Category Archives: NZ

Half the Heaphy

Adele lured me back to the West Coast for a few weeks with the promise of different biking and a change from the rather fruitless task of finding a job. The biggest part of the carrot was finally being able to ride the Heaphy Track. For most of the time I’ve been a mountain biking, the name Heaphy has been uttered with mild despair by New Zealand mountain-bikers no longer allowed to ride one of the best multi-day rides in the country. But no more, it is now open to bikes during the off-season.

Running between the north of the west coast of the South Island eastwards through rugged hills and valleys, the route dates from mining in the late nineteenth century – after which it was almost forgotten. In the later part of last century, the track came into use again for hiking/tramping and was also open to mountain-bikes as it was in a forest park. But when the North-West Nelson Forest Park became Kahurangi National Park in the mid-nineties, the mountain-bikers were shut out – much to their chagrin. But while I was living overseas, a trial was started allowing bikes on one of New Zealand’s Great Walks in the off-season (May to September) – a lot like how bikes are allowed on the Queen Charlotte Walkway. The trial was obviously successful as it’s now a permanent arrangement. Fantastic!

As Adele has work commitments, unlike James and me, the plan was to drive early Saturday morning to remote Karamea (the west end of the trail) and then catch a light plane with our bikes to the other end of the trail and ride the almost-fifty miles/eighty kilometres back to the car over two days – staying at a hut somewhere in the middle, Saturday night. This was also to be the first time Adele and James had been bikepacking – exciting! Despite the good weather forecast, it was not to be – when we arrived in Karamea it was decidedly wet with very low cloud. The plane couldn’t land – so we adjourned for bacon and eggs while we waited to see what the weather would do. Well fueled by second breakfast, it was now obvious a plane wasn’t coming to get us and we couldn’t be sure one would bring us back Sunday afternoon if we decided to ride the route west to east.

Plans amended consequently, we drove to the trailhead at Kohaihai, sorted our gear out and rode off late-morning into the rain. Immediately crossing the Kohaihai river on the first of many substantial bridges, the route climbed up to Kohaihai Saddle to avoid the cliff-lined coast. That first hill done, it was down to Scott’s Beach as James and Adele got used to riding mountain-bikes while wearing heavy hiking packs. The forest right down to the beach was impressive, but as the drizzle continued to fall we weren’t too interested in sticking around to look at the grey sea. While overall the trail was flat, there were sufficient short ups and downs to keep it interesting.

Quite surprised to bump in to Garry and cohorts riding out the way we had just came, we stopped for a brief chat in the rain. NZ is so small – here unbeknownst to us was a man far from home (as I was too). One of Adele’s previous rural medical teachers and colleagues I’d met him on adventures earlier in the year and then again as he was one of Adele’s teammates on that crazy Godzone adventure race in March. Not quite a bizarre as bumping into your Kiwi third (or fourth, I forget) cousin in a Tuscan village – but odd all the same.

With the tide far enough out, there was a short section on a beach – avoiding the high-tide alternative track.

Plenty of stream and river crossings gave opportunities to emerge from the trees into the rain.

Eventually, it stopped raining – about the time we reached the Heaphy River mouth and our lunch stop at Heaphy Hut.

With tasty, tasty salami and cheese ciabattas fuelling us, we set off inland. The section along the river flats beside the Heaphy was initially through more large groves of nikau palms before winding its way through stands of large native trees – rimu, rata and kahikatea. We eventually crossed the Heaphy on what is apparently the largest swing bridge DOC (Department of Conservation – responsible for much public land in NZ and the associated facilities) has ever built. Almost a hundred and fifty metres long, it is obviously built for when the river is in flood. It looked like most of the bridges have been upgraded recently, possibly for bikes – they are superb and easy to ride across. The one remaining wire-decked swing-bridge looked like hard work for James & his unloaded bike. I couldn’t even get my loaded bike up the ramp, so found it easier just to ride across the stream and risk wet feet.

Adele crossing the Heaphy.

