Category Archives: friends

bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, national park, NZ

Paparoa Loop

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Looking as it did, completely clagged in, after some deliberation we ditched our plan to ride the Paparoa Trail south that day. Raining at sea level, none of us were too disappointed not to be on the exposed tops. So that left us all day to ride the quiet West Coast highway to Blackball, where we’d booked a room in anticipation of riding the trail north in much better weather.

Rain came and went throughout the day, there certainly was plenty of water to see – between the ocean, streams from the hills and that falling on and spraying up at us it certainly was the Wet Coast. The wind and lack of traffic were kind as we ambled south, finding Barrytown’s closed bar and the make-your-own knife experience – we popped into have a look, or just to stand near the blazing forge.

A long cafe stay had us out of the Runanga rain and delivered another pie-light before a short detour to the Coal Creek Falls.

Turning inland and up the Grey Valley, the memorial and panels at the Brunner Mine Disaster site were worthwhile both as a poignant history lesson and more shelter as the rain increased again. As we climbed the largest hill of a flat day’s riding, the skies started to clear. Checking into the Hilton, this worked well for having drinks out the front of the hotel, drying soaked gear and more drinks on the balcony as the sun streamed down and steam started to rise off the streets. It was really quite nice to arrive somewhere early and have time to wander the streets of a place I’ve been a few times, but never really ventured past the Hilton.

We’d head for those hills in the morning.

Having been hurried through our dinner by the wait staff and successfully avoiding the ’80s music quiz, there wasn’t much for it but an early night. The motley assortment of beds and bunks were surprisingly comfortable, sleep was had and we were off into the hills around seven on Saturday. A solid thousand metre climb ensued in the murk; the first part on the recently widened road to the trailhead.

Just more coal casually lying about.

I’m told the bridges are pretty recent, otherwise the first part of the Paparoa is the old Croesus Track – a historic mining track up and over the range to Barrytown. That means that it’s a rocky surface firmly embedded in the benching that’s been there for over a hundred years of West Coast excessive-rain. That made it a slow, technical challenge of a climb and I loved it.

Out into the alpine at 900 m, Ces Clark Hut immediately appeared.

But we got to this cute wee hut first.

Up at the main hut, we watched as clouds rolled up the valley occasionally allowing us a view of our surroundings.

Out on the tops for the next two hours, this was the most exposed part of the trail – I was particularly glad we didn’t come up here the previous day. It wasn’t raining too much on us and it was only rather windy, not very or extremely windy – so we got off lightly.

This could have been a lot worse with a gale rushing up the slope from the sea, to the right.

There were enough glimpses down to know that it’d be worth waiting for a clear day (or few hours might be all that one could reasonably ask for) to ride through.

Suddenly, there is the Tasman Sea; not often I’m this high so close to the sea.

Moonlight Tops Hut is a big, new hut befitting the track’s Great Walk status. We stopped for lunch, chatting with the group of MTBers that had also left the Hilton that morning – two of the group we’d been leapfrogging most of the morning. As we left another group of five rode in, they were travelling lightly and it sounded as though it had been utterly miserable up there for them on Saturday.

We were now past the high point, the trail now gradually tending down for quite some time along the ridges. Of course there were plenty more little climbs.

Clouds dissipated long enough to see the large escarpment we would ride just behind the ridge line of.

The next hut, also new, was just perceptible left of centre of this shot – we’d approach along the ridge from the right.

Straight into a goblin forest we went as we neared the escarpment. Almost spooky, the mystical light, and the old-growth trees all so gnarled and covered in moss.

Rachel escaping the lair.

Quite the well made trail in rugged, inhospitable terrain – I was impressed.

Out of dense forest, the view opened and we could just spy a few Pike River Mine structures. I knew it was remote, but this was a level beyond what I was expecting; the sight was fairly incongruous and gave pause to reflect.

That hut’s getting closer, the route to be taken not much clearer.

The descent starting in earnest around here with a big series of switchbacks.

Seemed rude not to make the most of the various trailside seats we found. Lone Hand, on the right of that little range, fair captivated me – upturned towards the heavens as it was.

