Category Archives: shoulder

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

The Christmas Letter 2023

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Time spent riding this year was always going to be down with shoulder surgery scheduled mid-year, less expected is the year drawing to a close with the least distance covered by bike in over ten years. The year started predominantly at home in Naseby around family. I kept pleasantly busy with casual work driving vans carting bikes, baggage and people around the Otago Central Rail Trail (hard to get sick of driving around Central Otago) and volunteering as much as possible on the local ambulance in an attempt to have all the practical skills signed off to complete the first responder qualification.

The remoteness of the region means we see helicopters responding far more than in urban centres.

I did manage to get out for a few small bikepacking adventures, none of which went quite to plan. After one of the best trips I’d done the previous year, I was keen to head back with Andy to the Lindis headwater area. Strange how we forgot that we swore never to return to this area with loaded bikes. Sweltering in summer weather, it was quickly apparent I was not in any sort of condition for such hills. We did manage to complete most of the loop planned and I was particularly pleased to make it along Grandview Ridge.

The every-other-year Great Southern Brevet, one of my favourite bikepacking events, was only two weeks later and I was in about a dozen different minds about whether I’d show up to ride what is now my backyard, especially with Andy’s much-awaited Nine Stations immediately after. I couldn’t face Grandview Ridge, in the more difficult other direction, again so soon – but the course was changed to take it out and instead include some private land – that was enough to entice me back.

While nice to see so many familiar faces again, it took me a good day and a half to get into it and by the third day things were going well enough – that is until I pulled up at the end of the day with very tight achilles tendons. A good rest overnight, I tried to ride away into more mountains – but quickly decided against that. A few days of rest was enough to allow a day’s ride to collect my car and make it to the start of the Nine Stations ride – but the achilles injuries plagued me for quite some time, and they’re still not a hundred.

Route-maker extraordinaire Andy had somehow got permission to ride through many private stations to put the loop together, it was a privilege to ride some new places with a good group.

Got to stay in this restored hut that we’d seen the previous year.

Dropping down to the Rangitata – TTW memories.

Far enough up the river to safely cross the Rangitata.

Unfortunately, a mechanical early on the third day meant I sat the fourth and final day out – but that held less interest for me, so I wasn’t too put out.

Mid-February I watched from afar in disbelief as Cyclone Gabrielle devastated Hawke’s Bay and so many of the places I’d come to know in the six years I spent living in Napier and biking a lot of the backroads. With electricity and comms compromised for a week, information was sparse but the damage over such a wide area was more than I could comprehend.

I’d have never thought the Esk could burst its banks to flood my former workplace with over a metre and a half of water and the accompanying debris and silt.

The end of summer saw me being support crew (at the last minute by myself) for a friend’s team in the ~week-long Godzone adventure race. It was a great week for me around the beauty of Fiordland. All the driving, planning, packing, unpacking, assembling transition zone, team social media updates, washing and drying vast amounts of clothes and gear was enough of an endurance sport for me – I wasn’t even out there doing the hard yards! Pleasing to be able to support others in their mad adventures.

Heading out onto Manapouri.

I did manage to do a little exploring of my own.

Transition zone set-up.

As my own plans to build a small house in Naseby developed, helping my friend Mike replace my parents’ roof one drizzly autumn week was both satisfying and good experience for future building work.

Old and new steel.

The rest of autumn was a flurry of getting firewood for the winter, more Rail Trail work, and completing the ambulance qualification, just, before shoulder surgery. Surgery went very well and I spent most of the six-weeks of sling wearing staying with and being cared for by Mum and Dad in Dunedin. I was surprised that there was far less pain/discomfort and swelling than the keyhole surgery eleven years before. I made the most of the mild weather by going on increasingly long walks exploring Dunedin and surrounding hills.

Out at Portobello for Mothers’ Day.

A week in Auckland near the end of the sling stint was the first time I’d been to the city for at least four years and I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with many dear, and long-neglected, friends – as well more walking and warmer weather. Sling off and it was back home to Naseby, staring at the prospect of a long, cold winter sitting by the fire reading books unable to do much else as my shoulder recovered.

