Category Archives: NZ

bikepacking, bikes, NZ

Lindis Loop 23 – Grandview Ridge

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A surprisingly good sleep later (maybe there was some value in dragging my tent around) and I was ready to set off and see how far I might get that overcast day. Things were nowhere near as grim as the previous evening. A little downstream of our campsite, we very briefly went over some of last year’s route on the Melina Ridge track’s exit to the highway and where we camped on the other side of the river.

Following the Lindis down for a bit.

Wasn’t hard to spot our climb to the top of Little Breast Hill, some nine hundred metres above us.

The valley narrowed and we had a cool little section through a wee gorge. We had to cross the river a number of times. The first looked simple enough, but in a sign of tiredness and a heavy bike I somehow promptly fell in the river halfway across. Pity Andy was watching. Although it was only half-seven, it was warm enough that the only real issue with this was that I had somewhat soggy potato chups for the rest of day – ick. I walked a few more crossings than I ordinarily would after that.

Through the gorge, contemplating that track and its gradient. Andy’s pic.

As we left the valley bottom, we took a chance to fill water bottles at the last creek marked on the map – it would be a long time until we found water again. Trying to eat as much as I could stomach, I steeled myself for the climb ahead – informed it only really looked steep for the middle third. As that approached, having already been walking since the turn upwards, the desire and energy was gone. After some deliberation, I was so close to turning and dropping down through the station (we were now on private land – thanks station owners for access, and Andy for organising, to make this route possible, although I might not have said so at the time!) and heading for my car.

While I was paused contemplating bailing on Andy and the route, we heard the faint sounds of approaching engines. Two ATVs came down the hill towards us, the occupants returning from a few days camping and hunting at the back of the station. They were pleasantly chatty (I was not, but Andy’s the guy who works in communications – so I left it to the professional) and as they departed, they left me with the encouragement to get up to the private hut a couple of hundred metres climb on for a cuppa. That seemed reasonable enough.

The gradient kicked a bit, but it wasn’t as nasty as Dromedary Hill and the surface was far better for pushing. The hut gained, I was feeling ok enough to push on.

Lush spot for a hut! Very tidy it was too.

All the cloud wasn’t great for the views, but there was still plenty to be staggered by – and the temperature topped out at warm, not hot.

May have even managed to get on the bike for that zig. Andy’s pic.

The trail turned off just below the summit, but damned if I wasn’t going to walk up another twenty metres to get to the top after having spent two and a half hours climbing the rest of the hill. I’m surprised to find now that the climb averaged over fifteen percent, about the same as Dromedary – somehow it was easier, perhaps due to the better surface, lower temperature, lack of really steep bits… Pleasingly, there were no two-step, bike push-ups needed.

A twenty minute break at the top was worth it for the rest and complete panorama – more fun picking out various ranges and other features.

North up the Timaru River valley.

West showing a fair bit of lumpy ridge riding to join the Te Araroa trail as it heads to Breast Hill.

More pushing beyond the locked deer gate – thankfully I’d picked up the key afternoon before.

Despite being on the ridge, the hills didn’t seem to be getting any less.

Shortly before the climb up to Breast Hill summit; thankfully we turned south onto the Grandview Ridge track. Hawea and the edge of its lake on right; over to Wanaka, its lake and surrounding mountains.

It turned out to be thirty-five kilometres of far more pushing and climbing than one would imagine considering we had a thousand metres to drop down to be close to the Lindis again! Still, we had plenty of daylight and food – even managed to find some water when we stopped for lunch and more rest. The fun of piecing together the views and features continued; we certainly had plenty of time to soak it in.

Looking from the north along the top end of the Grandview Ridge track – we were heading that way.

Lake Hawea a much darker blue than I’m used to seeing.

Oh, there’s the track from Hawea up to Grandview Mountain; which curiously is lower than the part of the ridge track done. Memories of more pushing helping some train for a long ago Godzone.

