bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Great Southern Brevet – Day One – Tekapo to Omarama

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With my arm in a sling after the magpie fiasco and dealing with the disappointment of not being able to attempt to ride over the Snowies from Canberra to Melbourne, I suddenly realised that the Great Southern Brevet would be a good replacement ride and something to look forward to. A 1100 kilometre bikepacking event near and around Central Otago, I could do that with a month off the bike, and then Christmas, for preparation. Surely?!

When I did my first bikepacking event four years earlier, the GSB was the other option. But in comparison to other events, it flies further under the radar and information is harder to come by – so I chose to start with the Kiwi Brevet. The GSB had stayed in buried in the back of my mind ever since, waiting for the timing to be right – finally it was, so I was excited to turn up in Tekapo and discover the half of the course I’d not ridden previously. After having now completed both of those brevets, I’m glad I did it that way around.

Ten o’clock was the very gentlemanly start time – it seems such a waste of daylight when one is eager to get going. But it does give ample time for meeting fellow riders over a leisurely cafe breakfast. More so than other events I’ve done, everyone seemed to know plenty of other riders and there were many returning riders. I was surprised to meet people from other events and have people remark on this little blog, and commiserate about the magpie incident. After a large breakfast, it was down to the start to crowd out the throng of tourists, listen to the briefing, make last minute adjustments to bikes and kit before rolling out.

At the start earlier.

With no real lead-up of biking, I was happy to drift further and further back in the field as we headed out of town. By the time we were on the gravel I was tailend charlie and finally getting to meet Keith who had recently kitted me out with his Robo-Kiwi creations. We caught up to Pierre alongside the canal. Pierre’s bike had caught my eye earlier – over twenty years old, twenty-six inch wheels, rim brakes, original unserviced forks (!); it certainly was a leap back in time. Kudos.

Dropping down to the wide river basin, we had over forty kilometres of gravel track to ease us into the route. Well, one thought so – however, despite the gradual downhill, the surface was more bumpy river stones packed into something resembling a hard surface. Constantly battling the round rocks to keep momentum was not the most fun. But on the other hand, the wind was behind us, the clouds hadn’t burst yet and the company was good. It turns out the GSB every two years is about Pierre’s only bikepacking that he gets to do (more kudos) and he had plenty of entertaining stories and handy pointers from past rides. Already at this point of the ride, I was becoming keen to return – the route changes each time, although this one was a repeat of the 2017 route as that year severe weather (snowstorms on the Pisa Range, flooding and washed out bridges in the Nevis Valley) meant it was curtailed.

Looking back north.

Heading south to the northern reaches of Lake Benmore.

Having followed the Tekapo River most of the day, finally we crossed it as it emptied into the Pukaki – which soon ended in the lake.

We caught up to other riders hiding from the sun, these guys were far more disgruntled with the surface – so I wasn’t displeased as they departed with their negativity while I snacked. I was surprised to learn later in the day that it was well over 30ºC that afternoon – with the breeze, it didn’t feel that way. For a change, I managed to break my habit of dehydrating myself on the first day of such events. Maybe I’m slowly learning something about this bikepacking lark?

Joining gravel roads for a bit, we skirted around the head of the lake.

Organiser extraordinaire Dave had gained permission for us to ride through private land, this took us away from the lake and up into the hills to eventually drop into the Waitaki Valley.

I caught up to some others – more people to chat to; first days are fun like that.

As the climbing intensified I found myself alone enjoying the ascent, new scenery and the warmth. The surface was far more rideable too since leaving the rivers behind. Having spent a bit of time around Benmore in years gone, I’d never been up the northern arm.

The pylons rise from NZ’s largest hydro station, starting the HVDC link to the North Island. The rain finally started about here too.

There was some fairly decent climbing around the lake; nothing huge – but it seemed to keep coming more than one expected. Finally I descended to the dam for the last little run to Otematata and resupply. Once upon a time, my parents had a small house here – it was strange to revisit.

Thankfully the store was still open, unfortunately it was a rather average store (no pies, inconceivable!). As I was leaving, four others rolled in just before closing time. I took off in the rain up the hill towards Omarama. Expectedly, that stretch of highway is tedious in the reverse direction – Adele and I rode it a couple of years earlier on our A2O ride.