A well-timed check-in call from a mate (a former colleague) detailed just how much work there was to recover from the flooding in the Pulp Mill and gave the idea that I might go up for a few months and help out. I thought three months would be good, but it was five I was needed for – so less than two weeks later I was back in Napier amongst too many people telling me it was like I never left. Things had certainly changed in two years and I still struggle to believe the amount of recovery work that has already been done and how much is left to get the place running again.

It was odd returning, as Napier isn’t home any more, I’m not living alone in my own house and everyone’s lives have understandably moved on. My shoulder recovery, with some physio, continued to pleasantly surprise me and I was able to get on a bike sooner than I expected. I’d not brought a bike with me, so it was an opportunity to give a gravel bike a try buying a secondhand one. I thought I might sell it if I didn’t like it, but I’ve decided it’s a glorified, but useful, road bike and I’ll keep it for some different exploring when I return home.

There used to be a bridge there.

Getting back to parkrun, a large part of my previous Napier life, was good to try and get some fitness back; I managed to cut the gap to my 5 km personal best in half before picking up a side strain which has halted further progress. As it happens, the work in the Pulp Mill is nowhere near complete (which rather hinders my role as Completions Manager – yeah, I’d never heard of such a thing either) so I was asked to stay through summer until pulp should be coming out of the mill again – something I’d really like to see.

We managed to agree on what another four months, and summer, away from home and family was worth – but equally I’m sticking around to see a place that was good to me and is the livelihood of many workmates and an important part of Hawke’s Bay on its feet again. Pleasingly, the work is engaging, keeps developing and very satisfying. The second half of this video gives a better idea of what’s been going on.

I’m down south in Dunedin for a week and Christmas with my parents, and an overdue venesection (haemochromatosis seems to be nicely under control now, blood letting only required every few months), before returning to Naseby for a week at home doing little – maybe some biking and ambulance cover. All the best for yours and the new year!

around home, bikepacking, bikes, MTB, shoulder

The Christmas Letter 2022

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After all the changes that 2021 brought, this year has very much been about settling into a new life in a very quiet part of the world. But constant that it is in life, there have plenty more changes – just not on the scale of diagnosis of chronic genetic conditions, quitting permanent full-time work, selling house and moving to the bottom of the country.

The start of the year saw me bouncing between spending time with and helping family in both Naseby and Waikouaiti as Adele and James awaited the arrival of their second and our parents prepared their house for sale and a move into Dunedin. There was a bit of biking, hiking and running involved too. Amongst that, weekly blood-lettings stretched out a little but I was pleased than my iron levels were down to normal levels by February (thirteen venesections) and my haemochromatosis was under control enough to lengthen the period between blood bank trips to three-months and allow my blood to be used as donor blood (silver lining).

Shortly before heading to the top of the South Island for the start of a ride, I decided I wanted to be in Naseby for the rest of the year to be closer to Adele, James and my niblings. That meant finding somewhere to live, fortunately I was able to find a suitable long-term rental (as in many holidays spots, most rentals here are short-term holiday ones). With a couple of days up my sleeve before the start of the Sounds2Sounds bikepacking event, I went exploring – and managed to fall down a bank, dislocating my shoulder again. On a remote track, I was very pleased my beacon worked and very relieved and fascinated with an impressive and fun (besides the dislocation agony) helicopter winch retrieval. That and a night in hospital changed the immediate future a fair bit, thankfully I was well looked after by members of the bikepacking community with accommodation and transport home.

With help, I still managed to move and settle into the far-too-cute-for-me cottage. Much smaller than my Napier house, it suits me well and has been useful in confirming that I could live in a lot less space. Stanley arrived a couple of weeks later, it’s been great to be so close to spend much time with Adele, James and their young sons – plenty of nephew amusing, and a few chores too. Through the year I have enjoyed some casual work in new-to-me industries – helping the usually-short staffed local pub when needed and helping a local cycle trail operator driving around beautiful Central Otago (don’t get tired of it) moving bikes, people, bags and vehicles.



