bikes, family, GPS, travel

A Little Niue Biking

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It didn’t take long for me to assemble my bike, but finding the time in the busy swimming, snorkelling and eating schedule was a different matter. Adele was also keen to explore a little by bike (i.e. get around the island without being confined to a damp, musty van with suspension that groaned with every pothole – of which there were multitudes). So Wednesday morning, she borrowed a bike, with fetching basket, from her friends and set off to follow one or two of the designated cycle routes.

I’d done just enough research to learn that there had been some small effort to attract cyclists to Niue to ride various small loops of main roads (quiet), back roads (even quieter) and jungle tracks (quietest). With the map of island in hand we set off to cross the island and form a couple of small loops. Leaving the main road and the coast, it was straight into a steep climb up to a transmitter tower and onto the plateau.

Soon we were on dirt tracks getting deeper into the jungle. At times we passed small patches of cultivation and the occasional dwelling. Apart from dense tropical jungle, little seems to grow around here. The small fields mostly contained more taro than I would ever care to contemplate.

Joining the sealed road that approximately bisects the island, we headed east to find the Vinivini bush track. The trees were a bit larger through here, even less traffic was to be found and only one pack of dogs – they were rather worrying, but. We reached the trailhead and were surprised to see a car (obviously a rental) parked there – would we actually see other people? It threatened to rain, but was generally warm and humid.

We found more taro, and even a bit of papaya. The one we picked didn’t last so well in the basket.

Trail marking wasn’t great, but we’d preloaded maps onto our devices and could mostly work out where we were supposed to be going. After taking the obvious, clear track at one point it quickly terminated at another taro patch. So that left a partially overgrown path to take – plenty of fallen trees to ride around, lift bikes over and tall scrub (not of the stinging variety) to bash through. A little bit of adventure in what was generally a sedate ride. The trail was clear under the canopy, but anywhere the foliage on the ground got light – it was a little out of control.

I found something to clamber over and #bikesrestingagainstearthmovingmachinery.

With the briefest of showers, we reached the end of the trail and joined the perimeter road.

A leisurely hour took us back across the island, past the schools and university campus (?!), and I had to take a peek at the island’s power station – one diesel generator and a decent solar array. I think I earned my two rotis for lunch from that pleasant little outing.

Determined to at least ride around the island once (it’s only logical), the following morning seemed good as the McKirdys were off on a fishing charter catching dinners for subsequent nights. Once again, the roads were deserted and I found for the most part riding was just as fast as driving. Giant and numerous potholes are far more easily avoided on a bike – and there’s not really any need to slow. Weaving through the obstacles I continued in a clockwise direction, avoiding more annoying (and sometimes worrying) packs of medium-sized dogs. They did me no harm, but after encountering dogs while riding in other countries wariness accompanies me.

Plenty more derelict houses peppered the sights of the jungle.

About two-thirds of the way around, along the rugged and even-more-deserted east coast, I found the trail to Togo Chasm. A wide walking trail through lush and unspoilt jungle, I tried riding it for a few hundred metres; alas, it was covered in too many slippery roots and rocks. The pleasant stroll under the canopy deposited me on top a large section of uplifted fossilised coral. The path descended to the top of the chasm and a ladder built for giants descended to the sand below. Sheltered from the Pacific crashing nearby, in this still and sheltered area a few coconut trees had thrived. I enjoyed the peace for a bit before climbing the ladder out.

My bike had not been consumed by the tropical forest in the time I was away.

Unfortunately the rain returned and, strangely for the daytime, set in. It was still warm and interesting riding – just plenty wet! So no more riding photos; as I went around the south of the island the remoteness faded and I was soon passing the only resort. Thankfully, the main road headed inland and the perimeter road went back to being deserted. Nearing Alofi, I found what came closest to being an industrial area – the island’s tip, a quarry, and container compound. It was curious to see a large barge, on wheels, deposited next to a playground surrounded by isotankers – I guess that’s how all the fuel comes in.