Reaching Lewis Hut the flat coastal riding was done and we began a steady climb to James McKay hut. Generally it’s a very easy climb, taking eleven kilometres to ascend almost seven-hundred metres, but it’s a bit steeper at the start. The track is generally wide and the only really technical parts are some of the frequent, rocky, creek crossings. It was warm work, and some of us were down to short-sleeves before, and even when, the drizzle came back. DOC is working hard to upgrade the surface. If we’d been a week later, I’m told, they’d be finished and we would have missed the in-progress stretches of hundreds of metres of slick mud. This made it tough going at times for our little group, but I found it mostly rideable – even with a rather lightweight rear tyre.

It was with some relief we saw the marker indicating only two kilometres remained until we reached our destination for the night – James Mackay Hut. This was also about the time it started to rain again, albeit lightly. Due to rare wildlife living in the area, kiwi and giant carnivorous land snails (! – I didn’t see one, but saw some of their old shells – disturbingly large), one is not allowed to ride the trail at night – so we had to be at the hut before nightfall.

It’s a pretty damp climate with plenty of interesting flora and fauna.

After one final slog atop the slick and muddy track, we made it to the hut easily before five o’clock – not bad considering the late start. This was where we had intended to stay originally – but approaching from the other end of the track. It’s very weird turning up at such a palatial back-country DOC hut and finding it only contains mountain-bikers. What’s more, in the middle of nowhere it has bike-racks and even a bike wash stand (much needed)! Having cleaned our bikes, we went inside to find the coal range roaring and even such things as basic electric lighting, gas cooking, running water and flush toilets – luxury. Being such a new hut, it is very good and has wonderful facilities – but does lack in character.

It turns out large groups of mountain-bikers have very poor hut etiquette, being generally loud through the night – walking/stomping around, talking loudly, and getting up at four o’clock to shovel coal noisily (who does that?). Thankfully, they were gone by the leisurely hour we got up, had breakfast, packed up, talked bikes and brevets (I even got an unexpected handshake for completing the Kiwi Brevet – I was quietly chuffed) with the other more considerate mountain-bikers. With slightly better weather, we could see all the way down to the Tasman Sea and the mouth of the Heaphy.

Looking all the way back down to where we’d been for lunch the previous day.

Bike racks and wash area – at a hut, wow!

Although it was mid-morning by the time we set-off back down the hill, it was quite chilly and we got a little wet from the spray off the muddy surface. While much easier to ride through the mud assisted by gravity, it still had its tricky moments.

Adele enjoying the downhill – possibly this was before she fell off the side of a bridge, but it’s hard to tell as she’s always got a smile on her face.

While waiting for Adele, James and I tried talking to the friendly locals. This robin was particularly curious, and the many fantails we saw elsewhere were super inquisitive.

The ride out being the same way we rode in is thankfully much shorter to describe, but with much improved weather we saw so much more – and there was an eleven kilometre downhill too! Thankfully, the lack of rain meant I could get my camera out a bit more and I had plenty of time to take photos as well.

Occasionally there were glimpses of the Heaphy River – but annoyingly there were no great lookout spots on the way down.

Looking east up a tributary of the Heaphy – some good limestone cliffs to on the right.

After a rapid pace on the flats back to Heaphy Hut we got strangely hot – a good time for lunch; the nikau palms began to reappear also.

With lunch done, it was only sixteen kilometres back to the trailhead mostly following the coast. It’s a great fun trail and I was expecting to enjoy it more in the dry – it had dried out well since the previous morning. I was not expecting to be so blown away by the scenery – it all seemed so foreign to New Zealand. Apart from the temperature (which was mild), I could have easily believed we were riding alongside tropical rainforest on an island somewhere – perhaps in the Caribbean. The beaches were gorgeous, the surf was wild and the palm groves – wow.

