Ten days between returning from the excellent West Coast bikepacking tour and setting off for the 2020 edition of the Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour was always going to be a bit rushed for sorting out the last minute details. Still all the things were done: farm inductions, finalising the tracking, answering the emails and questions, assembling my bike, getting overly excited and following up a last minute section through stunning private land, adding said section to the route and so on. From a few days out I noticed my hours of sleep gradually decrease to about three hours per night and the telltale tic of tiredness return for the first time in some years.

Twas all worth it though to have fourteen riders assemble at Ranui Farm Park the Thursday night before the four day long weekend. That worked really well (save an annoying miscommunication with room bookings), getting to see everyone for some hours before the ride started at dawn the following morning. So good to have half the field returning riders and get to meet for the first time other people I’d only exchanged emails with.

Friday morning and ready to go before sunrise.

Finally, I could challenge myself on the course I’d designed to be as such, and interesting to me. Turns out more time should have been paid to my pedals, as one promptly fell to pieces and slid off the spindle still attached to my foot. Bit of a showstopper, but as far as a place to have such things happen – one kilometre from the start is about as good as any on a remote course. Sad to see everyone else go, I turned and hoped Greg hadn’t left for Napier already. Phew, he was still there and we were soon heading home – where I swapped in pedals from another bike and made the drive back. The crazy amount of fog from just north of the start all the way to Napier persisted for the drive’s entirety, but strangely was not on the course at all.

Three hours later I was back on the route and wondering if I’d still make my goal of being back in Napier that night. A nice gentle start, in this crazy year it was a privilege to be out riding such a ride with or without the group ahead. Seeing many tyre tracks in the gravel reminded me of this and brought a smile to my face – some of it may have been a touch of pride that I’d somehow convinced people to get out and spend their long weekend on a course I’d designed. They may or may not trust me in such a way again.

Still flat, not for long.

A three hour delay wasn’t really that frustrating, after all I was soon out riding in the sun drenched countryside.

Diverting from last year’s course, the hills quickly began on a section I love. But first, a long moment to pause on the the very spot where a couple of months before I’d met a fantastic farmer who generously allowed us to ride through his farm. Tragically he’s gone far too young after a freak accident on the farm; I only chatted to Harry for quarter of an hour, yet it’s had quite an impact – part of it, another reason to savour being able to get out and make the most of opportunities presented. Eventually back riding – a dead-end road, a hilly farm crossing and then a blissful section with twenty kilometres of gravel, views of the ocean and surrounding farmland, grass up the middle of the little used road and then the long descent to sea level…

After noon by now, the store and excellent coffee cart at Porangahau was most welcome for chatting and refuelling before the steep climb up Old Hill Rd. Was a little mean putting that on the course, but the gradual downhill from the top is, I think, worth it. With over twenty kilometres to go to the beach, the tide would be mostly out by the time I arrived. Along the coastal section of Blackhead Rd, I was entertained by a stunt plane practising – a spectacular show which seemed just for me. The climb at the end of the road was not far from my mind, but conquered as I began to slow a hundred kilometres in.

The tide was still heading out, the sand not yet firm and for the first time that day a headwind – toughest trip on this beach yet.

It was encouraging to see so many people out on the beaches – camping, fishing, diving, walking, on motorbikes. Far more than we saw last year, mostly I expect because the weather was far better. Finding a hose to rinse my bike was a chance to chat to a local and top up water bottles before the big climb out of Pourerere. It’s a good one and I found my first other HBATer of the day at the top – another good opportunity for a chat. I thought I was just going to be on time to cross the second farm before night fell – when riding through was not allowed.

More wonderful, deserted gravel back down to sea level and Kairakau. A lovely evening it was shaping up to be. Stopping at the shearers quarters I found four other riders preparing to make use of the generous offer of accommodation from the farmer – alas the water supply was down. Time was tight for me to get up the big hill, but I, and the others, thought I could do it. Thankfully I know the route well enough, so I was not slowed by route finding difficulties; but I was starting to fade and on the steep, rugged grass farm track pushing my bike became more efficient than trying to ride.

South to all the places I’d just been.

