bikepacking, bikes, Canada, friends, travel

Back to Canada

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One Friday I was fastening my ski boots for another great day on the slopes of Treble Cone (good snow, excellent views, fun skiing, variable visibility and crazy winds eventually closing the main chairlift) to wind up ten days’ holiday. The next moment I was trying to decipher a screenshot of a bikepacking loop in Canada and NW USA. A few minutes later I was mildly startled to receive an invite for said trip – the following week. Never wanting to turn down bike trip invites, there was no good reason to not go. That was how I found myself back in Canada the following Tuesday, madness!

In the intervening days, I managed to convince my boss to give me another two weeks leave (huzzah for saving annual leave), book last minute flights, arrange travel insurance, AirBnB, airport transfer, rearrange all manner of day-to-day life things, spend time with family, fly home, work two days, pack my bike, throw all manner of clothes and camping gear in my luggage. It’s difficult to plan and organise for a vacation when one is still on the previous one!

All the things got done, and late Tuesday evening I was in Calgary with a surprising amount of sleep had en route – I stayed overnight as it was late and I wanted more sleep. Next morning, I was on the Airporter heading for Canmore. I only spent one year living there (seven years ago), but it was a fantastic year of friendships, biking, skiing & even some work; Canmore will always be a special place to me. Still, it was odd to be suddenly heading back – especially as I’d not been past Australia in four years.

Arriving at Megan’s, greetings to fill the almost-two years over, a busy afternoon ensued before we hit the road to start the bike trip. I assembled my bike, and loaded borrowed luggage while Megan was working and running errands. I managed a nostalgic walk around town past where I used to walk, work, live, shop and eat. It was just a little odd, not to mention busy. Smoke from wildfires rolled in obscuring the mountains and raining ash on me. I loaded the van with bikes, Megan returned and we hit the road for the four hour drive to Fernie, BC.

New bike eagerly anticipating assembly for its first big adventure.

All ready to go find gravel, hills and not too many or too close bears.

Those iconic peaks again – Three Sisters

and Ha Ling

With kind hospitality from friends of Megan’s, beds were provided and, exhausted, I collapsed – after the flurry of the previous five days, riding bikes again in North America was a fast approaching reality.

family, GPS, NZ, snow

Mt Kyeburn – The Day I Finally Got Ski Touring?

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A day’s rest back in Naseby (well, OK, I did go for my first trail and longest-ever run – all of ten kilometres) involved pottering around, heading out to the Waipiata pub for lunch and firing up the hot tub. After that downtime, Adele was itching to take me ski-touring up nearby Mt Kyeburn.

Greeted with a well-frosty, clear morning we loaded up the Suzuki and headed up towards Mt Buster. Not doing a big loop on bikes this time, we drove further up the 4WD road and passed the first hut, climbing up to about 900 m. It hasn’t been a particularly snowy winter, so it was just as well it snowed a few days beforehand. While the tussock wasn’t completely covered, the track was and we could park up and start skinning under a blue sky.

A gentle gradient had us climb three hundred metres as the views over the Maniototo and surrounding hills unfurled behind us.

Not much snow looking south-east from where we parked.

Across the Maniototo to the Rock and Pillars.

A tad higher now, at least there is snow on the skin (4WD) track. Looking over to the western reaches of the Kakanui Mountains. I wonder if there is much bikepacking to be had up there…

The wind, strangely, dropped as we got higher and reached more exposed areas. Very pleasant indeed.

We followed these footprints all the way to Buster Diggings, until we finally met two photographers from Dunedin on a day trip. Mt Kyeburn, our destination, in the background.

The gradient leveled off to flat for the next three kilometres, which was easy going to Buster Diggings – once upon a time the highest gold mining area in the country. With the snow and frost on the tussock grass, and the varied colours and textures of the hills under a stunningly clear blue sky – it was an exceptionally gorgeous day, and a very pleasant temperature too.

Into Buster Diggings – a bit difficult to see the remnants of sluice mining when it’s covered in snow. Once again, Mt Kyeburn in the distance – this time from a different angle.

Soon after the diggings we rested and snacked at the tiny Buster Hut. Apparently James spent a rather frigid night in here last winter. Well insulated, it was not.

The ascent began again, gradually taking us higher and providing different views. Few parts were steep and the going was pleasant.

Looking west over the Ida Range; it looks a bit different to when we biked over it almost four years previously.

We looped around to complete the ascent from the north, only the last part to the summit getting steep enough to necessitate some thought of path-picking.

Made it, after about four hours (1636 m); finally proper windy as the Maniototo stretches west behind us.

Looking over to the Kakanuis from the summit.

There was just enough snow that we could get a pleasing number of turns in as we dropped off the summit, away from our skin track, before heading back to the track. Adele did a better job of avoiding dastardly rocks than I, but we both had a lot of fun. A brief walk up a slight rise and we were then hurtling down the track.