Over the last saddle separating Scott’s Beach from Kohaihai, we enjoyed the final downhill back to the car and the end of our little adventure. I’m pretty sure Adele & James enjoyed their first bikepacking experience – we may not have gone that far, but there was so much to see. Now that all the bikes are cleaned of the grit and mud and all the washing is done, I’m waiting for a two-day window in the weather so I can ride the whole trail. I’m not hopeful, but if the eastern end is anywhere near as scenic as the part we rode it must be quite something.

Old Ghost Road – Lyell Section

While I was overseas I’d started to hear mention of an epic backcountry mountain-bike trail being constructed somewhere on the West Coast. Once back in New Zealand, I’d picked up a bit of excitement for the Old Ghost Road from various places. When completed it will be eighty-five kilometres of trail in remote West Coast hills and valleys – and will be part of the NZ Cycle Trail.

But it’s not complete yet – the trail is the brainchild of a charitable organisation intent on opening such remote backcountry to mountain-bikers using old dray roads from gold-mining in the nineteenth century, and finally putting through trail where the miners dreamed of doing so (before the gold ran out). About thirty kilometres at either end of the route are officially open, leaving about twenty kilometres in the middle (that goes through some of the most rugged terrain) to be completed and opened. It is hoped, with a final push of fundraising and volunteer efforts that the whole trail will be opened later this year.

While in Westport I was keen to make use of the good weather and check it out – James was easily persuaded, although it may have been his idea in the first place. We wanted to do the Lyell end of the trail as this was hillier – as we would be riding the trail as a “there and back”, we’d just take the day as it came and see how far we’d get before turning around. Setting off from the Lyell carpark and camping area, it was immediately over a new bridge and the climbing began through typically damp native forest. The gradient was gentle, but constant, and the trail was wide, well-made and a pretty easy surface to ride on.

Before long we were passing various old mining relics and the occasional ghost town on the old dray road – as this used to connect the towns, I assume this was why the trail was plenty wide almost in its entirety.

After almost thirteen kilometres, we arrived at the Big Slips and rather ominous looking signs telling us to dismount. Two big slips had completely destroyed the dray road decades ago during an earthquake – these were the biggest challenges the track builders faced to that point. I could see why as we pushed our bikes along the narrow stone path, the fall to the right was sudden and there would be no stopping if one were to go over. Not a chance I was stopping to take a photo for you. The slips safely negotiated, the trail crew’s confidence that they could go on and complete the ambitious project grew.

Near the slips the tree canopy at last was broken a little so we could start to see how big the hills were getting – and under the clear blue sky, there was little else to see but hills and trees, and more hills.

For the twenty or so minutes after the slips, the trail flattened off and pretty much followed the contour around to Lyell Saddle. Reaching the saddle after a steady two hours of riding we found the first of the four huts the trust has built on the trail (there are also two DOC huts on the trail). It is consequently quite new, sleeps eleven (there are also two small summer-summer only sleepouts nearby) and has extensive views over the south branch of the Mokihinui and the Glasgow Range. Annoyingly, I seem have not taken any photos there – it was beautiful on such a clear day.

Leaving the hut, it became apparent we were now on brand new trail; as it got steeper, we went through a series of switchbacks. The surface, being new, was quite different with the stones in the gravel seeming much larger. Still, it was all rideable and we were soon out on the ridge making sure not to ride off the edge while looking at the views.

Switching over to the other side of the ridge as we continued north, the trail stretched impressively in front of us – a thin white ribbon seemingly just hanging on the sheer hillside. It became clear that this would be the eight hundred metre section where it was compulsory to walk. I’m pretty sure most of it was rideable, but I’m also sure there was no way I wanted to be put in a body-bag at the bottom. Realising that we would have to turn around soon to get back to the car before dark and home for dinner, we left our bikes and walked to the highest point of the trail – keen to see the view and check out what really is some incredible trail-building.

Looking east towards the Kaikouras.

Turning around and heading for home.

Needless to say, the return downhill was quality. A bit of a pity I got a small puncture that took many little stops to inflate my tyre before the tubeless finally sealed up; and then I slashed my tyre landing a jump on some rocks with a kilometre to go, damn. Nonetheless, it was a fantastic few hours and I’m well looking forward to the whole trail being open and I hope I get to bikepack the whole thing soon.

