around home, bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

HBAT20 shortened

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Ten days between returning from the excellent West Coast bikepacking tour and setting off for the 2020 edition of the Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour was always going to be a bit rushed for sorting out the last minute details. Still all the things were done: farm inductions, finalising the tracking, answering the emails and questions, assembling my bike, getting overly excited and following up a last minute section through stunning private land, adding said section to the route and so on. From a few days out I noticed my hours of sleep gradually decrease to about three hours per night and the telltale tic of tiredness return for the first time in some years.

Twas all worth it though to have fourteen riders assemble at Ranui Farm Park the Thursday night before the four day long weekend. That worked really well (save an annoying miscommunication with room bookings), getting to see everyone for some hours before the ride started at dawn the following morning. So good to have half the field returning riders and get to meet for the first time other people I’d only exchanged emails with.

Friday morning and ready to go before sunrise.

Finally, I could challenge myself on the course I’d designed to be as such, and interesting to me. Turns out more time should have been paid to my pedals, as one promptly fell to pieces and slid off the spindle still attached to my foot. Bit of a showstopper, but as far as a place to have such things happen – one kilometre from the start is about as good as any on a remote course. Sad to see everyone else go, I turned and hoped Greg hadn’t left for Napier already. Phew, he was still there and we were soon heading home – where I swapped in pedals from another bike and made the drive back. The crazy amount of fog from just north of the start all the way to Napier persisted for the drive’s entirety, but strangely was not on the course at all.

Three hours later I was back on the route and wondering if I’d still make my goal of being back in Napier that night. A nice gentle start, in this crazy year it was a privilege to be out riding such a ride with or without the group ahead. Seeing many tyre tracks in the gravel reminded me of this and brought a smile to my face – some of it may have been a touch of pride that I’d somehow convinced people to get out and spend their long weekend on a course I’d designed. They may or may not trust me in such a way again.

Still flat, not for long.

A three hour delay wasn’t really that frustrating, after all I was soon out riding in the sun drenched countryside.

Diverting from last year’s course, the hills quickly began on a section I love. But first, a long moment to pause on the the very spot where a couple of months before I’d met a fantastic farmer who generously allowed us to ride through his farm. Tragically he’s gone far too young after a freak accident on the farm; I only chatted to Harry for quarter of an hour, yet it’s had quite an impact – part of it, another reason to savour being able to get out and make the most of opportunities presented. Eventually back riding – a dead-end road, a hilly farm crossing and then a blissful section with twenty kilometres of gravel, views of the ocean and surrounding farmland, grass up the middle of the little used road and then the long descent to sea level…

After noon by now, the store and excellent coffee cart at Porangahau was most welcome for chatting and refuelling before the steep climb up Old Hill Rd. Was a little mean putting that on the course, but the gradual downhill from the top is, I think, worth it. With over twenty kilometres to go to the beach, the tide would be mostly out by the time I arrived. Along the coastal section of Blackhead Rd, I was entertained by a stunt plane practising – a spectacular show which seemed just for me. The climb at the end of the road was not far from my mind, but conquered as I began to slow a hundred kilometres in.

The tide was still heading out, the sand not yet firm and for the first time that day a headwind – toughest trip on this beach yet.

It was encouraging to see so many people out on the beaches – camping, fishing, diving, walking, on motorbikes. Far more than we saw last year, mostly I expect because the weather was far better. Finding a hose to rinse my bike was a chance to chat to a local and top up water bottles before the big climb out of Pourerere. It’s a good one and I found my first other HBATer of the day at the top – another good opportunity for a chat. I thought I was just going to be on time to cross the second farm before night fell – when riding through was not allowed.

More wonderful, deserted gravel back down to sea level and Kairakau. A lovely evening it was shaping up to be. Stopping at the shearers quarters I found four other riders preparing to make use of the generous offer of accommodation from the farmer – alas the water supply was down. Time was tight for me to get up the big hill, but I, and the others, thought I could do it. Thankfully I know the route well enough, so I was not slowed by route finding difficulties; but I was starting to fade and on the steep, rugged grass farm track pushing my bike became more efficient than trying to ride.

