Category Archives: NZ

bikepacking, bikes, event, NZ

Renegades Muster

2 Comments

Short: It’s been a while, but it’s time for another one of these rides. Dotwatching here – https://renegadesmuster2021.maprogress.com/

Long: Riding new places and the chance to see plenty of good friends, such opportunities are not to be missed while they are there. Whether I should be embarking on such a multi-day ride at the moment, I’m unsure as I learn more about what a recent haemochromatosis (iron overload) diagnosis means. I’d not previously heard of it, and I’m unaware of anyone else in my family having it, but mine is hereditary.

Excessive absorption of iron so far manifests itself in getting very tired, achy joints, abdominal aches, and just not feeling well. Thought I was just getting old. I’m hopeful that it’s been diagnosed early enough that with the simple treatment (venesection), damage to organs from iron deposits can be avoided. Therapeutic venesection (blood-giving) is initially done weekly to purge the excess iron and reduce levels suitably, and then less-frequently to keep them there. My first venesection last week went well, but completely wiped me out for the rest of the day. The second session today may not be ideal preparation for days bikepacking, but it went ok and I haven’t been as exhausted, yet…

Oddly, I feel best and most myself when active (although motivation to get out and do things is far more difficult to find with the lethargy) – so at least the first day’s riding should go ok. After that, I guess there’s only one way to find out… I suspect I’ll be even slower than normal, but as always – seeing new places by bike is the main motivation. Clearly this has been building my whole life, only just reaching the point where the effects became noticeable and a diagnosis was made – so I’m optimistic that bringing my iron level down will get me back to some sort of normal that I’ve long forgotten. Remains to be seen though.

In the meantime, there’s the opportunity to get outside on a bike with friends somewhere new – I can’t miss that.

national park, NZ

Whanganui River Paddling

2 Comments

A multi-day trip down the Whanganui River has long been on the list of “non-biking NZ trips I really must get around to doing one day”. So when friends Josh and Victoria invited me along over Hawke’s Bay Anniversary long weekend, I quickly signed up. Arriving at Taumaranui Canoe Hire, we set about packing three days’ worth of supplies into the provided small barrels and were pleased to not have to put our tents up that night – a shipping container providing bunks and shelter, and no need to pack-up wet nylon after a clear night.

Weather looking good first thing near Taumaranui.

Briefing done, we were off in a van for a couple of hours, sparking many “I’ve ridden down/up this backroad” thoughts. Putting in at Whakahoro, we managed to get ahead of the dozen or so other canoes and set off down the river. With the river high, the current assisted us well all weekend and the rapids were a little less intense than they may have been. There began ninety-odd kilometres of floating down the mighty Whanganui.

The weather was kind, Friday being wonderfully warm and sunny, the following two days more overcast. Even better, the wind was negligible – only occasionally on the nose, often behind us. It made for some blissful stretches of simply just drifting downstream taking in the birdsong and native bush crowding in at the banks.

Short stretches of rapids kept things interesting, but we all managed to stay out of the water – even if the water didn’t always keep off us. Unfortunately, no photos of these fun times – it not being nearly as quick to secure one’s phone as on my bike.

We enjoyed stopping at each campground along the way to stretch our legs and eat – such a river trip provides far more opportunity to carry excessive amounts of food over a bike! How far we had to clamber up to the tent sites and shelters giving further indication just how high this river gets in times of flood. All the campsites we stopped at were in special locations – I think it became a case of, how could they not be?

At John Coull, the hut was full and provided opportunity to chat to various people we’d seen on (and in some cases, in) the river during the day. We nabbed a sweet tent spot and enjoyed snacks while playing cards and keeping an eye on the river. Dinner done and well into twilight there were plenty of native bats to watch darting around in the sky catching their meals. Once dark enough, a good number of glowworms were to be spotted too.

We awoke to an eerily misty morning. The cloud stretching down the small valley across the river particularly memorable.

A leisurely breakfast.

On our way, the cloud soon began to burn off and another enjoyable day on the river commenced.

Conquering the tricky landing, it was time for the obligatory walk up to the Bridge to Nowhere. Bit odd going there both without a bike, and twice in six months. But always a strange sight.