The track wasn’t really wide enough, and there was insufficient snow off-piste, that one just had to strike the right balance of keeping enough speed to get over any little rises, but not lose control on the variable surface. Such good fun riding out all the bumps at some speed.

Snow cover getting a bit variable, and the track being pretty rutted made for exciting and knee-flexing times.

Back down at the hut, the skins were back on again for the flat section. This didn’t dampen my spirits as we’d had such fun on the descent so far. Hot drinks from the Thermos probably helped too. Off the plateau, there was still enough snow to switch back to downhill mode and whoop and holler down to the car. Little patches of no snow around drainage ditches made for some interesting jumps and a few hundred metres from the car the rocks became too prominent so we hiked the last little bit.

An absolutely fantastic little adventure from Adele & James’s home. Definitely the most excitable I’ve been about ski-touring. Which is odd, as the snow was sufficient but not fantastic. I think the combination of a beautiful day, having a summit as the objective and the varied, expansive views of the browns of Central Otago contrasting with the snow, and spending time with favourite-sister culminated in a memorable outing. Bonus – my legs didn’t seem to hurt from this unusual amount of skiing either; running might be good for something.

family, food, friends, NZ, snow

A Birthday Trip – Finally

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After fifteen years of annual Birthday Trips (Adele and her friend Theresa share a birth date and have marked the occasion with various wilderness trips since the start of university), I finally made it along to one.

Otago is a long way to go for just a weekend, so I took a week off work and headed down for the Birthday Trip and other winter adventures. My first snow holiday in six and a half years – well overdue.

Meadow Hut out the back of the Snow Farm on the Pisa Range was booked out way back in February. Saturday morning, nineteen of us (including five intrepid children) left Snow Farm on the four kilometre route to the hut. Some of us were on touring skis with skins, others on skinnier skis and some on snowshoes. I assume due to differences in pace, we separated into two groups – skiers and snowshoers (which did have a couple of skiers along to help corral children).

The weather started to turn as we left and quickly deteriorated. Thankfully, we weren’t carrying heavy packs – most of our gear and food was coming in by snowmobile. The clouds rolled in and it started snowing, big wet heavy flakes. On the final stretch to the hut the wind funneled down the valley and the situation rather turned into a blizzard. The wind so strong and the snow so wet, every flake hitting one in the face elicited distinct pain.

Thankfully, the hut was not really that far away. We bundled in and got the fire going as we thawed out. Some hardier souls than I, and more experienced & useful, headed back out into the storm to help the families. Drama ensued due to the horrible conditions; children were bundled into backpacks and arrived in the hut rather quiet. The snowmobile was somehow rolled off the side of the trail, landing on the staff member’s head. He was OK. Those of us out there had to help right it, unpack the trailer, move all the luggage up the bank and reload it.

Eventually, all were safely in the hut and warming up. Finally there, a lovely afternoon and evening sheltering from the storm around the fire commenced. The beauty of the luggage being carted in for us was that we had hearty amounts of food and drink. Sharing numerous different curries, we ate well, chatted and played card games.

Most slept well, the storm blew out during the night, the snow groomer drove past at some horrendously early hour and woke us, and a bluebird day dawned. A lazy start to the day was spent breakfasting, packing and assembling for Sunday adventures. Those on snowshoes headed out to play in the snow; while those on skis also left to enjoy a bit of ski-touring further out on the Pisas.

With plenty of skinning up hills, we found some nice turns and fantastic views back over the Cardrona Valley. I enjoyed my first ski-touring in over seven years as exploring various routes over the hills, down into little valleys and eventually back to the route we’d skied in on the previous day. All made it back to the cars suitably spent.

A fun little trip with great people – excellent to finally make it on such a trip. For the actual birthday, we headed up to Treble Cone for a day of resort skiing. The snow was good, although the visibility worsened in the afternoon – we headed back to Naseby for birthday dinner.

bikepacking, event, GPS, NZ

Mini Geyserland Gravel Grind 2018

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My swollen left knee caused by a big Easter of biking slowly returned to normal. However, due to having favoured my knee to get through six hundred kilometres of pain – my lower right leg was messed up for a few weeks. Physio treatment just aggravated it and made walking excruciating, but finally the root of the problem was treated and things came right in time for the Mini GGG. I could walk normally again, and riding was even better – as normal.

I was keen to go on this more-social bikepacking event and meet some new people. Pete kindly lent me his spare bike (a bike that has completed the Tour Divide no less) – we decked it with borrowed bags and adjusted it for me Friday night. Saturday in Rotorua dawned misty with drizzle falling. It really wasn’t too bad by the time we rolled to the start at the very agreeable hour of ten o’clock.