South to all the places I’d just been.

There were far more gates to open and close this year, and plenty of stock around (those two not unrelated). Light fading for the big downhill, I certainly was cutting it fine. Quite the trade-off to make the most of the available light, but not reckless on rough farm tracks in the gathering gloom. Just out before dark, phew, and towards Waimarama. Half-eight by now and completely dark, my plan for making it home hadn’t really changed. It probably should have as I walked anything remotely steep up the last big climb; very odd – I have never come close to walking up Maraetotara Rd, steep as it is, before. Strange thing, I was never in any doubt that I’d make it home – one just had to keep on going.

Suddenly rain on the downhill, it didn’t last long and there was but forty kilometres home. That was just over two hours, and I was pleased to see I’d missed much more rain. Bike in the garage and into my house to sneak around trying not to wake a houseful of fellow bikepackers. I think I managed it, but couldn’t bring myself to find too much food lest I disturb people that had had just as big a day of riding as me. My poor body probably needed the fuel to mend a bit.

Head racing, I hardly slept again and woke early when the house rose to head north for a much tougher day of riding. Completely shattered, I dragged myself up and deliberated whether I should continue the course. I’d at least not fallen into the trap of scratching at the end of the day, instead waiting to see what morning would bring. As it was, there was no energy and a deep fatigue from the previous day and week. Everyone having left, I had nothing and couldn’t rouse myself to a day of many hills that I couldn’t have a good shot at.

So I was left with the ignominy of pulling out of my own ride only a day and one-third in. Disappointing to say the least; and a fair amount of worry that I’d made a ridiculous course that no one would enjoy – funny how those voices materialise. But I knew I was dog-tired and resolved to look after myself and not beat myself up too much. I tried to remind myself that I ride such places for enjoyment; if it’s not fun on some level, there’s little point.

In the end, few made it past Napier and no one finished the 750 km route. Four did amazingly well to make it through the many hills inland of Wairoa and pulled out before the last hundred-odd kilometres back to Napier; I think I misstepped in ending the route in Napier to try and help people with travel logistics. Plenty of things learned again; they may be useful if I find the enthusiasm and energy to run another HBAT. In separating my own disheartening HBAT from the weekend in general: people got out riding bikes, seeing new places in good weather, being challenged and spending time with friends new and old – so I’m counting that as a win.

Since then, I took a couple of weeks doing comparatively little and dealing with the disappointment of my own ride and the tiredness. I was unsure if my excitement for doing big bikepacking rides would return, which was concerning with two big South Island adventures coming up late-summer. Unfortunately I could not get up for the Mega ten days ago, but with a couple of shorter and less ambitious bikepacking trips over the last two weekends, the keenness to ride far and see plenty of new things is slowly returning – huzzah!

bikepacking, bikes, NZ

Apiti Ridge Ride

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Responsible in part for a last-minute addition being needed to the exciting collection of short (<500km) routes as Bikepacking Aotearoa goes to print, the least I could do was turn up for the corresponding scouting ride. I was very keen for a weekend away riding not too far with a small group. Not least because, while the route seems to have been picked from staring at a map, this particular Ridge Road had independently been highly recommended.

The rest of the crew drove north the morning of, while I managed to squeeze in being a Park Run tourist. I’m still to rediscover the running pace I had last summer, but it was a good hit out and I didn’t suffer too much over the weekend for it. Loop direction changing last minute (I suspect due to the forecast winds, I never really asked or minded), I had a little further to go after hastily showering and packing food and clothes on my bike. With accommodation booked in Apiti, it was a complete luxury to not have to carry camping gear.

Meeting at the excellent new(ish) footbridge over the Manawatu, we were soon off skirting around the southern edges of the city into a fair breeze. None too inspiring following what’s left of the Mangaone Stream (which really could do with planting out in natives), it did at least have the advantages of being traffic free and taking me places I’ve not been. We missed a turn, backtracked a mile or so and rejoined our route to find a small collection of people (and a lovely Welsh spaniel) looking for, as we learned later, an older man missing for a fair few weeks. A series of left and right turns took us out of town through the slanted grid to Bunnythorpe and morning tea – hot chips went down a treat under the cloudy skies and strengthening wind.

