A day waiting out the forecast rain (didn’t really eventuate until late) was well spent cleaning gear, walking the dog, planning the rest of my little tour, popping into town and really doing very little – there may have been a lot of tea. The following day was only marginally less restful, with a four hour ride on quiet, flat highways to Reefton. It was wonderful to be welcomed by friends I’d met when they were some of my very first warmshowers guests five summers ago; as is prone to happening in New Zealand, they just happened to know well the friends I’d just met and stayed with in Westport.

I figured I could either have one day in Reefton riding and then a relaxed two days getting back to Nelson before flying home, or two days riding in Reefton before a big rush to get back, pack my bike and catch a flight. With the weekend weather looking woeful, I was tending towards the relaxed option with plenty of time to dry out. Either way, I couldn’t wait to ride the Waiuta to Big River trail again. It was easily the highlight of my first bikepacking event, the Kiwi Brevet in 2015, and my Tour Aotearoa the year after.

Starting at the abandoned, and mostly gone, former gold mining town of Waiuta I remembered the trail being closer to a hiking trail with plenty of technical challenges and pushing on the old pack track, in dense forest where all the water is tainted brown. Twenty-odd kilometres on the highway preceded the gravel climb up the valley through Blackwater (a few houses, and a long since disused school room) to Waiuta. There was still a bit of snow to be seen in the distance and a few ruins briefly caught my eye.

Reaching the trailhead proper, the gradient kicked a little and the bush closed in around the track. Perhaps my memory tricks me, or I’m more experienced in such places or both – but I was most disappointed in the first hour of trail. It seemed to me that the trail had been heavily sanitised with a lot of gravel laid and it was easily rideable. That just gave more time to admire the surrounds, a vividly green, mossy, gnarled primordial looking forest.

Beginning to wonder if I was in the right place, very easy riding.

Dropping sharply through two tight switchbacks, suddenly the trail was back to the part I liked best.

The moss closes in…

Finally, the best part – the trail is literally the creek. Good fun trying to keep dry feet, and plenty of time to stop for photos.

I was even more underbiked this time around, but that hardly mattered – loaded only for a day trip certainly helped make the trail easier.

That short section had me grinning and satisfied all my expectations for the day.

In some places, granted, the trail was barely discernible.

Reaching the highpoint after climbing out of the creek, I was surprised when it started hailing for some time – I didn’t think it was that cold. Big River Hut was only fifteen minutes away, so I cruised down and sheltered for a short time from what was now rain. Fond memories of dotwatching best-sister switching shifts, travelling all the way from Westport and riding bits of my TA with me (in between shuttling her own vehicle) and staying in this hut together. We don’t get enough trips together and they’re always memorable – that one particularly so.

From the hut to the old gold treatment plant for the Big River Mine.

In continuing the trend, Big River is now bridged – which is entirely sensible as it tends to flood easily. Just twenty kilometres of four-wheel drive track out remained. Hard packed stone, I’m not sure a four-wheel drive is necessary and it’s quite a tedious descent being shaken to pieces for long periods – I definitely prefer to climb this section. That was the wettest I got all day, plenty of spray from the surface even though there were barely any puddles.

Back in Reefton with plenty of time to dry things out and poke around what is a charming little town – a good day out seeing a favourite place, albeit it in a different light to what my memory had me expecting.

I could get used to the touring life of making the most of the good weather and resting during the awful. While the first week had involved sitting out a fair few days, it was interspersed with absolute crackers and great riding. So I was not going to waste the quickly-closing clear window, despite having ridden the entire Paparoa Track the day before. With the fluidity of my plans, I’d also not booked any huts on the Old Ghost – so it made sense to attempt to ride all of it in a day, and I’d have to carry less too.

Possibilities of getting a lift to the start didn’t work out, so well before dawn I set off for three hours of quiet road up the Buller. The day lightening, plenty of mist was revealed.

Hawks Crag; for some reason I still vividly remember stopping here for photos on my first trip to the South Island in 1994.

The day brightened and the mist showed signs of clearing.

At the Lyell trailhead, the parking lot was filling up with a few large groups – they looked fast. Snacking briefly, and avoiding the midges snacking on me too much, I left the busyness and was surprised not to see these people again. I’ve long waited to ride the whole trail, last time I was here (mid-2015) the middle section had not been put through – so James and I just rode to the tops and returned in a day trip. There was much anticipation of a long, but fantastic, day on one of the country’s best long distance mountain bike routes. Really, with the Heaphy and Paparoa, the West Coast is quite the place for such things; what assets.

The almost-four hours of climbing through the native forest was relatively unchanged and it was great to see it again. Edge protection where the trail traverses the big slips was an addition, and certainly reassuring.

Just the standard West Coast track come waterway.

Blue sky and sun becoming more prevalent, twas lovely in trees for the climb.

Heading for Lyell Saddle, and hut, centre background.

Still a fair bit of snow around for October after last week’s storm.

Noon and time for a snack at Lyell Saddle Hut. The day certainly turning out as forecast, no wind either.

From the saddle, a series of well-spaced switchbacks gave most of the remaining five hundred metres of ascent under a thick canopy.

A glance down to the valley of the south branch of the Mokihinui.

Soon I was out of the trees for the sensational section across the tops. In the shaded sections, I started to find patches of snow which necessitated small amounts of walking. But really I spent most of the time looking at the view, interspersed with some riding.

Heaven’s Door, looking east.