Returning to the lake, the trail goes off the road and it was a pleasant ride up the hill in the drizzle. I saw someone fly past on the road, they must have missed the trail. Going through Sailor’s Cutting for the final run down to Omarama (huzzah, this section is now off the road) was a little less pleasant as the heavens opened and it tipped down. There was quite a congregation of bedraggled riders at the Four-Square buying supplies for the next wilderness section and sharing stories of the day. As the rain pelted down in the early evening, finding a room rather than risk exposure at higher altitude seemed sensible – it was supposed to clear overnight.

No sooner had said room been found, things brightened and going over the Little Omarama Saddle seemed a better use of time. But I was in no rush and a decent rest after my biggest riding day in months seemed prudent. Dinner was pretty good too, and cafe’s accommodation (and shower) were most welcome. That was a good day of riding, and my shoulder stayed where it should – bravo.

around home, food, friends, hiking, NZ, shoulder

Whirinaki Hiking

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Before heading south to ride the Great Southern Brevet, Steve and I had set aside the following weekend to go hiking in the Whirinaki Forest. Still fatigued all week from the brevet, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But as it happened, a weekend walking with a light pack through beautiful native forest was just the tonic.

Perusing maps and brochures, I came up with this vague plan; it happened to be what Steve had in mind too.

I had Friday off work for my shoulder MRI in Hastings (the dye injection was horrible, the MRI went well – completely different in details to the one I had in the UK seven years ago), so was left in charge of food. Planning only a two night summer trip, there was plenty of room for fresh items – I made sure we would not starve.

The ache in my shoulder lessened enough to drive out and meet Steve at work; an hour of Napier-Taupo Road before turning north for forty minutes of gravel brought us to the trailhead right on the Hawke’s Bay – Bay of Plenty boundary, having climbed to the watershed at about 900 m. The walk into Central Whirinaki Hut that evening was a glorious and easy ten kilometres. From the start, we lost altitude over half the distance on a wide well-maintained trail to reach the Whirinaki River, which we followed to the hut.

It was a balmy evening for walking, and we were soon impressed by the number and variety of both large native trees and ferns. I don’t know that I’ve seen so many different ferns in such number in one place that I saw over the next two days and fifty kilometres. My left thigh gave me a bit of gip that evening going downhill, most unusual – thankfully I’d put in my ski/hiking poles and they helped no end, that niggle didn’t bother me the following days.

Friday evening and we didn’t see another soul that night – so we had the entire large hut to ourselves, a bunk room each. Luxury. It also meant we didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s slumber as we turned up, cooked and ate a small pile of nachos well after dark.

I got outside in the morning for a hut photo before the rain came in.

A stone’s throw away from the hut was the river and wonderfully there were two pairs of whio (blue ducks) slowly making their way upstream finding breakfast as they went.

Endangered, these ducks are also rare among water birds in that they live year-round on fast flowing rivers.

Thanks to Steve for the video.

The rain persisted as we set off, but it was inconsequential under the vast canopy. The trail tended down as we loosely followed the river. It seemed that a lot of the cuttings made to smooth the gradient weren’t really necessary – the walking was easy. There was even a tunnel!

Outrageous.

Did I mention there were ferns?

A short diversion had us standing on a bridge above the thundering Whirinaki Falls, alas there was no lookout spot. We left the Whirinaki River to turn to walk up a tributary – Mangamate Stream. With that we left the crowds behind; that morning we’d seen two men (and a dog) heading up to do some pest control and a group of five walking up to Central Hut, we were to see no one else for another twenty-four hours. Knowing we were about to get our feet wet, it seemed a good time break for lunch.

Quite a spread it was too; hooray for short hiking trips when much fresh food can be carried.

The trail notes told us we’d be following the stream most of the way up to the hut and to expect more than sixty crossings.

Finding the orange marker, I contemplated all the crossings to come before wading in. It was luxuriously warm, and like most of the crossings to come – around my knee-height.

I took to counting stream crossings, but that became difficult when much of the time the trail was simply walking up the watercourse. I was well pleased that we were doing this in the height of summer and it was a clear, warm day. For about six kilometres we did our best to follow the elusive orange markers upstream. Along the way the trail often disappeared and we were left immersed in toe-toe (cutty grass, pronounced “toy-toy”), failing to avoid nettles and, most of all, brushing increasingly-sensitive leg hairs across hook grass.