Suddenly, a substantial concrete bridge over a deep canyon.

Managing to embark with no spills from the slippery rock, we popped across to the true right and the next campsite – a far more pleasant lunch spot. The afternoon cleared nicely for the second half of the day’s paddle.

Camp for the second night was at the private campsite at Ramanui. It had a number of advantages over the DOC one across the water at Tieke, for the same price – gas burners, running water, hot showers, walking access to a bar (at neighbouring lodge), and quad-bike gear ferrying amongst others.

Contemplating the Matemateaonga Track start/end and whether I’d ever return to walk it (or hike-a-bike it, remembering this video), from the comfort of the lodge balcony.

The forecast rain fell early and overnight, so we got the comfort of decamping in the dry before the last three hours of paddling to our Pipiriki end. Soon we were in a long canyon that was quite slow moving – giving ample opportunity to linger and appreciate the surroundings.

At Ngaporo Campsite, taking the opportunity to work through more snacks and check the rapid below.

We’d been warned of three sets of rapids on this last stretch, that above being one of them – it was no worse than ones upstream. I’d spied a cave marked on the topo map, it demanded further investigation.

Somewhere up there, past the mud, is Puraroto Cave.

Curious mud stalagmites from the dripping cave ceiling.

Maybe it wasn’t past the mud, violently shoe-grabbing mud at that.

Mushrooms!

Back in the boats, the next rapid was purported to give a fifty-fifty chance of staying in one’s boat. I got thoroughly soaked, but my wee craft tracked through easily – water washing all over it and me. Good fun, glad it wasn’t a cold day though. With the bush left behind and now with marginal pasture surrounding us, three days on the water was about enough and I was pleased to get out of the last rapid (despite an eddy suddenly sending me off course and almost upstream) and land at Pipiriki.

What an excellent weekend and a long overdue trip down the Whanganui for me. Highly recommended, and not just because so much food can be carried!

bikepacking, bikes, NZ

Flat Point to Waimeha

2 Comments

Up with the light after a reasonably good sleep, off down the coast shortly after seven we went. The first half hour down the coastal flats (apparently uplift resulting from an earthquake some hundred-plus years ago) was notable, besides the morning views, for the large stands of cabbage trees – with plenty standing solitarily too.

Half an hour in, we reached the first farm for the day – Glenburn. The extensive number of buildings (once a 16,000 acre station, now closer to 7,000 acres) were all immaculately presented; we were impressed. After an enjoyable chat with the owners, there was much delight in poking around the old (but still in use) woolshed and stables.

Drying dags, I’m told.

Fergus checking accuracy; spot on he reckons.

Hard to fathom just how many people have worked in here over many decades shearing who knows how many sheep!

A once familiar sight, I’ve not seen a Zip like this for a while; never have I seen an apparently internet-enabled one.

Definitely the native timber look in here.

Belt driven and still in service.

Into another farm, the fourth I think – I stopped bothering to count shortly after.

Not a lot of rider colour to work with, but I like to think the scenery is the main attraction anyway.

Fergus, Andrew’s son, just playing on a rock. A casual trackstand, his lightly loaded trail bike looked a lot more fun…most of the time. This time I wasn’t the youngest!

Suddenly, the beach turned to smooth, dense white rocks for a short time. We lingered as paua were collected.

The hills closing in on the coast, the riding became noticeably less flat.

Windswept – always like to see trees growing like that, even if it can make for challenging riding (not this time).

Fascinating layers in the uplift and a sweet spot for a little bach with its own little harbour and boat ramp.

Out of Glendhu Station, we headed upstream to find the large bridge over the Pahaoa River before entering the eponymous farm. Unfortunately a large landslide had taken out part of the coastal track, so inland we headed again. For the only time on this trip, up a big climb. Topping out at three hundred metres above the sea, it was mostly very steep. There was some respite near the top as we contoured around and the views opened up.

West, looking past Rerewhakaaitu, over Martinborough and there is still snow on the Rimutakas from the previous week’s weather.

