easily start at nine in the morning and ride through in daylight – if the snow was kind.

The highway riding was peaceful and a gentle start to the day. Delayed as I couldn’t go past someone parked on a sketchy shoulder struggling to change a car tyre, I started to slip behind the vague schedule. But it was so lovely riding, there were no worries there.

Turning inland, I retraced my path back from the third corner trying to gauge just how much snow remained below 900 m. It was far more pleasant than the driving rain of three days before.

I took the gravel option over Mackay Pass that I’d skipped on the weekend (knowing I would come back for it) – it was worth the little extra climbing. Of course I had time to dive off route and check out a historic bridge and some falls – when was I going to be back?

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see another bikepacker approach as I neared Brown Hut and the start of the track. Into the only real climb of the day, I soon passed another bikepacker going my way – on a tour the length of the country, he was far more laden than most but having just as grand a time. Occasional glimpses through the dense bush afforded views of near hills lightly dusted with snow. At about 500 m snow started appearing trailside and as it gradually built, it was still easily rideable – until 800 m and then it just became easier to walk. Firm and dry it was really easy pushing over the snow, and on such a brilliant day it was no hardship.

A short walk for another view.

I already miss being able to fill bottles from the multitudes of clean West Coast streams.

Reaching the high point took two and a half hours; with gravity to assist, the run down to Perry Saddle hut was easily rideable. Following lunch in snowy solitude, the descent towards Gouland Downs was fun in the snow. More exposed to the sun here, it certainly was a soaking section. More engaging riding followed, especially the drop towards Gouland Hut, where I eventually caught up to a few groups of hikers soaking up the sun over lunch. More friendly chat before I pressed on.

Saxon Hut and more hikers to chat to, including one with a thirty-plus year old macpac pack – classic. Great to see so many families out in the school holidays enjoying the national park. Twists and turns and a smaller climb took me to James MacKay hut; even more pleasing to see a whole family out bikepacking. Oh my, the descent to Lewis Hut.. Three-quarters of an hour of twisting and turning losing altitude the whole time (save any stream crossings), the track is much improved from the big upgrade that was in progress five years ago. I clawed back some distance in short time with the big drop to sea level, various averages playing through my head – I was still confident I’d beat the curfew.

Into the coastal section, the change from snowy bush to riding through a sub-tropical rainforest was complete. Sea level it may have been, but it certainly was lumpy as the trail kept climbing around small bluffs and heading inland and up to cross raging streams. Getting to the end of a long day, all those little pinches were doing a number on me. But, the views!

One last hundred metre climb and down to the trailhead it was – leaving these views behind.

Beating darkness by almost two hours meant the pub was still pretty full and the kitchen open when I arrived an hour later. Well fed, I set off into the gathering dark to be warmly welcomed by Mark and Jenny – good friends of my sister. Running out of superlatives for the day, saying I thoroughly enjoyed the ride, the scenery and the challenge of it will have to suffice. It would have been nice to have had more time to explore further and more slowly, but a lot of the slack in my two weeks had been eaten up. Never mind, more reasons to return sooner.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, national park, NZ

HBOP 2 – Waihi Rd to Whirinaki via Moerangi Track

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A brisk morning greeted us, thankfully there were some rollers to warm us up a tad before dropping down to cross the Waikaretakehe and head towards the lake. Clouding over as we reached Piripaua power station – the lower of three in the scheme. Surprised again to show Pete a new road, we got off the main road and climbed gravel up to the quaint dam town of Tuai.

Across Lake Whakamarino to the Tuai power station.

Remembering my first ride through here, I was sure we could avoid the sealed section of Lake Rd and ascend beside the penstocks.

Over twenty percent, it wasn’t the easy option – but it was quiet.

It flattened out ever so slightly.

Finding the upper power station, Kaitawa, I figured we’d done enough pushing – heading for the main road it was for the last climbing up to Lake Waikaremoana. The precipitation ranged from mist to mizzle to drizzle, we arrived at the average store well in time for mid-morning pies – even if we had to microwave them ourselves. Still a little surprised to be riding mid Hawke’s Bay summer in rain and 10ºC, we were making good time and should make it to cafe at Ruatahuna before the two o’clock closure.

The moisture did at least damp the dust on the long stretch of gravel – and keep the traffic volumes low. It really was quite pleasant, even if we didn’t see quite as much as usual – the sights were different.

Across Whanganui Inlet

Leaving the lake and heading north.

I wouldn’t have been too surprised if that sign proved correct.

A longer climb took us up to the watershed and deposited us in the other Bay – the Bay of my childhood, Bay of Plenty. As we hoped, dropping quickly we soon left the clouds behind and found some warmth – and an open cafe. The menu was a bit restricted due to illness, but the frybread fish burger went down very easily – along with a pot of tea.

Is that the fish or the frybread?

Heading for the Moerangi Track and perhaps a night in a backcountry hut, we stocked up a little at the store before a pleasant stretch alongside the upper Whakatane River. I do so enjoy riding this area and each time piecing a little bit more of the geography together in my mind. Disavowing some poor lost young fullas that they were on the way to Whakatane, they soon turned and passed us again. Another climb and descent over, we headed up Okahu Rd towards the trailhead. The sudden increase in gradient at the end of the road was not as long as I remembered and by three-thirty we were heading into thirty-five kilometres of Grade 4 singletrack. I was hopeful we’d get out by dark, but a lot would depend on trail condition.

Ever so slightly more rugged gravel road riding.

Not quite looking up in time…

At the top of the first climb, back in Hawke’s Bay and admiring the ferns.

A nice section led us over ever-skinnier bridges, some rideable, some not, and down to Skips Hut.

Where it promptly began to rain again.

Up and over another couple of ridges, it was nice to be out in the late afternoon sun at Roger’s Hut.

Pete emerging from the mature native forest.

The next section to Moerangi Hut climbed steadily, a bit more technical, most was rideable but at times it made more sense to push one’s bike a little. Another break in the sun, snacking, at the hut was called for before the concerted spin and push to the high point of the track. Enjoyable as the long, bumpy descent is – maybe one day I’ll do it on an unloaded full-suspension bike. Occasional breaks in the forest cover gave glimpses of more bush and forest stretching to distant landmarks as the light faded. Just lovely.

At the far trail end by eight o’clock, three and a half hours of riding time with a loaded bike seemed quite reasonable. I was hoping whoever was at the Recreation Camp ten kilometres down a gravel road would take kindly to two smelly bikepackers invading and requesting a small patch of the giant lawn to camp on. The group of five families were lovely and plied us with tea, marshmallows to toast on the fire and a gazebo to sleep in – all we had to offer were, astonishing to them, tales of our day’s ride.

What a day it was too – not an easy day by any stretch (there were a few hills), but with plenty to see and some good breaks in the weather most enjoyable to be out exploring.