Old Ghost Road – Lyell Section

11 May 2015 bpheasant Leave a comment

While I was overseas I’d started to hear mention of an epic backcountry mountain-bike trail being constructed somewhere on the West Coast. Once back in New Zealand, I’d picked up a bit of excitement for the Old Ghost Road from various places. When completed it will be eighty-five kilometres of trail in remote West Coast hills and valleys – and will be part of the NZ Cycle Trail.

But it’s not complete yet – the trail is the brainchild of a charitable organisation intent on opening such remote backcountry to mountain-bikers using old dray roads from gold-mining in the nineteenth century, and finally putting through trail where the miners dreamed of doing so (before the gold ran out). About thirty kilometres at either end of the route are officially open, leaving about twenty kilometres in the middle (that goes through some of the most rugged terrain) to be completed and opened. It is hoped, with a final push of fundraising and volunteer efforts that the whole trail will be opened later this year.

While in Westport I was keen to make use of the good weather and check it out – James was easily persuaded, although it may have been his idea in the first place. We wanted to do the Lyell end of the trail as this was hillier – as we would be riding the trail as a “there and back”, we’d just take the day as it came and see how far we’d get before turning around. Setting off from the Lyell carpark and camping area, it was immediately over a new bridge and the climbing began through typically damp native forest. The gradient was gentle, but constant, and the trail was wide, well-made and a pretty easy surface to ride on.

Before long we were passing various old mining relics and the occasional ghost town on the old dray road – as this used to connect the towns, I assume this was why the trail was plenty wide almost in its entirety.

After almost thirteen kilometres, we arrived at the Big Slips and rather ominous looking signs telling us to dismount. Two big slips had completely destroyed the dray road decades ago during an earthquake – these were the biggest challenges the track builders faced to that point. I could see why as we pushed our bikes along the narrow stone path, the fall to the right was sudden and there would be no stopping if one were to go over. Not a chance I was stopping to take a photo for you. The slips safely negotiated, the trail crew’s confidence that they could go on and complete the ambitious project grew.

Near the slips the tree canopy at last was broken a little so we could start to see how big the hills were getting – and under the clear blue sky, there was little else to see but hills and trees, and more hills.

For the twenty or so minutes after the slips, the trail flattened off and pretty much followed the contour around to Lyell Saddle. Reaching the saddle after a steady two hours of riding we found the first of the four huts the trust has built on the trail (there are also two DOC huts on the trail). It is consequently quite new, sleeps eleven (there are also two small summer-summer only sleepouts nearby) and has extensive views over the south branch of the Mokihinui and the Glasgow Range. Annoyingly, I seem have not taken any photos there – it was beautiful on such a clear day.

Leaving the hut, it became apparent we were now on brand new trail; as it got steeper, we went through a series of switchbacks. The surface, being new, was quite different with the stones in the gravel seeming much larger. Still, it was all rideable and we were soon out on the ridge making sure not to ride off the edge while looking at the views.

Switching over to the other side of the ridge as we continued north, the trail stretched impressively in front of us – a thin white ribbon seemingly just hanging on the sheer hillside. It became clear that this would be the eight hundred metre section where it was compulsory to walk. I’m pretty sure most of it was rideable, but I’m also sure there was no way I wanted to be put in a body-bag at the bottom. Realising that we would have to turn around soon to get back to the car before dark and home for dinner, we left our bikes and walked to the highest point of the trail – keen to see the view and check out what really is some incredible trail-building.

Looking east towards the Kaikouras.

Turning around and heading for home.

Needless to say, the return downhill was quality. A bit of a pity I got a small puncture that took many little stops to inflate my tyre before the tubeless finally sealed up; and then I slashed my tyre landing a jump on some rocks with a kilometre to go, damn. Nonetheless, it was a fantastic few hours and I’m well looking forward to the whole trail being open and I hope I get to bikepack the whole thing soon.

bikes, family, MTB, roadtrip

West Coast Week

5 May 2015 bpheasant Leave a comment

Probably coming close to doubling the amount of time I’ve spent on the West Coast ever, it was a great week exploring various parts of the area previously unseen by me. Unfortunately Adele had to work for most of our stay – that after all being the whole reason she is there – but at least there was a long weekend in there to enjoy together. Activities were varied for the week, hopefully James enjoyed having a few extra people around during the working week – at least, he was pretty easy to persuade to go mountain-biking with.

First up we headed up to the Denniston Plateau, an old coal mining area just north east of Westport. Considering its proximity to town it was remarkably remote – helped by the very steep hill we had to drive up to get onto the plateau. We timed our ride well and didn’t get wet at all as we explored a loop, recommended by the local bike shop, taking in part of the trail network up there. It was a great fun loop with a variety of trail surfaces that seemed to change in an instant. From bog standard gravel road, to smooth almost-slickrock double track to quite rocky singletrack. Well worth the drive up and with a few decent little pinch climbs to keep us honest.