Another ten clicks was about our most-prolonged wind battling for the day, to where we’d meet the rest of our cohorts at Colyton. Seems to be haymaking time around here, my hayfever not quite aggravated yet.

Suddenly, for us – not at the speed these move, much older tractors.

Strangely, one originally all the way from Puketitiri – a remote rural area in Hawke’s Bay which I’d ridden through but one week before.

Curious style to this church in Colyton.

A mere thirty-five kilometres into the route is early enough for lunch right? Seemed so, with more new riding buddies to meet and calories to be replaced we set to the task at the wonderful little shipping container-housed Ginger Bird Cafe. Eating plenty, we also loaded up on many slices for the few miles ahead before setting off for Apiti. The norwester stiffened some, but we were mostly riding across it so it was not too onerous.

Found the gravel, the traffic continuing to disappear really not all that far from the city.

A brief section heading east, the climbing continuing to the anticipated Ridge Road.

More haymaking did set my eyes and nose off, joining Ridge Road was a worthy time for another snack break. It’s hard work trying to get through the supplies at an optimal rate. There began almost thirty kilometres of gravel gradually climbing up to the trig point of 550 m. The wind tended more westerly as, while very strong, it was seldom a struggle to ride into. The surface, I thought, was mostly good and we saw but one vehicle for nigh on three hours. With few breaks in the heavy cloud, the views never opened up but there was still plenty of terrain to be seen in the midground.

Looking south towards the Tararuas.

We never saw more of the Ruahines, capped with thick gloom all day.

Waiting at the top of the climb, the girth of this macrocarpa impressed.

Not unpleasant.

One last climb for the day.

A quick snap of Apiti while barrelling down to the day’s end.

The Last Church – the accommodation was in the old Sunday school building at the rear, the bikes on pew warming duty overnight.

The china tea service was promptly found and put to good use, as the unloading of all the food we’d packed in began.

As great as the mix of history, large indoor palms, industrial plumbing fittings, books, umbrella lightshades, native bird depictions and various kiwiana were, the night will be remembered for the great company and the bewilderingly delicious and large meal assembled from everyone carting in various fresh items. That and the loud drum and bass hitting the building from across the field and what was probably the biggest party in all of Apiti for the year; somehow everyone slept well.

The catchphrase while preparing all this was “well, I’m not carrying it back”.

I certainly wasn’t going to let any go to waste, so reverting to a role familiar from a far off land six years ago I dutifully polished it off. I’ve got to do more bikepacking trips like this!

All Tour Aotearoa veterans (some multiple), and one the chief architect, much of the ride back on Sunday was familiar to us. Supposedly, I only vaguely remembered the route out of Apiti – I guess as it was the end of a long and spectacular day almost four years ago. Some variation was added by crossing to the true left of the Pohangina valley on a short stretch of road that is purported to have an average of seven vehicles per day – we saw one. Heading back to the flat lands of Palmerston North, we had a net altitude drop over the eighty kilometres – there was some modest climbing, but it was always followed by a bigger downhill.

A long sealed downhill heading for the bridge over the river.

Entry level, both to the housing market and if one wanted to get through the bushes.

Who were the people that lived and farmed here? Was there much of a community all those years ago? How long since anyone lived here, worked those discs?

With time up our sleeve, the short Kahikatea Walkway drew us in for a pleasant loop where we admired a rare patch of native bush in these parts and the namesake trees. There may have been renewed efforts to demolish a large, dense slab of gingery walnut and caramel goodness. No point in taking food back to the cars.

Back at the bikes, the southerly change came through and open heavens dumped rain on us for ten minutes – we were at least spared the hail that fell in town.

Having stumbled across the top of the old Branch Road on Saturday, the lower portion was worth briefly investigating – we didn’t see much, so will have to check it out properly another time.

