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Long Labour Weekend Eastern Loop

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With a bit of unfinished business from not completing the Easter Eastern Loop, another shoulder-season long weekend seemed perfect opportunity to complete it. I had planned to do so in a few weeks’ time as part of the Mega Gravel Grind event, but find myself with insufficient leave. Pete decided to join me so far as Rotorua; meeting at work, we drove north to Wairoa, locked the car and left in search of supplies for the remote section the following day.

A pair of SIR9s ready to leave Wairoa.

Cloudier than expected, the threatened rain didn’t come to anything, and the southerly pushed us on our way north out of town and past Frasertown.

We followed the Wairoa River for an hour or so through sheep and beef country.

While a sealed road, with next to no traffic it was most pleasant and with a couple of climbs we made good progress to Tiniroto. I’d phoned the previous day and made sure the pub would be open. They stayed open just for us, even managing to rustle up homemade pies and hot chips. The community centre was even available for us to sleep in. That is how we found ourselves sleeping in a play centre adjoining a village hall.

The large hall looked perfect for a three-wheeled race circuit.

Sleeping quarters for the night; I could brush up on my ABCs and traffic awareness.

Quite cosy inside, we didn’t realise it was frosty until departing the following morning. Is it even worth keeping a pie tally? I had my fourth of the trip for breakfast.

Would stay again. The sun just starting to make it over the first-thing-of-the-day climb.

The three kilometre climb helped us warm up; losing more altitude than we’d gained did not. Extremities curled and numbed, our gloves and socks better suited to the weather that was forecast for the rest of the weekend – sunny, still and warm spring days.

Finally the sun hit us; generally not whizzing downhill helped alleviate the chill in our digits.

The familiar climbs and descents continued as we zigged and zagged east and west, slowly making northward progress through farmland – only stopping once to let a mob of steers be driven past us. It feels most rude to be out riding bikes and holding up people going about their work. I particularly enjoyed the Waikura valley back in April, this time was no different. What was different was the incredible number of kowhai in their bright yellow bloom. Quite used to seeing one or two of these native trees in flower, this was on a scale I had not seen before – fantastic.

Finally we were on a gravel road, and pleasingly it did not have the sustained patches of fresh, uncompacted drudgery and toil that I remember from Easter.

This view was as good as last time.

Switching to following the Hangaroa River for a while led to mild climbing, and then a bit more heading north to the next valley – the Wharekopae. We did spy one of those brilliant golf courses in the middle of nowhere – where the chief turf control experts are someone’s ably employed flock of sheep.

A brief stop at Rere School to have first-lunch and fill bottles plonked us on some seal to Rere Falls.

This was about the only place I saw multiple people last time; this time – not so much.

Past the Rere Rockslide, the road reverted to gravel and the climbing continued with only brief respite as we rose five hundred metres or so.

But with skies and views like this, the climbing was easy-going.

Crossing the watershed we joined the headwaters of the Motu, State Highway Two briefly, and then made it to Matawai to refuel and restock supplies.

Down the road a bit, Motu village had an open cafe! Just in time before closing for more ice cream and cold drinks.

Motu village sights

A fine forty minutes of climbing took us up the Motu road and over into the Bay of Plenty. Losing some of that height, we rolled down the road to the Pakihi Track trailhead. At five in the afternoon, we figured we could get out of twenty kilometres of singletrack through dense native forest before dark – that the first half was markedly downhill and the second half gradually down helped our estimation.

The trail was in perfect condition and we had much fun. Halfway down I learnt valuable lessons of what spares to take. Slashing the sidewall of my rear tyre over rather innocuous (or so they seemed) rocks, I couldn’t seal the tubeless up and it turns out the tubolito spare tube I was carrying was rubbish. Thankfully Pete was better prepared and borrowing one of his tubes, I didn’t have to face a ten kilometre walk out. Taking things a bit easier, we made it out with about an hour of daylight and twenty kilometres of easy roads to Opotoki remaining.

After filling our bellies at a popular local takeaway shop (it may have been the only one open in town), creature comforts proved too tempting and we found an old hotel that would let us store our bikes inside. My first two-hundred-plus kilometre day since Easter, it wasn’t overly difficult – Pete’s and my pace for such touring riding seems well matched.