Back along the ridge and Lake Hawea. Making some progress now, still very undulating – to put it mildly.

East over tomorrow’s terrain, and the Chain Hills, Dunstan Pass, beginnings of Dunstan Range, St Bathans Range and right at the back – Mt Ida, which I can see from just outside my house where I sit typing away here. Fascinating.

Getting used to the gradients and feeling reasonable – not brimming with energy, but much better than previous night – we then saw Bluenose. From a distance it looked brutal. But gradients are weird, often it’s not as bad as it seems from afar. This was.

Trying to get some speed up to hit that zag to the left. Andy’s pic.

I got to the first corner and then was pushing – suddenly as steep as last night.

Then the surface deteriorated to the toughest all trip. Oh.

Probably a more accurate depiction of the twenty-plus percent. Andy’s pic.

Mercifully, it was only a short section (twenty minutes, give or take some rests) and completely doable. I’d like to say it was all downhill from there, but it certainly wasn’t! But only (!) twelve more kilometres until the last downhill to the flatlands. As we descended the rocky track turned to long grass, just for a change.

Up the Clutha to Wanaka.

Down the Clutha to Lake Dunstan; Dunstan foothills on left, Pisa foothills on right.

Over to more of the Pisas, this time next week…

Nearing seven o’clock we were off the hills. What a route! Hard, but manageable work. While the views were lessened, I was glad it wasn’t overly sunny and hot. We set off east on backroads for a relatively flat twenty kilometres for Cluden Creek and a small stash of food I’d dropped off the previous day. Water was scarce across here, except at the farmhouse we stopped at – we found most of the water going onto the garden and lawn! We gratefully filled bottles from the sprinklers. Dinner done, we were very pleased with over three thousand metres of climbing (much of it pushing, if we’re frank) over sixty-five kilometres in the hills; especially backing up after the evening before. Strangely it started to drizzle just as I got in my tent – maybe it really was worth lugging all that way. Phew, I’m getting tired just thinking about that day.

Addendum: Andy’s video of the whole trip. Some reminds me of all the tough pushing, and other bits of the views and fun riding.

bikepacking, bikes, NZ

Lindis Loop 23 – to the headwaters via Dromedary Hill

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Andy proposed two three-day windows around New Year for us to get back into the Lindis area. After last year’s excellent trip, I was dead keen – even if I hadn’t been doing a lot of riding recently and was below my normal fitness. The first window was a bit close to Andy’s spell of Covid, so the second it was. With no resupply options and a decidedly awful forecast on the last day, we packed a bit heavier – I even took a tent.

Our departure was brought forward to Tuesday afternoon in light of that forecast, we thought getting a headstart would help. Unfortunately it was stinking hot as we set off up the Dalrachney Dromedary Easement from Longslip Creek.

The valley floor riding was pleasant enough. Looking back east to the Wether Range.

Entering our first conservation area of the trip. Only five kilometres to Dromedary Hill summit.

How hard could that be? Just past those trees, the route turned sharply north and up. I was soon pushing as we were to climb almost nine hundred metres. A gradient averaging out around fifteen percent, there was plenty of sections around twenty percent. Don’t think I’ve ever pushed up steeper, unfortunately the surface was challenging too – hard to get a roll on. The two-step, press-up on the handlebars to push bike forward a little was in constant use for far too long. Hot and exhausting. But the views! They somewhat made up for it, admittedly not as much as usual though as it was such hard work.

We soon remembered that after last year’s trip we vowed only to return with unloaded bikes on day trips. Oops, here we were loaded again, with more gear on steeper terrain. I really didn’t have the strength or fitness for it.

Soon looking back on the valley we’d just left.

Gaining the ridge, looking north to the Ahuriri valley and the rounded Ohau Peak.

Thankfully we weren’t dropping to then climb those tracks.

Time to start heading up the ridge towards Dromedary summit. Andy’s pic.

A bit of ridge riding. Andy’s pic.

