Category Archives: NZ

family, food, friends, NZ, snow

A Birthday Trip – Finally

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After fifteen years of annual Birthday Trips (Adele and her friend Theresa share a birth date and have marked the occasion with various wilderness trips since the start of university), I finally made it along to one.

Otago is a long way to go for just a weekend, so I took a week off work and headed down for the Birthday Trip and other winter adventures. My first snow holiday in six and a half years – well overdue.

Meadow Hut out the back of the Snow Farm on the Pisa Range was booked out way back in February. Saturday morning, nineteen of us (including five intrepid children) left Snow Farm on the four kilometre route to the hut. Some of us were on touring skis with skins, others on skinnier skis and some on snowshoes. I assume due to differences in pace, we separated into two groups – skiers and snowshoers (which did have a couple of skiers along to help corral children).

The weather started to turn as we left and quickly deteriorated. Thankfully, we weren’t carrying heavy packs – most of our gear and food was coming in by snowmobile. The clouds rolled in and it started snowing, big wet heavy flakes. On the final stretch to the hut the wind funneled down the valley and the situation rather turned into a blizzard. The wind so strong and the snow so wet, every flake hitting one in the face elicited distinct pain.

Thankfully, the hut was not really that far away. We bundled in and got the fire going as we thawed out. Some hardier souls than I, and more experienced & useful, headed back out into the storm to help the families. Drama ensued due to the horrible conditions; children were bundled into backpacks and arrived in the hut rather quiet. The snowmobile was somehow rolled off the side of the trail, landing on the staff member’s head. He was OK. Those of us out there had to help right it, unpack the trailer, move all the luggage up the bank and reload it.

Eventually, all were safely in the hut and warming up. Finally there, a lovely afternoon and evening sheltering from the storm around the fire commenced. The beauty of the luggage being carted in for us was that we had hearty amounts of food and drink. Sharing numerous different curries, we ate well, chatted and played card games.

Most slept well, the storm blew out during the night, the snow groomer drove past at some horrendously early hour and woke us, and a bluebird day dawned. A lazy start to the day was spent breakfasting, packing and assembling for Sunday adventures. Those on snowshoes headed out to play in the snow; while those on skis also left to enjoy a bit of ski-touring further out on the Pisas.

With plenty of skinning up hills, we found some nice turns and fantastic views back over the Cardrona Valley. I enjoyed my first ski-touring in over seven years as exploring various routes over the hills, down into little valleys and eventually back to the route we’d skied in on the previous day. All made it back to the cars suitably spent.

A fun little trip with great people – excellent to finally make it on such a trip. For the actual birthday, we headed up to Treble Cone for a day of resort skiing. The snow was good, although the visibility worsened in the afternoon – we headed back to Naseby for birthday dinner.

bikepacking, event, GPS, NZ

Mini Geyserland Gravel Grind 2018

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My swollen left knee caused by a big Easter of biking slowly returned to normal. However, due to having favoured my knee to get through six hundred kilometres of pain – my lower right leg was messed up for a few weeks. Physio treatment just aggravated it and made walking excruciating, but finally the root of the problem was treated and things came right in time for the Mini GGG. I could walk normally again, and riding was even better – as normal.

I was keen to go on this more-social bikepacking event and meet some new people. Pete kindly lent me his spare bike (a bike that has completed the Tour Divide no less) – we decked it with borrowed bags and adjusted it for me Friday night. Saturday in Rotorua dawned misty with drizzle falling. It really wasn’t too bad by the time we rolled to the start at the very agreeable hour of ten o’clock.

The Mini GGG was more social than most bikepacking events I’ve done as the distances each day were short and the camping spots set. This meant that everyone camped together and, arriving late afternoon, we had plenty of time to make camp and hang out in the shelter cooking, eating and sharing various stories.

Eleven of us set off from the centre of Rotorua and followed a now familiar route to, up, along and off the Mamakus (I’d ridden this way on the first GGG and last year’s Mega Grind). The drizzle continued, but it wasn’t cold or windy – our steady pace was most pleasant and the climb was gradual.

What’s this? How am I at the front? This must be socially paced. Waiting in Mamaku for people to talk to…

Traversing along the top of the ranges, the rain petered out and we became more exposed to the souwester. Having regrouped, it was good to spend some time chatting to Erik (one of the two, Pete being the other, organisers of these wonderful GGGs) about his custom bike (I’m still deciding what to replace my stolen Ogre with) and his experiences writing and editing his soon-to-be-published account of riding Tour Aotearoa one and a half times. Riding in a group of about six there were plenty to chat to; we caught up to another two riders who had got a slight head start on the main group, bringing out total to thirteen.