I found the others at the Crazy Uga Cafe. It was nice to be out of the rain and get some hot food. The day’s spectacle was the tying up of the monthly-freighter. With the wharf not having a sufficiently deep berth, the small ship had to be tied up out in the bay. What goods was this ship bringing, would they backload empty containers? Just how were they going to get the containers off? That last question at least was soon answered as a very large front-end loader roared down the road towing the aforementioned barge behind it. Over the following days the combined effort of two cranes, a pilot vessel/tug, the barge and the ship’s own crane transferred a series of containers between the ship and shore. It’s a nice reflection of the slow pace of island life that this was quite the spectacle and going-on.

So a couple of nice little rides had me seeing much of the island. I never got around to zig-zagging my way down the centre of the island – but the weather was far more conducive to swimming and there was much to be seen underwater. In that light, it probably wasn’t worth taking my own bike (although that’s always nice) – I could have easily borrowed one and had a less comfortable and reliable adventure!

family, travel

Niue Nukes Nanking

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That poor attempt at alliteration for a newspaper headline in sixth form English was about as much as I knew, or didn’t, about the small Pacific island of Niue until last Christmas. Adele started to talk of going to holiday there in the winter. Upon being invited along, I was rather indecisive – I’d not been on an island holiday before, there really wouldn’t be much biking and I’m not much of a swimmer. Somehow I got talked into it; tipping the balance was the fact that such opportunities are obviously rare for me.

It worked quite well, a week relaxing on a tropical island was just the tonic to deal with the post-marathon tiredness. A bike was still packed, as I maintain that bikes are a great way to explore somewhere. The rest of the McKirdy clan arrived a few days before me, so by the time Adele met me at the airport everyone else had island life down. I’d done minimal research – Niue is a self-associated state of NZ, one of the world’s largest coral islands approximately equidistance between Fiji and the Cook Islands it is home to only 1600 people (most Niueans live in Auckland).

At the beginning of winter, it was strange to be surrounded by reminders of home (similar vehicles, street signs, groceries imported from NZ and so on) yet it was almost 30ºC everyday. Unfortunately, it was unseasonably wet with heavy downpours most nights – but the regular daytime rain was generally quickly passing showers. When we spent so much time in the water, more water falling from the sky didn’t really curtail activities – anyway, we didn’t usually have to wait long for the sun to reappear.

So we spent the week snorkelling, swimming, fishing, walking to various caves and chasms, eating a lot of coconut and fish (sometimes together, often not). By far, the highlight was the snorkelling in the clear blue water. The reef extends out from the shore, so there is no need to swim or boat out to it – it’s right there. The colourful fish and coral life was staggering and I was enthralled.

Even though the island is tiny (it took only three hours to ride the perimeter roads), a van was necessary to get the eight of us around between all the beaches and other sights we wanted to spend time at. If you think the NZ vehicle fleet is old (many used Japanese imports), Niue is another level – used-NZ-used-Japanese imports, if you will. It seems spare parts are hard to come by, so discarded wrecks are strewn all around; it’s odd.

Alas, I have no snorkelling photos (you’ll have to take my word about the vibrant colours) due to the wetness of the water – so here are some more land-based pictures.

First explore – down the cave near Adele & James’s accommodation. There are a lot of limestone caves around the shore.

A smattering of ferns down said-cave.

Happy not to climb down there into the surging ocean. Nice and clear, but.

A twenty or so minute walk through the jungle led us down to Talava Arches.

Looking out through and to Tavala Arches.

Exploring the flats between the arches at low tide.

Typical jungle walking.

Walking out through Palaha Cave to the sea.

Looking out across to the edge of the reef.

A shower has passed. Those tsumani evacuation signs look familiar. Also shown: the general state of the few roads – that is, poor.

Near the end of the week, the sky cooperatively cleared for some decent sunsets.

The photo above was taken from the balcony of the Hio cafe, where on Thursdays they hold a fantastic banquet of local cuisine. We enjoyed it very much and I may have eaten too much – definitely filling my lifelong quota of taro.

Tamakoutoga Beach – one of the few sandy ones.

More beautiful pools at Avaiki Cave, and rather unconvincing proof that I did actually go in the water.