Saturday morning got off to a good, if slower, start…

State Highway Two, again, took us west out of town showing off much of the Bay. Nice to see Whale Island from the other side to three weeks prior.

Pete had been told of a backroad alternative to Taneatua – it broke up what would have been eighty kilometres of flats very nicely. Up steeply through lifestyle blocks, the road turned to gravel as we entered forest and rode along a ridge, still climbing.

A potential bivy spot? Probably not. After brief stretches of pasture, we went back into the shade of native forest losing all our height to blast back to a short stretch of highway to Taneatua.

Time for a milkshake and a pie – this one pork and watercress (when in Taneatua…), voted best of the trip – beating off numerous competitors.

Nearing Awakeri, I couldn’t resist peeking in at a rally of old trucks. This one of significance because this company use to cart for us a bit when I was growing up, and was owned by parents of a primary school classmate. Strange the things one sees while bikepacking.

Off the stretch of well-built highway (judged mainly on the ample shoulder), we were finally back to hills – climbing to Manawahe on the road we’d descended three weeks earlier. Around the tops of Lakes Rotoma and Rotoehu there was some lovely native forest, a rugged four-wheel drive track and much gravel as production forests surrounded us. At the top of Maniatutu Road Pete continued on the course back to his home in Rotorua, while I diverted north to head to Te Puke.

Why is it only this year that I’ve notice cabbage trees in flower? They look so different to what I’m used to.

Back on the flats, with another pit stop for refuelling, it was only fifteen kilometres to ride in to Te Puke. It was a little odd to be riding into a town that was for so long home – yet one I’d never really ridden into before. A little annoyed that I spent so long there and didn’t explore more around the area on bike – as I was finding out, there were plenty of gravel roads and hills to seek out.

Lovely stay with one of my second-families, it must have been two years since I was last in town. One of the reasons for the diversion from the posted route was that I’d finally be able to ride some of the gravel roads that I knew were lurking above Te Puke and would connect me to Rotorua. It really was as simple as riding up my old street, past my primary school, past the house (I guess) I’ve lived in the longest and just keep on going.

Quickly the houses turned to orchard after orchard (mostly kiwifruit, but far more avocados than I remember). For half-seven on a Sunday morning, the road was ridiculously busy – orchard workers heading off for the start of the day.

This cute old hall stands at the end of a straight – for some reason I barely remember it, despite no doubt having passed it many times. Admittedly, it’s been restored – but not out of nothing.

A long gradual climb (of only a few percent) had me looking back over the coast and long-familiar landmarks. Ten kilometres up the road, I’d climbed enough that the orchards ended and pasture began – it gets too frosty up here for kiwifruit growing. The sou-wester I was riding right into was sapping my energy and my breakfast soon wore off; I was definitely underdone on supplies and I felt my mood slipping in the cool, cloudy and windy morning.

The gravel started and promptly deposited me in deserted native forest. Most pleasant Sunday morning riding out of the wind.

Out into the open again, the hills around Rotorua beckoned.

Pine forest clad the climb to the Rotorua-Tauranga highway, which was busy enough and this section has two deep gorges to whizz into and grovel out of. Leaving the highway before Lake Rotorua, I wanted to go somewhere new – in this case, Kaharoa which I’d never heard of. But with the sun coming out, the wind at my back and a slight descent – I thoroughly enjoyed rolling past. There was a bit of a climb out of the valley, before dropping all the way down to the lake and taking the road less-travelled back to the route.

Twenty kilometres took me into Rotorua, passing and being passed by a large contingent of roadies out for Sunday morning (they were surprisingly chatty and interested in the bikepacking weekend), led me to a pit-stop at Pete’s house. The bike got a new tyre to replace the slashed one and I was well-fed – thanks Pete!

The climb out of Rotorua to the south-east doesn’t seem like two hundred and fifty metres worth as the cycle path is so smooth and the wind is usually helpful – as it was this time.

Mt Tarawera just as I entered Rerewhakaaitu.

A glorious afternoon for riding, I made good time over the hundred kilometres to Murupara. The third time I’d covered some of these roads this year, things were rather familiar.

Clouds were starting to gather over the Ureweras as I rode the final straight into town.