Passing the highest point of our route, we turned into the wind and our group slowly spread. Definitely one of those days requiring concerted effort to get downhill. Still, it still wasn’t raining, the surface was good and I was thoroughly enjoying experiencing a different bike. Not much of a day for photos, I had little reason to stop and therefore rolled into Tokoroa looking for a good bakery.

Still finding it a little bewildering to be at the vanguard of our little fleet of bikepacking rigs, I settled in with a glorious steak and mushroom pie and other baked treats. Slowly everyone else rolled into town and about half of the group arrived to further deplete the pie stock (they were very good, I may have had another). It was very odd during an “event” sitting still for well over an hour; eventually getting antsy and feeling I should be riding, I made to leave. Quiet country roads took us to our campground, the Jim Barnett Reserve, and I enjoyed hearing stories of this year’s early Tour Aotearoa as I rode with Tony – I had it easy in 2016!

Through a little bit of native bush, we arrived and set up camp. I still have not used my bivy bag – opting again to roll my sleeping bag out in the two-walled shelter. It was certainly warm enough. Alas, the water supply was turned off. Tony and I trekked to a nearby farmhouse and, after being plied with piping hot tea, returned with enough water for many of us to cook our various meals and hot beverages. Dinners were cooked, eaten and much was discussed as our small group lazed in the shelter. A very pleasant evening in good company.

Having not taken the Monday off work, my plan was to ride Days Two and Three on Sunday, get back to Rotorua and drive the few hours home that evening. I decamped, and set off some time before eight. When I made this plan, it was only to be about 120 km of riding – I should be back at my car early afternoon. I did not account for a partial closure of the Waikato River Trail, which meant the day started with a detour adding about an hour to the riding.

The detour had the effect of me modifying my route to ensure I got back to Rotorua to meet various people on time. As it happened, this meant that I skipped the sections of trail I’d ridden previously and spent about ninety percent of the day riding places I’d not yet taken a bike. I thoroughly enjoyed the detour, especially the gravel section, of Mangare and Huirimu Roads. Once again at the YoYo bakery in Mangakino (it has become a regular stopping point) it felt like another two-pie day (their steak and mushroom of comparable high quality to the previous day’s), I ate and took enough away to make sure I didn’t need to stop at another store over the remaining seventy-odd kilometres.

Earlier on Sunday approaching Arapuni – it was far brighter, warmer and more pleasant. The souwester was still a nagging presence for much of the day.

The part of the set-route I was most looking forward to was the only part I’d not ridden before – the final section of the Waikato River Trail. That is, the Whakamaru to Atiamuri section. Twenty-three kilometres of good fun! In parts fast, in other parts little pinch climbs appeared, along with some twists and all following the Waikato upstream. I was not disappointed, it was thoroughly enjoyable. The trail was in fantastic condition too – not too wet or too dry; also, it was deserted on a fine, Sunday afternoon.

A brief stop opposite a youth camp, on an island over a causeway, that I’m reasonably certain I went to at least once as a child. I vaguely remember go karts…

Done. Time for a snack and to get back to Rotorua.

Conscious of the time and having previously ridden the hilly, gravelled back route through Ngakuru – I opted for the quiet State Highway 30 back to town. With the wind at my back, the gradual climb from one catchment to the next wasn’t too much for my legs. At the watershed, I crossed back into the Bay of Plenty and the weekend’s riding was all but over.

An excellent, leisurely little outing – I was a little sad to not to stick around with the group, but I had a great time riding with others and solo. Not to mention, I now have plenty to ponder from riding a different bike. What will my next one be like, where will it take me? Time shall tell…

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Eastern Gravel Grind

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Until a day or so before, I wasn’t certain I’d be able to join in on Pete’s proposed Eastern Gravel Grind over Easter. A significant milestone in what has been over two years of work for me was April 4 – the deadline for submitting our MHF Safety Case. This date was just after Easter – would we get it all together in time so I could go and ride my bike for six hundred kilometres over three days? Somehow, we got the three hundred-odd pages assembled, printed and bound before Easter – I could go ride bikes and explore new places with others!