There were far more gates to open and close this year, and plenty of stock around (those two not unrelated). Light fading for the big downhill, I certainly was cutting it fine. Quite the trade-off to make the most of the available light, but not reckless on rough farm tracks in the gathering gloom. Just out before dark, phew, and towards Waimarama. Half-eight by now and completely dark, my plan for making it home hadn’t really changed. It probably should have as I walked anything remotely steep up the last big climb; very odd – I have never come close to walking up Maraetotara Rd, steep as it is, before. Strange thing, I was never in any doubt that I’d make it home – one just had to keep on going.

Suddenly rain on the downhill, it didn’t last long and there was but forty kilometres home. That was just over two hours, and I was pleased to see I’d missed much more rain. Bike in the garage and into my house to sneak around trying not to wake a houseful of fellow bikepackers. I think I managed it, but couldn’t bring myself to find too much food lest I disturb people that had had just as big a day of riding as me. My poor body probably needed the fuel to mend a bit.

Head racing, I hardly slept again and woke early when the house rose to head north for a much tougher day of riding. Completely shattered, I dragged myself up and deliberated whether I should continue the course. I’d at least not fallen into the trap of scratching at the end of the day, instead waiting to see what morning would bring. As it was, there was no energy and a deep fatigue from the previous day and week. Everyone having left, I had nothing and couldn’t rouse myself to a day of many hills that I couldn’t have a good shot at.

So I was left with the ignominy of pulling out of my own ride only a day and one-third in. Disappointing to say the least; and a fair amount of worry that I’d made a ridiculous course that no one would enjoy – funny how those voices materialise. But I knew I was dog-tired and resolved to look after myself and not beat myself up too much. I tried to remind myself that I ride such places for enjoyment; if it’s not fun on some level, there’s little point.

In the end, few made it past Napier and no one finished the 750 km route. Four did amazingly well to make it through the many hills inland of Wairoa and pulled out before the last hundred-odd kilometres back to Napier; I think I misstepped in ending the route in Napier to try and help people with travel logistics. Plenty of things learned again; they may be useful if I find the enthusiasm and energy to run another HBAT. In separating my own disheartening HBAT from the weekend in general: people got out riding bikes, seeing new places in good weather, being challenged and spending time with friends new and old – so I’m counting that as a win.

Since then, I took a couple of weeks doing comparatively little and dealing with the disappointment of my own ride and the tiredness. I was unsure if my excitement for doing big bikepacking rides would return, which was concerning with two big South Island adventures coming up late-summer. Unfortunately I could not get up for the Mega ten days ago, but with a couple of shorter and less ambitious bikepacking trips over the last two weekends, the keenness to ride far and see plenty of new things is slowly returning – huzzah!

Recovered easily well enough, another dawn start was quite leisurely. But first the famed Osler’s Bakery for breakfast and resupply – and the usual explaining to passersby what on earth we were doing. Off a short section of highway, we were soon on rural back roads and, for northern Hawke’s Bay, they were not stupidly hilly. In fact it was a very pleasant Sunday morning ride as we climbed gently up to and dropped into the Makaretu Stream valley. The gravel was kind and we saw more cattle on the road than we did vehicles. A few side roads passed and I noted again that they must be explored.

Following the easy gradient upstream, we passed these falls that remind me of the Rere Rockslide, in minature.

Past hilly farmland, the climb out of the valley took us over two hundred metres above the ocean before a delightful long run back to sea level. Three-quarters of an hour on flat and quiet highway later, it was starting to warm a little – well-timed for arriving at the historic Nuhaka General Store. Debbie and Emma arrived shortly after us and no-one was in a hurry to go anywhere – one by one we returned to the store to get morning ice creams and sit on the bench out front in the sun.

Leaving the highway just past the Morere Hot Springs, the first of the steep climbs for the day started. With an extensive native bush reserve on one side and plantation forest on the other – some of the time it was shaded, but mostly it was one of those steep climbs that doesn’t let up and was just generally hot. As we reminisced over this year’s wild and windy Great Southern Brevet, finally a particular corner was rounded and the views that instigated the inclusion of this road opened up before us. The Pacific, the isthmus, Mahia Peninsula and Hawke Bay right there dazzling in the sun, with a ribbon of gravel winding us down through the steep farmland towards them.

