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Mangatu(times)tu Four

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Having had to cancel last year’s annual overnighter to Mangatutu Hot Springs, I was excited to get back out there for the fourth time. Previously it’s been an quick easy trip to kick-off the bikepacking season – but not this year, as it seems I’ve hardly stopped riding over the winter. Also, I was looking forward to sharing this little ride with half a dozen others from the fledging Hawke’s Bay Bikepacking community. Only posted at the start of the week, it required far less organisation and I was looking forward to meeting a few I’d not ridden with before.

Two of the group had set off earlier in the day to make the most of some cooler hours. Four of us left the Taradale clock tower for a pleasant half hour of easy riding and chatting on cycle trail to Puketapu.

Where we promptly stopped at the pub for lunch – would have been wasteful not to make use of the last services.

Kiwi burgers all round, Steve arrived and promptly ordered another. Before noon, we’d managed to avoid the crowds at this spot popular with those on all manner of bikes. Steve was excused for being late as after six months away, he’d had to find his bike buried in the garage and, not having ridden it since I last dragged him bikepacking over three years before, replace a tube and pack it with what gear and food he had. Enthusiasm for adventure does go much further than waiting until you have all the gear and everything just so.

Instead of just heading straight up the sealed Puketitiri Rd as previously, I’d opted for the longer route that would give us more gravel. The river flats lasted until twenty kilometres in and crossing the lower Mangaone River. It was warm, but not hot and for a change the wind was at my back heading out here. I found this route far better than Puketitiri Rd – there was next to no traffic, it climbed steadily (instead of steeply climbing in and out of valleys) and there was some very nice gravel.

Nearing the end of Dartmoor Rd.

Alan peeled off for said sealed route, so Chris, Brent, Steve and I moseyed on at a reasonable and constant pace admiring the views over the Tutaekuri to the Ruahines and Kawekas. Strangely, for what has been a very mild spring for allergies, both Steve and I started to suffer from hayfever – the standard sneezing, runny nose, irritated eyes. Not much for it but to keep on riding and admire the views. Only later did I realise that the source of the allergic reaction was the liberal dose of bushfire smoke that had drifted over the Tasman.

Chris heading up Waihau Rd.

Steve sporting the latest in summer bikepacking bags, as the day starts to get a little hazy from the smoke; the haze would worsen over the weekend.

The afternoon warmed, at Waihau itself there was a big rest in the shade of large trees – dreaming of ice creams that were not to materialise from anywhere. Reaching Puketitiri Rd, we were close to 600 metres high – we wouldn’t get much higher that this all day, but we would drop down plenty of times to return to a similar elevation. Brent well knew this and just how steep the end of the day got – with little loaded riding in his recent past, that was the last we saw of him as he opted for a different route.

To my surprise the golf clubrooms were actually open – I still haven’t seen anyone, sheep excluded, on the fairways. We topped up our bottles, ate and rested a bit. The local search and rescue group were out this way training, hence the open doors. Past Balls Clearing the gravel starts again and far fewer people ride bikes (a road ride to this point is a local roadies’ favourite, I understand). There’s one big plunge before the real work begins to earn the reward of a hot spring soak.

The drop towards the Mohaka River – a repeat of a photo I’ve taken a few times now.

Eleven kilometres of Makahu Rd leads to the campground at its end; it starts immediately with a climb so steep that it’s sealed. We sweated our way up there in the late afternoon heat, it’s mercifully only a kilometre long. Dropping down to the Makahu River, the ford was just low enough to get through with dry feet. The second climb is longer, and only a little less steep. Mostly shaded, it was sheltered enough from the breeze to be stifling.

Nearing the highest point of the day, the farm gate here is a natural resting and regrouping spot, with a peak of the Kawekas over yonder.

Contemplating one more hill.

Down again to one last stream crossing and to tackle the third in the series of greater-than-ten-percent climbs. This one you can see ahead as you cross the bridge – I’m unsure if that’s better or worse. It looks steep, but you can at least see the end point – although that knowledge may not have been common to all.

Farms and plantation forest left behind, the last descent has one surrounded by native bush.