Perhaps riding the Timber Trail in both directions the previous day was not the best preparation; somehow I managed to get my bike, gear and self together to roll out with Pete, Leonie and Craig at six in the morning. Still pitch black at that time, the clocks due to roll back to standard time that night, we made good progress on the cycle trail south-east out of Rotorua. With yesterday’s miles in my legs and a increasingly sore knee, I was happier to chat a bit about bikepacking events we’d done, planned to do and so on.

Around Rerewhakaaitu, I was really slipping behind. The others were all a little faster and stronger than me on last year’s Mega Grind, so this wasn’t surprising – such discomfort however was much less usual. Finally I worked out that my seat was too low – both on my MTB on the Timber Trail, and now my bikepacking bike; most unusual, I long ago learnt the lesson of correct seat height. Tiredness. I sorted that out, but found I had to take it a bit slower and favour my left knee.

Having looked forward to the company, it was a little disheartening to find myself having to take things a bit slower and solo – but it was to be a big day, so no point in blowing up early on. I was hopeful I could still manage 250 km that day, through a pretty remote area. A couple of randonneurs, Chris and Phil (they were following a very similar route for Easter, just with fewer gravel and off-road sections), caught up to me and chatted a bit as we rolled on smooth gravel towards Murupara.

Over ninety kilometres in four and a half hours was a bit beyond my usual pace, so I was pleased to reach Murupara and refuel. The others were just finishing up a big meal, so I ordered and waited for mine as they carried on towards Waikaremoana.

Not bad for second breakfast and fifteen dollars.

Knowing I’d be slow and uncertain just how my knee would do, I didn’t hang around. I was looking forward to riding the Waikaremoana road again, two years since the last trip through – this time in the opposite direction over two, not one, days.

This place looked pretty much the same.

The bottom two lines here being the important one as I left the plateau and headed for the hills and native bush.

Occasionally it would get warm on what was a wonderful day for riding: mild and next to no wind. For the middle of a long weekend, there was little traffic and I found I could get up the hills OK – albeit in easier gears than I normally would, and therefore a bit slower.

Keeping stops to a minimum it was a little while before Chris and Phil caught me again. Chris and I groveled up the first notable climb together, Phil always slightly ahead. I lost them as they sped off on the descents. Through Ruatahuna I passed them as they stopped for water; I made my way up the biggest climb of the day steadily.

There was a fair bit of bush around

Huzzah! Gravel.

Still trying not to stop too much for photos, there are few. But: bike! gravel!

A big plummet to the lake ensued. So much fun. Not to mention nice give the legs a bit of a break. I think the highlight was passing a slow campervan on the outside of a bend. Almost reaching the lake, the road doesn’t quite make it – necessitating more climbing around bluffs. It was windy up there.

Panekire Bluffs across Waikaremoana

Spot the cyclist.

Departing Murupara, Pete had told me that the store at the lake closes at six o’clock and they’d wait for me there. They must have been there a while, as at ten to six they were waiting at the top of the road down to the store to let me know it would stay open for me and I should stock up as it was some time to the next resupply point. The bubbly storekeeper was only too happy to help and I stocked up on Maketu pies, tuna, bier sticks and jerky – much of that I was very happy to have bought over the next thirty-six hours.

Just a little more climbing as the road rose up to trace around, and above, the lake for the last time and at about seven o’clock I pulled on my jacket for the plunge down to lose five hundred metres in the twilight. Great fun. That just left forty kilometres of undulating valley floor riding in the dark to find the others in Frasertown. Goodness knows how much later I was, but I found the camping spot and settled in for what would prove to be a sleepless night for all. While not overly pleased with a sore knee and tired legs, I was still pleased with getting through a 250 km day with plenty of climbing and learning how to manage the pain. That I could hardly walk when off the bike was a different story.

The consensus was none of us slept that night, a mixture of unceasing dog barking, and either of, mutually exclusive, howling wind or mosquito attacks. The others left before five, but I dithered a little. By the time I departed, stopped to put on rain trousers and promptly remove them when the heavy shower passed, it was half-five. This day was the reason I was so keen to come on this trip – places I’d never been, exploring, discovery! Fantastico. With the clocks going back, the day dawned soon – but the layer of cloud kept things gloomy.

Through rural scenes it was mostly valley floor riding with a couple of climbs to Tiniroto. The highlight of the morning was a lively conversation with a young farming family riding together on a quad bike alongside the road between house and shed – the parents friendly and interested in where I was going, the kids excited apparently by a crazy loaded cyclist. Due to a local hunt day (it seemed every second vehicle, there were not many, had a stag’s head on the tray) the Tiniroto pub was open early – which was just as well as it was the only place to buy food. The others left, as I arrived to settle into scrambled eggs, a big pot (rather a milk jug, until the pot was found) of tea and stash some lunch to go.