Oh, there’s the marker. I guess we’re walking up the stream again. A welcome respite from the hook grass.

We escaped from the sea of toe-toe!

Finding the site of the previous hut, we left the now-much-smaller stream and climbed to the hut. A couple of hundred metres to climb was a nice change from picking our way through water, rocks and grass and a suitable way to work up an appetite before suddenly emerging from the bush at a saddle to find the hut. For the record, I stopped counting at eighty stream crossings when the stream became small enough to barely get my boots wet.

Once again, our digs for the night were otherwise deserted. (Mangamate Hut)

Looking north as the day ends, in much more friendly grass.

Not a bad spot to devour more of the food we’d hauled in, all in the name of lightening the load for the following day of course.

Reading in fading light back-issues of the Auckland University Tramping Club magazine left in the hut showed a few things. Firstly, this area had been well visited by the club. Secondly, hunting orange markers, masses of hook grass and having wet feet were all part of getting here. Thirdly, I really should have done/do more hiking – while it’s not biking, it can be surprisingly good fun (I can imagine the eye-rolls that comment is getting from certain people).

With an earlier night’s sleep, we got away a bit earlier the next morning to walk down from the other side of the saddle. The morning would mostly be spent following a stream down a valley, before picking up another to walk up the next valley. At times the trail was wide and well-defined, but mostly it was not and occasionally downright difficult to find. Two more hours of hook grass exclamations and I decided it wasn’t too hot to wear trousers and save my hair – why did I not do that earlier? I could just walk straight through everything non-plussed and use far less energy not carefully maneuvering legs to avoid the dreaded hooks.

Steve carrying a relatively low inventory.

Upper Whirinaki Hut – only subtlety different to the previous night’s hut.

Stopping to lunch at the hut, we met the group of five that we’d seen the previous morning. We were lucky to escape with our lives, as our ample lunch consisting of such delicacies as fresh produce and cheese had our new acquaintances turning green. We didn’t hang around to see if we’d be skinned alive for daring to pull such items out of our packs.

Another kilometre of river walking, we crossed the Whirinaki River one last time and contemplated the climb back to the car. It was steep, but the most challenging and enjoyable hiking of the weekend. Climbing over three hundred metres in less than a mile probably should have been harder and less fun than it was. Thankfully we’d eaten most of the food by then and our packs were light, also the trail, while steep, was easy enough to follow.

The birdlife changed too, wood pigeon (kereru) up here.

Disappearing in seas of ferns is preferable to cutty grass.

Up on the ridge, we began to get a better impression of the vastness and density of the bush we’d walked through. As well as finding it was a pretty warm day.

One final pose, near another big tree – there were plenty of those.

Slight undulations took us back to the main track just short of the car with plenty of time to get home before dark. A fantastic weekend of walking in sublime native New Zealand forest; great food, company, birdlife and weather really helped more. I may have to do a bit more hiking – if only to recover after a week of intense bikepacking! Now to get back there again and do a longer loop, or take the bike.

bikes, family, GPS, MTB, NZ

Buster Hut and over to Danseys Road

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In Naseby after a lovely family Christmas, Adele was keen to take our visitors from afar (well, Sydney) up to Buster Hut to show off some of her and James’s local playground. Driving up the same track that we skied up in July in the new pick-up may have also been part of the attraction. Alas, there were six of us and only five seats; it didn’t take long to spot a good opportunity to bike up. I soon found a different route down to make a decent fifty-odd kilometre unsealed loop.

Leaving home a bit later than intended, I still hoped to reach Buster Diggings just before lunch was driven up to me – spoilt! About ten kilometres of fords, gravel climbs and descents in beating sunshine got me to the huts where the track really starts to climb. A family in a Prado played leap-frog with me a bit, they were strangely, and ego-boostingly, astounded that anyone would bike up the road, let alone the track to the diggings.

The gravel road in, and the track up to the diggings on the left, Mt Kyeburn on the far right.

Five kilometres of chunky 4WD track at an average of twelve percent was the toughest climb I’d done in a long time. Great training and I loved it. The views back over the Maniototo Valley opened up. My tyres were a bit underdone for the terrain, better suited to gravel roads, but they mostly held on – there was only one short stretch I couldn’t ride. On such a glorious morning in peak holiday season I was not surprised a few side-by-sides, two-wheelers and other vehicles passed me.