Sunday evening of a long weekend, I wasn’t sure if I’d find places open to eat. Thankfully I did, but downtown was pretty dire – one of those places where everyone you meet warns you to lock up your bike. Still, all I met were friendly and, despite sticking out like a sore thumb, I had a most pleasant evening. Rooms weren’t much more than camping (for good reason), so with those clouds amassing I was soft and slept inside again.

Labour Day was a glorious day for the final hundred and sixty kilometres back to my car – another three-pie day, which is not really related to the glorious nature of the day. For the first few hours there was little traffic, and what traffic there was was local and very considerate. My third bikepacking trip across here, the hills came and went – my legs still felt good after three days of riding and I was thoroughly enjoying the surroundings, the climbing challenges and not having to nurse a painful knee.

This was one of quite a few marae I saw around here that are remarkably well turned out.

I only got chased by dogs once, and in a quite different spot to normal (Te Whaiti as opposed to Te Waiiti – actually, those look remarkably similar place names); but the dogs were chased away by a passing car. Ruatahuna now has a fancy new community centre (store, cafe, gas station, accommodation that I’d quite like to stay in, and so on). Unfortunately it’s all closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I just rested in the shade and ate. The closure did lead to the quote of the day, probably the trip, from a friendly local passing by: “Come back tomorrow and the community centre is open. You can get a coffee and a mean feed. Chur bro.”.

Predictably, the holiday traffic markedly increased in the afternoon and I was occasionally choked in dust. Still, the scenery through these parts is stunning.

Panekiri Bluff standing above Waikaremoana.

The undulations around the north of the lake rolled by and I grabbed some food and water at the store far earlier (two versus six o’clock) than I had at Easter. Three hours took me back to Wairoa; after the big descent from the lake, the rolling hills gradually wear thin. Well pleased to actually finish this loop, with a hundred kilometre addition, this time I took care to refuel plenty before the drive home. Seven hundred and forty kilometres in just less than four days – a good touring pace with sufficient hills. I’ll have to step it up a bit for the Mega GGG in ten days’ time (lack of leave and all…).





bikepacking, bikes, event, GPS, NZ

Classic Geyserland Gravel Grind 2018

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Coming up two years after I went on the first Geyserland Gravel Grind, I lined up with fifty-odd others for this year’s incarnation of the Classic. In the mean time, Erik and Peter’s hard work has led to a series of bikepacking routes and events starting and finishing in Rotorua. I’ve done most of them at least once and thoroughly enjoy them for exploring places so close to my childhood home and haunts, and for the opportunity to spend time riding and camping with likeminded people.

Only able to spare two days (for some reason I have little leave left), I biked into Rotorua Friday night – eager to take my new bikepacking bags on their first overnight outing. A few of us out-of-towners stayed at Pete’s the night before, as always I was well looked after and there was extensive bikepacking chat. Proper interesting to hear about organising various events, and general recent history of NZ bikepacking.

Saturday morning was a little bleak, but it was not cold or even particularly wet. We even managed to get to the start in plenty of time; Pete’s briefing done, and thoroughly jacket clad the assembled group lined up for a few photos.

I’m a little easier to spot here.

I’ve always enjoyed that these Geyserland event start off riding around the shore of Lake Rotorua, past geothermal flats and pools, breathing in that distinctive whiff of hydrogen sulphide that indicates I’m probably in Rotorua.

More difficult to pin point here.

A little bit of forest, some suburban streets and then we were heading north out of Rotorua on the main road. Memories of how things used to be flooding back – scores (hundreds, probably) of times I have travelled this road from my earliest years. Naturally, it’s so much better and engaging by bike.

The road crosses from following the shore of Lake Rotorua to that of Rotoiti – I could look across to the marae in which we stayed on my first bike tour, over twenty years ago. Come to think of it, the route of that tour rather resembled what I would ride this weekend. The main difference being the opposing direction and the longer distances I now ride.

One hour in surely wasn’t too early to stop at Okere Falls for a meal. After all, there were no more stores en route until the end of the day. A few others concurred, most headed off for the hike-a-bike – hopefully carrying more food than I was.

Fair to say it was worth stopping. A few pies may have also been consumed, and food bought for the rest of the day.