Pete and I slowed to take some photos before enjoying the long roll down to skirt Maungawhio Lagoon and embarking on the final section of the course – Mahia Peninsula. I remembered it was hilly, but as I was told later, I definitely saved the steepest, most brutal hills for last. Some pinch climbs were to be conquered across the northern edge of the peninsula. Multitudes of people were out enjoying the sun, warmth and water of the long weekend. We couldn’t pass up the last cafe on the course, so stopped for a while – learning about the spread of green cancer (“good” farmland being converted to forestry) in the area. We had seen a proliferation of Fifty Shades of Green signs over the last half of the course. I didn’t mention who I work for.

Leaving the holidaymakers behind, the road turned south down the middle of the peninsula. The climbs got no less steep, but plenty longer as the sun beat down. As we hit the base of the longest one, that would take us to the highest point of the day, I rode away from Pete. Nowhere to be seen, I carried on riding up and up before reaching the summit of the day. Sudden descents kept appearing, just to climb again as the road made its way south.

As the descents started to outnumber the climbs, I’d a bit of time reflecting on the end of my HBAT19. Only three months in the making, it had rather consumed that time with much poring over maps, plotting GPS routes, utterly fantastic scouting rides (those alone would have made it worthwhile), talking to landowners, trying to convince others that this was a good idea for a long weekend and generally organising. Definitely one of the highlights of the year, and my time in Hawke’s Bay thus far as it enabled much greater exploration and understanding of this rather hilly (it turns out) province that is currently home. Brilliant, I was quite pleased with how it had all worked out as I pedalled to the road end.

Debbie and Emma and their friends (who’d brought both Debbie’s and my car) were there, all encouragement, as I passed to complete the last few hundred metre dash across a bumpy surface to finish fittingly in a hilly, remote sheep paddock with big views across Hawke Bay.

Looking over the bay towards Napier.

Portland Island off the southern tip of the peninsula, Rocket Lab launch site is down there too.

Pete finished soon after, and after my brief moment alone, it was great to have him there as we’ve ridden a fair bit together over the last couple of years (having a similar pace, and predisposition to finding backcountry routes in the central North Island) and I’ve learnt much from him as far as bikepacking and route making goes. Returning to the cars, there were many stories to be shared as we stood around in the glorious warmth. The achievement of and pleasure with the weekend’s riding and sights were real; I was chuffed with completing the ride in quite a leisurely fashion and that the route was so enjoyed.

Later that day, we were able to catch up with Amanda as she climbed behind Morere heading for a finish that evening. Guy, who unfortunately scratched at Mohaka, kindly had us to stay at his holiday home – where we were welcomed and fed well. The following day, at Morere again, we caught up with the last riders on the course – Yvonne, Jan, Fay and Chris – who’d spent much of the weekend riding together and having a grand time. Their little bikepacking gang was down one as Dave had had to get back to Wellington, but they were all smiles – until someone mentioned Cricklewood Rd. They finished late that afternoon after the hills of Mahia – which I’m not going to apologise for as that stretch is stunningly beautiful. For the record, I think the last 180 km of the course is my favourite – everything from the top of the much-maligned Cricklewood Rd. But really, there are many highlights.

In all, nine of the thirteen starters finished – with Jane and Glen (apologies if my memory fails me there) only intending to ride part of the course in the time they had. It seemed the course, while definitely challenging for all was achievable – certainly a suitable short practice on North Island hills for those riding Tour Aotearoa next year. I’m pleased with the feedback and apparently I have to run it again – I’m already scheming how to incorporate some improvement options in. Thanks to all those that came along for the ride – whether literally or following online, the farmers that granted access to their land and all who supported. Until HBAT20…

Sunrise seemed a reasonable hour to leave the house and start the second day of the tour. Winding around Bluff Hill took us to two lookouts. Again, it wasn’t clear enough to get views of where we’d come from and where we were heading.

Over Napier to Cape Kidnappers.

With not even two hundred kilometre planned for the day, we started off by riding half of my commute. Out of the ordinary, we stopped in Bay View for an extended coffee break – having only just left Napier. Decadence. A short stint of highway later the route went up Waipunga Rd – one of my most-ridden local gravel roads. Twenty kilometres and seven hundred metres of climbing, it usually takes just over an hour. It was in horrible condition after seventy millimetres of rain and logging trucks running during said rain (I’m told) ten days beforehand. The slowest conditions I’ve ridden in up there dragged it out to near two hours.