Gerard, Fergus and I scouted for a lunch spot, found this spectacular place – and then decided it was too early for lunch.

Instead we had a lot of fun dropping all our altitude in a hurry to cross the Rerewhakaaitu River a number of times.

Another push to get up onto the track seen two photos above. With our lingering, the rest of the group wasn’t too far behind – spot two of them here.

The necessity of the reroute became obvious here.

Still scouting for a lunch spot.

Found one!

Couldn’t complain about those views as we all perched on the side of the track refuelling. With such an interesting morning and so much to look at it was little wonder we’d not even managed forty kilometres in five hours. Considering the riding had not been particular difficult, just with plenty of worthy distractions, I was mindful we had over sixty kilometres to go – most of it on unknown terrain (I’d ridden the White Rock to Ngawi section a few years back, it wasn’t particularly fast – but I was pretty worn out by the Aorangi Forest Park by then). But we’d done the only hills of note, so we should be ok. Even so, I made an effort to keep setting off and hopefully we’d keep moving.

Through Te Awaiti Station, the riding on flat gravel farm track and then road was easy going and sped things up a bit. Joining public roads, we saw many Tora Coastal Walkers spread out along the edge of the road – more walkers than vehicles, that’s for sure.

Over the Awhea River bridge, I thought I had better stop and let the gap close – stopping for a snack is always a good idea too. Gerard arrived first and thought we could go a little further before waiting – no argument from me, I was happy to have riding company. Hopping another locked gate with all sorts of warning signs, we entered one of the last farm sections. The thirty-two year old wreck of the Magnet seemed as good a place as any to wait.

After a good snack and more chat, there was still no sign of the others despite regular apparitions on the rocky horizon – the Magnet demanded closer inspection. Having negotiated boggy surrounds and approached the rusting hulk, I was most surprised to see a head poke out of the small gap between hull and rocks that it had been its final resting place for decades. The teeth bared were not small and I beat a hasty retreat.

Not moving.

Quite large, these ones did disperse.

Time for a new scene, a little further along there was a good outcrop to perch on and find a different perspective. Slowly we could pick out riders afar.

Over to Cape Palliser, and the last significant off road section of the day.

Getting out of White Rock Station involved fording the Opouawe River. Most crossed where it branched into four distinct flows – all rideable, albeit hub deep.

Andrew heading for the end of White Rock Road (which for me is forever associated with fifty kilometres straight into a strong northerly) and the last farm section – Ngapotiki Station.

The locked gate at the road end was not nearly as formidable as my memory was telling me, pleasingly. The other gate had definitely been cut down in height and there was a stile – much easier to get the bike over solo. Or were my recollections of struggling to get a heavy bike over it playing tricks on me again? Straight into a short, but steep and loose, climb onto a large shingle slip – there was a bit of pushing involved.

Strung out approaching the gate of doom – no longer needs that moniker in my mind. White Rock visible across the bay. Te Kaukau Point on the right.

Quite a change, this bit too loose to ride.

Off the shingle slip was great fun, strange to see other bike tracks after the rest of the route.

Remembering my previous time along this stretch, I was not looking forward to the rough, tiring 4WD track to the lighthouse. But waiting for some company and then ripping along it with Gerard and Fergus was a blast as a mild contour, but many undulations, gave plenty of opportunity to move the bike around with enthusiasm. Plus there were numerous large puddles (small ponds?) to variously avoid or splash through with glee.

There it is. More than a speck now.

Happy with that section as it mellowed out!

Why not give the legs a different work out?

Back to gravel road.

I had it in my head that there was still thirty or so kilometres to go and rounding the cape, was expecting to turn into the strong northerly (that until this point had manifested as alternating head and tail winds as we approached and left each valley reaching the coast). I was hopeful that the food caravan of vague memory five kilometres up the road in Ngawi would be open to fuel what I was sure would be a struggle.

Sure enough, straight into a block headwind was pure toil and I wondered how we’d ever get to Lake Ferry before dark. Delight to find not one, but two caravans open. A big feed of fish, chips, milkshake and ice cream gave a chance to get out of the wind for a bit. By that time, Andrew arrived and corrected my misjudgement – we only had a few kilometres more to struggle into the wind before arriving at Waimeha Camping Village.

