Gone by six, I was soon back on the Forgotten World Highway as an overcast day dawned. Having driven the FWH a few times, the scenery was nice but my breath was not taken as previously. There are a few small climbs, but also a lot of valley riding was pretty easy going. Unfortunately, for backcountry cycling, all but twelve kilometres of the road is sealed now; that part which is still gravel was in pretty horrible condition. A symptom of the unexpected number of logging trucks? Perhaps; it’s still surprising to me that I saw most logging trucks of the entire trip through these backblocks.

Hobbit Hole, the sign says; the tunnel on the FWH.

The road finds the old railway at Tahora (about 40 km into my day) and ran close to it for much of time until I turned off thirty-five kilometres later. The exception being the railway gets tunnels at far lower elevation than the saddles the road passes over.

Approaching Tahora Saddle – rails stay low.

The hotel wasn’t really open at nine-thirty, but they rustled up bacon and eggs for me nonetheless – supreme.

Reaching the last significant saddle heading west on the FWH, it was time to turn north and find some better gravel. My route stayed about five kilometres north of the main road heading for Stratford. My word, the hills, gravel backroads, farming scenes and views were especially noteworthy. Eventually, Taranaki came into view too; it was one of those rare clear days where at one particular spot I could see both Ruapehu and Taranaki, although not simultaneously – being between them and all.

Climbing from Matau over to Huiroa, I was pleased by the sudden appearance of a tunnel just when I was beginning to wonder how the road would get over the ever-steepening hillside. But I was surprised to meet a pedestrian just standing there; more so, when we found we worked at NZ Steel at the same time and previously only had one degree of separation. Unusually, I thought, he and his wife were staking out the tunnel to photograph logging trucks; I’d seen some evidence of recent felling, but no cartage on this road.

I rode through the tunnel doing my best impression of a logging truck…

…and got this photo for my efforts.

Down in sheep farming country now, I spotted a mob being driven up the road. In no rush, there was enough time to dive off down a driveway and seek shade from the quickly warming afternoon and let the flock pass without me troubling them. Shortly after, stopping for water at a farm house, I was not surprised to find the day had quickly climbed into the thirties.

Sometimes you get to see Taranaki.

Warming a bit much, the last little stretch into Stratford was a bit of a drag – but the cold, quiet and empty Subway was a good place to recharge and refuel. Pete got in touch, and we figured I’d complete the sixty kilometres around the southern side of the mountain to Cape Egmont to meet him in three hours. Planning this route, I knew this stretch of road wouldn’t be particularly fun – but it meant I’d ride around Taranaki, and it wasn’t a highway.

The views stayed, and on the busy route between Ohakune and Stratford I had to keep my wits about me. The road climbed gradually, by far the highest I’d been all day, but was lumpy as it did so – all those streams and rivers running off the slopes had to be crossed. Progressing, I turned more and more into the NWer. Nothing for it but to put my head down and ride; knowing I’d soon be dropping down to sea level was some consolation.

The Tasman Sea tantalisingly close and less traffic once I was off the route between towns.

Descending to the sea, I finally found out exactly where Parihaka is. The last section was a little longer than I expected, I met Pete just after six o’clock where I was welcomed with a large chocolate muffin – that certainly hit the spot. A bit of a break to savour traversing the North Island in bang-on two and a half days (~480 km, 8000 m of climbing), riding some fantastic trails and backroads for the first time – excellent weather helped, and even the westerly oriented winds weren’t too bad, generally.

So, that’s the heading-west side of the trip done.

Less than quarter of an hour later, there really wasn’t much else to do (the lighthouse was shut) but get on the bikes and start the journey to East Cape. We thought we’d get to New Plymouth for before dark. Back up the east-west roads I’d just descended wasn’t too bad; actually rather pleasant as they were quiet enough to enable much chatting and the wind was now helpful.

Climbing up to Carrington Rd, which would take us twenty-five kilometres right into the city, it loosely followed the 450 m contour line. A skinny, sealed road with a moss median strip it was often a tunnel of native forest. Sublime riding on that evening, one of the highlights of the day and an excellent way to start Pete’s North Island Traverse route.

Before nine we were being welcomed, with admittedly short notice, in to Jacqui and Dan’s home for much appreciated real food and beds. Quite pleased with my first day of well over two hundred kilometres for some time and not being particularly sore, sleep came easily.