Category Archives: NZ

bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

GSB21-2: Quailburn to Lindis River

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The wind really got up during the night and the clattering from the roofing iron on the old woolshed intensified. I slept little; finally at four o’clock I rose and moved camp to the lee of a Land Rover. There I got some sleep, but still had plenty of moments enjoying stargazing and, later, watching the light change as another day on the bike dawned. Either it was so windy or I dozed off again, but I didn’t hear everyone leave – not a single click of a freehub! So much for my plan to slow down and ride with others, I’d slowed too much.

At least I didn’t have much to pack and I was up and rolling down the valley with a fierce wind at my back in fifteen minutes. Great fun on the quick ride to breakfast at the Wrinkly Ram (never disappoints) and I did manage to find Guy leaving and others to eat with. A meal so large I couldn’t finish it, I took some to go before heading for Little Omarama Saddle. Finding others to briefly say hi to along the way, I eventually got out of town and began the gradual climb away from the Ahuriri River. This seemed a long stretch of benign gravel, but the wind was mostly helpful and soon I was off my bike for the ninety minute push up. I had been looking forward to going over Omarama Saddle for the first time, but recent rainfall and high water forced a course change. The “little” saddle is actually higher and I remembered it well from 2019. Taking it easy, I only rode a short section and was ten minutes slower than last time – certainly wasn’t catching anyone up here.

Back north over the Ahuriri valley.

The saddle came soon enough and there began a fast, rocky, brake-squealing descent. So much fun, and a good test for the shoulder on a rigid fork. I passed some mountain-bikers on the way down, was having a complete blast tearing down and splashing through stream crossings. Surprised to catch Guy and Eileen at the end of snack break, we rode out together enjoying the valley mellowing and the water crossings got larger. Hawkduns Run Road was new to me and I enjoyed the undulations, but mostly the views of the Hawkduns and picking out the beginning of the Mt Ida Water Race (which we’d ride beside at the end of the week).

Guy and Kevin heading for St Bathans.

The wind was bit on the nose as we turned and climbed to lunch at St Bathans. The garden at the pub was most pleasant (although the barkeep made you wonder how and why some ever go into hospitality) with another large collection of riders coming and going. Best of all was best-sister and only-nibling being there as trail angels for the early afternoon. The cookies and brownies were a hit and I was lucky there were any left by the time I arrived. Nice long lunch, twas out into the afternoon with plenty of riders on the road to chat to in passing as we skirted the Manuherikia Valley.

Familiar roads that I’d not ridden before, Thompson’s Gorge was looming as we turned into the wind. Pleased to see any gates open as the course turned towards the gorge, knowing full well that there’d be many to open. With the steep climb to come, it was snack time and Guy appeared. Up we went, with the headwind strong I soon opted for the pushing option – not too disappointed to not be riding a climb I usually manage, I was happy to be saving energy. Guy dominated the climb, but with all the gates – I wasn’t too far behind. It’s a spectacular gorge and I’ve always enjoyed riding through, although it’s never easy – which is probably part of the appeal.

Things flattened out and I was soon back on the bike as we dropped to the creek and traced it upstream. The climbing begins in earnest again after an old stone hut; at least off the bike pushing, I couldn’t be blown off my bike – which I certainly would have been as the wind was far stronger than two years ago (and that knocked me off my bike).

Over the saddle and following the contour for a bit, there was the usual snap across the valley north towards the confluence of the Clutha and Lindis rivers before the rollicking gravel descent began.

Down on the flats, we battled the wind through Ardgour towards Tarras. Approaching 150 km and ten hours of riding for the day, I was most amenable to Guy’s plan to find a nice campsite out of the wind (especially after the previous night!) and not sleep near the highway. Trees beside the Lindis obliged and we were making camp after a good, but tough in parts, day at the civilised hour of eight o’clock. I could get used to this. Camp made, I kept an eye on the road for others and soon there was a strangely large gathering of windswept bikepackers on a nondescript bridge as dusk crept closer; our camping cohort only growing by one as others pressed on into the wind.

bikepacking, bikes, event, friends, GPS, NZ

GSB21-1: Tekapo to Quailburn

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A late start to the Great Southern Brevet does at least give plenty of time for breakfast at the Greedy Cow and catching up with bikepacking friends from far and wide, finally meeting previously-online friends for the first time and the chance to meet new people who soon become friends. Two years ago, there were only thirty-odd lining up at the Church of the Good Shepherd; this time, I expect due to the difficult in travelling overseas, there were near a hundred riders eager for the adventure ahead. What a privilege in these times, just to have such a large group start and simply shake hands and be with friends sans any distancing restrictions.