However, Darkys Spur Road was in great condition as we lost most of the altitude gained in the run to Tutira, and another big stop at the last store we’d see that day. Ice cream in a milkshake and ice cream in a cone may have been involved.

Towards Maungaharuru Range from Darkys Spur.

Twenty kilometres of quiet, and hilly – naturally – back road got us off the highway as the day warmed. We turned to have the far-gentler-than-yesterday sou-west wind at our back. Next was the part of the route I was most disappointed with – twenty kilometres of highway that I just couldn’t avoid. Thankfully, the long weekend traffic was light as the shoulder was close to non-existent. Topping up water bottles at Kotemaori School, there wasn’t long before Mohaka Coach Rd – that I’d only driven while scouting.

Very much looking forward to riding it, I was not disappointed. Some shaded valley floor riding was appreciated as the afternoon warmed then gave way to a climb through farmland up to twists and turns through forest. We even passed a vehicle somewhere before a lovely descent to the mouth of the mighty Mohaka. Following a shady snack stop in the township, a series of pinch climbs and sharp descents didn’t seem the most efficient way of getting up to Raupunga.

I continued to regale Pete with tales of all the extra hills I considered putting in the route. 120 km and a couple of thousand metres of climbing into the day, I was glad I’d found some measure of restraint. Astonished to find a food cart just down Putere Road, it was disappointing that it was closing down for the day and we couldn’t get one of the large ice cream floats that was prominently pictured on the front. We settled for cold lemonade before setting off for ninety minutes of climbing towards Putere. Occasionally views of the Mohaka and beyond appeared through the forested area.

Turning onto Cricklewood Road, I was excited to be there as it was one of my favourite stretches from my scouting rides. Topping out just over five hundred metres above sea-level early on, you’d be forgiven that the remainder of the road returning to the low-land would be straight forward. But what Cricklewood Road keeps giving in views over the surrounding valleys, farmland and distant ranges, it gives equally in yet another climb after each little descent. Bathed in late-afternoon light it was mild as we made our way towards Wairoa.

It was tough, but I absolutely loved it – it doesn’t let up until five kilometres from the highway when it plunges giving up the remainder of the elevation. By then, you’ve earned it with over seven hundred metres of climbing; it’s tough mentally as you can see that you should be dropping soon, but the climbs just keep coming.

The last two hundred kilometres of the route may be my favourite as the roads are rugged, very quiet and give spectacular views. I’ve since been told Cricklewood Road is evil and the end of the route is brutal – which I consider a ringing endorsement.

Arriving in Wairoa around dusk, it had been a long but satisfying day. Just as much climbing as the day before, but in three-quarters the distance. Straight to find food, we’d barely leant our bikes against the shop front when Debbie and Emma arrived – after a later start, they’d been consistently gaining on us all day as we took many stops. Dinner promptly ordered and served, three mouthfuls later I suddenly came over very nauseous. Weird, I was sure I’d been eating enough salt and drinking enough. My propensity to be affected by the heat laid me low for a few hours.

Plans for bivying somewhere dissolved as the others arranged cabins at the unexpectedly delightful campground. With some extra fluids and electrolytes, I started to improve – but not enough that I could face watching a supposedly important game of rugby. I woke at one in the morning to find I’d not missed much, I was back to normal and ravenous – nothing for it but to finish a challenging, but excellent, day devouring cold takeaways in the dark.

Three short months since the idea struck me, thirteen of us assembled in Waipawa to ride the first Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour over the four-day long weekend. 550 kilometres awaited to take us from the south to the north of the province on backroads, gravel, through a farm, on cycle trails and a short stretches of highway. Well pleased that anyone turned up at all, it was excellent to see a couple of familiar faces and meet many for the first time, after much correspondence.

The heinous winds of the previous night had died down somewhat, but as the sun rose it was still blowing a fair bit from the west under grey skies.

I had a brief moment to myself not at all worrying about anything I may have forgotten.