Refueled, I carried on alone up the highway. That may have been the only stretch all day I rode by myself. Onto Maniatutu Rd, the route passed the small road we used to drive down when I was wee to visit Dad’s cousin’s family at their bach (traditionally, a primitive Kiwi holiday house). I wonder if it is still there… I must check next week.

Looking across Rotoiti, probably my earliest power boat trips were here.

First gravel of the day, and the highest point (a whopping 360 m), down the apparently dead-end Lichtenstein Rd (curious name for a road in these parts). Huzzah, new roads! This first day of the Classic GGG was new (billed as an alternate route, no one took the original due to the reported heinous condition of the Okataina Walkway) and made possible by a local rider trying to find an alternative off-highway route between Rotorua and Tauranga.

Through pasture, there were still some stands of native bush to be seen.

A paper road through a long-neglected DOC reserve and some forestry joined two dead-end roads and provided the necessary link to keep cyclists off busy roads. As found, it was overgrown in parts but the bench of an old road was mostly there. A few weeks prior a working bee was organised and ninety (!) people turned up to make the route passable. Fantastic.

I caught up to others resting after a locked gate; I was pleased to now have a lighter bike and generally be carrying less weight on said bike. The only difficult part of this section was a steep little hike-a-bike up a recently cleared slope, with a half-lowered (thanks Pete!) fence to scramble over. Once back on the benched route, the going was easy and the clearing work had done wonders. Lovely to be riding through native forest, and the trail really was in good condition.

Out on to Ridge Road and we were greeted by a trail angel with food aplenty. Another good reason to stop and chat a bit more. A little riding down the ridge of Ridge Rd took us past dry stock farms and onto a big plunge down to almost-sea level. We started to pass the the shelter belts of kiwifruit orchards and the names of the roads were familiar to me as many schoolmates used to live on said roads.

To my surprise we were but a few kilometres from Paengaroa, I could easily divert and ride home in an hour – something I thoroughly plan to do next week.  Turning east and vaguely running parallel to the coast we dropped into and climbed out of the now wide valleys. Some farms, but plenty of orchards – the oh-so-familiar scents returning to fill my senses.

Turning around to look west – oh look, the Papamoa Hills and Mt Maunganui ever so close. But still further and from a different angle than I was used to.

Another impromptu gathering had formed at Pongakawa School (there was water to be had), much discussion of bike set-ups, route finding and many calories consumed.

Leaving the orchards behind, towards farms and forest. It was warmer than the sleeves suggest – someone had rather forgotten to replace their sunscreen.

A small group of us formed as we took this turn and that – somehow I became chief navigator. Which surprises after my recent efforts out of Libby. Turning away from the coast, on to Campbell Road, the gravel was back – splendid. Jonathan and I figured it was about time for an afternoon tea stop as we began to catch up to others. Eventually the middle of a long, deserted straight seemed reasonable. Camaraderie and more stories shared as we basked in the sun, stretching out our day of riding now that the weather was as good as the route.

A few little climbs later, we rejoined the original route on Pikowai Road for one last climb of note before the final twenty kilometres down to the coast and the beachside campground.

Murphy’s Holiday Camp is just lovely – tip-top facilities, right on the sand dunes, friendly staff. There I found many riders had already made camp, and more rolled in. I seemed to be the only one sleeping in a bivy bag, so had little to do but spend time on the beach, standing in the crashing surf as the cool water soaked my legs, admiring the view around the Bay of Plenty.

Whale Island, looking east.

Definitely a beachfront campground.

Most pretty hungry, fifty-odd riders rode into Matata and may have overwhelmed the two local fish and chip shops. So much food, most ate beside the lagoon as the sun dipped and the sky briefly coloured. A fantastic day of reacquainting with familiar faces and getting to know new ones. The riding was leisurely, but just plain lovely – I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially the slow pace giving me plenty of time to both appreciate new roads and wander pleasantly down memory lane. I fell asleep listening to the waves crash, pleased to be sheltered from the wind.

Sunday dawned wonderfully well, unfortunately I managed to sleep in and miss the sunrise. The long option for the day was only a hundred and twenty kilometres, but I’d already ridden it two years before. The short option was tempting just because it held a few kilometres of road my bike tyres are unacquainted with. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity of more hills and more remote roads – the long option it was.