A quicker trip through Canterbury

It had been a while since a Pheasant road-trip around the South Island and even longer since I’d accompanied Dad to one of his work farm-visits. So Mum, Dad & I set off north to visit Adele in her new home near Westport – stopping overnight as Dad had some of his last farm visits. While Dad visited clients near Cust, Mum and I popped into Oxford – disappointing. But I’d had my eye on the map and was keen to go exploring the Ashley Gorge a bit.

I wanted to see this end of the Ashley River as on the Kiwi Brevet this year we ended up further up the Ashley River in a part of the country I previously had no idea about. But we turned away from the river at the bottom of Lees Valley on to a off-road route and so I never saw the road through the Ashley Gorge.

After driving half an hour up the road, I was glad that the Brevet route didn’t go through there. I was expecting a nice winding road carving through the hills at close to river-level. It definitely was not. As the road left the tarseal/tarmac/asphalt it climbed steeply, working the car’s engine hard and wound its way high above the river as we gazed over the precipitous drop below us. After half an hour of steady, but by no means quick, progress we were left look at this:

I realise just how isolated Lees Valley is now – and am quite glad we got into it on the Brevet through MacDonald Downs Station. Mindful of the time remaining to return to pick Dad up, and Mum’s desire to buy chestnuts from a roadside stall, there was no point in descending to the river to turn around right away. Having collected Dad, it was off again north to Culverden.

Near Culverden are Keith and Jenny, who are in the middle of trying to organise the finer points of moving on from their farm that they’ve had over the last twenty years – there’s an awful lot to do and many things to be moved or disposed of. They must be some of Dad’s oldest clients, of about forty years, so there’s a little history there and I was amused to stumble upon a photo of Dad standing around an open fire near the beach where we lived thirty-odd years ago.

Apart from my fleeting Brevet ride past, it must be about fifteen years since my last visit – so it was good to see Keith & Jenny and hear of their plans for retirement and of some of their travels. While Keith & Dad were out together looking over the farm one last time, I was intrigued by all the things that there were to get rid of after twenty years – naturally I went and poked around through various sheds. I found a few new things, but a lot things that remind me the eighties and nineties – & some that predated my memory.

A good flying visit, no doubt more of Keith & Jenny to be seen as they move much further south. Strangely for Culverden, it was pretty damp – so as we drove on there was a lot of cloud and mist to see, particularly over the Lewis Pass. With a few more stretches of the Brevet route much more easily driven than ridden, it was through the tortuous Buller Gorge to turn up at Adele’s home-for-a-year-or-so at Carters Beach.

NZ Ploughing Championships

More curious than particularly interested, one Sunday afternoon I found myself with Dad visiting the New Zealand Ploughing Championships – after all, it was only fifteen minutes’ drive from home.

It turned out to be a very warm autumn afternoon and good fun wandering around with Dad as he tried to explain some of the complexities of ploughing. With my slight interest in old tractors, previously documented, the best part of the afternoon was looking at many fine examples of old machinery as Dad regaled me of tales along the lines of: “so-and-so used to have one of those” or “I drove one of those in [insert far-flung place I never knew Dad worked in]” or “the only time I ploughed was driving one of those”.

Other highlights were the steamed-up traction engines powering a thresher while some guys bagged whatever it was processing, and (for the comedy value) a group of war equipment enthusiasts tearing around a field/paddock in an APC and old military Jeeps and Land Rovers while their colleagues fired very loud blanks from a field gun and various machine guns.

We didn’t actually watch a lot of tractor ploughing (it’s not much of a spectator sport), but the horse ploughing was fascinating. The control that the drivers had over their teams of horses (numbering from one horse to six horses) while following twenty metres behind was quite impressive – as was the ability of a large team of horses to turn on a dime to head back in the opposite direction.

A worthwhile Sunday afternoon out which we quite enjoyed.