I rolled into camp, nabbed my usual spot and was pleased to find Jan and Andrew had arrived considerably earlier. Shortly after, Steve, Chris and Alan arrived. With plenty of daylight left it was a relaxed evening of cooking, eating, chat, soaking in the ever-so-hot pools and consuming the vast amount of sweeter food that had been hauled in – special mention to Steve who’d lugged half a Christmas cake in. That cake sure was dense, in wonderful flavour too – not just mass per volume. There were some tired souls around, after all it does get a little hilly at the end – so pleasing to see people having ridden more than they thought themselves capable of and comfortable with. Hopefully the route choice doesn’t repel too many…

The upper Mohaka from the campground.

A leisurely start to Sunday morning, we gradually left at various intervals. The climb from camp was a good one to get the legs and blood moving. To mix up the out and back nature a bit, I opted to turn left at the start of Makahu Road to see what was at the end of Pakaututu Rd. Steve is unable to turn down opportunity for more discovery and exercise so he joined me. Over the Mohaka we found another steep climb, it would turn out to be the largest of the weekend and was fantastic as the mid-morning sun beat down on us. The views of the Kawekas from the north were easily the best we had all weekend, and there were hills, ridges and valleys all around. My mind boggled trying to comprehend just where we were with respect to places so close that I’ve ridden or driven – the bush clad contours just beyond the farmland were so numerous I was a little disoriented.

Crossing the Mohaka – much closer to the headwaters than the crossing six weeks beforehand.

As I neared the ridgeline, I came across a local farmer out moving stock. Correctly presuming he was the father-in-law of a colleague I chatted for some time. Amongst talk of the terrain, farming history and bikepacking, the biggest nugget was learning of the old coach road to Taupo – that begs to be followed up. Taking it easy for the mellow gradient along the ridge, admiring the views, I happened upon Steve waiting for me in some shade. We rode the last kilometre to the road end, me well pleased to finally see what was there.

Yes, there’s a woolshed and some stock at the end of the road. Hardly a shocking discovery.

This little lamb looked almost as pleased as I felt on such a glorious morning.

We turned and headed for home.

Not rubbish riding.

Over the river again, the biggest climb remaining took us back to Balls Clearing where we found the Search and Rescuers sitting some sort of a test at picnic tables – at least, I hope they were under test conditions as, besides colleague Mark who gave us a wave, they were decidedly reserved and stand-offish. Snacking and topping up with water, the Puketapu Pub beckoned for a late lunch.

Back onto the gravel off Puketitiri Rd, this time I didn’t see Steve waiting again in the shade; I blithely carried on assuming he was well ahead of me by now, as he’d been most morning. So we spent the next hour chasing, at a rather sedate pace, each other down all the while battling into a southerly. Unfortunately we were too late to lunch with the others at the pub and were running quite low on snacks. Stopping near the fields, that the previous day were raked and baled, to clear my ever-running nose, I was quite surprised when Steve cruised in after me – rather spent. The last of the chocolate supplies got us to Puketapu and a huge bowl of nachos – which seemed to have an entire tub of sour cream plonked on top.

A most excellent overnighter – so nice to share that ride with more people, not have my knee ache and discover what’s at the end of another road (there are still plenty more we passed that I’m yet to see) and learn of potential new adventures. The alternate route was a huge improvement, I wouldn’t be surprised if this becomes more regular than an annual ride.

bikepacking, bikes, event, food, friends, GPS, NZ

Mega GGG 2019

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With a hilly and tough HBAT only two weeks behind us, I was pleased to see six of us backing up on the 200 km longer Mega. This turned the start into a bit of a HBAT-reminisce and catch-up before Pete sprung the honour of leading the forty-odd riders out through the Rotorua morning “traffic”.

Time for a few stories with some HBATers.

A bit more time for a group photo.

This is a bit different to my usual dithering and chatting at the back of the start group.

A few kilometres in we regrouped off the road and headed out of town on the easy cycle trail to Ngongotaha – much time for meeting new faces riding towards the climb up the Mamakus. The route familiar to me, I figured I may as well cut my stops out until the resupply 120 kilometres in at Mangakino. A mild morning with no wind to haunt my memory, the riding was good as riders ebbed and flowed relative to me. Knees still noticeably achey from charging up too many Hawke’s Bay hills, I determined to spend far less time standing on the pedals uphill – which is tough, as I do like climbing.

I allowed myself a brief photo stop; tellingly, my best photo of the day is of a giant scar of a quarry contrasting with the more picturesque backdrop.