With six weeks off the bikepacking bike due to dislocating my shoulder before Christmas, I had simple goals for the 1100 km course. Most importantly, keep my shoulder where it should be; other aims were to see if there was any shoulder pain, take it easy and ride into a little bit of fitness, spend time riding with others, not do much night riding so as to see as much as possible, not exhaust myself before the big event of the summer, see how my lighter kit worked out and generally enjoy a week away riding in amazing part of the country. To try and trick myself into riding slower and shorter days punctuated with more stops, I’d switched to flat pedals and my street shoes – a set-up I typically only use for touring.

Heading down to the start.

Excited to get out there and see what Dave had in store for us. Photo: Dave King.

An hour milling around lots of chatty people pre-ride was excellent, but eventually we got to do what for we came for. Seen off by the cowbell toting locals down the street, I hung around until I was at the back of the field and tootled off up the hill out of town.

Bunched.

It was almost possible to lag behind, but we were soon on gravel then heading up a steep track. The desire to ride up it was still there, but not being attached to my pedals did force a dismount and push. This was working out ok.

Strewn.

That crested, the track improved to a gravel road and views across Lake Pukaki. Dropping down to the lakeside, it was forty kilometres of Alps2Ocean gravel and trail to Twizel; the wind must have been kind as even I managed that in less than two hours. Finding the problem of not having a proper shakedown ride, strangely my front brake began to increasingly rub. Arriving in town mid-afternoon for resupply I was feeling pretty ordinary. Only on leaving town and having many people fly past me, did I make the leap and realise just how much energy that little brake rub was sucking. That adjusted once off the road, everything was right with the world again and I had the semblance of a lease of life.

Which was just as well, as the next section was a good hike-a-bike up the overgrown Flanagan’s Pass. A couple of hours of mostly pushing through farmland then close tussock (at times over twenty percent), with some decent stream crossings, was not unpleasant in the late afternoon.

Somewhere, the remains of a trail under the grasses.

Back east and where we’d come from.

A brief pause at the saddle to layer up and admire the view, twas then onto a rollicking descent. So much fun!

Across the Lake Ohau headwaters

I caught up to Guy partway down and we continued around the lake to rejoin the A20 and familiar trails. With the sun starting to drop, thoughts turned to how far to go for the day. Eileen appeared from somewhere, having been well in front of me – but also having too much fun on the downhill and missing a turn. I’d not made any plans, Omarama seemed too far away for first day back on the bike. Quailburn, as Eileen had suggested, seemed a better idea at 150 km in. Guy and I made our way around the bottom of the lake, first sheltered in the scrub before joining the road and dealing with the wind off the lake. With the recent devastating fires, the campground Adele and I stayed at when we did the A2O a few years ago was closed and looking rather blackened.

Eventually we reached the lodge entrance and the time to turn from the wind for the long gradual climb into the gathering night. Chatting with a few others, it would be the last we’d see of them until back in Tekapo six nights later. Eileen rolled up and after we’d all rested and snacked a bit, the three of us started the climb. A nice steady three percent grade as twilight set in – about an hour it took.

We were all pretty spent and had a bit of a rest at the summit. Somehow I managed the last half hour without turning lights on, but it was quite dark by the time I was hunting out a bivy spot near the historic Quailburn woolshed. A great day back on the bike, save the brake rubbing wasting a bit of energy – but I sorted that and everything was excellent again. Now for the wind to die down while I slept in the lean-to of the woolshed.