With only twenty kilometres to go, the efforts to eat all the food stepped up with two more big stops. Bikes a wee bit lighter, we certainly were not for the damp, and then decidedly wet, ride into Palmerston North from the north. Is that trail ever enjoyable? With the big dog leg up to the highway, I’m unconvinced. Still, that can hardly dampen my thorough enjoyment of a relaxed biking weekend in rural Manawatu with excellent company, interesting riding, and I’ve probably said enough about the food already…

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Mangatutu Five

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Tentatively thinking I was recovering from HBAT (which I’ve not found the time or energy to write up yet), a fine forecast was sufficient motivation to schedule my fifth annual overnighter to the Mangatutu Hot Springs. No longer a season opener, it’s still a great little trip and I look forward to it every year. For the third year consecutive trip, I managed to convince someone to join me which is great. Perhaps tellingly, no one has ever come back for a repeat!

Customary bike and kit photo outside the garage.

I’m probably the only one who finds the gradual change in setup over the years interesting. This year I was back on flat pedals (which I have since serviced, they did squeak a little too much), with a cooker packed, frame bag away for zipper repair and, with such a good forecast, no rain clothes and few layers for the night. Off I went rolling down the hill to meet Brent after lunch and set off west on the flat to Puketapu. The last shop we’d see, it’d have been rude not to have a milkshake or ice cream or some such.

The temperature, low twenties, and lack of rain was true to the forecast. The wind aspect not so much as we worked into a most-noticeable westerly along the river flats and then as the hills started mildly. So much greener out that way than my last visit six months ago; soon the familiar sight of the bare Kawekas came into view.

In farmland dominated by dry stock, I’m still mildly surprised to find diary farms in remote Hawke’s Bay hills.

The extra gravel section I added to the route last year was just as pleasing this time around, perhaps even more so as it wasn’t nearly as hot. Cutting north to Puketitiri Road, the wind started to swing a little southwest which was certainly welcomed.

Into Puketitiri itself for a water top-up at the golf course I’ve never seen in use, I was astounded to find the domain packed with cars and people. Turns out we’d happened across the annual local family sports day – postponed from March. We missed most of the action (moto cross, pony jumping etc.) and were slightly too early for dinner, but we did see a series of people trying to throw a sack of something over a high bar with a pitchfork. Most excellent to see such a large community gathering.

I’m told this is not uncommon.

We did see one go over.

Now having climbed six hundred metres above sea level, the part of the day of consistently losing that altitude to regain it soon after began. Ball’s Clearing provided some more water and a suitable snack break as we pondered whether we’d manage the final twenty kilometres before darkness crept in. Back on gravel, the next section with slight dips and rises is always pleasant through a high valley.

Not stopping to admire the view for the plunge down towards the Mohaka.

The first of the three remaining climbs always gives a bit of a shock with its steepness, it however doesn’t quite get back to 600 m. Dropping to the Makahu River, I became suspicious that it might be really high as a small collection of two wheel drive cars was parked where I’ve never seen vehicles left before. Sure enough, it was well over the safe level (for cars) and swift; after all, twas only five days since the extended downpour which flooded Napier properly. But with a firm concrete surface on the bed, it was easily waded – the first time I’ve not been able to ride across it.

Over the river, it’s straight into the toughest climb of the day; I was pleased it was not too hot. Light and energy fading, the last hill is plenty steep – but one doesn’t start from as low, so that helps a little maybe. Finally we were on the long, gentle descent to the road-end and the hot springs. With that river being high, there were few at the campground – we set to making camp, cooking and eating before a well deserved soak in the hot pools under a brilliantly starry sky. Another fabulous and tough afternoon’s ride to Mangatutu completed.

The extra base layer was quickly shed on Sunday morning after warming on the first two climbs out. There was plenty of time for stopping to soak it in, but mostly rest.

Custodian of the northern Kawekas.

Past some sheep shearing, which is not uncommon on this ride, we kept ticking off the “largest climb remaining” and the westerly proved helpful. Up and down towards the coast, on another clear day I again enjoyed the views and it struck me how much I’ve come to appreciate Hawke’s Bay scenery, and hills, over the last five years. I realise just now that’s the longest I’ve lived anywhere since school, I guess it’s become home somewhere along the way.