Subsequently, I was in no rush over the stretch of the Waikato River Trail that is notoriously punishing with plenty of sharp climbs. As the day warmed I continued to take it easy and walked far more of the sharp climbs than I ordinarily would.

Not stopping had me in the first few into Mangakino where I had plenty to eat and drink, including a big bottle of electrolytes. Many others arrived before I headed for the infamous wire-bridge at the end of Arataki Rd. Mid-afternoon it was hot by now, so much for the forecast 20ºC. While it was toasty, I’d not got it into my head that it was well above that temperature – most reports came back around 30ºC. Mentally, and therefore physically, I was not prepared for such heat and quite rapidly I was cooked. Succumbing to the dehydration of which I seem particularly prone (a disadvantage of having little mass and barrier against such swings?), a rest in the shade was in order as the waves of nausea swept over me and suddenly most of the food I’d eaten that day was rejected.

Completely spent, I tried not to berate myself too much. With some more electrolytes to sip on and cooling a little, almost an hour later I could face limping towards the cabins at Pureora – only twenty-five kilometres, but with most of a 400 metre climb. Moving so slowly, walking much and generally feeling awful gave me far too much time to question why and how I like to ride long distances. Having read my post of the first Mega two years prior recently to remind me of the course, I recalled a discussion about how such rides need to be fun. I wasn’t having much fun as thoughts turned to neglected friends in the Bay of Plenty I could be visiting instead of punishing myself. What’s more, with too many people close to me having significant medical diagnoses recently riding seemed a little selfish and pointless. On the other hand, if I could continue I would – what a privilege to have the time, health, means and freedom to explore our fair land. There was much to see and I knew I’d soon be back enjoying myself; I was really looking forward to seeing the roads from Taumarunui to Kawhia Habour – the most significant change to the course. Also, after last year’s magpie incident I was really keen to avoid another DNF – even if it meant adjusting my expectations, and taking more time off work.

The first time I’ve had to put the much-repeated lesson of “don’t pull the pin at the end of a bad day, wait for morning to decide” to good use, it paid dividends. After taking two hours to crawl to the cabins, some downtime, plenty of food and a thoroughly poor, but just sufficient sleep I was good to go again before five-thirty Saturday morning, albeit a little tentatively. But first, where did this rain come from? The lightest of misty rain, it set in for the gloomy climb to the summit of the Timber Trail. Only near the top did it get sufficiently heavy to have full raingear on. Relaxed enough, the trail was in the best condition I’d seen it and I reminded myself yet again to come back and ride it over more than half a day.

Eighty-odd kilometres of trail went by in a bit of a blur, I passed the lodge and campground mid-trail at around the time those that stay in such places hit the trail – so different people to chat to. Comments above aside, the last part from the Ongarue Spiral to the end was a fair mess. Nice to get off that and ride the deserted gravel to town and a big lunch. Many other riders were coming, eating and going from town; I enjoyed a Full English in good company at the same place I stopped on the Tour Aotearoa. Time for new roads!

Two sustained gravel climbs followed in quick succession and my legs were back – the refuelling must have helped, as did the mild closer-to-forecast temperatures, as I caught up to, chatted with and eventually passed a fair collection of riders. Yesterday’s dehydration effects were long gone, but the memory wasn’t – I ate and drink even more. Dropping into Ohura, I finally got to visit the much-vaunted Fiesta Food Cart. In a town where very little seems to be, let alone be open – a food cart that serves a large plate of fresh Mexican food is quite a novelty.

Thirty kilometres, mostly deserted gravel, had only the slightest of gradients to contend with. The northerly wasn’t too bad to contend with, unfortunately it was rather cloudy. A sudden drop took us down to Aria, before the last little bit of climbing for the day. Here the wind picked up and 200 kilometres into the day, the last stretch became pretty slow. I was pleased to get into Piopio (delightfully pronounced locally “Pew Pew”) in daylight. Well aware of the upcoming downpours, I scouted out some shelter on the way to find the Cossie Club – where a truly massive burger, fries and ice cream sundae were demolished. This was clearly the local and with four of us there in our riding gear devouring large volumes of food, we attracted plenty of good-humoured attention. A local dot-watcher came down to chat all things bikepacking and local AB rounds before we headed off to get out of the incoming weather. That was a far more successful day.

