Up with the light after a reasonably good sleep, off down the coast shortly after seven we went. The first half hour down the coastal flats (apparently uplift resulting from an earthquake some hundred-plus years ago) was notable, besides the morning views, for the large stands of cabbage trees – with plenty standing solitarily too.
Half an hour in, we reached the first farm for the day – Glenburn. The extensive number of buildings (once a 16,000 acre station, now closer to 7,000 acres) were all immaculately presented; we were impressed. After an enjoyable chat with the owners, there was much delight in poking around the old (but still in use) woolshed and stables.
Drying dags, I’m told.
Fergus checking accuracy; spot on he reckons.
Hard to fathom just how many people have worked in here over many decades shearing who knows how many sheep!
A once familiar sight, I’ve not seen a Zip like this for a while; never have I seen an apparently internet-enabled one.
Definitely the native timber look in here.
Belt driven and still in service.
Into another farm, the fourth I think – I stopped bothering to count shortly after.
Not a lot of rider colour to work with, but I like to think the scenery is the main attraction anyway.
Fergus, Andrew’s son, just playing on a rock. A casual trackstand, his lightly loaded trail bike looked a lot more fun…most of the time. This time I wasn’t the youngest!
Suddenly, the beach turned to smooth, dense white rocks for a short time. We lingered as paua were collected.
The hills closing in on the coast, the riding became noticeably less flat.
Windswept – always like to see trees growing like that, even if it can make for challenging riding (not this time).
Fascinating layers in the uplift and a sweet spot for a little bach with its own little harbour and boat ramp.
Out of Glendhu Station, we headed upstream to find the large bridge over the Pahaoa River before entering the eponymous farm. Unfortunately a large landslide had taken out part of the coastal track, so inland we headed again. For the only time on this trip, up a big climb. Topping out at three hundred metres above the sea, it was mostly very steep. There was some respite near the top as we contoured around and the views opened up.
West, looking past Rerewhakaaitu, over Martinborough and there is still snow on the Rimutakas from the previous week’s weather.
Gerard, Fergus and I scouted for a lunch spot, found this spectacular place – and then decided it was too early for lunch.
Instead we had a lot of fun dropping all our altitude in a hurry to cross the Rerewhakaaitu River a number of times.
Another push to get up onto the track seen two photos above. With our lingering, the rest of the group wasn’t too far behind – spot two of them here.
The necessity of the reroute became obvious here.
Still scouting for a lunch spot.
Found one!
Couldn’t complain about those views as we all perched on the side of the track refuelling. With such an interesting morning and so much to look at it was little wonder we’d not even managed forty kilometres in five hours. Considering the riding had not been particular difficult, just with plenty of worthy distractions, I was mindful we had over sixty kilometres to go – most of it on unknown terrain (I’d ridden the White Rock to Ngawi section a few years back, it wasn’t particularly fast – but I was pretty worn out by the Aorangi Forest Park by then). But we’d done the only hills of note, so we should be ok. Even so, I made an effort to keep setting off and hopefully we’d keep moving.
Through Te Awaiti Station, the riding on flat gravel farm track and then road was easy going and sped things up a bit. Joining public roads, we saw many Tora Coastal Walkers spread out along the edge of the road – more walkers than vehicles, that’s for sure.
Over the Awhea River bridge, I thought I had better stop and let the gap close – stopping for a snack is always a good idea too. Gerard arrived first and thought we could go a little further before waiting – no argument from me, I was happy to have riding company. Hopping another locked gate with all sorts of warning signs, we entered one of the last farm sections. The thirty-two year old wreck of the Magnet seemed as good a place as any to wait.
After a good snack and more chat, there was still no sign of the others despite regular apparitions on the rocky horizon – the Magnet demanded closer inspection. Having negotiated boggy surrounds and approached the rusting hulk, I was most surprised to see a head poke out of the small gap between hull and rocks that it had been its final resting place for decades. The teeth bared were not small and I beat a hasty retreat.
Not moving.
Quite large, these ones did disperse.
Time for a new scene, a little further along there was a good outcrop to perch on and find a different perspective. Slowly we could pick out riders afar.
Over to Cape Palliser, and the last significant off road section of the day.
Getting out of White Rock Station involved fording the Opouawe River. Most crossed where it branched into four distinct flows – all rideable, albeit hub deep.
Andrew heading for the end of White Rock Road (which for me is forever associated with fifty kilometres straight into a strong northerly) and the last farm section – Ngapotiki Station.
The locked gate at the road end was not nearly as formidable as my memory was telling me, pleasingly. The other gate had definitely been cut down in height and there was a stile – much easier to get the bike over solo. Or were my recollections of struggling to get a heavy bike over it playing tricks on me again? Straight into a short, but steep and loose, climb onto a large shingle slip – there was a bit of pushing involved.
Strung out approaching the gate of doom – no longer needs that moniker in my mind. White Rock visible across the bay. Te Kaukau Point on the right.
Quite a change, this bit too loose to ride.
Off the shingle slip was great fun, strange to see other bike tracks after the rest of the route.