After many months of planning and waiting, the build of my first new mountain bike in seven years came together. Autumn conditions were great on the local trails, and with them only being hundreds of metres from home I was out a lot enjoying the new bike and slowly understanding the maze of techy, hand-built trails – often with James’s help. Much fun and great to have them so close. With mountain-biking so close, there was little running this year as I’d far rather be on a bike!

A trip to the lower North Island with Mum and Dad for my uncle’s eightieth was much appreciated for being able to spend time with a lot of family and friends. Parents’ house sold, shortly after it was time for their move into the city – a big week of packing, moving and starting to unpack. They are now settling in well to a far more convenient location in a house they enjoy for its warmth, smaller section, garden and views. I visit sporadically as various things take me to the city; not two hours’ drive away, Mum and Dad also stay regularly at mine – a move to Naseby has certainly been a boon for spending time with family.

As for many places around NZ, winter was a lot wetter than normal this year – plans of exploring the Maniototo gravel roads on crisp, frosty mornings fell by the wayside. Much time snuggled by the fireplace with cups of tea reading instead. A week of Covid-lite (my first cold in three years was far worse a month beforehand, no long-term effects) isolation was surprisingly enjoyable. We had one really good snow fall which was thoroughly enjoyable; the temperatures dropped after the snow fell, turning it into a snow week. For the first time in a few winters, it was consistently cold enough to be able to skate on the pond up at Adele and James’s section – enjoyable relearning that skill.

Now having so much time for myself, I’m bemused that this year I’ve biked the least distance since 2014. But quality over quantity – bike-commuting (3000-5000 km/year that was only tolerable) was traded for far more time having a lot of fun mountain-biking. I also didn’t finish the only two bikepacking events I entered, so there was another couple of thousand kilometres gone. But the bikepacking trips I did take were some of the best I’ve ever been on – probably no coincidence that those were more off-road and mountain-bikey than the bikepacking I was used to in the North Island.

Honourable mentions go to Andy’s Southern Special (a week-long affair of which the highlights were Percy Saddle, taking it easy to and from Mavora Lakes, and the southern end of the Pisa Range; Andy’s video here); also Andy’s Four Peak and Orari Gorge weekend (the new trail bike proving capable on such a bikepacking trip – we didn’t have to carry much), Nina organising a return to Mt White Station (more trail bike fun – no overnight gear carried); low key riding with Eileen and Andy to the Big Finish Line Party in Naseby; and Pete’s stunningly well-timed trip (no real rain!) up the big three West Coast mountain-bike(able) trails over nine days – it was brilliant being able to spend multiple nights on the trails and not be in any rush, a fantastic way to mark my fortieth.

 

Easily the exceptional trip of the year, and one of the best I’ve ever done, was another of Andy’s – four days linking old farm tracks through conservation areas in the Lindis, Hawea, Dunstan and Oteake hills. I’ll just leave this video here – you may get an idea of the silly amount of fun I was having on a slightly unsuitable bike (arguable point, it was the bike I had). I had to replace the now-cracked rear rim after this, and soon replaced the rigid fork with a suspension one.

November driving around the North Island with both bikes in the car was far wetter than expected, somehow I managed to avoid getting very wet at all with still a decent amount of riding. The trip was mostly about taking the time to visit as many friends as I practically could and it was lovely to see so many familiar faces – it’s a long way to Naseby so it was good to make the effort. That trip ran straight into ten days of St John courses over the first three weekends of December (Adele convinced me the local ambulance needs more volunteers – jury is still out as to if I’ll enjoy it or be any good, it’s a steep and interesting learning curve but). I’m very pleased to be home for a while after six weeks away, our Pheasant Christmas is in Naseby with parents and Mum’s siblings from Sydney (first time seeing them in some time).

There’s a few trips around the South Island planned for the rest of the summer and I was planning to go bikepacking abroad mid-2023 – but that’s out the window, as I’ll likely take the opportunity to have surgery on my shoulder again, hopefully that’ll fix it better. The downtime should be used to move my plan to build a small house on Adele & James’s land from concept to something much further on. So next year is already looking unusual – but hopefully good and worthwhile taking that time out. All the best for yours.

bikepacking, bikes, NZ, shoulder

Nydia Track – mostly

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Somehow last year, I wangled my way onto the inaugural Sounds2Sounds bikepacking event start list. While I was very much looking forward to riding 1500 km down the South Island from Queen Charlotte Sound to Milford Sound, I didn’t put a lot of thought or time into planning my ride, figuring I’d get to the start with the usual gear and take it from there – I was even more anticipating touring the route with various friends at whatever pace they chose. Amongst summer adventures, helping family out and then deciding to move to Naseby for the winter (brrr) – which required finding somewhere to live, Sounds2Sounds was a ride in the back of my mind that would sort itself out.