The Mini GGG was more social than most bikepacking events I’ve done as the distances each day were short and the camping spots set. This meant that everyone camped together and, arriving late afternoon, we had plenty of time to make camp and hang out in the shelter cooking, eating and sharing various stories.

Eleven of us set off from the centre of Rotorua and followed a now familiar route to, up, along and off the Mamakus (I’d ridden this way on the first GGG and last year’s Mega Grind). The drizzle continued, but it wasn’t cold or windy – our steady pace was most pleasant and the climb was gradual.

What’s this? How am I at the front? This must be socially paced. Waiting in Mamaku for people to talk to…

Traversing along the top of the ranges, the rain petered out and we became more exposed to the souwester. Having regrouped, it was good to spend some time chatting to Erik (one of the two, Pete being the other, organisers of these wonderful GGGs) about his custom bike (I’m still deciding what to replace my stolen Ogre with) and his experiences writing and editing his soon-to-be-published account of riding Tour Aotearoa one and a half times. Riding in a group of about six there were plenty to chat to; we caught up to another two riders who had got a slight head start on the main group, bringing out total to thirteen.

Passing the highest point of our route, we turned into the wind and our group slowly spread. Definitely one of those days requiring concerted effort to get downhill. Still, it still wasn’t raining, the surface was good and I was thoroughly enjoying experiencing a different bike. Not much of a day for photos, I had little reason to stop and therefore rolled into Tokoroa looking for a good bakery.

Still finding it a little bewildering to be at the vanguard of our little fleet of bikepacking rigs, I settled in with a glorious steak and mushroom pie and other baked treats. Slowly everyone else rolled into town and about half of the group arrived to further deplete the pie stock (they were very good, I may have had another). It was very odd during an “event” sitting still for well over an hour; eventually getting antsy and feeling I should be riding, I made to leave. Quiet country roads took us to our campground, the Jim Barnett Reserve, and I enjoyed hearing stories of this year’s early Tour Aotearoa as I rode with Tony – I had it easy in 2016!

Through a little bit of native bush, we arrived and set up camp. I still have not used my bivy bag – opting again to roll my sleeping bag out in the two-walled shelter. It was certainly warm enough. Alas, the water supply was turned off. Tony and I trekked to a nearby farmhouse and, after being plied with piping hot tea, returned with enough water for many of us to cook our various meals and hot beverages. Dinners were cooked, eaten and much was discussed as our small group lazed in the shelter. A very pleasant evening in good company.

Having not taken the Monday off work, my plan was to ride Days Two and Three on Sunday, get back to Rotorua and drive the few hours home that evening. I decamped, and set off some time before eight. When I made this plan, it was only to be about 120 km of riding – I should be back at my car early afternoon. I did not account for a partial closure of the Waikato River Trail, which meant the day started with a detour adding about an hour to the riding.

The detour had the effect of me modifying my route to ensure I got back to Rotorua to meet various people on time. As it happened, this meant that I skipped the sections of trail I’d ridden previously and spent about ninety percent of the day riding places I’d not yet taken a bike. I thoroughly enjoyed the detour, especially the gravel section, of Mangare and Huirimu Roads. Once again at the YoYo bakery in Mangakino (it has become a regular stopping point) it felt like another two-pie day (their steak and mushroom of comparable high quality to the previous day’s), I ate and took enough away to make sure I didn’t need to stop at another store over the remaining seventy-odd kilometres.

Earlier on Sunday approaching Arapuni – it was far brighter, warmer and more pleasant. The souwester was still a nagging presence for much of the day.

The part of the set-route I was most looking forward to was the only part I’d not ridden before – the final section of the Waikato River Trail. That is, the Whakamaru to Atiamuri section. Twenty-three kilometres of good fun! In parts fast, in other parts little pinch climbs appeared, along with some twists and all following the Waikato upstream. I was not disappointed, it was thoroughly enjoyable. The trail was in fantastic condition too – not too wet or too dry; also, it was deserted on a fine, Sunday afternoon.

A brief stop opposite a youth camp, on an island over a causeway, that I’m reasonably certain I went to at least once as a child. I vaguely remember go karts…

Done. Time for a snack and to get back to Rotorua.

Conscious of the time and having previously ridden the hilly, gravelled back route through Ngakuru – I opted for the quiet State Highway 30 back to town. With the wind at my back, the gradual climb from one catchment to the next wasn’t too much for my legs. At the watershed, I crossed back into the Bay of Plenty and the weekend’s riding was all but over.

An excellent, leisurely little outing – I was a little sad to not to stick around with the group, but I had a great time riding with others and solo. Not to mention, I now have plenty to ponder from riding a different bike. What will my next one be like, where will it take me? Time shall tell…

Biking to go places, going places to bike.