John appreciating that Avaiki looks even better when the sunlight is shining directly into the entrance of the cave.

Avaiki Cave had something approaching a mezzanine level, good fun clambering up there and checking out the formations from a different perspective.

Fifteen years ago, Niue was hit by Cyclone Heta and the damage was catastrophic. Alofi, the main centre, bore the brunt of it and was devastated. With so many homes ruined and such damage, we heard that two-thirds of the island’s population upped sticks and emigrated to NZ. Many of these emigres still own their land on the island, but the shells of their houses are still in ruins and slowly being reclaimed by the jungle. It was a curious sight, these abandoned and derelict houses, and a little disheartening – and I could hardly be said to have any ties to Niue.

Our last full day on the island had the best weather that I got to see there; we made the most of it by swimming at three different beaches in amongst the eating, drinking and chatting to people. With such a small population and only two flights a week from Auckland bringing people in, we kept seeing the same people all around the place. Rather quaint and charming.

Back to Matapa Chasm; this one has some fresh water flowing in so is cooler – but this time we had the sun directly overhead warming us, perfect.

James up yet another coconut tree.

Coconut catching was well practiced by this stage.

Final swim was at Limu Pools, especially good.

All too soon it was “plane day”, and our time relaxing in the warm was over. A fantastic week, so very different to my usual trips away – thanks to all the McKirdys for having me along.

around home, event, GPS, NZ

Hawke’s Bay Marathon

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For most of the last fifteen years, I’ve been somewhat in awe of anyone that can run a marathon. To me, it seemed an improbably long distance to run. Despite this, there always lurked at the back of my mind the question “could I run a marathon, do I have one in me?”. My detestation of running and never having run more than five kilometres did nothing to quieten these ponderings.

Life continued with only occasional musings about marathons flashing through my mind. Then a strange happened, after losing a bit of weight and hearing running might be good cross-training for my bikepacking, I decided to see if I could actually run a bit. Park Run, which I knew all about from when I was in England, seemed a low-key and supportive way to give running a whirl. Early last year, I rolled up to the local event and to my surprise was actually able to run five kilometres without collapsing or hurting my knees. Hoo-rah!

Intermittent Park Running saw my times improve through last year, and only the occasional slight injury. Twice I even got dragged around by others for ten kilometre runs! Madness; although I must admit it’s far easier to travel with running shoes than a bike.

With such a base, why not find out the answer to those recurring questions? So rather quietly, I signed up to the local marathon (no travel costs, easy reconnaissance, familiar terrain and, most importantly, dead flat), found a training plan and support online and got into it. Would it be possible for this cycling adapted body to go from 10 km to a marathon in less than a hundred days? I was keen to find out. Four hours was the nominal target finish time, but mostly it was about making it to the end.

It was pretty easy to get into the training plan. Each week two short runs and a progressively longer run were interspersed with flexibility and strengthening exercises. It took a lot of time to stick to the program – and much more discipline than I’m used to for my biking (after all, it’s not hard to get out and ride when it’s so enjoyable). For some reason, I was keen to keep my marathon ambitions quiet – mostly because I wanted to see if I could do it independently and didn’t want to get distracted with all sorts of good advice.

Training managed to not get sidetracked by long rides (focusing on running and not going riding was perhaps the most difficult part) for the first couple of months. But then a stunning Easter weekend came around, and I couldn’t forgo four days of bikepacking. I had a grand weekend biking, but with that, a busy weekend following and then getting a cold – I missed the two longest runs in the plan. Oops.

By then it was time to start easing up before marathon day. I did at least not overdo it and went in well rested. The big weekend rolled around with an air of inevitability. I had no doubts that I’d finish. My best run in training was 27 km at a comfortable pace – so I was confident I’d get through the first 30 km OK, and then just suffer through the last 12 km. Not a great plan, but I didn’t really know how my body would react after the 30 km mark.

After some ordinary autumnal weather, race day dawned clear and cold. Possibly the coldest morning we’ve had so far this year. A slightly larger breakfast than normal went down and I still had plenty of time to walk to the start line, stretch a little and assemble in the start pen and wait for the gun.