Riding away from Blenheim Airport, I realised that for all my travel with a bike over fifteen years this was the first time I’d assembled a bike at an airport and just ridden away (having thoughtfully disposed of the cardboard box) – exciting! A flat and easy thirty-five kilometres in light Sunday afternoon traffic took me north to Havelock (not to Havelock North, which I’m far more familiar with). Finding the campground, there was enough time to pitch my tent, get supplies, cook dinner and come up with a plan for the few days before I started Sounds2Sounds. I’d do an overnighter north on the notoriously rugged Nydia Track (very much a tramping/hiking trail), camp just past the trail end and spend the following day exploring gravel roads around Pelorus Sound before returning to Havelock.

With only fifty kilometres to cover that Monday, albeit much at a slow pace, it was a leisurely start before quiet gravel roads took me to, across and alongside the Pelorus River and Sound to the trailhead on a still, sunny morning.

Over the Pelorus.

Warm-up, and forty percent of the distance, done in eighty minutes I thought the twenty-seven kilometres to the next road would take seven hours of at touring pace.
The first climb was more rideable than I was expecting, but still – forty minutes to gain two hundred metres over two kilometres is not rapid. Only just into the descent to Omahakie Stream I found West Coast friends, Nina and Rachel, on their last climb of the return from an overnighter – pity I was a day late, or I’d have had some good company. We stopped for a natter before all getting a move-on. The descent over all too soon, it was time to settle into the hike up to the highest point of the day – Kaiuma Saddle. It was a pleasant walk, and not nearly as bad as I’d been expecting – all the roots and rocks easily negotiable. There was no hurry and I just plodded away.

A rare glimpse of the terrain.

Down to Nydia Bay from Kaiuma Saddle. A good spot for lunch in the sun.
The descent was good technical fun, especially with a loaded rigid bike, and in half an hour I was down skirting the edge of Nydia Bay. The few dwellings in this isolated spot were interesting to see. There were even some people around – it seemed common to walk in one day and stay a couple of nights before completing the track; I had no such plan.

A brief detour down to the Nydia Campsite for no particular reason.
I settled into the last big climb for the day – 350 metres up to Nydia Saddle. It was pleasant enough going, and would have only taken an hour and a half, until I happened upon a large, recent treefall near the top. It completely covered the track, and the hillside was steep enough that attempting to go around it when alone was not a risk and effort I was willing to expend. Further investigation found I could just get under it. So close to the saddle and the end of the track it was worth a go.

There’s my bike back down the track, having just found I could get under the tree and all the foliage it had brought down with it.
Never before have I had to take all the bags off my bike to get past an obstacle.

Posting bags through the pinch point – getting to and from this point was enough effort across all the branches and vines.
Even with the bags off, my bike wouldn’t fit, nor could I manhandle it through. Amused by the absurdness of it and enjoying the challenge, off came the wheels and with sufficient trips back and forth I worked hard to wrestle the frame through (pedals and handlebars particularly adept at getting caught on vines and branches).

There was a way through there, unsure now how.
At last, forty minutes later, I was reassembling my bike and reattaching the bags – pleased that there was no damage. A few hundred metres to the saddle, it was time to rest and refuel – that had been a different kind of effort to the normal hike-a-bike. Recognising my tiredness, I resolved to take it easy on the final descent – also knowing that the last section was notorious for its rooty nature and requiring time off the bike.