Not a bad breakfast spot.

For such a short day, I couldn’t work out why Pete, Wendy & I were some of the last to leave at seven-thirty. Still, we had the road completely to ourselves climbing instantly from the coastal highway. Completely pleasant riding up through farmland, so quiet we could comfortably ride side by side chatting all the way – most of the day was spent with Pete swapping riding stories, experiences and vague life thoughts and philosophies. We kept a steady pace and often caught up to others to chat a bit before carrying on.

Strangely, we didn’t turn right – but only because there was more gravel to be found, on a big descent to the Rangitaiki Plains.

Te Teko was the only resupply point on our route until the very end of the day; there were many bikes parked up outside, and the stock of hot pies was severely depleted. I’d remembered the previous evening that a good school friend lived in nearby Kawerau. Kelly kindly drove out to meet me for quarter of an hour or so in which we tried to cram three years of life, family and mutual-friend news; lovely – and reminded me of catching up with so many long-since seen friends on my Tour Aotearoa and other biking trips.

Just enough supplies stashed for the rest of the day, Pete and I set off again. No new roads still, but most agreeable climbing from sea level – a steady climb, it rolled past easily under clear skies (there must have been a bit of a tailwind, as it was easier riding than I remembered). Plenty of people to ride and chat with or stop and chat with is one of the beauties of such events where everyone is starting and ending in the same places each day.

The roads became even more recognisable as we approached Rerewhakaaitu – firstly because I’d ridden them in the opposite direction at Easter, and secondly, those first two cycle tours in the mid-nineties had spent a bit of time around here. An extended stop at the local school enabled lounging on grass under trees, coffee to be brewed (not for me) and water top-ups – all next to a classic NZ primary school dental clinic/murder house. I looked across the road to the community hall that those long ago tours stayed in, remembering fondly when one could ride up and down Mt Tarawera for the princely sum of two dollars.

Out on to the highway heading for Waiotapu, Pete selected the best sections of singletrack – in really good condition considering we were only just coming out of winter. More excessive snacking at the Benny Bee cafe before the last climb (didn’t really seem that we’d managed two thousand metres of climbing all day, that can’t be right) and hurtling down Waikite Hill to the hot pools, my car and the end of my GGG for 2018. Naturally, I thought I was due a nice long soak before the drive home.

A thoroughly enjoyable weekend riding with others, gaining new perspectives on an area so familiar to me. Pretty good weather too for late September. Bring on the Mega in November, and also the Eastern again (I hope to ride it independently next week).

Thanks to Jonathan for the first three photos and the two of me. Thanks also to Pete & Erik for another well-organised ride.

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…

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Easter Eastern Gravel Grind

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Until a day or so before, I wasn’t certain I’d be able to join in on Pete’s proposed Eastern Gravel Grind over Easter. A significant milestone in what has been over two years of work for me was April 4 – the deadline for submitting our MHF Safety Case. This date was just after Easter – would we get it all together in time so I could go and ride my bike for six hundred kilometres over three days? Somehow, we got the three hundred-odd pages assembled, printed and bound before Easter – I could go ride bikes and explore new places with others!

Perhaps riding the Timber Trail in both directions the previous day was not the best preparation; somehow I managed to get my bike, gear and self together to roll out with Pete, Leonie and Craig at six in the morning. Still pitch black at that time, the clocks due to roll back to standard time that night, we made good progress on the cycle trail south-east out of Rotorua. With yesterday’s miles in my legs and a increasingly sore knee, I was happier to chat a bit about bikepacking events we’d done, planned to do and so on.

Around Rerewhakaaitu, I was really slipping behind. The others were all a little faster and stronger than me on last year’s Mega Grind, so this wasn’t surprising – such discomfort however was much less usual. Finally I worked out that my seat was too low – both on my MTB on the Timber Trail, and now my bikepacking bike; most unusual, I long ago learnt the lesson of correct seat height. Tiredness. I sorted that out, but found I had to take it a bit slower and favour my left knee.