At times the trail got rocky, narrow and steep.

I’ve not seen such an interesting sign-in hut before – this for the coal mine just down the road.

Back near the car, I couldn’t resist poking around some of the old mine buildings long since abandoned. These, below, near the powerhouse and changehouse. A little bit down the hill we found the main historic displays detailing working in the various mines and life in such a wet and isolated place as the company town must have been. We also happened across Mum & Dad out exploring a bit; unfortunately the cloud and rain really rolled in, so I abandoned a scheme to ride down the closed bridle track to sea-level.

The next day’s ride was a stunner on the Old Ghost Road – which is not quite completed; even so, there’s more than enough there for its own post.

The warm sunny weather persisted, much to our surprise and pleasure (the West Coast is notorious for its rainfall), into Friday. With a day off the bikes, James & Dad headed out for a round of golf while Mum & I took the drive south to Cape Foulwind. It was a much better visit that the one twenty years previous – where both of us were completely overcome with hayfever and remember little else. The beach and coast was looking fantastic and we spent some time watching the seals basking in the sunshine or playing in various rocky pools.

Spot the seals and rocks.

Friday evening walk on the beach and sundowners.

Saturday the weather turned somewhat, but we were keen for a day out to Reefton. Somehow we got our three mountain bikes on and in the Vitara and the five of us piled in for the hour drive south-east. Bikes assembled, we rode from town to do the Murray Creek Circuit that had been given four stars in the most recent edition of the NZ MTBing bible – which interestingly uses a scale of zero to four. We would have liked to do a bigger ride, but didn’t want to keep Mum & Dad waiting too long.

Leaving the highway after a couple of kilometres, it was a steady climb through beautiful native forest beside the creek passing various mining relics and even an old town site – Cementown, one of the more boring names for a town possible. It got a bit muggy at times as we were surrounded by all the trees keeping the moisture in. For most of the climb we followed an old road from gold-mining days that was still a good wide and even surface.

Opting for the singletrack route, we continued climbing as we turned left at Waitahu Junction back towards town. It was a rare point when the thick canopy of trees opened enough to look down on the view below – this down to the Waitahu River:

The track narrowed and soon it became apparent we were on some new singletrack. Around the time we were passing the last gold mines (well the head of the shafts – a look at a plan on a signboard showed that the hill was riddled with various mines off two deep vertical shafts) the trail became really quite good. There wasn’t a lot of overall altitude gain or loss for a while and trail was lush – there was one point where they’d worked really hard to put some tight switchbacks in, much too steep and compact for me to climb. With littles bits where one still had to work hard to crest a rise, it was a good mixture with the flowing singletrack. I was disappointed when the trail became gravel closer to town – even if it was still fun.

Reefton looking pretty much as it is – small and surrounded by hills and native forest.

Back in town to savour a fun little ride and eat lunch, we loaded up again and headed out to Waiuta. I’d never heard of Waiuta until the Kiwi Brevet earlier in the year and was then disappointed I didn’t have time to stop as I rode past and into my favourite part of the entire brevet course – the Big River Trail. Once a company town for yet another gold mine, this one lasting about fifty years; Waiuta went into decline in the fifties after the mine closed. I thought the rest of the family would enjoy going up to this remote corner of the country and enjoy poking around what is left. I think I was right, even if it made for a long day by the time we got back to Westport.

Sunday the weather proper rolled in and was quite wild. But that didn’t put us off driving south along the coast to harvest large mussels (Adele & James had been talking of them for a while) off the rocks at low-tide. Unfortunately, with the stormy weather the tide wasn’t quite as low as it might have been on a calm day – but how wet we got was worth it for this rather large pan filled with fresh mussels, white wine, butter and garlic. It’s even better considering Adele doesn’t like mussels, so there were more for the rest of us.

The Charming Creek ride/walk was reported as being beautiful by Adele & James – following an old river-side railway through tunnels, over swing bridges, beside huge native trees and past, once again, old mining equipment. I decided to ride, naturally, while Mum, Dad & Adele walked on the public holiday Monday. While happy to walk and ride in the rain, we didn’t factor in the cumulative rainfall over the previous day or so.

The river was absolutely raging and the trail wet under wheel (so much so, that I put my over-trousers on to keep the spray from my wheels away). All that wasn’t much of a problem, but the number of waterfalls seen became an issue when I emerged from a tunnel to find a torrent of water dumping right on to the trail. I pondered awhile – it didn’t take long to see that I’d be absolutely soaked trying to pass under it or, worse, swept into the river. Not keen on either outcome, it was disappointing but prudent to turn around after only two and a half kilometres. That trail will have to keep for another visit.