Remembering my previous time along this stretch, I was not looking forward to the rough, tiring 4WD track to the lighthouse. But waiting for some company and then ripping along it with Gerard and Fergus was a blast as a mild contour, but many undulations, gave plenty of opportunity to move the bike around with enthusiasm. Plus there were numerous large puddles (small ponds?) to variously avoid or splash through with glee.
There it is. More than a speck now.
Happy with that section as it mellowed out!
Why not give the legs a different work out?
Back to gravel road.
I had it in my head that there was still thirty or so kilometres to go and rounding the cape, was expecting to turn into the strong northerly (that until this point had manifested as alternating head and tail winds as we approached and left each valley reaching the coast). I was hopeful that the food caravan of vague memory five kilometres up the road in Ngawi would be open to fuel what I was sure would be a struggle.
Sure enough, straight into a block headwind was pure toil and I wondered how we’d ever get to Lake Ferry before dark. Delight to find not one, but two caravans open. A big feed of fish, chips, milkshake and ice cream gave a chance to get out of the wind for a bit. By that time, Andrew arrived and corrected my misjudgement – we only had a few kilometres more to struggle into the wind before arriving at Waimeha Camping Village.
What a great day of seeing plenty of special sights that I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever get access to. The riding and views were well varied and always interesting. There were some pretty tired-looking people at the dinner table as large and tasty meals were devoured over tales of the day.
The wind didn’t let up overnight and with the forecast for gusts up to 120 kilometres per hour and rain, the plan to ride around Pencarrow Head, boat across Wellington Harbour (likely not to sail in such conditions) and train back to Masterton was abandoned. I wasn’t too disappointed, despite it being spectacular – on a good day – as I’d ridden that section six or so years before. Just as well plans were revised, as the thirty kilometres to the start of Cape Palliser Road straight into the wind was slow and sapping. Always memorable having to pedal down steep hills.
At least turning north-east to Martinborough took the gale off the nose a bit, even so it took me three hours and twenty minutes to grind out the sixty kilometres. Most unusually for me, I didn’t stop once – conditions were so inhospitable that I saw no point in it. At least I have a previous trip to remind me what it looks like on a kinder day. Over a long lunch at a local cafe everyone gradually arrived, concluding an excellent trip exploring the southern reaches of the North Island’s east coast – much to see, and we were fortunate to do so. Thanks Andrew!
Andrew leading us south from Riversdale beach.
I’ll take this for a Friday afternoon.
A little bit of dune riding and pushing when the coast became impassable.
With the tide ebbing, the sand was mostly firm enough to ride – but not always.
Leaving the coast at Uruti Point, we struck inland ever so slightly.
A brief pause to regroup and determine how far to the first farm entrance.
Into the first farm; thanks to Andrew’s hard work we could guiltlessly ignore variations of signs like these all down the coast.
Our escort just before leaving us – the route through to the next farm having just been explained.
Soggy! Very fortunate with the weather as most of the week had been wet and cold; for the most part, things had dried out nicely and peanut butter mud had gone.
Exiting at the farm at the buildings, all manner of machinery had to be negotiated – this about the smallest of it.
Somehow we came away with a bag of lambs’ tails (whether that’s good or poor timing with docking…) for the townies’ culinary education.
Twenty minutes down the coast to the shearers’ quarters and our digs for the night.
Soon, an old bed frame was found, a fire roaring and the lambs’ tails set to cook.
Loo with a view.
This didn’t get fired up.
Even so, I’m unsure these shallow steps were necessary.
Somewhat startled by the hut, I poked my nose in briefly.
The roots kept one alert.
Descending through a couple of paddocks, the river came back into view.
Getting closer.
The transmitter is so large, it messed with one’s distance perception – looking so close here, but still only halfway up.
Occasionally a glimpse of the Hauraki Plains through the bush cover.
Ah yes, it’s quite big.
Made it, phew. Time to layer up and admire the views.
Mayor Island
Yes, there’s a trail behind me.
Bike disappearing into more trail.
All worth it.
A smaller tunnel this one.
Again, a bridge straight into a tunnel.
Follow the tramway…
Steep! Which is rather the point of such sections of track.
Some care had to be taken following the rails.
Back to more typical Waikato scenes.
A quick trip over the stream to the beach on leaving the campground.
Brent and Pete negotiating the only place I know to reliably find mud in Hawke’s Bay – on the old bridle path to Aropaoanui Rd.
Heading into the strange sun-mist mix that soon burnt off. 
Well, this is different. First time using a Freeload rack, I rate it with rear suspension.
Not a promising start and I wondered if my little car would make it up the hill and out of the wet paddock.
Views of the lake lacking a bit.
Tieke Falls on the Waihaha River.
These bridges are so much easier when there’s a wooden deck!
Flattening out a bit, great riding through the native bush.
Waihaha Hut – finally made it after fourteen or so years thinking I must ride there one day.
A bit more water around.
Some more of the lake today.
Legs of two halves.
Some recent felling has really opened up the Lake Rotorua view from this part of the Forest Loop.
Tarawera – still up there as a most-special place for me.
Twas not a bad place to grow up.