bikepacking, bikes, event, friends, NZ, travel, vehicles

To and from Great Southern Brevet 2021

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When Guy casually asked when riding down his way two months ago if I was doing the Great Southern Brevet (of course I was, I’ve been waiting two years to repeat the toughest, and arguably best, bikepacking event I’ve done), little did I expect the offer of transport direct to Tekapo. With commercial flights already booked and paid for, I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity for my first flight in a light plane – not to mention the convenience of not having hours of driving between airports and Tekapo. As it happens, it’s much easier to get flights refunded these days. Yet another bonus was not having to disassemble and pack my bike up – such a time and effort saver!
So that is how I came to be waiting for Guy one Friday afternoon, at the very airfield where Dad learnt to fly forty-plus years ago (we later worked out that the same instructor taught both of them, thirty-odd years apart). I had plenty of time to wander around and pose my bike against one of its more unusual backdrops. It was not hard to work out which plane was Guy’s – it already had a bikepacking stead in the back, and had a bit of genuine farm coating on the wings.

Two classic Cessna 185s, Guy’s at front (1964).

Having spent most of its life around Mt Cook, ZK-CHL was well recognised around the southern airstrips we landed at.

Guy arrived, my bike was loaded, lifejackets were alarmingly donned (water, what?!) and in no time we were in the air heading southwest.

So much to see out the window and observe in the cockpit as Guy went about routines – endlessly fascinating. Suddenly handed the controls as Guy ate and we approached the Tararuas, I was hardly a natural. But we didn’t hit the ranges, so I’m taking that. Over the course of the flights, I had a few more attempts at handling the plane, which often just flew itself in calm conditions, and enjoyed getting a bit more of a feel for it.

Tararua District

Kapiti Island

Down south now, Molesworth.

Castle Hill area.

A bit of aerial Tour Te Waipounamu scouting.

Lake Tekapo

Two hours and forty minutes later, we were landing at Tekapo, clearing a bit of junk away and tying the plane down out of the wind. Just a few kilometres to roll down the hill to dinner and we were there for the Great Southern Brevet.

After a fantastic week bikepacking all over lands south, the return trip carried on south for a night in Alexandra before the three hours back north.

Different bikepacking bike-packing.

We did see a lot of Mt Cook from a distance on the trip home, on consecutive days.

A different perspective on parts of the GSB route was also fun – Flanagan’s Pass looking much easier here than the long hike-a-bike, although I do note the lack of a visible track.

We rode around the bottom of Lake Ohau a week previously, from right to left and back.

Sunday’s campsite beside the Lindis.

The route down from Thompson’s Gorge. A lot less windy this day.

Heading towards the Clyde Dam down Lake Dunstan, all the while checking out the new cycle trail on the true right that will connect Clyde and Cromwell.

The last section to be connected, the engineering going into the trail is quite remarkable and I look forward to riding it the next time I’m in Central Otago for a holiday.

The drop off the tough Hawksburn Rd to Clyde.

A trying view while spending the night at Mark and Paula’s house – thanks.

Time to go again.

Over the Ida Valley to the Hawkduns.

The climb up Thompsons Gorge, Ida Valley behind.

Little Omarama Saddle, and Mt Cook again.

Manuherika River and the Hawkduns again, on the left.

Hawkduns, St Marys and Kakanuis (distant).

Flying itself on a calm day.

Lake Benmore, Benmore Dam, Otematata and beyond.

No prizes.

Canterbury Plains patchwork.

Suddenly, puppies. Labraspoodles I’m told. We stopped for lunch at Guy’s sister’s in Rangiora.

Fetching lifejackets, I must say! I could get used to Hawke’s Bay Bikepacking trips like this.

Crossing the coastline at Kaikoura, Guy explained some of the earthquake damage (gosh, that’s over four years ago now). You’d think it would be Kaikoura, but it was just off the coast of Wairarapa in Cook Strait, that Guy spotted a big sperm whale. Suddenly we were banking down steeply (in my limited experience) to two hundred feet to get a closer look. I think that is the first whale I’ve seen in the wild; an unexpected bonus to memorable and engaging trips to and from the GSB.

Drying off down the bottom of the North Island by now.