That was about our stay in Westport – most enjoyable, there’s so much to do and still left to explore. One just needs to be able to time outdoor activities with the famed rain to make the most of it. Tuesday Mum, Dad & I left for home down the West Coast. It sure is a long, & at times slow, drive to Haast. It’s definitely just short of twenty years since I’ve been down that way, so we stopped to look at some of the more famous sights – the Pancake Rocks at Punakaiki and a brief glance at Fox Glacier.

It’s a long time since I’ve seen so much flax in one spot.

The wild West Coast – a whole lot less wild than the previous two days.

There definitely isn’t a lot to do in Haast Township of a cold, dark evening – but that didn’t matter as we were exhausted from the slow and winding drive. The whitebait was excellent.

Following day we set off for home to complete our little road-trip.

Over Haast Pass and away from the West Coast, the rain was gone and the sun was out.

Not a bad spot for lunch, near Bannockburn.

history, NZ, roadtrip, vehicles

A quicker trip through Canterbury

4 May 2015 bpheasant Leave a comment

It had been a while since a Pheasant road-trip around the South Island and even longer since I’d accompanied Dad to one of his work farm-visits. So Mum, Dad & I set off north to visit Adele in her new home near Westport – stopping overnight as Dad had some of his last farm visits. While Dad visited clients near Cust, Mum and I popped into Oxford – disappointing. But I’d had my eye on the map and was keen to go exploring the Ashley Gorge a bit.

I wanted to see this end of the Ashley River as on the Kiwi Brevet this year we ended up further up the Ashley River in a part of the country I previously had no idea about. But we turned away from the river at the bottom of Lees Valley on to a off-road route and so I never saw the road through the Ashley Gorge.

After driving half an hour up the road, I was glad that the Brevet route didn’t go through there. I was expecting a nice winding road carving through the hills at close to river-level. It definitely was not. As the road left the tarseal/tarmac/asphalt it climbed steeply, working the car’s engine hard and wound its way high above the river as we gazed over the precipitous drop below us. After half an hour of steady, but by no means quick, progress we were left look at this:

I realise just how isolated Lees Valley is now – and am quite glad we got into it on the Brevet through MacDonald Downs Station. Mindful of the time remaining to return to pick Dad up, and Mum’s desire to buy chestnuts from a roadside stall, there was no point in descending to the river to turn around right away. Having collected Dad, it was off again north to Culverden.

Near Culverden are Keith and Jenny, who are in the middle of trying to organise the finer points of moving on from their farm that they’ve had over the last twenty years – there’s an awful lot to do and many things to be moved or disposed of. They must be some of Dad’s oldest clients, of about forty years, so there’s a little history there and I was amused to stumble upon a photo of Dad standing around an open fire near the beach where we lived thirty-odd years ago.

Apart from my fleeting Brevet ride past, it must be about fifteen years since my last visit – so it was good to see Keith & Jenny and hear of their plans for retirement and of some of their travels. While Keith & Dad were out together looking over the farm one last time, I was intrigued by all the things that there were to get rid of after twenty years – naturally I went and poked around through various sheds. I found a few new things, but a lot things that remind me the eighties and nineties – & some that predated my memory.

A good flying visit, no doubt more of Keith & Jenny to be seen as they move much further south. Strangely for Culverden, it was pretty damp – so as we drove on there was a lot of cloud and mist to see, particularly over the Lewis Pass. With a few more stretches of the Brevet route much more easily driven than ridden, it was through the tortuous Buller Gorge to turn up at Adele’s home-for-a-year-or-so at Carters Beach.

around home, NZ, vehicles

NZ Ploughing Championships

3 May 2015 bpheasant Leave a comment

More curious than particularly interested, one Sunday afternoon I found myself with Dad visiting the New Zealand Ploughing Championships – after all, it was only fifteen minutes’ drive from home.

It turned out to be a very warm autumn afternoon and good fun wandering around with Dad as he tried to explain some of the complexities of ploughing. With my slight interest in old tractors, previously documented, the best part of the afternoon was looking at many fine examples of old machinery as Dad regaled me of tales along the lines of: “so-and-so used to have one of those” or “I drove one of those in [insert far-flung place I never knew Dad worked in]” or “the only time I ploughed was driving one of those”.

Other highlights were the steamed-up traction engines powering a thresher while some guys bagged whatever it was processing, and (for the comedy value) a group of war equipment enthusiasts tearing around a field/paddock in an APC and old military Jeeps and Land Rovers while their colleagues fired very loud blanks from a field gun and various machine guns.

We didn’t actually watch a lot of tractor ploughing (it’s not much of a spectator sport), but the horse ploughing was fascinating. The control that the drivers had over their teams of horses (numbering from one horse to six horses) while following twenty metres behind was quite impressive – as was the ability of a large team of horses to turn on a dime to head back in the opposite direction.

A worthwhile Sunday afternoon out which we quite enjoyed.