All that riding of the tops couldn’t keep going, switching to the other side of the ridge it was back into the bush where there was considerably more snow; that made the descent to Ghost Lake Hut interesting.

Reaching the hut, time for more lunch in the sun. Suddenly a helicopter arrived dropping off supplies. It did rather break the serenity, but was something of a curiosity at least. Not even halfway through the trail, it was now half-one; I was still comfortable of finishing in daylight, but I did have some sleeping gear if it was needed. I’d done most of the climbing, but I knew the next section would be slow – including as it does The Staircase. One just has to try and pick the trail out of the two pictures above to see it’s not going to be straightforward.

Ghost Lake, from the hut.

Hut siting is top notch.

So begun a steep, switchbacked and barely rideable (at least for me on a loaded, rigid bike) section of trail in pretty poor condition. Unsurprising considering the terrain, the trail crew was out in force trying to improve it.

Not long before, I had ridden over the shoulder on the right.

That ridge riding turned into a rather ugly part of trail for the descent to the staircase; this part from Ghost Lake the only part of the trail I was under-biked, so that’s pretty good going considering the bigger picture of my tour. But walking didn’t matter as the views constantly took my attention. The staircase of was a welcome relief, carrying my loaded bike down a hundred-odd steps to drop sixty metres was a nice change.

The end of the Matiri Range is one big rocky slip zone. The trail past Stern Valley Hut can just be made out in the open section on the left. It then zig-zags up to the right underneath that big slip, to my surprise; that area is rather ominously called The Boneyard.

But first, a lovely descent through dense bush to the hut. As I’d been doing all day, I stopped whenever I came across anyone to chat to – a good chance for a rest and hear what other people are up to.

Making my way up to The Boneyard.

Very rocky and strangely dry in here, even on this mild spring day it was a bit of a heatsink.

With lots of twist and turns through the field of rocks and keeping a wary eye on the huge boulders precariously perched above, I climbed to Solemn Saddle and was pleased to get back into the bush and out of the slide path. That was the last real climb of the day, after dropping off that saddle I was down near Goat Creek which flows into the Mokihinui. Of course, it certainly wasn’t flat for the ride out – with plenty of little climbs to keep the legs honest. But I still had plenty of daylight and there was no need to stop for the night at the three remaining huts.

Riding through the gorge as the sun sunk was a complete delight, water everywhere and much to look at.

And just like that, it’s over. What a trail and what a day I had on it with brilliant sunshine, no wind and only a little snow to push through.

Would love to ride it again; maybe I’ll get more organised and take days, stay in the huts and share the experience with others. But this way certainly was amazing.

To my relief, the pub at Seddonville awas open on a Monday night. With that strange feeling of being thrust back into civilisation after a long tiring day in the wilderness, I did my best at chatting at the bar while I waited for my dinner. Refuelled satisfyingly, it was such a still and clear night it seemed a shame to waste it. I mean, it was only a flat fifty-five kilometres home – why not make the most of it before the weather arrived? So off I went south for a few hours, surprised to be welcomed after eleven (but maybe I go to bed unusually early) with tea and second dinner. That certainly ranks up there for incredible and memorable days I’ve had on a bike. Wow.

With only a hundred kilometres to go and all day to get there, I was in no rush to leave Mark and Jenny’s good company and lovely home. Delaying until ten o’clock, I rolled off with a large and tasty-looking sandwich to tide me through to distant shops. Mark’s tip of a gravel alternative to Little Wanganui was a boon – flat and deserted.

Not that the main road was exactly busy, I could certainly get used to the complete lack of traffic. A another fine day, layers were soon shed and the main climb of the day meandered on. I enjoyed stopping to read the history boards of long-since gone settlements, they mostly seemed to have sprung up for putting the road through. Little wonder they’re now gone.

Still a bit of low snow close to the coast after the storm earlier in the week.

Somewhere along the way I remembered the Charming Creek Walkway and that I could add some trail and gravel riding into an otherwise flat coastal remainder of the route into town. Having whizzed down off the road over the bluffs and across the Mokihinui River and briefly found a headwind, I turned left and headed for Seddonville. NZ Cycle Trail signs encouraged me that this route would go through. However, after some concerted gravel climbing and passing some of the ubiquitous West Coast coal just sitting there in the bank on the roadside, I reached the trailhead to find a sign telling that the walkway was blocked by a very large slip at the other end and impassable. Some earlier signage would have been useful before embarking on a fruitless twenty-five kilometre deadend.

Into Seddonville, these hills enough to tell me there would still be plenty of snow on the Old Ghost Rd.

With fifty flat and coastal kilometres to Westport I still had plenty of daylight to take it rather leisurely; I never did find a shop – so that sandwich and yesterday’s accumulated snacks came in handy. Unfortunately I seemed to have timed my ride past with shift change at Stockton Mine, so the traffic got much larger and heavier for a while – but it was not a worry. Serendipitously, I crossed paths with Nina riding to work as I entered town. I tagged along a bit chatting, while trying to remember the lay of the land from five years before.

Quite a nice evening really.

After first dinner, I found home for the next few days and, after all arrived home from work, planning for the next few days commenced. To my delight I learned that the new Paparoa Track had reopened for the first time since lockdown that very day; more importantly, Nina and Rachel wanted to ride it in both directions over the weekend. I could hardly say no to that – considering it was on my vague plan for the following week. Friday was a restful day with an excellent little MTB loop up on the Denniston Plateau and tasting some of the local delicacies – I may have had a large pie each time we drove through Waimangaroa, the first two of many pie-lights of the West Coast.