As six-thirty approached, riders arrived but some were still missing – just as well no one was in a rush. Ten minutes later the last of the trackers were handed out, a brief and incomplete briefing delivered, a few photos taken and we rolled out a casual ten or so minutes late.

I’m smiling as I know what is to come on the route, just waiting to see how it will play out; everyone else is doing so as they’ve no idea about the hills and are off into the unknown.

It was an easy start, and although most had cool digits – the rain didn’t eventuate. With quiet backroads and wide cycle trail, chatting was easy – so much so that I completely missed a turn. Some turned back with me to battle the wind again, others didn’t; it really didn’t matter. The rural roads even quieter than I expected, chat flowed freely as various stories were swapped. As the group spread and the strong westerly momentarily became a headwind, Pete and I settled into our similar pace. The route turned away from the wind and was never that bad. Ugly Hill Rd, followed soon after by Old Hill Rd gave us first real climbing of the route.

Before long, we were plunging down two hundred metres to Porangahau careful not to be blown over by the gusty crosswind. We’d made good time to arrive for morning tea – pie time, and a relaxed break at the always wonderful horse-float coffee-cart. I’m told the coffee is very good, judging by the smoothies and home-baked muffins I’d believe so. Turning to the east, we left town as others arrived.

Parallel to the coast, we now had a tail wind up a long straight before turning onto more gravel to Blackhead Beach. Pretty lush gravel gave us a few little hills, but distracted us with views of coastal farming. We were surprised to catch up to Debbie and Emma – they’d clearly not stopped. Dropping suddenly to the beach, a squall blew through for the ten kilometre section. More than three hours before high-tide, it wasn’t as firm and fast as on the scouting ride, but easily rideable and charmingly beautiful.

Appropriating a hose at Pourerere, we rinsed the sand and salt off our bikes before the long climb away from the coast. The following section of gravel was far more fun in the reverse direction, as we headed down towards the coast again at Kairakau. Alas, we turned north a few hundred metres short and made for the farm. That five kilometres sapped the energy from us as the shingle was wet and slow.

The rain came into visit again and things cooled dramatically; the four of us stopped briefly in the shearers’ quarters at the farm entrance for hot drinks. It was very generous of the farm manager to allow us access across the farm, and use of the quarters – five riders would stay there overnight. There was even WiFi! It was fun to check on everyone’s progress along my little route. I was pleased that all, that planned to, got through the beach section before the incoming tide prevented them; it was less pleasing to hear later that they got fairly hailed on.

We couldn’t sit around all day…

With the wet weather, the climb through the farm was now a push where others discovered what I’d try to relay about how quickly the innocent looking dirt, when only slightly damp, sticks to wheels and bind them. The views I’d had the previous month were not around as we got wetter and wetter with a front blowing across. At times, it was downright cold – as far as that happens around here.

Kairakau is down there somewhere.

However, as happened last time, once riding along the ridge in a small gully it was quite sheltered and the rain left us for the rest of the day – in fact, the rest of the weekend.

Bare Island was finally visible; no chance of seeing Mahia and the finish this time.

Riding through the farm was easier this time as I knew where to go and the farmer had moved most of the stock – which meant half the gates were open, so good! The descent towards Waimarama was still proper bumpy, more so on a loaded bike. That ten kilometres over in seventy-five minutes with quite wet feet, and our bikes washed again, Debbie and Emma leap-frogged us briefly before the long sealed climb up to Maraetotara – mostly into the wind.

Crossing the Tukituki for the second time, suddenly there was traffic and heading into affluent Havelock North was a bit much after a very quiet rural day. The long climb up the road to the iconic Hawke’s Bay summit of Te Mata Peak was tedious after twelve hours. I’m not sure it was worth it, so it may be first section of the route to be altered.

At least the summit always has something different to offer for views. Looking towards Napier.

I did enjoy bouncing down the only section of singletrack on the route, although I was in the minority. Rolling into the “village”, it was time for a big burger before the wind-assisted spin into Napier. Delightfully, two friends, and dot-watchers, met and rode with us for different stretches into town. I’d always hoped to ride to Napier on the first day, so was well pleased to get home in good company. The weather wasn’t the best, but it was far better than we’d had earlier in the week and the forecast for the coming days was friendly. I fell asleep rather pleased with how things were coming together.