I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve bikepacked through Ohura (having never previously heard of it), always enjoying a generous feed at Michelle’s Fiesta Fare Mexican food cart. This time it was nice to stay overnight and help fill the B&B. With a wide main street of empty shops, each time I’ve wondered what this place like back before the mines and prison closed. This article appeared shortly after my last visit and gives some insight.
A misty morning to drag the bikes outside.
Long since shut, but there is a pay phone…
The low cloud blanketing the area was a great way to start the day – a big climb beckoned. Eventually we broke through, continuing our ascent to see the layer’s tendrils stretch up the connected valleys. Much of this day’s riding I’d seen before, such was the quality of riding (remote, quiet, interesting farmland and native forest) I was very much looking forward to seeing it all again.
From the high point of our day, Waitaanga Saddle, the drop through native bush to another now much-quieter-than-days-past place, Waitaanga itself, and then again to near-sea level through two scenic reserves is spectacular.
Reaching the famed Kiwi Road, it was time to turn south, snack and lather on sunscreen as the day heated. Good timing, as the large group of raucous motorbikes re-announced their arrival – this group had passed us yesterday as we approached Owhango. They seemed to have grown in number; we were happy to wait for them to regroup and see them speed pass in the din of obnoxious noise.
Most were more courteous than others.
The steady, bush clad climb up to the first of the day’s three tunnels is most pleasant.
Always nice to find a tunnel near the top of a climb, knowing the last bit of ascent is not required.
The tunnel spat us out into farmland, mostly flat on much wider gravel before notorious traction seal appeared announcing a steep climb. With the late morning sun beating down on us, we sweltered up the ten percent climb.
It did reward us with our first view of the mountain, Taranaki that is.
Dropping again, east onto Moki Road and another climb to its tunnel before a fabulous descent looking over seemingly unstable papa cliffs to the mountain and onto Uruti Domain and turning south on Uruti Road.
Bit slow with this photo.
Clouds haven’t quite covered it yet.
The sign seemed more about the geography than the tarmac.
A cool, fast-flowing stream just before the last tunnel gave a good chance to refill bottles and soak one’s headwear – it was hot, some reported over thirty degrees (I’m sceptical, but it was plenty hot with little wind).
Uruti Road immediately turned to gravel for the sharp drop before some pleasant valley floor riding through marginal farmland. Before the road dead-ended, we were fortunate to have access through a farm to connect with the next road. A brief section through pines was unremarkable (in part due to tree fall having been cleared) before dropping to the Waitara River. Fascinating to think that this river, from way back on the Moki Track (from this adventurous ride five years ago) winds its way all the way south, west and then north to Waitara.
Apparently the bridge is submerged about ten times each year by the flooding river, I was pleased the river was low and the farm dry.
Back up the river.
Probably getting used to seeing bikepackers by now.
It must have been raining heavily recently and then dried, as the four kilometres of farm track out from the river was heavily rutted. Any remaining mud and puddles were mostly-easily avoided – I enjoyed the technical challenge of it all. The worst section by far was that below, just as we exited the farm for an easy ten kilometres to Matau – where we found a verandah at the hall to shelter from the sun for a bit.
Another baking, but mercifully short, climb took us to Pohokura Saddle and the Forgotten World Highway, much less than an hour back on seal to the Whangamomona oasis.
In a stroke of brilliance, Fay and her mother, Liz, had a B&B on the main street of town (charitably, you could say there are two streets in the town) on the route and had a fantastic rider aid station going. We had plenty of time (the joys of taking it easy) to stop and were soon fed with cracking toasties, pizza, cold drinks, tea, and much home baking. Undecided as to whether we’d embark on the second, much longer, farm section that evening (we’d have to get through the three to four hours as no camping was allowed) we lingered refuelling and chatting about how the event was going as the resident ewes and lambs entertained us with their antics.
It started to drizzle, we ate, drank and chatted more. Then the afternoon thunderstorm broke in spectacular fashion. Much lightning all around, booming thunder nearby. We stayed put. At times it looked like it was clearing, but the storm stubbornly sat in the valleys. Refreshments continued, soon it was absolutely bucketing down. With no qualms, we called it a day and accepted that the farm may be a bit muddy in the morning. Gradually Rachel, Happy and Gina rolled in bedraggled with various tales of having been caught in the storm, sheltering in farm sheds and smelling the lightning’s effects as it hit around and on their refuges. Glad we missed that. Also glad to be able to squat for the night at the other B&B across the road – thanks Gina.