Following a quick wave to friends spotted in centre of the runners, the gun went off and a mass of nerves and limbs took off around the corner. Through Ahuriri and past the Port of Napier, this was all familiar running surroundings. But the throng of other runners and being on the road was unusual. I was trying to keep to five minute kilometres, but expected to go out a little fast. Once the crowd thinned a little, I started a four hour history podcast going and settled into a slower pace listening to an account of the final throes of the Great War.

On such a glorious morning, there were plenty of supporters out cheering people on. It was especially odd to be running down Marine Parade. Through some back streets, we were soon out into more rural areas – it sure had been easier biking the course. I’d mentally prepared myself for the six kilometre stretch of stopbank to Pakowhai; this part of the course wasn’t particularly interesting or scenic, but did at least pass the halfway point.

The road back to Clive saw me start to slow noticeably; there was a large contingent of supporters on the way out of Clive (about the 30 km mark) – so that was encouraging. It was nice to be out in the sun, with little wind and trying to imagine all the local scenes as a visitor would see them – this particular event seems to have become a destination race and is heavily promoted (or vice versa, perhaps). My feet started to swell a little, I should have stopped and loosened my laces – but didn’t for some reason.

Getting pretty sore on my feet, after 35 km short stretches of walking eventuated – while slow, they did at least keep me moving towards the finish line. My running was probably pretty ugly by then (there are definitely no good event photos that are worth paying for!), and plenty of people passed me. At Black Bridge, the shorter courses joined and there was only a few kilometres to go! Those still on the half- and 10 km courses were not much faster than me, so that wasn’t too discouraging.

Over the last little bridge and down into Haumoana, I managed to run the last two kilometres. After the good atmosphere and support previously, running through this stretch was disappointing and anti-climatic. There were people wandering every which way, many on the course and it was difficult to weave through them in my tired state. Just as my podcast was winding up, my phone started ringing in my ears – apparently the builders replacing my house’s roof had struck a plumbing emergency with water gushing all over! Leaving them to deal with it as best they could (it worked out fine, and didn’t cost too much) I turned into the finishing chute at Elephant Hill. Still not completely sure how I managed to take a phone call while running to the finish of a marathon – surreal.

I think I managed to at least run over the finish, collect my medal and a lot of fluid. Pretty happy to finish, and at 3:53:14, well within my vague goal. I went and found a nice patch of shady grass to lie on.

So it turns out I did have a marathon in me somewhere, at least that question is answered. Pleasing to find that out and satisfying having put in a concerted effort over the previous months. Now I’ve done one, I’m sure there is a lot of time to be shaved off – but really I’d rather get back to riding my bike more, keep Park Run up, and run shorter distances around hills and trails more.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Escapade

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Long-harboured curiosity and ambitions to ride the notoriously hilly and difficult Gentle Annie road from Napier to Taihape were finally realised over Easter. A fantastic patch of weather forecast amongst unseasonable grey and cool days were more than enough motivation for me to take off for the four days on my bike. I may be one of the few people that is disappointed that the sealing of the Gentle Annie was completed some years back, I’d have much preferred long stretches of gravel and even fewer cars. Alas, I had a very smooth day confident that I’d make it to Taihape before dark.

Managing to get organised, I left before dawn and was quickly out through fields of grapes and apples. The few diary farms passed by as the country slowly got hillier. Very slowly mind you, it wasn’t until after sixty kilometres that the climbing proper started.

In the meantime I occasionally looked back over Hawke’s Bay while making my way through the copious amount of food I’d packed for a day with no services.

The first big climb took me about an hour, but it wasn’t too steep as holiday traffic increased from non-existent to very little. Mostly it was alongside company pine forest, never the most interesting view – but good to see where it was and also pass some places I’d heard mention of. It was warming up and layers were shed as far as my short-sleeved shirt. The whole weekend was a very pleasant temperature – warm while climbing, but the descents were definitely and delightfully cooling.

Looking over to the northern reaches of the Ruahine Ranges.

