The manuka did an average job of keeping overnight showers off me, but I was warm and comfortable enough in my bivy bag. Despite the broken night’s sleep, I arose feeling well – which was a vast improvement on the previous day’s riding. A leisurely seven o’clock start and we hit the gravel heading up the Ruatiti Valley – delayed slightly by a big yarn to the neighbouring farmer. Pleasant riding, there were a couple of minor ascents that I was pleased we’d not tackled the night before – the Ruatiti Domain being a most suitable overnight stop.

Back on the Mangapurua Track for the second time in six months, I did at least remember the climb is steady and not too bad. The soft gravel I certainly could not remember – it having only been laid the day before, apparently just as the front runners went through! Thankfully there was usually a line on the edge of the trail which meant one needn’t spend much time wasting energy wallowing in the fresh gravel.

Ooh, new signs – doing a far better job of explaining the fascinating history of the area than the simple wooden markers denoting the name of the settlers of each unforgiving plot of land.

It had turned into a fine, clear and beautiful morning.

The three volcanoes were mostly capped with clouds, so here’s an idea of the country we were travelling through.

I was keen to see how the Kaiwhakauka Track rode downhill – my only previous experience on it some six years before I remember for an unwise attempt to ride up it in the dark. Much more of a hiking than a bike trail, there was a lot of pushing and it was exposed to some decent drops – I was most relieved to find the Mosley Campsite shelter and give up for the night.

This time, the downhill section to the intermediate farm was much fun and pretty fast. Down closer to Kaiwhakauka Stream, the trail deteriorated into plenty of deep puddles and bogs – particularly either side of each wee bridge. Nowadays there is extensive fencing along the edge, confirming that I was right to be concerned of falling into the abyss all those years ago. All that said, I thoroughly enjoyed the technical nature of it and the challenge to ride as much as possible. Eventually the energy required to muscle and balance a loaded bike was not worth expending, and I walked more as I waited for Brent. The final section, more gravel doubletrack, to Whakahoro (only two weeks before I’d been here setting off on the excellent paddle down the Whanganui, odd to be back in this remote place so soon) was in far better condition and we were soon delighted to find the cafe at Blue Duck Lodge was open.

The morning had really warmed and a big piece of bacon and egg pie with a pot of tea was in order; alas, no ice creams. As we lingered and covered ourselves with sunscreen for the afternoon, Rachel, Gina and Happy arrived. We lingered before departing together. It promptly clouded over, which was quite pleasant for the forty kilometre, mostly gravel, climb towards Owhango.

Oio Rd was excellent and not as much of a climb as I expected from riding down it in 2016.

Plenty of papa cliffs to wonder how they were still standing.

Kawautahi Road kicked up and the rain turned from drizzle to a decent shower – which helped cool us a little from the muggy afternoon. The gravel wetted, things slowed further – at the back of the field enjoying ourselves, we were hardly setting things alight. The reward for such a climb to the plateau was to promptly give up all the elevation with the long, remote and rural descent to Taumaranui – unfortunately it’s mostly sealed and therefore less interesting, but that does make it faster.

Time for a resupply; as another shower rolled through, the accommodation option that Gina and Rachel had gone for was once again tempting. But it wasn’t even four o’clock and knocking off the forty-five kilometres to another good overnight option made sense as there was plenty of day left and, while hilly, it was easily achievable.

Dinner and B&B booked with Michelle, who has been so supportive of bikepackers rolling through sleepy Ohura for years, into the rain Brent and I went. Past the hospital, it’s soon into a three-hundred metre climb on quiet Kururau Road – a favourite. The rain soon lessened and jackets were stowed for the rest of the day, actually – the rest of the trip for me.

The gravel was wet and slow, but soon steaming as the rain passed and the afternoon warmed again.

Past Otunui, we climbed again and as I tired from the day and the energy-sucking surface we seemed to reach the extent of the afternoon storm (we missed the thunder and lightning, others reported they were not so fortunate) as the road dried out and sped up.

Top of the descent to the brief section on the Forgotten World Highway.

Had to stop on the way down to bask in the evening light.

Off the “highway” for the last hour of easy and most-pleasant valley floor riding along Roto and Huia Roads, there was one last hill to crest before rolling into town with plenty of daylight left before catching up with Michelle, cleaning up and devouring a big plate of always-tasty Mexican food. A most excellent day riding with good company through some lumpy and remote terrain. I was pleased to be feeling pretty normal, albeit less fit and energetic, being out and exploring; while missing time with the friends I’d ordinarily be riding with mid-pack, I was happy just to be riding. Sleep came easily, after Happy turned up around ten o’clock and some astonishingly loud fireworks later (I assume those two were unrelated).