Still going, for now. Andy’s pic.

That must be back towards Omarama, didn’t realise at the time. Was probably too busy expiring.

A lot of the enjoyment from getting up that high is trying to piece the topography together. In this case we were trying to work out which one was and how we were getting up Pavilion Peak – and down the other side to the night’s planned Tin Hut shelter.

There it is on the right. The run down the ridge looks fun, and that’s without seeing the 500+ metre drop off the back.

But first, a little drop and more steepness up those switchbacks.

Getting closer, Mt Melina back left. Also, Melina Ridge track far left, which we’d climbed last year (easier than this one!) and planned for the next morning.

After four hours of heat, a mere sixteen kilometres and 1300 metres of climbing I was left staring at the last big climb – up Pavilion Peak. It looked nasty. Andy’s pic.

There was no way. I was spent, far too conscious of my heart racing far more than it ever really does (/had) and stomach feeling nauseous – nup, no energy for that climb. Thankfully we had escape options and Andy was very accommodating – I don’t think he was that keen for another such climb that night.

A fair reflection of how I was feeling about then; don’t think I’ve ever looked or felt so grim while out bikepacking! Andy’s pic.

Ah, it wasn’t going to be all downhill to get down.

Starting the descent, not at all upset at not going up there that night. Bit more concerned with how awful I was feeling however, bumping downhill not quite as much fun as it usually is.

Still looking over to Pavilion; we’d come down those switchbacks and turned left. Andy’s pic.

It took us an hour to get down to the valley floor, but we did at least manage to cover eight kilometres! Warp speed. Our camping spot adjacent to Lindis headwaters was lush and I was well pleased to be able to get, and keep, a large dehy meal down. I settled into my tent wondering how I’d feel in the morning and contemplated various routes back to my car. A tough evening on/next to the bike.

Addendum: Andy’s video of the whole trip. Some reminds me of all the tough pushing, and other bits of the views and fun riding.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, friends, NZ

Big Finish Line Party – Naseby

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With a bit of encouragement, Naseby was chosen over Kurow for the second Big Finish Line Party. For my part in that, I came up with some waypoints that gave plenty of options for a good few days of bikepacking in Central Otago, provided some photos and booked the pub. How much and where I would ride depended mostly on how the weather looked and desire to go some new places.

Andy and Eileen happened to be down south for a mix of work and biking; unfortunately I was doing a bit of Rail Trail work Labour Weekend so missed joining them for the long weekend loop north of Naseby. Nevermind, it was fun to have friends visit Naseby and show them around – even if it was a fairly bleak Labour Day. Plans were hatched for riding throughout the week, Andy to join us when work obligations were done with. Eileen and Andy having driven to Clyde, the plan worked better for me to ride over the following day.

After a lot of time driving and working around the Otago Central Rail Trail the preceding few weeks, I was aware I may find riding the flat, easy trail a little tedious. But overnight snow on the hills giving way to a clear, crisp and still day alleviated those fears. It was a stunning day and I revelled in the hundred kilometre commute to the northern trailhead.

Looking east to the Kakanuis.

Across the Ida Valley to Rough Ridge.

Up the Ida Valley, Hawkduns in the distance.

Bit dryer heading into Poolburn Gorge.

Poolburn Viaduct.

Hawkduns again, further north over the Manuherikia Valley.

Just before the gorge, a small group of e-bikers and I started to overtake each other. With a loaded bike, I was fine with eventually being passed on long gradual climbs – but there was pride at stake at not being able to overtake them downhill into Omakau.

Off Tiger Hill looking over to the Dunstan Range.

I only began to warm up mid-afternoon dropping into Alexandra, where it was time for a long-overdue catch-up with Ruth and Jonny. A cuppa and chat turned into dinner and a lovely evening; eventually heading for Mark and Paula’s hospitality and more chat near Clyde.

Still a bit of snow around the next morning, the sun was fleeting.