The rain didn’t arrive that night and I caught plenty of sleep with the wind blowing around and through my shelter. Up early and straight into a big climb out of town, it promptly started raining. The lightest rain imaginable as dark slowly gave way to a grey gloom. Gravel, native bush, farmland – all on the winding path north. At times the rain was heavy enough to don full raingear, but that didn’t usually last long. Raingear was promptly removed as, while it was head-windy, it was never cold. I’d love to go back and ride these roads again and see a bit more – so quiet and they felt so remote. Four and a half hours into the day, the first car passed me.

Shortly before ten o’clock was just in time for the breakfast menu at the Oparau Roadhouse. I arrived as the heavens opened again.

Catching up for the last five hours, and fuelling for the next six.

A few of the riders I’d passed with my early start, and that I’d not seen since Rotorua, arrived with various tales – most involving rain. With a good rest and meal in, I was ready to leave. The heavens promptly opened, so I retreated inside before eventually setting off in the rain – it soon abated and by the end of the climb up to Raglan Road I had to delayer without delay.

More great gravel backroads heading to my favourite part of the 2017 course – the coastal detour around to Raglan. Mostly dry, mostly into the wind; out of nowhere, boom, torrential downpour. From the first spits I stopped and couldn’t get my jacket on in time. Good fun, and it abated after ten minutes for the scenic coastal foray of repeated climbs and descents. Raglan by mid-afternoon for a short refuel and to get going while it was dry. That didn’t last long, another big downpour, but at least briefly the wind was less of a hindrance as the course turned east. Old Mountain Road was a new section, and being the steepest long climb of the route one of my favourite parts.

From the summit, Hamilton was within touching distance east; we promptly turned north, back into the wind for quite the dog leg to Ngaruawahia. Just the sort of thing I’d do, and did do, when course-setting. Joining the paved river trail at the northern-most point of the ride, the whole day’s toil into the wind paid back in spades. A very helpful push had me in Hamilton as dark descended, in time for a large dinner. It may have rained again. I’d long ago lost count of the raingear-on, raingear-off routine.

I was definitely making a point of eating well, and all was well on a big day.

Into the dark through the tedious cycle-path route out of Hamilton to Cambridge, it rained again but the wind was still mostly helpful. Nearing eleven o’clock I considered the last hundred-plus kilometres back to Rotorua, the ominous thunder-storm heavy forecast, crossing the Mamakus at night and opted for finding some shelter and finishing this thing in the daylight. Very happy with a big 255 km day in less than ideal conditions – just a pity about the lack of photos.

To my surprise I slept late and was not properly going until six-thirty, keen for the familiar path back to Rotorua. The multitude of small hills to Arapuni felt good, I was disappointed not to see my magpie nemesis. Second breakfast at the Cow Cafe in Putaruru is now a tradition, and a thoroughly good one. The wind was still at my back and I hardly even got rained on – it was a grand morning to finish up, especially learning later of all the thunderstorms I’d managed to avoid the previous night. Even the blockades on Cecil Rd weren’t as bad as expected and running down the hill to town I was pleased to find I had plenty left in the tank.

Finishing in three days and six hours-ish, it was great to see Pete, Roger and Chris there and just sit in some sunshine for a while sharing stories, before another big meal. While things didn’t go quite as planned that first afternoon, I got to ride my bike a lot, see plenty, learn loads, share the ride with others and actually finish it this year – fantastic. Thanks to Pete for organising it all, I look forward to the next such ride.

Thanks to Roger for bordered photos.

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

Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour – Day Three – Wairoa to Mahia Peninsula

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Recovered easily well enough, another dawn start was quite leisurely. But first the famed Osler’s Bakery for breakfast and resupply – and the usual explaining to passersby what on earth we were doing. Off a short section of highway, we were soon on rural back roads and, for northern Hawke’s Bay, they were not stupidly hilly. In fact it was a very pleasant Sunday morning ride as we climbed gently up to and dropped into the Makaretu Stream valley. The gravel was kind and we saw more cattle on the road than we did vehicles. A few side roads passed and I noted again that they must be explored.

Following the easy gradient upstream, we passed these falls that remind me of the Rere Rockslide, in minature.

Past hilly farmland, the climb out of the valley took us over two hundred metres above the ocean before a delightful long run back to sea level. Three-quarters of an hour on flat and quiet highway later, it was starting to warm a little – well-timed for arriving at the historic Nuhaka General Store. Debbie and Emma arrived shortly after us and no-one was in a hurry to go anywhere – one by one we returned to the store to get morning ice creams and sit on the bench out front in the sun.