Having looked forward to the company, it was a little disheartening to find myself having to take things a bit slower and solo – but it was to be a big day, so no point in blowing up early on. I was hopeful I could still manage 250 km that day, through a pretty remote area. A couple of randonneurs, Chris and Phil (they were following a very similar route for Easter, just with fewer gravel and off-road sections), caught up to me and chatted a bit as we rolled on smooth gravel towards Murupara.

Over ninety kilometres in four and a half hours was a bit beyond my usual pace, so I was pleased to reach Murupara and refuel. The others were just finishing up a big meal, so I ordered and waited for mine as they carried on towards Waikaremoana.

Not bad for second breakfast and fifteen dollars.

Knowing I’d be slow and uncertain just how my knee would do, I didn’t hang around. I was looking forward to riding the Waikaremoana road again, two years since the last trip through – this time in the opposite direction over two, not one, days.

This place looked pretty much the same.

The bottom two lines here being the important one as I left the plateau and headed for the hills and native bush.

Occasionally it would get warm on what was a wonderful day for riding: mild and next to no wind. For the middle of a long weekend, there was little traffic and I found I could get up the hills OK – albeit in easier gears than I normally would, and therefore a bit slower.

Keeping stops to a minimum it was a little while before Chris and Phil caught me again. Chris and I groveled up the first notable climb together, Phil always slightly ahead. I lost them as they sped off on the descents. Through Ruatahuna I passed them as they stopped for water; I made my way up the biggest climb of the day steadily.

There was a fair bit of bush around

Huzzah! Gravel.

Still trying not to stop too much for photos, there are few. But: bike! gravel!

A big plummet to the lake ensued. So much fun. Not to mention nice give the legs a bit of a break. I think the highlight was passing a slow campervan on the outside of a bend. Almost reaching the lake, the road doesn’t quite make it – necessitating more climbing around bluffs. It was windy up there.

Panekire Bluffs across Waikaremoana

Spot the cyclist.

Departing Murupara, Pete had told me that the store at the lake closes at six o’clock and they’d wait for me there. They must have been there a while, as at ten to six they were waiting at the top of the road down to the store to let me know it would stay open for me and I should stock up as it was some time to the next resupply point. The bubbly storekeeper was only too happy to help and I stocked up on Maketu pies, tuna, bier sticks and jerky – much of that I was very happy to have bought over the next thirty-six hours.

Just a little more climbing as the road rose up to trace around, and above, the lake for the last time and at about seven o’clock I pulled on my jacket for the plunge down to lose five hundred metres in the twilight. Great fun. That just left forty kilometres of undulating valley floor riding in the dark to find the others in Frasertown. Goodness knows how much later I was, but I found the camping spot and settled in for what would prove to be a sleepless night for all. While not overly pleased with a sore knee and tired legs, I was still pleased with getting through a 250 km day with plenty of climbing and learning how to manage the pain. That I could hardly walk when off the bike was a different story.

The consensus was none of us slept that night, a mixture of unceasing dog barking, and either of, mutually exclusive, howling wind or mosquito attacks. The others left before five, but I dithered a little. By the time I departed, stopped to put on rain trousers and promptly remove them when the heavy shower passed, it was half-five. This day was the reason I was so keen to come on this trip – places I’d never been, exploring, discovery! Fantastico. With the clocks going back, the day dawned soon – but the layer of cloud kept things gloomy.

Through rural scenes it was mostly valley floor riding with a couple of climbs to Tiniroto. The highlight of the morning was a lively conversation with a young farming family riding together on a quad bike alongside the road between house and shed – the parents friendly and interested in where I was going, the kids excited apparently by a crazy loaded cyclist. Due to a local hunt day (it seemed every second vehicle, there were not many, had a stag’s head on the tray) the Tiniroto pub was open early – which was just as well as it was the only place to buy food. The others left, as I arrived to settle into scrambled eggs, a big pot (rather a milk jug, until the pot was found) of tea and stash some lunch to go.

Leaving the valley floor after riding under these bluffs.

Apparently Tiniroto is named for its many lakes. I saw but a few, here’s one from the pub.