Eileen and I headed out to ride the Lake Dunstan Trail, first time for her, third for me. After a bit of creak-chasing in Mark’s impressive bike workshop we headed out. Despite the overcast day muting the normally brilliant colour of the lake, it was a far better experience with much less traffic both on the trail and across the gorge on the highway.

At this time of the day, the coffee and burger boats were open. As if we needed another reason for our leisurely pace; tasty burgers.

The trail engineering still impresses.

At Cornish Point, it didn’t take long to prevent each other talking ourselves into riding further to get another BFLP checkpoint. So turn we did to find by mid-afternoon the trail is all but deserted; there’s a lot to be said to be waiting until all the riders hiring bikes from and being shuttled by local companies have had their outing for the day… Our ride finished just in time, sneaking in for gelato just before the shop shut.

As much as I was keen to head up to Poolburn Reservoir and camp at Serpentine Diggings the following day, the forecast suggested it would be a really bad idea up at that elevation. Pity, another time; getting a lift back in a work van I headed home to await Eileen & Andy arriving and further scheming for the two days we had left to get to the BFLP.

The forecast looked good enough that we would get to climb the Rock & Pillar Range and stay in Big Hut – a hut I’d wanted to stay in for a long time. With only a half-day of riding involved and rain due early in the day, it was a leisurely departure hour. Even then, we were stopped at a bakery in about half an hour and topping-up supplies at the last resupply for the route. Managing to sneak in a couple of flat, straight gravel roads new to me was a bonus – even if they did seem to stretch inordinately. Not really having planned this section, we were fortunate that a Bailey bridge across the Taieri had only that week been opened on a minor road – the original bridge having been washed away in floods two Christmases ago. Ignorance is indeed sometimes bliss.

Much too early for the pub to be open, this building next door always catches my eye.

After fifty kilometres of gentle valley floor riding, we finally began to climb joining the Old Dunstan Trail at Styx/Paerau. From a distance, it’s an imposing climb and I’ve had three memorable rides up it. This one would also be so; thankfully it wasn’t baking hot. However, Andy wasn’t feeling great and trooper that he is, struggled through one of his hardest day’s riding (as I’d later learn) with no fuss. The wet gravel sure was slow and energy sucking though.

Upper Taieri windings.

Back over the Maniototo to the Hawkdun and Ida Ranges. Naseby Forest visible back right of valley.

We easily found the turning off the gravel Old Dunstan Trail onto the 4WD track up to and along the Rock & Pillars.

Down to Loganburn Reservoir.

Following old fence lines (signs of farming on ranges around here still bewilder me somewhat) along the ridge; steeper than it looks, some pushing involved.

Just the odd patch of snow stubbornly remaining.

East to the Pacific. Fun spotting those two bumps of hills right of centre – riding between them was part of my standard twenty kilometre loop from parents’ Waikouaiti home.

Plenty of schist fenceposts remain, even if the fences are no use now.

Cutting across to Big Hut.

Avoiding a surprisingly swampy section just above the hut.

Made it, seven hours and not quite eighty kilometres.

Can confirm, it is a big hut.

With plenty of daylight left, we settled into the hut as the wind built. Built in the late ’40s for skiers, reading the exhaustive history boards was both interesting and entertaining. Originally it held seventy intrepid skiers who would mostly travel from Dunedin to Middlemarch and then hike the two or so hours up the range on a Friday night for a weekend of skiing. With no tows or chairlifts, learning to ski up here sounded mostly like falling down the hill for a bit before the exhausting hike back to the top through the snow to try it all again.

Nowadays there are a more modest number of bunks in two rooms, a kitchen, an enormous common room (table tennis anyone?) and a large drying and ski (bike) storage room. The oil burner has long been removed and there is no heating, so I imagine winter trips never manage to warm such a large space – it was cool enough up there late-October. That the hut and outbuildings all have wire guys attached to big metal stakes gives an indication of just how windy it gets up there.