What a great day of seeing plenty of special sights that I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever get access to. The riding and views were well varied and always interesting. There were some pretty tired-looking people at the dinner table as large and tasty meals were devoured over tales of the day.

The wind didn’t let up overnight and with the forecast for gusts up to 120 kilometres per hour and rain, the plan to ride around Pencarrow Head, boat across Wellington Harbour (likely not to sail in such conditions) and train back to Masterton was abandoned. I wasn’t too disappointed, despite it being spectacular – on a good day – as I’d ridden that section six or so years before. Just as well plans were revised, as the thirty kilometres to the start of Cape Palliser Road straight into the wind was slow and sapping. Always memorable having to pedal down steep hills.

At least turning north-east to Martinborough took the gale off the nose a bit, even so it took me three hours and twenty minutes to grind out the sixty kilometres. Most unusually for me, I didn’t stop once – conditions were so inhospitable that I saw no point in it. At least I have a previous trip to remind me what it looks like on a kinder day. Over a long lunch at a local cafe everyone gradually arrived, concluding an excellent trip exploring the southern reaches of the North Island’s east coast – much to see, and we were fortunate to do so. Thanks Andrew!

bikepacking, bikes, friends, NZ

Riversdale to Flat Point

Leave a comment

Winter over and with the excellent previous leg of Andrew’s attempt to ride from Napier to Wellington as close to the coast as possible in mind, I selfishly encouraged organisation of the next, and final, leg – wanting to ride it before leaving Hawke’s Bay. In an achievement I’m somewhat in awe of, Andrew convinced twelve different farmers to generously allow us access through their land (including offers of accommodation and meals), arranged transport to and from each end, rustled up catering, and organised nine riders.

Just a short leg, that which we didn’t quite ride last time, to start on Friday afternoon – down the beach a bit, some gravel, a couple of hilly farms before dropping back to the coast and some more gravel. Three hours, plenty of stops and thirty-odd kilometres was a good little intro to the weekend.

Andrew leading us south from Riversdale beach.

I’ll take this for a Friday afternoon.

A little bit of dune riding and pushing when the coast became impassable.

With the tide ebbing, the sand was mostly firm enough to ride – but not always.

Leaving the coast at Uruti Point, we struck inland ever so slightly.

A brief pause to regroup and determine how far to the first farm entrance.

The farmer met us on the road and made sure we were going the right way. Introductions and chat all around, in which Andrew realised he may have oversold our farming credentials – apart from him (formerly), not a farmer amongst us.

Into the first farm; thanks to Andrew’s hard work we could guiltlessly ignore variations of signs like these all down the coast.

Our escort just before leaving us – the route through to the next farm having just been explained.

A fast drop to the Kaiwhata River blew some cobwebs out before a little valley floor riding and a good steep climb to the boundary gate.

Soggy! Very fortunate with the weather as most of the week had been wet and cold; for the most part, things had dried out nicely and peanut butter mud had gone.

Another stiff climb was rutted in places and did still have some boggy patches, a little bit of walking amongst the grunt to the top. Views up and down the coast as we skirted the end of the airstrip, topped out for the last time that day and bombed back down to sea level.

Exiting at the farm at the buildings, all manner of machinery had to be negotiated – this about the smallest of it.

Pausing to meet the farmer and his workers, they were chatty as were having Friday afternoon beers around a quad bike.

Somehow we came away with a bag of lambs’ tails (whether that’s good or poor timing with docking…) for the townies’ culinary education.

Twenty minutes down the coast to the shearers’ quarters and our digs for the night.

Soon, an old bed frame was found, a fire roaring and the lambs’ tails set to cook.

Loo with a view.

This didn’t get fired up.

While Fergus cooked up a storm inside, the tails disappeared. Having mostly removed the charred exterior, I’m not sold – slimy, yet boney and crunchy. Sharing a large meal on the old door of a table and forms, reflecting on the introduction to the weekend’s riding and speculating as to what was to come was far more convivial.