Looking back only a little way up, the Rock and Pillar Range in the distance.

That climb taking an hour, things leveled out, more vehicles passed me and I reached the stark former gold-diggings. Barren and white, I’ve visited a few times now – so with motorbikes zipping around, I continued to Buster Hut to await my family.

I contemplated the ride up here, knowing what the ski was like.

Rather a cute little hut; waiting, I tidied the hut a little, soaked in the sun and view and took photos of my bike posing.

Only an hour and a half after leaving home, my family arrived far more shaken up, but considerably cooler, than I had been. We had a lovely lunch in front of the hut (thanks Adele for the food delivery!). The rest of the ride wasn’t going to ride itself, well nourished I set off again.

This is fairly representative of much of the remaining trail up – a bit different with no snow!

Even with plenty of photo stops, it was less than an hour more climbing as clouds rolled in and cooled things a bit.

West over Oteake Conservation Park – plenty more tracks to explore.

Looking over the Maniototo again, the track I’d come up and Buster Diggings on the right.

Climbing, climbing…

Almost there, the track I would follow down can just be seen curling away to the left at the bottom of the scree.

The long since dug diggings a more obvious scar on the tussock slopes from up here.

Bike needed another breather.

Looking over to St Mary’s Range and time to descend!

It was a steep descent, but it seemed a bulldozer had recently been up and back down – it was well graded, but still steep and rocky. Dropping nine hundred metres in only seven kilometres, my wrists and forearms would have preferred some suspension on the front of my bike. Taking a bit of a battering was at least a good excuse to stop and admire every new view as each bend served them up.

The track dropping away from me to cross the Kyeburn and meet Dansey’s Pass Road.

Glimpses of the Pacific could just be made out.

Finally down to the Kyeburn.

This crossing I couldn’t keep my feet from being anything but soaked. So why not just stand in the rushing water for a while admiring things?

I joined the gravel road and rode home, noting a small campground that might be useful next week, drawing a few stares as I rolled past the pub patrons and, for the first time, stopping at the Kyeburn cemetery absorbing the history and a rather tragic tale involving young brothers and avalanches. Turning into the wind that had warmed me all day, I slowed sufficiently to reflect on a satisfying day out up and down hills – good to be back on the bike. Once again, what an area – I look forward to more exploration in Central Otago. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, Canada, event, family, friends, MTB, NZ, shoulder, USA

The Christmas Letter 2018

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It’s that time again when I reflect on the previous year and consider what is in store for next year. It has been another great year filled with plenty of biking and also many new experiences; as happens, the good times are sometimes tempered – but with only a couple of annoying injuries keeping me inactive briefly (and missing out on two events I wanted to ride) and the loss of a bike to note, they’re not really worth focusing on.

In an attempt at a little cross-training for bikepacking, I thoroughly enjoyed the local Park Run and was surprised that it didn’t take too much effort to get my five kilometre time consistently below twenty minutes. I hope to slow my running down and work on longer distances next year. Trying to improve my swimming (/ability to drown) proved far more challenging, but just as I felt I was making decent progress my shoulder got loose again – so swimming seems out of the picture for a while.

I once again hosted many visitors to my little home in Napier. Amongst regular visits from family and friends, I’ve had a fair few cycle tourists stay (always happy to chat bikes, touring and bikepacking) and AirBnB continues to help use my spare rooms more than they would be otherwise – while contributing to house maintenance and minor upgrades and allowing me to keep repayments in check. If you’re ever around the Hawke’s Bay, get in touch and visit. I’ve also managed to travel a little this year to visit immediate family, extended family and friends; this Christmas and New Year will be spent down in Otago with family.

Here’s a more photographic account of the year:

After surprising the family for Christmas last year, I skived off for a few days of Central Otago bikepacking. It was brilliant and I’m looking forward to revisiting some of my route, and more, shortly.

Adele joined me for a memorable, fairly big, hilly and hot day on the Old Dunstan Trail.

Local bikepacking trips were fairly scarce, this one south of Havelock North sticks in the mind for the insane mud.

Further south, the Number 8 Wired route was a blinder. One easy day of gravel roads and hills.

And one tough day getting to the coast and back – significant hike-a-bike, rugged trails and battling into a warm NWer all the way home.