It turned out Tiniroto was only halfway up a sustained climb. I was still nursing my knee, which I realised in the light was fairly swollen. Walking was still a struggle, but riding seemed to be going OK – I didn’t have a lot of options, biking it was. Turning off the route to Gisborne, and heading west again Pehiri Rd was deserted, flat and then turned to lovely gravel. That is, except the small patches of freshly laid aggregate that was big, chunky, uncompacted and very difficult to negotiate – horrid.

The first of two toasties of cheese, onion and bacon from the pub (toasted hamburger buns instead of slices of bread) went down a treat for first lunch as the climbing began again. Climbing up and over I dropped into the next valley. The countryside was deserted, hilly and just lovely. I was so pleased to be out exploring yet another part of NZ.

Gravel roads winding up, down and around.

Down the valley, there was then a small stretch of moderate traffic – daytrippers from Gisborne visiting Rere Falls. I stopped briefly and had my second toastie. The cloud had long since started to break up and it was a charming day with little wind and pleasant warmth.

Rere Falls, nope – had not been here before either.

Passing the Rere Rockslide, the climb switched to gravel to meader towards the highest point of the day. Very rural up here, although in hindsight we weren’t really that far from the highway – it certainly felt like we were. I lost count of how many signs I saw at entranceways for various cattle stations. One peculiarity I noticed in the area was that each property didn’t just have a mailbox – they each had a mailbag stashed. Surely they don’t get that many letters; maybe deliveries of other necessities.

As the shadows lengthened and the climbs kept coming (while not getting nearly as high as the day before, there was almost as much climbing in three-quarters of the distance), it was still excellent to be out there. One last little seventy metre climb and I was besides the headwaters of the Motu River, hoping to get to the highway before dark. I did, lights on and the twenty-five minutes of traffic wasn’t too bad. Turning off at Matawai I made good time on the gradual downhill to Motu village – where the others might have been. They weren’t.

After a long day and wanting to ride the upcoming Pakihi Trail in daylight, I couldn’t motivate myself further – so settled for a nice cup of tea and whatever food I still had left for dinner. Sleeping inside, I managed a wonderful sleep and some much needed rest for my weary legs. While a bit slower than normal, it was a great day of gravel roads, solitude (I didn’t speak to anyone for about twelve hours I think), sun and exploring.

Departing early again, I was wondering how I would make the two hundred-odd kilometres back to Rotorua in time to drive home to Napier – if it was just gravel road, I may have been OK but Pakihi track (which I thought would be the highlight of the day) would slow things a bit. Heading up the Motu Road a few hundred metres was steady with a nice gradient and well-graded gravel. Misty rain became decidedly wetting halfway up and clouded any view I might have had as Easter Monday dawned.

Seven o’clock had me at the trailhead and I was excited to get under the canopy and enjoy a long downhill section of trail. Ten kilometres of descent through native bush that subtlely changed had me grinning ear-to-ear. A big storm had been through the previous week, but the trail was in good condition. I bypassed the hut and tackled the second half of the trail which follows the Pakihi Stream – this was a bit more technical, with some good exposure to decent falls into the water and one big slip that required portage.

Finishing the trail by nine, I figured I could refuel in Opotiki at ten and then try to get back to Rotorua (about 150 km) by early evening – I could always take a shortcut if needed, which was looking likely at my pace. As it happened, while I was eating the last of my food at the trailend, three novice bikepackers turned up after staying in the hut overnight. I’m glad I didn’t stay there, it sounded packed and not at all conducive to sleep. There followed a lot of chat about bikepacking, my bike, gear, previous adventures and getting plied with snacks out of sympathy. By the time we rode into Opotiki together, I decided I would take the ride back to Rotorua that was offered – couldn’t find the motivation or sense in riding on my sore and swollen knee back.

I even found someone to take a picture of me and my bike.

So I finished off my weekend with a fun mini-roadtrip back to Rotorua with only a slight pang of disappointment for not completing the route as intended. I was super pleased with all I saw, keen to explore the area around Gisborne more, and satisfied that I’d ridden so far with a gammy knee and sore legs. What great countryside!

P.S. That previous photo will, probably, be the last of me with my trusty, sturdy Surly Ogre. After five years, over twenty-thousand kilometres, about a dozen countries and countless memories it disappeared from my garage last night 🙁 It probably deserves a post of its own, once I’ve had a bit time to get on with finding the next bike 🙂 .