Ropes to the toilets, lest someone get blown away.

Trying to catch the last of the light, but the wind was well up and I soon retreated.

Remains of Top Hut, the original accommodation – somehow thirty people slept in this space.

It blew all night, thankfully Andy was feeling no worse the next morning – possibly even a bit better. We set off towards the summit, half an hour of ridge riding before the exhilarating drop of eleven hundred metres on rugged 4WD track to the rail trail.

I took a brief tour to jog to the actual summit, can’t not when it’s right there. Looking south east to the Pacific. Trig didn’t stand a chance up here.

North west to the Dunstan Range.

Not far down, I took another little detour to check out the recently refurbished and more recently condemned Leaning Lodge – doesn’t meet building code or some such bureaucratic nonsense.

I had a bit of snow to skirt as I approached the hut.

Nice spot.

Looked perfectly fine to me; I didn’t linger, returning to the main track to catch up to Andy and Eileen. Much fun, as dropping off these Central Otago ranges on rough tracks always is – I did miss the company to share the descent with, but that was my doing! Catching up to find Eileen and Andy waiting under a large shelter belt, we were soon out of the farm and on the Rail Trail again. With Andy sensibly opting to head for nearby Middlemarch and a shuttle back to Naseby, there was a chance to further hunt down the creak plaguing Eileen by swapping rear wheels. In doing so, success – it was pinpointed as coming from the rear axle.

That sure is a fun descent!

While bikes were in pieces, along came another bikepacker! I was very pleased to meet Paul and find that he’d had a great week collecting all five waypoints and rode the route – the only rider to do so. Saying bye to Andy, Paul joined us for a couple of hours of pleasant rail trail riding and much chat all the way to a big Waipiata pub lunch.

Thankfully magpies didn’t add me to the tally on this trip. The ones I encountered didn’t seem to make contact when swooping – most odd, but definitely preferable.

Stuffed full of the renowned pies and large fries, lunch legs somehow carried us up the hour-long, gradual two hundred metres climb to Naseby on quiet gravel roads (admittedly most of the gravel roads around here are quiet). The heavy shower that passed by while we lunched didn’t repeat until just as we got in to town – so another trip not requiring a raincoat, bonus. Andy had beaten us home, and we had plenty of time to rest and clean up before wandering down to the Royal for the Big Finish Line Party.

A bit down on numbers from the inaugural event, nonetheless it was a very enjoyable evening hearing people’s stories of their routes to Naseby and catching up with bikepacking friends old and new. Organiser extraordinaire Andy made the drive all the way down from Christchurch to hear what we’d been up to, and take the minutes. A most enjoyable week tootling around Central Otago on bikes, avoiding the worst of the weather, admiring the scenery and spending time with good mates – can’t ask for too much more.

bikes, friends, NZ

Mt White Station

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Postponed five weeks after a lot of rain put paid to the original date, a few days out the forecast wasn’t looking much better this time around. Thankfully it improved enough that we shouldn’t get too wet – from the sky, at least – for our weekend at Mt White Station in the Canterbury high country. Heavy snow as we drove along the Arthurs Pass highway was less encouraging, but as we approached the turnoff the cloud lifted a little. Ten of the original twelve met at the homestead before noon. All our luggage was loaded into a Landcruiser to be delivered to the hut, and our bikes were loaded only for day-rides – luxury, and the not the end of it. I’d even brought my trail bike, willing to trade a faster bike for a much more fun one.

Driving in, and the whole weekend, brought back many happy Tour Te Waipounamu memories – it was even better to be reminiscing with Andy, as we had a very enjoyable ride through the station that day early last year. On that day, we noticed that a lot of money was being spent on the farm – many new buildings being constructed. That has continued with two new huts being built further up the Esk Valley (one of which we would stay in for the weekend), significant roading and fence work was also apparent.