Can’t thank Guy enough for the flights, so enjoyable – near perfect flying weather certainly helped! What bookends to an exceptional week – it’s hard to determine whether the riding or flying comes out on top, twas all that spectacular!

around home, bikepacking, bikes, family, friends, NZ, shoulder

Christmas Letter 2020

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2020 certainly was a year to remember, or perhaps forget on the other side of the coin. I can’t add much more to what has already been covered, except the personal note. Now home in NZ for longer than I was overseas, I’m well pleased to have chosen to return to a wee country isolated at the bottom of the world that is just that little bit behind the times – a positive boon when a pandemic rears its head. Seven weeks of isolation, working from home, was plenty – I managed just enough riding and running locally to stay relatively sane, but working was not the most productive as I found that difficult to adjust to. Still, we’ve had it far better here than many places and that’s fairly easy to remember as I think of friends and family on distant shores.

Despite the interruption, it was another cracking year of riding bikes. An optimistic weekend loop around Waikaremoana and Whirinaki Forest Park with Pete got things off to a suitable start, the Moerangi Track always a highlight.

Whirinaki Forest Park

February kicked off with joining Pete for his North Island Traverse; I figured riding for three hilly days was the best way to get to the west of the North Island, and riding home from East Cape similarly the obvious solution. So a big triangular, double traverse of the island ensued in which I proved to myself that I could consistently ride two hundred kilometres a day for over a week and still thoroughly enjoy myself seeing new places; kind weather certainly helped.

First day heading west, a detour off the much less interesting Napier-Taihape Gentle Annie Road.

Cape Egmont, western most point.

Pete heading through the rural hills of Taranaki.

Approaching East Cape and a heinous headwind.

Looking towards Waikaremoana on the last night while heading for home.

That experience convinced me to finally bite the bullet and book tickets for a more ambitious bikepacking proposition abroad. Alas, that couldn’t have happened this year – but I found myself not at all disappointed. Instead, with five weeks of annual leave suddenly spare and much flight credit it’s been a perfect opportunity to make the most of being in NZ and being able to see family and friends that would have been neglected if Plan A had been possible.

Local exploration continued when allowed, this little province continuing to fascinate me – mostly with its hills and rivers.

Bike exploration out of the equation during lockdown, I finally took to running around the hill I live on. I gradually strung an optimised route together to link all of the thirty staircases and ramps – after a few weeks of working up to it, I was pleased to run between, and mostly walk up/down, them all on a fifteen kilometre course.

Nope, not a bad spot to be stuck for seven weeks; the weather was brill too.

Once allowed out again, I was itching to explore some of the local trails that I’d never got around to seeing as biking is not permitted there. There followed a series of small trail runs in quiet and isolated native forest. I was fascinated by getting yet another different perspective of areas I’ve biked through many times.

Bell Rock, only very windy and with enough snow around to make things interesting.

Park Run took a bit of a backseat for most of the year, but with much time away getting tiring I’m back into a bit more of a routine but struggling to find my former speed with only one sub-twenty minute five kilometre run for the year. I thought I’d reach my half-century mid-year, alas … I may just sneak in by year-end.

August had a hastily organised week down south visiting family – mostly so I didn’t completely miss all of the first year of my nephew’s life. I didn’t even take a bike (!), but with little snow around I managed daily mountain-biking rides with James and ran a prickly rogaine with Adele. Mum also visited for our birthdays late-August, we enjoyed a long weekend on Mahia Peninsula – a favourite place of mine in Hawke’s Bay that it took me too long to discover. Highlights were bush walks in unrideable places, the extensive nikau grove at Maruia and a week spot of caving. Planning for this year’s Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour late October was not nearly as involved as for the inaugural one last year, but still required some delightful rides in different parts of Hawke’s Bay.

Mahia Peninsula, mid-winter.

I was excited to share Whirinaki (the forest park, not the one where I work) with some workmates for a late-winter weekend of bushwalking and a little mountain-biking. I must get back there for longer – but where is the time?!

A small bikepacking event at the end of September finally got me to Golden Bay. The weather completely packed up after the first day of two, and I ended up sheltering from the storm for the second day – and the next two. As I had two weeks off work, it worked well sitting out the foul weather and making the most of the good weather as I toured around the West Coast – spending time with new friends, riding three world class trails and soaking in the stunning scenery.

The calm before the storm on Six Corners event, around Golden Bay.

Just an hour or so of pushing through the snow on the Heaphy.

Back to Waiuta – a favourite from Kiwi Brevet and Tour Aotearoa.

The second time on the Old Ghost Road in five days, this time an out and back to the high point, the first a big through ride starting and ending in Westport on the Monday. Great weather, big views and fabulous riding both times.