Back towards Puketapu, the sea breeze began to overpower the westerly so the last sections of flat seemed harder than they should have been – but that was probably in my head. Whichever, it was time for a giant ice cream at the store and the last little bit of riding home. After a cuppa at Brent’s and savouring an excellent outing, there was that last wee struggle to my house – the disadvantage of living up a hill, one’s rides always end with a climb. Proper exhausted for the rest of the day and the following one too – well worth it.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Rainy Return to Nelson

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Rain fell on the iron roof of my little cabin much of the night; a slow start to the day was in order with a cooked breakfast and plenty of tea. The rain was consistent, but at least it was light as I rode a few miles of highway before turning off and heading up the Mangles Valley. The pleasant and gradual climbed steepened as my route (the first part of the day was on the Kiwi Brevet route I remember from 2015) headed up the good gravel to Braeburn Saddle. The wetting continued from above, the multiple large stream crossings thankfully were all rideable.

With nothing in the distance but clouds, there was plenty of time and attention to focus on the immediate surroundings – which I thoroughly enjoyed. After an hour, I was over the pass and concentrating on the descent to Lake Rotoroa. With the extra speed and spray, I was fair soaked through and barely comfortable from the air movement. I found a shelter at the lake (no sandflies today!), had some food and pondered whether I should take the much higher option of the Porika Track and put myself in the clouds for a couple of hours.

Eventually I figured an hour of pushing my bike three kilometres up a rugged track would probably warm me up a fair bit – and really, it wasn’t raining heavily and there was little wind. Perfect day to take my bike for a walk up a hill. It was not unpleasant and the rain never worsened, I kept a steady pace and finally got back on my bike at 1000 m high for the slightly mellower descent. Going the reverse direction in February will be interesting, will be a wild drop down to the lake.

Lake Rotoroa. Oh.

Out onto the minor highway to St Arnaud, it was much busier than usual as the main road from the Buller to Nelson was closed in part. The traffic wasn’t too bad on a Saturday afternoon, but with the spray and low visibility it wasn’t particularly fun. Also, it was one big false flat; I’m surprised now to check and see that there was almost two hundred metres of climbing in that seemingly flat stretch of road. In no real rush, it was just a case of continuing to move through the moisture – of course, most of it came with me as I was wet through. In town I found a cafe, sat outside and enjoyed a pie, tea and cheesecake – a strange mix looking back, but any combination of desirable food makes sense at such moments.

Rejoining all the rerouted traffic heading back to the city, I was now at the point of the return to sea level that almost any climb I now did would take me to the highest point I would be on for the rest of the trip. Which is a rather long way of saying, it was almost all downhill from there. At Golden Downs I was surprised to be reading history boards about a once thriving timber town, obviously that wasn’t only a thing closer to my North Island home. Here I turned off for a longer route home, leaving the traffic behind, and heading for a section of the Great Taste Trail I’d not ridden (even more has since opened in the month since).

The attraction on this part of the trail is Spooners Tunnel – it’s certainly not any tasty treats, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything great on the trail; I may be missing the point. At over 1300 m long, it’s the longest disused tunnel in New Zealand and has only in the last few years been accessible. At the carpark nearby it was cool to stop and chat to a family with young kids going for a ride in the tunnel; I was impressed that this is their go-to rainy day activity. “It’s dry in there and we can ride our bikes!” – can’t fault that logic.

Back into the rain and gloom after the darkness of the tunnel, the long gradual rail-gradient descent to sea level commenced. Of course, decades since the railway closed, it is not as simple as following the rail corridor; things change. But it wasn’t too tortuous and the main road was mostly avoided. Somewhere around seven o’clock the rain began to back off and it finally stopped! Twelve hours after setting off I somehow found a way to add a large order of Indian takeout to my luggage and was on the final stretch of my little tour, looking forward to a big meal and getting dry.

What a fantastic two weeks! My first solo tour of more than a long weekend in years was thoroughly enjoyable. While the weather delayed and changed plans a little, it was such a luxury to have the time up my sleeve to change plans around the storms and it meant I had many excellent days riding in the areas I really wanted to ride – most excellent to spend time with friends old and new too. I certainly hope it’s not another five years before I’m back biking on the West Coast – so much to offer.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.