Alas, not even a kilometre down the track I got my balance wrong on a slow rocky bit, put my right foot down and my momentum took me over the bank. Impacting my left side, but still going down the bank, a tumble whacked my right shoulder on a tree and out it came, again. The seventh time now, the dislocation came with the clear thought of “well, that changes the next few months – no Sounds2Sounds, no biking, moving house is going to be difficult, more physio…”. Otherwise only a little scraped up, it took some time and energy to get back up the steep bank to the track with my left arm only any use. Confirming my shoulder was out and not going back in, it was an easy decision to reach for my SPOT tracker.

I’d intended to bring my personal locator beacon on this trip, but someone wanted to follow my dot, so the SPOT it was. Not the best under the canopy of thick bush, but fortunately I’d crashed just before a slight opening in the trees – it looked the result of a long-ago slip. I was most pleased to see the lights flashing green, indicating that the device had found sufficient GPS satellites and my SOS had gotten out. The clearing also meant that I had a nice patch of sun to lie in – on the track with my arm hanging off the side hold a water bottle in an exceptionally hopeful bid for the muscles to tire and relax that I might relocate my arm. It didn’t work, but it was nice lying in the sun.

With the sun slipping away behind the trees, and along with it the warmth of the day, it was time to prepare for a possible night out on the track – I didn’t expect to see any hikers until at least mid-morning. Thankfully my bike stayed on the track, so I began the slow process of extracting my ground sheet, mattress, and sleeping bag. Mattress inflated, I slowly worked through the pain of any movement of my shoulder and arm, to get in my sleeping bag – remarkably tricky with one arm to use while the other shoots pain all around.

No sooner had I settled into my invalid’s cocoon that I heard the faintest trace of helicopter blades whipping through the air. Quickly, compared to getting in, I was back in the open air to try and spot the chopper and wave it down. As it got closer and the sound bounced around the hills, I eventually worked out it was on the other side of the ridge and out of my sight. Sigh. The noise faded as it disappeared somewhere. Slowly I again attempted to get in my sleeping bag. Having just done that over many minutes, the chopper came back.

This time it was on my side of the valley, down a bit and I could see it! But in this dense bush, the crew spotting me had the proverbial task – although I guess they’re well practiced. I set my helmet light to flashing and pointed it at the side of the helicopter. Eventually I was spotted, which was even more pleasing. I wouldn’t be spending a painful night alone on the track. Hovering over me for a bit it was draughty, then off it went (I later learnt to unload unnecessary weight in a nearby paddock) before returning.

The downwash so strong, all my sleeping equipment was in danger of blowing away down the track. Heck, I was in danger of blowing away; crouching and holding onto my gear continued for minutes. Not entirely comfortable, besides the obvious, in this position, after a time things calmed and went very quiet as off went the chopper. I stood and turned to find a paramedic, Neil, standing right behind me. His proximity was somewhat startling, but I was well-pleased to see him. All the standard questions ensued as he went about his assessment of the situation. Thankfully I had no other injuries (it wasn’t much of a fall really, just not a good one for a weakened shoulder) and was making sense – I think. With drugs soon into my left hand, the edge came off and a plan was made and enacted while we waited for the helicopter to return in half an hour. Curiously, the rescue had come from Wellington – not that far away really, but across on the North Island – as the local rescue helicopter was otherwise occupied.

In some ballooning, all-enveloping harness I’d be winched up with Neil, along with most of the luggage off my bike. Unfortunately my bike couldn’t come with, but I was happy for Neil to stash it off the side of the track – confident it’d not be found by the few people out here mid-week and cause more alarm. Back came the chopper and the downwash. I’m still deeply impressed with the whole winching process in such a small clearing in the bush – soon I was up in aircraft and we were off to retrieve that gear. In spite of the whole situation, I enjoyed the flight to Blenheim (chosen over Nelson as it required less fuel for the helicopter to return to base) getting a view of a part of New Zealand I’m relatively unfamiliar with.

But this is the only picture I managed to snap between being seen to medically, filling in details on a tablet and messaging loved ones (family having been contacted by rescue services, domestic and international, to check it wasn’t a false alarm understandably had a few questions).
Landing at Wairau Hospital, at least I could walk myself into the Emergency Department, where what I’d tried to do trackside was repeated – the bed was more comfortable as my arm hung off the side with weight taped to it. Familiar fun times sucking on the Entonox as various people tried and failed to relocate my arm. By now it had been out four or so hours and, predictably, it wasn’t going back in. Again, time for a general and it was, apparently, quickly back in. Much rejoicing, well, as much as possibly through the haze of the drugs wearing off. I guess five hours is better than the six it was out the previous time… I was pleased the relocation attempts weren’t as excruciatingly painful or numerous this time.

