With two people independently suggesting I alter the start of HBAT through a farm to a long stretch of gravel, I was certainly going to take a look. Andrew and I drove south through a frosty Sunday dawn to the south of Hawke’s Bay, leaving the car at a country school where it definitely had not warmed up.

Lumpy to start with, I was soon hoping for the climbs as whizzing down was decidedly chilly. Gravel appeared and we rode through a small herd grazing the verges – while now green, there’s still not a lot of feed around. Chatting to the farmer watching his stock, in what became a familiar routine, a few minutes in Andrew was recognised – despite having left the area fifty years ago. It was a very chatty day as everyone we met seemed to have some connection to my riding buddy.

Getting a bit higher, looking north.

Finally the climbing started in earnest and I began to warm; another dip must have been steep, making use of what I now know in some parts is called “traction seal”. Strange to have a name for those short patches of tarseal that appear on steep parts of gravel roads in the middle of nowhere. More farmers to chat to (no, I’ve not seen your lost heading dog – worth as much as my bike) including the one who was generously giving us access, and with no concerns of routing HBAT, through his land. Climb, climb and a little more; onto the farm track, pleasingly dry, a steeper gradient and then over the watershed to bomb past the airstrip.

Andrew heading for the airstrip; obviously a windy place, the breeze was light.

Through to Te Uri Rd, the sealed section was short before we reached the charming community hall and more gravel winding flatly and pleasantly for a few kilometres. That didn’t last as we rose towards the watershed again and headed back into Hawke’s Bay. The section through pine forest had been devoid of sun for some time and was sloppy, giving my bike and me a nice splatter effect for the small price of slightly less efficient pedalling.

Out in farmland again, the view opened up and we stole our first glance of the Pacific for the day.

The climbing continued a while longer.

Nearing the thirty kilometre mark, we’d already managed a thousand metres of climbing – and not too unpleasant it was either at a steady pace with plenty of rests. This paid off with twenty kilometres down, steep at first to get to the plains and more gradual as we followed the watercourses towards lunch. Getting closer to places Andrew’s family had more direct association with, ideas for looping further south and back north abounded – hopefully only a few weeks before those are explored.

Mangaorapa valley – we’d drop down and ride right to left, before following the Porangahau River through towards that glimpse of ocean.

Refuelling as ever at the wonderful Flotsam & Jetsam coffee cart (horse float really; I’m told the coffee is top-notch, but I’m taken by the home baking), was another opportunity for yarns in the sun of old times and old families of the area. Families of eighteen and twenty-one children!

Scouting of new routes done, we were to return to the car following some of last year’s route in reverse. It was perhaps a bit mad riding up the very hill that hair-raisingly dumped riders right into town – Andrew’s chain thought so as one of the side plates broke in two. That fixed, we were left to spin for half an hour to the ridge. I was going to leave this reverse bit out for the more sensible coastal and flat option; but no way, perish the though, the ridge riding and views were sublime. What’s another hill amongst all the others?

Dropping off the ridge, the gravel stretches and stretches.

Enough of Route 52 done, I saw my first newborn lambs of the year. I was a little perplexed by Andrew stopping behind me and running off into a field; turning and catching up, we were off for a bikepacking first more me – turning a sheep. I now know that ewes with multiple pregnancies can sometimes struggle to get back on their feet from lying down – and perish overnight. Sheep and multiple lambs saved, until next time it lies down in the sun, it wasn’t far back to the car – past dozens more newborn lambs out in the warm afternoon sun.

A stunner of a day, and that suggested route is definitely going in HBAT – it was fantastic. More remote, plenty of hills and rural views. In a sudden moment of inspiration, a scheme to change the start point struck me – more things to organise and ways to optimise this year’s route… A big thanks to Andrew for the contacts, riding company and chat; much kudos too – if I’m still riding up these sorts of hills when I’m knocking twice my current age, I’ll be well pleased and fortunate to be in such health.

Decidedly uncomfortable for the first half hour pre-dawn, I may have gone numb for the second as the relatively flat valley floor riding continued. After seven I warmed as the sky lightened and the hills started. But I then climbed into a layer of fog and was chilled again. The stars disappeared from view as the increasing light revealed what I already knew – it was downright frosty.

It was probably warmer among the mob of sheep waiting to lose their fleeces. Until they lost their fleeces.

The level of fog was stark as the sun rose and slowly crept down the hills opposite.