I made sure to stop regularly to admire the view and eat my way through all the extra weight I was carrying. The four wraps I’d made that morning were spot-on.

Te Manihi (1099 m) – just before dropping down to the popular Kuripapango campground and crossing the headwaters of one of the big Hawke’s Bay rivers, the Ngaruroro.

Having crossed the river, the eponymous climb began and it was a good one. Only twenty minutes and ten percent, it was still slow going. It must have looked hot work as a guy in a car not much bigger than my bike stopped and gave me a nice cool bottle of Powerade. Much appreciated.

It doesn’t look too steep, but this convoy of caravans stopped as they were cooking their brakes.

The Gentle Annie hill done, it was very pleasant to spend ten kilometres up on the tops of those hills – at just under 1000 m above sea level, the views in all directions were grand.

Kaikomata Range.

The views of Ruapehu were excellent, I was surprised by how much snow was up there already.

The road quickly dropped down to the mighty Rangitikei River. And reared steeply out of the valley, probably the toughest climb all day – it was a bit of a grovel.

By this stage I was pretty sure I’d arrive well before dark, so I was in even less of a rush. Now mid-afternoon, the little traffic there was really dropped off. It was a very peaceful ride through small settlements. I started to develop a severe case of sideroad-itis, wondering what was up and how long are the numerous sideroads. For now I have to content myself with looking at maps, but as with most places I ride – there are always plenty of reasons to go back and explore further.

One final climb done, it was a gentle cruise down to Taihape as dusk approached and the air cooled. I was pleased to find a store open so I could stock up for another unserviced day of riding. The Rusty Nail Backpackers was a great find and home for the night – copious amounts of hot-cross buns, a roaring fire and fellow guests that cooked too much and very generously fed me dinner. A ripping day out in the sun and hills, it was well worth the wait.

With only a short Saturday on the cards, I had the luxury of leaving just after daybreak. This did mean that traffic on the short stretch of State Highway One was still mercifully quiet. Fittingly for a day in which, even more so than the previous one, I felt I was constantly plummeting into gorges and groveling out, I turned into Gorge Road and headed towards the Ruahines.

A nice little climb to warm up deposited me into this colourful scene.

I soon dropped sharply to cross the Rangitikei again, riding over a deep and narrow gorge.

Out of that valley I soon found a sublime patch of gravel winding its way through farms littered with golden trees and dropping into the next valley, the Kawhatau.

Climbing out of that one, I had intended to turn right towards Mangaweka but I spied a sign to Rangiwahia. I’d not previously considered that option as it is off the cycle route I was loosely following. When a friendly local stopped to see if I was OK and then advised me the alternative was mostly gravel, that clinched it; I turned left.

Ruapehu popped up again.

The promised section of gravel twisted and turned, taking me to the highest point of my day and then pointing me towards Rangiwahia. Here I rejoined the route of my favourite day on my Tour Aotearoa – who knew northern Manawatu was so absolutely lovely? Dropping into and climbing out of more gorges, I turned south on Main South Road – which would be one of the more tedious road names on the trip. But that’s OK, as I soon passed Conspicuous Road – which took the title of best road name.

For some reason the TA course went down the west side of the Pohangina River; I turned onto a new road, Pohangina Valley East Road (fairly self-explanatory), and enjoyed the solitude and autumn sunshine. Requisite riverside climbs and descents passed by easily before crossing the river for the pleasant downhill into Ashhurst. The short section of highway towards Palmerston North was loud and tedious, but thankfully it had a wide shoulder. Before long I was heading along familiar roads from my uni days to the home of dear friends. A very pleasant and much easier day that one, it was great to see familiar faces.

Easter Sunday brought a leisurely seven o’clock and very little traffic as I carried on along the Tour Aotearoa route. It was slated to rain for much of the day, I was thankful for every minute longer I stayed dry under threatening skies. With a nice section of gravel, I was in Pahiatua sooner than expected; but meeting expectations, everything was shut for the public holiday. That didn’t prevent some concerted snacking while I pondered my route choice. Not having ridden either option, I chose the hillier, more direct route to Pongaroa.