We pottered to the hut, seventeen kilometres and a modest amount of climbing, on the main road over a couple of hours high above the Esk River – of which we caught occasional glimpses. The rain stayed away, the snow was disturbingly low and it was cold. The road rode well; that is, until we got beyond the big, shiny, new bulldozer and the surface was mud of the tacky variety – drivetrains didn’t sound so good after those few kilometres.

Up on the terraces above the river; as for TTW, a lot of riding would be on these, with frequent drops to streams, rivers and then grovels back up.

Up the Esk Valley.

Back down the valley.

Sticky.

Home for the weekend.

Twelve bunks, insulated, fireplace, hot water, showers, well-equipped kitchen, a fridge-freezer – couldn’t ask for much more in the middle of nowhere! Soon the kettle was boiling; I couldn’t leave my tea to join the rush to go further up a side valley straightaway. Instead enjoying the cuppa, some quieter moments and then a shorter ride up Camp Stream and down Baldy Stream with Nina and Bryan.

Up the Pukio valley, we’d shortly head off left, in front of the nearest patch of bush. Unsure what pearls Bryan is expounding here.

There was a dozer track adjacent to the creek, so it was easy going. We spent sometime exploring for the best route to the saddle at the head of the valley. I think we just wanted to mosey around a bit before accepting our fate and pushing up the steep and obvious dozer track to a small lake.

Back at the hut before the others, there was more tea and we began trying to make our way through the excessive amount of food that had been driven. Between courses, Bryan, Nina and I went for a stroll down from the hut to see if we could get closer to the waterfall flowing into the Pukio just above where it joins the Esk. We didn’t make it, but did manage to get halfway down to the river and generally amble around in the cool of the evening. It helped to make room for the huge and tasty curry that Andy had made.

The plan for Saturday (cold, no wind, low cloud, but not rain) was to head further up the main valley, cross the Esk then head up Grant Creek and climb to the historic Cattle Creek Hut. Plenty more TTW memories, it was nice to have a bit more time to appreciate the area – even if the weather wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

Down to cross the Pukio.

Before climbing back to another terrace.

Now time to get across Ant Stream.

More terraces; but this time we stayed low, crossed the Esk, followed it up a bit before turning up the Grant valley just to the right of centre-shot.

Rob and Andy rescued a ewe from down a bank. The almost-completed Terrace Hut in background (turn-off before drop to Ant Stream).

Up the Grant Valley.

Before long, we left the stream and pointed up for a two-hundred metre climb. Steep and with no gravel surface, just more mud, we were all walking up there.

Twas a decent push.

Could be the intriguingly-named The Candlesticks range in the background.

I reached the hut right on noon and had a bit of time to poke around in solitude. Quaint hut and still well used by mustering gangs, but my word it was cold. Set back in the beech forest, it wasn’t getting much light and the wind was blowing straight in. Lunch inside

The skeleton of the hut hadn’t travelled far.

Others came and went, but I was trying to appreciate the time there and was in no rush – waiting to eat some more with Bryan and Nina. Andy had mentioned going back to Anderson Hut (further up the Esk, and where we’d had a freezing night on TTW), but I had no desire to go back in the cold and see it again.

Nina’s photo.

Forty-five minutes was enough in the ice box, I bid Nina and Bryan farewell and turned to see if I could catch the others. Turned out, I could – even with a big head start, some return on pedalling a bigger-bike-than-necessary around all weekend. Catching Andy, as so often, stopped shooting video it was much warmer down at 800 m; suddenly I was keen not to return straight to Esk Hut but instead make the most of exploring this vast place a fraction more. We could cut from the Grant-Esk confluence to further up the Esk on a recent track and miss out a fair bit of backtracking and then climbing to the main road.

Off the two of us went, it only took twenty minutes to join the road for the last three kilometres to Anderson Hut.

Anderson Hut just beyond the upper Esk. The spur we rode off the Dampier Range on TTW just behind it.

The door closes now! Not that it mattered to me; only room for two in the hut, most of us slept out that freezing night.