With a significant milestone in the Major Hazard Facility project I’ve been involved with at work being reached at the end of March, I was ready for Easter adventures. Riding the Timber Trail there and back on Good Friday was the start. Great fun, but unfortunately I hurt my knee which led me to not finish the ambitious Eastern Bay of Plenty bikepacking loop planned for the rest of the long weekend.

The hills west of Gisborne did whet the appetite with some stunning rural scenery and riding.

Just before reaching Opotiki and ending that painful (favouring my left knee led problems in my other foot and barely being able to walk for two weeks – I got better) ride, I met some other bikepackers that took me back to Rotorua and snapped this last photo of my trusty Surly.

I’d like to say I was delirious with pain and that led me to leaving my garage door open one night, but that’s not quite the case. The result was the ever-reliable bike that I’d had for five years and over twenty thousand kilometres was stolen. I have many happy memories of that bike: from my first forays into bikepacking in England, the Rift Valley Odyssey in Kenya, riding to Italy, around Kilimanjaro, one Australian trip, many local rides and the few NZ events I’ve done (Kiwi Brevet, Tour Aotearoa, and a few Geyserland Gravel Grinds). But in the end, it’s a bike and replaceable – which is just what I did, of course.

I thoroughly enjoyed the continuing Geyserland Gravel Grind series of bikepacking events based out of Rotorua again this year – I lined up for five in total. For the Mini-, Pete leant me his spare bike.

I liked it so much, I promptly test-rode and ordered the latest model. Here it is, unusually, unloaded – it’s certainly lighter than I was used to for bikepacking. I’m looking forward to just as many good trips and memories.

All ready for a few days away; having all one’s luggage stolen has an advantage in getting newer, improved gear.

Finally I made it down south for one of Adele’s birthday trips. A thoroughly enjoyable week of skiing, family, friends and beautiful Otago scenery. I finally got ski-touring with a super-fun day up and down Mt Kyeburn.

It was just as well I had a whole year’s worth of leave stored up before I went south, as near the end of that trip while enjoying one final day skiing, a bikepacking trip in Canada & NW USA was mentioned. Surprised to be invited along, I was suddenly trying to convince my boss I could have another two weeks off, booking flights, and so on.

Heading off bikepacking for two weeks on a bike I’d only ridden a hundred kilometres on, what could go wrong? Megan put together an excellent route down into Montana, across the top of Idaho, into Washington before closing the loop back in British Columbia. It was great being unexpectedly back riding bikes in North America and seeing good friends. A wonderful trip that will be remembered for trees, heat, bushfire smoke, quiet gravel roads, long climbs, some more trees, wildlife (so many eagles, not so many bears thankfully), wild berries, trees and many food items.

The first big climb in Montana.

Avoiding wildfires was a regular consideration.

The fire reroute turned out golden – with another long downhill.

Back home, I had just enough leave later that month to head off to New Plymouth to see Adele, James, Jacqui and Dan. Someone thought I should climb this mountain; which meant learning to use an ice axe and crampons.

We made it above the cloud, I climbed a mountain! That excitement was only tempered by the descent hammering my quads and being reduced to a hobble for the following week.

The Classic Geyserland Gravel Grind was a nostalgic trip back to the Bay of Plenty and many places I went while growing up nearby and on my first bike tours.

Labour Weekend was set aside to finish the Eastern loop I’d bailed on at Easter, with an extra diversion to and from childhood home of Te Puke – another ripping good long weekend exploring different bits of New Zealand. Riding over 700 km in four days didn’t seem that onerous, and with two big rides planned for November I was well on track to reach my stretch target for the year.

I was particularly looking forward to the Hunt 1000 (Canberra to Melbourne – ruggedly up, down and along the Snowy Mountains) – having followed the 2017 edition and being captivated by the scenery and remoteness of the terrain. Alas, that was not to be as I found a new and creative way to dislocate my shoulder again. So the last six weeks have been pretty quiet, but I’m back on the bike and thinking of next year…

There’s already a South Island event booked, I expect there will be an Australian one too as I still have the Hunt 1000 flight credit to use, and there are still plenty of places close to home that I need to explore. Further surgery, and six months of rehab, on my shoulder is a possibility, but until I have an MRI it’s not worth considering too much.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to all.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.