No stopping at the Tiniroto Tavern this time, far too early. Realising I’d not ridden Ruakaka Rd from the south, I thought I’d better if I want to put it in this year’s HBAT. Ruakaka is very good and there were no vehicles to be seen; the most activity I saw was some farm-kids feeding their horses. The climb back up to Tiniroto was not as big as I remembered from bombing down it in February, that aided me in getting to the sea-level outskirts of Gisborne by noon. I’m glad I’ve found a couple of gravel alternatives through this way; the sealed Tiniroto Road has become rather boring to me now.

The gas station at Manutuke was the lunch stop, and a disappointing one at that. One thing in the pie warmer, and I had to ask what it was. Turns out a BBC is a Beef, Bacon & Cheese Roll – a glorified sausage roll that may have, to look at it, been kept warm for the best part of a week. The friendly roaming dog didn’t even show interest in it. An hour of lazy, flat valley floor riding with the sun on my back, no wind and no traffic was an easy start to the afternoon – before the lifestyle blocks turned to sheep and beef hill country, and pines started to appear.

Back on gravel, it was a bit of a mess. Strangely, there were work crews out on a Saturday fixing up the road from logging truck damage. I had quite a chat to one of them, trying to explain and counter their disbelief as to why I was riding a loaded bike up there. Ignoring roadsigns of questionable legality (the gates were open after all), deeper into the forest I climbed.

Pleased and surprised, I found swathes of native bush on the eastern side of the road. There was no-one to be found and I had the place and views to share only with wood pigeons. Glimpses of Hawke Bay to the south on occasion had me looking toward Mahia, where I hoped I’d make it before I ran out of energy. Ticking along casually, I was well aware I’d not ridden a loaded bike for six months and I may be out of gas before expected.

Dropping, I popped out in the middle of a section of highway I can’t remember ever being on – bit odd considering it’s only a hundred kilometres from home. A short section of that to Wharerata took me past a lookout I’d heard much mention of.

Poverty Bay with Gisborne on the left, and Young Nicks Head in the centre.

Turning south, gravel ridge riding didn’t provide much in the way of views as it was mostly pine-lined. After ten kilometres, the road slid closer and closer to the Unformed moniker in Unformed Legal Road. With a little hike-a-bike around and over treefall, the fast-approaching sunset loomed larger in my mind. Out of the forestry and over a gate, I was into the farmland that would take me down to Mahanga.

My, where did all this mud come from?! Confronted with vast patches of it, suddenly I was going to be out well after dark. Oh well. However, it seems this is quite different to the wheel-binding mud of southern Hawke’s Bay. It was hardly slippery, and not at all sticky. Not having rained for a couple of days, when one couldn’t ride around it on the grass, it was negotiable. Slowed, but not too much, my crossing to the eastern (coastal) side of the hills was a continual balance of risk and reward – slow through the mud, or riding the narrow grass verge on the edge of the hill.

As the sun sunk, I was pleased to find myself riding with this guy again.

Off the ridge line, the mud lessened markedly and riding down the track quickened.

Close to the coast now, looking north of Gisborne.

Dropping down to Mahanga as the sun sets on Mahia Peninsula – I was pretty sure I’d make it across the isthmus just before dark.

Indeed I did, and mightily pleased I’d not be spending the rapidly cooling night in a ditchbound bivy bag. I was pretty had it, and was surprised to find myself more than a little queasy – it hadn’t been at all hot, yet my classic end-of-a-long day symptoms appeared. Thankfully they are easily overcome and I rested well.

Closing the loop back to my car was a far simpler affair – only eighty-odd kilometres, all of which I knew, much of it lovely gravel backroads. Rest seemed more important than dragging myself up a big climb as the sun rose, so I slept in a little and watched the sun rise over the lagoon. Climbing Tunanui Road didn’t seem as steep from the east; even so, I was a little disappointed the Nuhaka store wasn’t open at nine – an ice cream would have gone down well.

Hereheretau Rd however had a far steeper climb riding it in the reverse direction. No matter, it was conquered and the cruise down alongside the Makaretu was sublime and the climb out of the valley was really quite nice.

Strange to be back at the car around midday, there was plenty of time for eating, driving home and even cleaning the mud off my bike. Seemed somewhat indulgent, a waste of good fine winter riding weather. Another successful HBAT scouting trip done, this year’s route is slowly coming together and I always love riding the hills of northern Hawke’s Bay.