Photo taking really goes downhill when my right arm is out of service.
Onto another bed for observation and a Covid test (strange timing there, but priorities). I was slightly put out by a nurse suggesting I was about to be discharged into the night of an unfamiliar town to be left to my own devices. I rated chances of finding a motel near midnight on a Monday night in Blenheim as low to dismal; I might have just rolled out my sleeping kit again and slept under a tree on the hospital grounds… Thankfully the doctor decided I needed to be kept in “for observation” and found me a bed in a ward. Sometime after one in the morning I managed to get some sleep, pretty happy that my arm was back in place and I wasn’t out in the bush. Very thankful for the prompt, and somewhat exciting, rescue and the medical treatment.

Turns out I did know one person in Blenheim, Warren – whom I’d met briefly on the Six Corners Challenge, and was due to start Sounds2Sounds the same day as I had been. After a visit from the physio and another doctor, I was discharged mid-morning and Warren kindly picked me up and let me rest at his house for the day. The afternoon was enough to organise retrieval of my bike the following day, have some gear I’d left at the Havelock campground collected and delivered and me to stay with Warren’s mother for a few days while I worked out how to get home.

I was well looked after by Linda, amongst much bikepacking talk, at her place up the Taylor River valley. Pleasingly, this was on the Sounds2Sounds route, so I was able to see a lot of the riders go past – nice to see friends, even though I couldn’t ride. My shoulder was a bit stiffer than usual post-dislocation, and gave some unusual pains further down my arm – I assumed from the force used to relocate it. I settled into one-armed life again, trying not to use it too much – but still trying to help around the house a little. The rural setting was most pleasant for gently exploring, there was much time spent reading and sleeping too. Warren delivered my bike (it had been well hidden, taking Aaron almost as long to find it as it did to run in from the top of the Nydia Track), and it made sense for Linda to take it south when she went to collect Warren and Tosca from Milford Sound. It made even more sense for me to get a lift too and save the hassle of negotiating a flight south. So a week after my crash, I made it home – many thanks to all those that helped me.

As it was, I was only off the bike for four weeks as with some physio I quickly got back my full range of movement. Being in a sling only really lasted a couple of weeks; moving into an overly-cute rental cottage was manageable with help. Since then I’ve enjoyed settling into a little home, plenty of time with and helping out family, much mountain-biking from home on the finally-delivered and -assembled new mountain bike, casually helping a couple of short-staffed local businesses, getting enough firewood to survive comfortably a winter far colder than those of Napier, and, now that regular frosts have arrived, a lot of reading in front of a roaring fire. Somehow I even ended up on a podcast, in a manner of speaking.

I was most surprised, impressed and delighted when this caricature of me dropped into my podcast feed. Credit: Jonny Simpson.
With such cover art and my writing here, there’d be little chance of guessing that the episode has almost nothing to do with riding bikes! Except to say, it’s my story – so of course bikes aren’t far away. Noticing a New Zealand-sized gap in personal finance media, Ruth, and Jonny, set about rectifying that with an excellent website and podcast. It’s quite a resource and has certainly and ably filled that gap over the last six years. Somewhere along my own path to not having to work for a living (not a fan of “retired”), we corresponded a bit and sometimes I’d drop in for a tea and chat when I was passing through town. That’s a bit more often now that I’m only an hour down the road.

On one such visit recently, I was mildly taken aback (should have seen it coming) when asked if I’d share my story for the podcast. As the whole idea of the podcast is to share people’s money stories and get more conversation about such things going, I could but say an honoured-yes. Quite concerned that my story isn’t really that interesting compared to the others I’ve heard, it turned out I’m more than happy to talk personal finance for three hours – just as well Ruth could relate it far more concisely. So if such things interest you, the episode is here, check out thehappysaver.com or contact me – I’ll happily chat about my own experiences.

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.