Sunrise seemed a reasonable hour to leave the house and start the second day of the tour. Winding around Bluff Hill took us to two lookouts. Again, it wasn’t clear enough to get views of where we’d come from and where we were heading.

Over Napier to Cape Kidnappers.

With not even two hundred kilometre planned for the day, we started off by riding half of my commute. Out of the ordinary, we stopped in Bay View for an extended coffee break – having only just left Napier. Decadence. A short stint of highway later the route went up Waipunga Rd – one of my most-ridden local gravel roads. Twenty kilometres and seven hundred metres of climbing, it usually takes just over an hour. It was in horrible condition after seventy millimetres of rain and logging trucks running during said rain (I’m told) ten days beforehand. The slowest conditions I’ve ridden in up there dragged it out to near two hours.

However, Darkys Spur Road was in great condition as we lost most of the altitude gained in the run to Tutira, and another big stop at the last store we’d see that day. Ice cream in a milkshake and ice cream in a cone may have been involved.

Towards Maungaharuru Range from Darkys Spur.

Twenty kilometres of quiet, and hilly – naturally – back road got us off the highway as the day warmed. We turned to have the far-gentler-than-yesterday sou-west wind at our back. Next was the part of the route I was most disappointed with – twenty kilometres of highway that I just couldn’t avoid. Thankfully, the long weekend traffic was light as the shoulder was close to non-existent. Topping up water bottles at Kotemaori School, there wasn’t long before Mohaka Coach Rd – that I’d only driven while scouting.

Very much looking forward to riding it, I was not disappointed. Some shaded valley floor riding was appreciated as the afternoon warmed then gave way to a climb through farmland up to twists and turns through forest. We even passed a vehicle somewhere before a lovely descent to the mouth of the mighty Mohaka. Following a shady snack stop in the township, a series of pinch climbs and sharp descents didn’t seem the most efficient way of getting up to Raupunga.

I continued to regale Pete with tales of all the extra hills I considered putting in the route. 120 km and a couple of thousand metres of climbing into the day, I was glad I’d found some measure of restraint. Astonished to find a food cart just down Putere Road, it was disappointing that it was closing down for the day and we couldn’t get one of the large ice cream floats that was prominently pictured on the front. We settled for cold lemonade before setting off for ninety minutes of climbing towards Putere. Occasionally views of the Mohaka and beyond appeared through the forested area.

Turning onto Cricklewood Road, I was excited to be there as it was one of my favourite stretches from my scouting rides. Topping out just over five hundred metres above sea-level early on, you’d be forgiven that the remainder of the road returning to the low-land would be straight forward. But what Cricklewood Road keeps giving in views over the surrounding valleys, farmland and distant ranges, it gives equally in yet another climb after each little descent. Bathed in late-afternoon light it was mild as we made our way towards Wairoa.

It was tough, but I absolutely loved it – it doesn’t let up until five kilometres from the highway when it plunges giving up the remainder of the elevation. By then, you’ve earned it with over seven hundred metres of climbing; it’s tough mentally as you can see that you should be dropping soon, but the climbs just keep coming.

The last two hundred kilometres of the route may be my favourite as the roads are rugged, very quiet and give spectacular views. I’ve since been told Cricklewood Road is evil and the end of the route is brutal – which I consider a ringing endorsement.

Arriving in Wairoa around dusk, it had been a long but satisfying day. Just as much climbing as the day before, but in three-quarters the distance. Straight to find food, we’d barely leant our bikes against the shop front when Debbie and Emma arrived – after a later start, they’d been consistently gaining on us all day as we took many stops. Dinner promptly ordered and served, three mouthfuls later I suddenly came over very nauseous. Weird, I was sure I’d been eating enough salt and drinking enough. My propensity to be affected by the heat laid me low for a few hours.

Plans for bivying somewhere dissolved as the others arranged cabins at the unexpectedly delightful campground. With some extra fluids and electrolytes, I started to improve – but not enough that I could face watching a supposedly important game of rugby. I woke at one in the morning to find I’d not missed much, I was back to normal and ravenous – nothing for it but to finish a challenging, but excellent, day devouring cold takeaways in the dark.