As relaxing as that tour was, in hindsight leaving two weeks between that and putting the finishing touches on HBAT was not enough. My HBAT ride didn’t go well, and it took me some weeks before I wanted to go bikepacking again – which was concerning as the summer approached, along with it two big rides early next year. However, the desire to ride all sorts of places and see new things did return after a few weeks of taking it easy and looking after myself a bit more.

An unexpected element of the year was being asked to contribute some of my Hawke’s Bay bikepacking knowledge to a guidebook of shorter (<500 km) routes all around the country. Long video calls with Jonathan ensued discussing route possibilities and bikepacking in general. Somehow two routes I described ended up with full write-ups and another gets in with a brief description. I'm quite honoured and pleased by that - some actual use to all my exploring around here.

I also managed to hurriedly proofread the whole thing just before it went to press – excited by all the places I haven’t yet ridden yet doesn’t begin to describe the feeling from reading a softcopy. Now that some actual copies have arrived wrapped and are under my little Christmas tree (got to put something under there!), I’m itching to get out and ride more new places. A little final scouting ride with a small group from Wellington just as the book was going to press was another highlight of the year. If you’ve any interest in Bikepacking Aotearoa, I suggest you get a copy quickly.

The desire to try and make the most of the freedoms we are currently privileged to have lives on, spurred on not just by the global situation but also the sudden passing of two people only a matter of years younger than me in separate motorbike accidents a few days apart. In doing so, I realise I’ve had overnight trips away the last five weekends, and really am just scratching the surface of places I want to explore nearby. It’s just as well that painting and general house maintenance is now at the stage, after five years, where nothing is pressing enough to curtail weekend adventures.

At long last spending time in the Kawekas, instead of the the edge.

Airbnb for me went the way of much this year, stopping with lockdown and, with no large travel or house expenses looming, not returning yet; I’ve enjoyed the break from the work involved in having guests continually through – it served a purpose for a time, but a year off from it is grand. I still happily welcome fascinating and lovely cycle tourists, but they are few and far between now. Work continues to go well and having a good, stable employer through such a year is another reason to be thankful. I inadvertently had my role expanded and got, what I’m told was, a promotion as my manager moved up the ladder and, as the only one who has any idea what I’m supposed to be doing, dragged me up a bit too.

To my surprise (I’ll believe it when the house is full), my immediate family has decided Christmas is at my house this year – so that’ll be different and I’m looking forward to that, once I’ve caught up on the many neglected little jobs. It’ll be strange having so much time off work and staying at home, but good not to have to travel south as I’ll be doing that late January and late February for two bikepacking events. The first is the next iteration of the toughest one I’ve ever done (different route), but I’ll have to take it easy as only two weeks later is the inaugural Tour Te Waipounamu – which I’m sure will quickly take the mantle of hardest event I’ve attempted. With so much new country to see, it’s proper exciting.

Proofreading all that, it really hasn’t been that bad a year here – just a bit mad in parts. Even so, I’m looking forward to a better and more settled 2021 – I hope yours is too. Merry Christmas all, and thanks for reading this far.

Postscript: Fortunately, I found the time to write that above last week (typing is now difficult) – as life can change so quickly, which is all the more reason to make the most of whatever opportunities are available. Just about to start applying the second coat of deck stain yesterday morning, I too-enthusiastically reached for something, heard my poor shoulder tear apart and dislocate again. Thus started six hours of cycling through discomfort, pain, and agony – increasingly drug-addled for the time it took four doctors to attempt to get it back in. With a very busy Emergency Department, eventually they knocked me out completely and relocated it.

So now I’ve finished work a bit earlier for the year and, wonderfully, my parents arrived yesterday afternoon and I’m being well looked after. Hard to say where to from here, that’s six dislocations now – two in the last two years since surgery over eight years ago; I guess another round of MRIs and I might be more receptive to further surgery – because it really was a quite innocuous movement yesterday. So a more subdued Christmas is to be had, but that’s ok as the shoulder situation is only a little dip down (been here before) in my wee life c.f. this rather crazy and ever-changing world, plus I’ll get to spend a lot of time with my family over the next fortnight – although hugs and picking up my young nephew are and will be difficult.