Andy, for some reason, was not keen to push our bikes back up the Dampier for the fun downhill. I escaped Anderson Hut this time with neither of my socks being stolen, we turned for twenty kilometres down the valley to Esk Hut. Of all places to find a fiver lying on the trail, the back of Mt White Station would be one I’d least expect!

This tree held my attention for quite sometime, most of its roots seemingly doing a poor job of being in the ground.

Another Esk crossing; Andy having no memory of the steep little climbs between the terraces. I remembered them all too well.

Fun riding down this valley with Andy again, which gratifyingly again came with frequent requests to pause and then ride for the camera. I took a short detour up the Ant Valley to check out Anna Hut (unsure why it’s not beside Anna Stream) before returning to the main road and finding Andy setting up another shot.

A short stroll up Surveyors Knob to get a different perspective. Esk Hut is on the end of the terrace extending from below the bush at right of shot.

Fifty kilometres and seven hours on mixed surfaces, I was starting to tire – the price for the fun bike. The last climb really was a grovel; I walked a lot of what I’d normally ride. Sign of a good day exploring? I think so. We got back to find most everyone had been back at the hut for hours – they missed out. But they did a grand job of keeping the food appearing – I was delighted to find out Yorkshire Tea loaf is a thing (how I didn’t know before, I can only marvel), and it’s delicious and commonly served with cheese (just gets better); I may have finished it, yum!

Definitely not a eat-what-you-carry bikepacking trip.

Another pre-dinner walk was in order to break up all the eating. This time, an easier, more direct way down to view the falls near the hut.

The closeness of such hairpin turns in the river caught my eye.

This stream rises near Surveyors Knob, and from such flat surroundings I was surprised by how much water was cascading.

After another large dinner, we were treated to Nina’s slideshow of her experiences dogsledding, attending a fat(-bike) training camp and then returning the following year to ride in, and complete, the 350 mile Iditarod Trail Invitational in the Alaskan winter. Biking in, or just trying to survive, temperatures down to -50 degrees Celsius was adventure far beyond what most of us could comprehend. Absolutely fascinating, and humbled our own efforts and hardships overcome.

Sunday morning and there was still ridiculous amounts of food left and, considering it was only seventeen kilometres out, we made a good effort at not taking much home. Seventeen kilometres for those keen to ride straight out, that is. I was not – there was still more exploring to be done and who knows if I ever might get the opportunity to return? Nina was keen, and Andy may have been as well – but as I had the car key, he may have felt he had little choice! Up the Pukio we went for ninety minutes, past the part of the valley where a family long ago lived for thirty years with a dairy herd – carting their cheese over the Dampier Range to market (it was bad enough with a bike). Perhaps they named the Mounds of Misery. (I’ve since heard how difficult farming Mt White is – stories not-uncommon winters where all stock are lost.) We dropped to get a view of Lake Grace, the Cox River and McArthur Gorge (where the river, for seemingly no reason, changes name to Poulter East Branch).

Up through the old dairy farm area.

From the top of the Mounds, looking up the Cox valley.

Over to Brown Hill, on the other side of the Poulter.

Lake Grace.

Cox River.

We turned and headed to Camp Stream, making faster time – the downhill overcoming the breeze in our faces, just; but not fast enough to catch Nina, who’d turned around thirty minutes before us. Plenty of undulations on the main road back, I may have been a bit tired – but we were zooming down to the remaining vehicles before noon.

Back to the homestead.

So that was an excellent weekend exploring some of the interesting and staggeringly vast Mt White Station – very much recommended. Cold, but not windy and I never had to put my raincoat on. Thanks to all the group for making it the weekend it was, especially all that food! Extra thanks to Nina for organising and sharing her snow and ice biking stories with us.

The usual bonus from riding with Andy, and for making it through such a long post – a different take on the same trip that takes far less time than reading this far (the second half of which just seems mostly to be of me having fun on a bike, oops).