Leaving the valley floor after riding under these bluffs.

Apparently Tiniroto is named for its many lakes. I saw but a few, here’s one from the pub.

It turned out Tiniroto was only halfway up a sustained climb. I was still nursing my knee, which I realised in the light was fairly swollen. Walking was still a struggle, but riding seemed to be going OK – I didn’t have a lot of options, biking it was. Turning off the route to Gisborne, and heading west again Pehiri Rd was deserted, flat and then turned to lovely gravel. That is, except the small patches of freshly laid aggregate that was big, chunky, uncompacted and very difficult to negotiate – horrid.

The first of two toasties of cheese, onion and bacon from the pub (toasted hamburger buns instead of slices of bread) went down a treat for first lunch as the climbing began again. Climbing up and over I dropped into the next valley. The countryside was deserted, hilly and just lovely. I was so pleased to be out exploring yet another part of NZ.

Gravel roads winding up, down and around.

Down the valley, there was then a small stretch of moderate traffic – daytrippers from Gisborne visiting Rere Falls. I stopped briefly and had my second toastie. The cloud had long since started to break up and it was a charming day with little wind and pleasant warmth.

Rere Falls, nope – had not been here before either.

Passing the Rere Rockslide, the climb switched to gravel to meader towards the highest point of the day. Very rural up here, although in hindsight we weren’t really that far from the highway – it certainly felt like we were. I lost count of how many signs I saw at entranceways for various cattle stations. One peculiarity I noticed in the area was that each property didn’t just have a mailbox – they each had a mailbag stashed. Surely they don’t get that many letters; maybe deliveries of other necessities.

As the shadows lengthened and the climbs kept coming (while not getting nearly as high as the day before, there was almost as much climbing in three-quarters of the distance), it was still excellent to be out there. One last little seventy metre climb and I was besides the headwaters of the Motu River, hoping to get to the highway before dark. I did, lights on and the twenty-five minutes of traffic wasn’t too bad. Turning off at Matawai I made good time on the gradual downhill to Motu village – where the others might have been. They weren’t.

After a long day and wanting to ride the upcoming Pakihi Trail in daylight, I couldn’t motivate myself further – so settled for a nice cup of tea and whatever food I still had left for dinner. Sleeping inside, I managed a wonderful sleep and some much needed rest for my weary legs. While a bit slower than normal, it was a great day of gravel roads, solitude (I didn’t speak to anyone for about twelve hours I think), sun and exploring.

Departing early again, I was wondering how I would make the two hundred-odd kilometres back to Rotorua in time to drive home to Napier – if it was just gravel road, I may have been OK but Pakihi track (which I thought would be the highlight of the day) would slow things a bit. Heading up the Motu Road a few hundred metres was steady with a nice gradient and well-graded gravel. Misty rain became decidedly wetting halfway up and clouded any view I might have had as Easter Monday dawned.

Seven o’clock had me at the trailhead and I was excited to get under the canopy and enjoy a long downhill section of trail. Ten kilometres of descent through native bush that subtlely changed had me grinning ear-to-ear. A big storm had been through the previous week, but the trail was in good condition. I bypassed the hut and tackled the second half of the trail which follows the Pakihi Stream – this was a bit more technical, with some good exposure to decent falls into the water and one big slip that required portage.

Finishing the trail by nine, I figured I could refuel in Opotiki at ten and then try to get back to Rotorua (about 150 km) by early evening – I could always take a shortcut if needed, which was looking likely at my pace. As it happened, while I was eating the last of my food at the trailend, three novice bikepackers turned up after staying in the hut overnight. I’m glad I didn’t stay there, it sounded packed and not at all conducive to sleep. There followed a lot of chat about bikepacking, my bike, gear, previous adventures and getting plied with snacks out of sympathy. By the time we rode into Opotiki together, I decided I would take the ride back to Rotorua that was offered – couldn’t find the motivation or sense in riding on my sore and swollen knee back.

I even found someone to take a picture of me and my bike.

So I finished off my weekend with a fun mini-roadtrip back to Rotorua with only a slight pang of disappointment for not completing the route as intended. I was super pleased with all I saw, keen to explore the area around Gisborne more, and satisfied that I’d ridden so far with a gammy knee and sore legs. What great countryside!