Leaving the highway just past the Morere Hot Springs, the first of the steep climbs for the day started. With an extensive native bush reserve on one side and plantation forest on the other – some of the time it was shaded, but mostly it was one of those steep climbs that doesn’t let up and was just generally hot. As we reminisced over this year’s wild and windy Great Southern Brevet, finally a particular corner was rounded and the views that instigated the inclusion of this road opened up before us. The Pacific, the isthmus, Mahia Peninsula and Hawke Bay right there dazzling in the sun, with a ribbon of gravel winding us down through the steep farmland towards them.

Pete and I slowed to take some photos before enjoying the long roll down to skirt Maungawhio Lagoon and embarking on the final section of the course – Mahia Peninsula. I remembered it was hilly, but as I was told later, I definitely saved the steepest, most brutal hills for last. Some pinch climbs were to be conquered across the northern edge of the peninsula. Multitudes of people were out enjoying the sun, warmth and water of the long weekend. We couldn’t pass up the last cafe on the course, so stopped for a while – learning about the spread of green cancer (“good” farmland being converted to forestry) in the area. We had seen a proliferation of Fifty Shades of Green signs over the last half of the course. I didn’t mention who I work for.

Leaving the holidaymakers behind, the road turned south down the middle of the peninsula. The climbs got no less steep, but plenty longer as the sun beat down. As we hit the base of the longest one, that would take us to the highest point of the day, I rode away from Pete. Nowhere to be seen, I carried on riding up and up before reaching the summit of the day. Sudden descents kept appearing, just to climb again as the road made its way south.

As the descents started to outnumber the climbs, I’d a bit of time reflecting on the end of my HBAT19. Only three months in the making, it had rather consumed that time with much poring over maps, plotting GPS routes, utterly fantastic scouting rides (those alone would have made it worthwhile), talking to landowners, trying to convince others that this was a good idea for a long weekend and generally organising. Definitely one of the highlights of the year, and my time in Hawke’s Bay thus far as it enabled much greater exploration and understanding of this rather hilly (it turns out) province that is currently home. Brilliant, I was quite pleased with how it had all worked out as I pedalled to the road end.

Debbie and Emma and their friends (who’d brought both Debbie’s and my car) were there, all encouragement, as I passed to complete the last few hundred metre dash across a bumpy surface to finish fittingly in a hilly, remote sheep paddock with big views across Hawke Bay.

Looking over the bay towards Napier.

Portland Island off the southern tip of the peninsula, Rocket Lab launch site is down there too.

Pete finished soon after, and after my brief moment alone, it was great to have him there as we’ve ridden a fair bit together over the last couple of years (having a similar pace, and predisposition to finding backcountry routes in the central North Island) and I’ve learnt much from him as far as bikepacking and route making goes. Returning to the cars, there were many stories to be shared as we stood around in the glorious warmth. The achievement of and pleasure with the weekend’s riding and sights were real; I was chuffed with completing the ride in quite a leisurely fashion and that the route was so enjoyed.

Later that day, we were able to catch up with Amanda as she climbed behind Morere heading for a finish that evening. Guy, who unfortunately scratched at Mohaka, kindly had us to stay at his holiday home – where we were welcomed and fed well. The following day, at Morere again, we caught up with the last riders on the course – Yvonne, Jan, Fay and Chris – who’d spent much of the weekend riding together and having a grand time. Their little bikepacking gang was down one as Dave had had to get back to Wellington, but they were all smiles – until someone mentioned Cricklewood Rd. They finished late that afternoon after the hills of Mahia – which I’m not going to apologise for as that stretch is stunningly beautiful. For the record, I think the last 180 km of the course is my favourite – everything from the top of the much-maligned Cricklewood Rd. But really, there are many highlights.

In all, nine of the thirteen starters finished – with Jane and Glen (apologies if my memory fails me there) only intending to ride part of the course in the time they had. It seemed the course, while definitely challenging for all was achievable – certainly a suitable short practice on North Island hills for those riding Tour Aotearoa next year. I’m pleased with the feedback and apparently I have to run it again – I’m already scheming how to incorporate some improvement options in. Thanks to all those that came along for the ride – whether literally or following online, the farmers that granted access to their land and all who supported. Until HBAT20…

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Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour – Day Two – Napier to Wairoa

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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.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.