Dan Loops of New Plymouth

Saturday dawned a cracker and we were out on bikes for the day as Dan gave us a tiki tour of New Plymouth comprising loops of various sizes. First up was some nice rooty track through suburban native forest before joining one of the many pathways that follow the lower reaches of various waterways flowing to the Tasman. Beside one of these were two large rope swings strung up in trees on the back of someone’s property.

Proper decent rope swings; it was not easy jumping off makeshift platforms onto the ropes – great fun but.

We wound our way downtown, pausing briefly to check out some murals and numerous eels slithering around another stream.

Down to the coastal pathway, near the infamous Wind Wand – this is about the only thing I remember about New Plymouth from my university holiday job in South Taranaki – it was the topic of much conversation in the smoko room.

Jacqui, Dan, Adele and James just before heading west on the pathway.

A lovely day, the pathway was chocka with people out walking, riding and running. Fantastic to see, it reminded me of home.

Passing the port, we rode up towards the base of Paritutu Rock.

A super steep climb up above the coast, bikes were left behind as we scrambled up. Staircases took us about halfway and then chains were strung down the face to aid climbing. Once again, plenty of people were out enjoying the sun.

Atop, we looked out over Sugar Loaf Islands and could just spot some offshore platforms.

East we looked along the coast, past the port and a disused power station.

Floating roof tanks! Oh, and the city. I rankled a little bit at the industry-is-ugly comments.

Hidden in the cloud was Mt Taranaki.

The walk down was tough in MTB shoes and torture on my legs – which were starting to ache after the previous day’s descent off the mountain.

A little further west we enjoyed a bit of beachside riding – my legs were at least still good for cycling and some nasty little grassy pinch climbs.

Looping back up beside another stream we came across a smattering of shops – definitely time for lunch. Dumplings were procured and we found a picnic table on the shore to eat, literally, scores of the tasty morsels.

Back towards Paritutu, note the sax player adding a touch of class to our seaside meal.

The slight detour back into town was unsuccessful in obtaining cronuts, alas; but this building is striking.

We continued west with ample distractions to look at – and still numerous people to avoid banging into.

This striking bridge is even more so when the mountain behind us is not shrouded in cloud.

Heading home we found a bakery for more treats and yet another pathway beside a river to get us most of the way back. An altogether lovely day out in a very pleasant little city; good weather, food and company sure helps too. It’s a pity New Plymouth is five and a half hours’ drive away.

Mt Taranaki

I had planned to break the five and half hour drive after work to New Plymouth with a stay overnight halfway. But the weather window was good and someone decided that Friday was the day to summit Mt Taranaki – I could hardly miss out on such an adventure and new experiences with dear family and friends. I’ve climbed higher peaks, even in the North Island, but never in winter through such snow and ice cover. So I was pleased to arrive safely in New Plymouth not too tired.

Leaving the parking lot at the North Egmont Visitor Centre, it was just on sunrise and we were treated to the mountain being bathed in a wonderful glow.

The clear skies were also pleasing to see.

A relatively steep double-track road (used to service the transmission tower we reached just before donning our crampons) took us through dense native forest. Gnarled old trees, branches and foliage lost as the mountain stood above.

I was taken with the difference and large crown of the cabbage trees – most unusual compared to the ones I usually see.

As the snow layer thickened, we reach an alpine club hut. A little salubrious – electricity, flush toilets and swipe card access. Crampons were fitted to my boots (and everyone else’s, but it wasn’t unusual for Adele, James & Dan), snacks taken on, sunscreen applied and we were off into the snow and ice.

It took a little to get used to walking around with big spikes attached to one’s feet. Using the handle of an ice axe as a walking pole, on the uphill side of the traverses, was more difficult to get a rhythm going with. Switching hands through the leash (it doesn’t pay to lose an ice axe down the slope) every time we switched directions also required more concentration than simply walking.

After a short section of quite narrow snow between rocks and a drop (great introduction), our route opened into a nice wide gully.

Apparently it was time for me to learn to “self-arrest”. Which basically involved throwing oneself down the hill, getting a bit of a slide going on (keep your feet up to prevent snagging them) and leveraging the ice axe into the snow to stop the descent to certain peril. Brilliant. Two such attempts were enough.

Steep enough for this novice.

We watched a large layer of cloud slowly approach us from the east and smaller clouds blew on top of us and soon fled. It was a surprisingly calm day for the most part. Occasionally we were exposed to a bit of a southerly, but conditions were generally benign. Small patches of white-out conditions had us following the poled route.

Due to my inexperience it had been decided we’d take the easiest, least interesting route up. It was plenty interesting for me but – constant thought of where one was stepping, trying to get as much contact between crampons and snow, driving ice axe in. So much so, that I had to stop to admire the view, rather than looking aimlessly while walking. There were four others that we shared the walk up with – everyone taking slightly different routes up.

Approaching the crater, the ice formations became larger, more unusual and at times surreal.

In the crater, the surface turned from snow to lumpy, knobby ice.

It looked rather windswept. While we were still bathed in sun, a layer of cloud encircled the lower reaches of the mountain.

Out of the crater, one last pitch up to the summit. Here the ice was in much larger lumps, some of them shattered when bearing weight, others didn’t – they all looked potential ankle breakers though.

Five hours after setting off, we had ascended 1500 metres and enjoyed a bit of time on the rather flat and, in this case, calm summit.

Dropping back down to the crater, we lunched in the sun before starting the descent. Back on the snow, it took a little while to get any sort of technique to go at a decent pace – this involved moving from walking across the face using the whole sole of the foot to turning to walk down the steep slope and relying on one’s heels to dig in. It worked, until it was too steep and I became more faint of heart.

The weather closed in again, and after two hours of slow descent (oh for skis) I think I was starting to get a bit fatigued. So repetitive…

One of the other parties inadvertently followed us down – which would have been OK, except we were not going back to the hut where they were heading. As the visibility vanished, we cut back to the poled route so that they did not get lost. Parting ways just before the hut, we missed a bit of the track out by taking a narrow gully – we tried sliding down, sans sleds, but it was rather bumpy.

Back on the access track – golly it got steep, no wonder it was paved in part.

Things cleared a enough to admire a bit more of the scenery.

My legs held out enough to make it back to the car. But how I would pay for it the following days – barely able to get up and simply walk, my quadriceps have never felt so tight. All worth it though – a fantastic day out learning new things, going new places with great people.

Back to Canada

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.

Mt Kyeburn – The Day I Finally Got Ski Touring?

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.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.