P.S. That previous photo will, probably, be the last of me with my trusty, sturdy Surly Ogre. After five years, over twenty-thousand kilometres, about a dozen countries and countless memories it disappeared from my garage last night 🙁 It probably deserves a post of its own, once I’ve had a bit time to get on with finding the next bike 🙂 .

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, NZ

Timber Trail Double

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Through the summer, Josh and I occasionally mooted a mountain-biking trip away without getting further than riding local trails. With the end of daylight saving fast approaching we were running out of time. Easter weekend was the last opportunity, but I had a bikepacking trip planned for most of it. Good Friday it was to be, provided the weather forecast was amenable to a big day of riding.

Having ridden it twice in different bikepacking events, I’ve long wanted to ride the Timber Trail unloaded and with suspension. Josh had never ridden it; so it was settled. But to help with logistics, we thought it the best use of our time to ride it there and back and save the need for a shuttle. What’s an extra eighty-odd kilometres of trail and a big hill when you’ve just done the same in the opposite direction?

Sleeping poorly in the cabins at the Pureora trailhead, we needed an early start to ensure we’d finish in daylight and I could get to Rotorua in reasonable time. I was pretty sure it had been raining a bit all night, and getting up at five there was sufficient evidence to suggest I was not mistaken. After a big breakfast of bacon and eggs (normal for me, a foreign concept to Josh that I was hoping would slow him down a bit) we were off at six into the dark and rain.

Through twisty dark turns we began the ascent of Mt Pureora, a nicely graded climb up to near 1000 m. The lush native forest, for which the trail is known, kept most of the rain off us; but the canopy could do nothing for all the water spraying from under our tyres. It was bright enough, through the cloud, to turn our lights off as we contoured along towards the highest point. No views of Lake Taupo in the gloom; at least we could descend in the wet by natural light. It stopped raining and eventually it was dry enough to remove all our waterproof layers.

With the rain, and then the tight schedule, my camera stayed away most of the day. This only goes to show how the inside of my legs were filthy, while the out-side of my socks stayed bright.

Josh probably contemplating how much he’ll have to wait for me as the day progresses. A brief stop for a snack at the shelter I slept in the previous time I was here.

The trail stayed wet, but it was generally in better repair than November. The day cleared nicely and we didn’t see any other riders until well after halfway and passing the Timber Trail Lodge. The first riders were a group of four on e-MTBs. It’s satisfying, if a little tiring, catching up and passing e-bikes on climbs.

Nearing the Ongarue Spiral I realised I was getting sore wrists as my front suspension was really not working. I rode most of the remaining hundred kilometres with it locked out – so much for riding on a full-suspension bike (c.f. a fully rigid bike). It was not until the next day I figured out what must have been causing the unusual knee pain my left leg was giving me.

By half-eleven we were at the opposing trailhead, stopping for half an hour to lunch in the sun and top up water supplies. We figured five hours and twenty minutes (including stops) was not bad going considering the dark and rain we started in, and the muddy wet trail. Turning we had the more difficult leg to conquer, our lunch spot was almost four hundred metres lower than where we would finish. Continually revised calculations of average speed and distance remaining had me confident we’d get back in plenty of time.

It was surprising just how much the track dried out in the afternoon. We passed many people riding in the opposite direction, including those e-MTBs just after discussing their whereabouts, all out enjoying the splendid weather and native forest. Halfway back we were making good progress and Josh still had far too much energy. With just less than thirty kilometres to go there were a couple of steeper pitches that really took a lot of energy out of me; as my single chainring has thirty-two teeth and I’m not running a dinner plate on the end, I ran out of gears and really ground up these pinch climbs.

There are quite a few photos from Josh where he’s obviously waiting for me!

I slowed significantly, even though the last fourteen kilometres of climbing was rather gentle. Josh was regularly waiting for me. I hadn’t completely had it, but was definitely slow and nursing my knee. Finally, the highest point arrived. After a sublime downhill to Pureora and lovely trail over the last few kilometres, I became convinced that south to north is my preferred direction for riding the Timber Trail – even if has significantly more climbing.

I can’t pretend I wasn’t just a little relieved to hear Josh finally start to sound a bit tired; it only took eleven and a half hours, a hundred and fifty-five kilometres and almost three thousand metres of climbing. Waiting for me probably didn’t help either! Still, we made it – well pleased to complete in twelve hours with no real problems. Well, my knee is still sore and my bike is getting the front suspension serviced; but trifling matters compared to a great day out. One day I’ll ride that trail slowly and bother to read all the informative signs!