Following the Makuri River up its valley, the climbing was gentle with plenty of sheep farms and magpies providing the visual interest.

Watching and listening to dogs mustering sheep was about the most activity I saw all morning.

Native forest! Maybe I’d climbed just a little.

Rounding a corner I was taken by the sight of the Makuri Gorge stretching in front of me – it sure is fun taking roads with no knowledge or expectation as to what one may find. The road narrowed and steepened as the gorge tightened, before opening up at the small village of Makuri (a small school, a church and a smattering of houses). It looks a nice spot to come back to explore some of the gravel roads I’ve since realised are nearby.

The road reared up as much as it had all day and, after a couple of switchbacks, took the direct route up and over the Puketoi Range. Dropping off the ridge the descent was fast towards Pongaroa. I was impressed to look back and see a long bush-clad escarpment stretching away along the range, I’m not used to seeing too many such sights in NZ. I wondered if anything would be open in Pongaroa, I thought probably not.

An Event sign, hmmm, what could be going on?

To my surprise Pongaroa was heaving, the main street covered in people, cones and pick-ups. Turns out, I’d managed to unwittingly arrive on the one busy day of the year in the small settlement. It was the final day of a three-day hunt, and time for the weigh-in. Consequently a wide variety of dead animals, mostly deer and pigs, were spread on pick-up trays and hanging from hooks. Amongst all the gumboots, bush singlets and beer-swilling I cut a strange sight wheeling a loaded MTB in – I’m just glad I gave up wearing lycra well over a decade ago, no need to advertise my leanness in such company.

The pub was, of course, open – so I didn’t have to delve into my luggage to find lunch. Trying to keep out of the sun in the beer garden (the rain still hadn’t turned up), it was a pleasant rest taking it all in. I wasn’t expecting to see someone from work on my little Easter ride, but there you go.

I rolled out of town while things were still getting going, the traffic picking up now – every second vehicle seemingly another truck with antlers or trotters pointing in some direction. Two cheery cycle tourist also rode past, sans large animal carcass – they were the only other bike tourers I saw all weekend, disappointingly. The twenty-odd kilometres to the Weber junction were cruisy and very pleasant, which was welcome as I knew (from a stay in Wimbledon twenty months ago) the next section was hilly.

Quickly I was in my easy gears and an audiobook was playing for the spin up the hill. I was interested to see how much further logging operations had progressed since my last visit. Bombing down into Wimbledon, familiar sights blew past – this pub was certainly closed, I suspect all its patrons were in Pongaroa. As the shadows lengthened I crossed back into Hawke’s Bay, I was basically home – apart from 150 km of riding, that is.

One just has to stop for a sign this long.

The few remaining climbs didn’t get me 200 m above sea level, so the last sixty kilometres into Waipukurau were steady going as I set my lights going against the descending darkness. It still had not rained all day, nor had any wind appeared – it was a little surreal riding through the night so late in autumn with bare arms and legs, any extra layers were not required.

Over dinner in town I debated the last 80 – 100 km (route dependent) home. If I had have brought more light, being home by midnight was not out of the question. I’d had a rather leisurely paced 200 km day and still felt good. Alas, I was not certain I could eek that much illumination out of the lights I had, so I opted for the campground. Managing to sneakily find a roof under which to lay my head, I didn’t have to get in my bivy bag and slept well, missing the early morning rain.

Monday morning took me home, actually having to wear my rain gear for the half-hour between Waipukurau and Waipawa (huzzah for the new cycle trail taking bikes off State Highway Two). Quiet back roads took me to the busyness of Havelock North. With the slight shower gone, I couldn’t believe how warm, still and settled the weather had been – this ride was worth the wait. Negotiating Hastings, it was then cycle trail all the way back; using some of the plentiful energy left, and perhaps with an eye to the cloud behind, I made good pace to get home half an hour before the heavens opened.

A top leisurely trip all around: great countryside, little traffic and brilliant autumn weather. Now I just have to deal with that sideroad-itis and get back out there exploring more – it is all rather close to home after all.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.