Stopping at Pororari Hut (another of Great Walk standard), we met our first hikers of the day. The skies cleared to a brilliant afternoon and it was much too pleasant chatting in the afternoon sun to want to roll on down to the valley floor and complete a fantastic day’s riding. But do so, we must eventually. Alas one doesn’t roll along a trail such as this – it was lumpy enough to require some effort with one final wee hill to cross to finish up around five. All my rain gear went on straight away, not because it was raining but to give the midges less to feast on.

What a trail. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and having company through such scenery. I’m looking forward to returning and seeing it again in – either summer or winter it could easily be a very different ride. No word yet when the Pike29 commemorative side trail will be open, but I suspect before I return; with the climb back up to the main trail, there will be plenty of time for reflection. Back home for more pie-lights (venison and rabbit) and to prepare for the following day’s adventure as I tried to make the most of a clear, but rapidly closing, weather window.

bikes, friends, hiking, MTB, NZ

Whirinaki weekend

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For the third time in a year, a most excellent stay at the Rec. Camp in Whirinaki Forest Park. This time, a more relaxed visit introducing friends to the superb example of native North Island podocarp forest – teeming with birdlife too. Bike trips have brought me here before, but this time I packed not only bike shoes (and a bike), but walking shoes, hiking boots and running shoes. Pleasingly, all were used.

Home for the weekend.

Unexpectedly cold when we arrived Friday night, fireplaces in the cabins sure helped on a brilliantly clear and starry night. It clouded overnight, so more mild waking Saturday; after an early breakfast I wandered down to check out the Whirinaki River just below camp. I was thrilled to hear a vocal pair of whio, and more so to see them. Also known as blue duck, these are a threatened species (far rarer than kiwi, for instance) that live in fast flowing rivers and streams.


How they manage to find and feed on small invertebrates in such quick water still amazes me.

The short loop on the Whirinaki mountain bike track was under the canopy of towering giants, and the downhill on a rough and ready, rutted track was the most fun I’ve had on a mountain bike in a long time. It was a nice change to let go and know that the bike would soak up all but the biggest hits – rather different to a loaded, fully-rigid bikepacking rig!

The rest of the weekend was spent on foot, walking to waterfalls, the ephemeral Arohaki Lagoon and running back, gazing in wonder up at the mind-blowingly numerous giants of the forest, listening to the birdlife and most of all learning more about it all. So good to take people knowledgeable about such things along – the enthusiasm was infectious, hopefully some of the knowledge was too.

Wheki-ponga may have been the word of the weekend.

Kahikatea line the lagoon on a misty Sunday morning.

Some marshmallows may have been harmed in the making of s’mores.

around home, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Te Wae Wae Loop

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An offer of riding through a farm and potentially cutting a significantly nasty part of highway out of HBAT could not be ignored for long. With the forecast looking only a little rainy, phone calls were made and a plan hatched. Marek signed up at the last minute, possibly I hadn’t fully explained what he was getting into, I finally broke twenty minutes at Park Run this year and we were off driving north.

Ten o’clock was a leisurely time to start what could be a very tough day ride; familiar sealed road and favourite views helped to warm us on a mild morning. Thankfully my legs weren’t hurting too much. Turning onto Pohokura Rd, I was looking forward to the long gravelled climb through farmland and native bush.

There was actually some rain overnight, odd to see a wet road – it kept the dust away and only slowed us slightly.

This feels like it should be the top, but it’s not.

Looking forward even more so to finding what’s at the end of the road – rather than turning onto Waitara Rd as on previous trips.

Quickly losing five hundred metres of elevation was only slowed by constantly stopping to take in the changing view of all the hills in their various uses.

There I go, looking even smaller than is usual.

A brief level section for the final plunge to the Mohaka.

Heading into the valley which would take us an hour to traverse from left to right and climb out of. The Mohaka running across the shot from left to centre, the Te Hoe joining it from the background. We were due to climb that grassy face in the middle-distance, far right of shot.

It really was looking a steep climb away from the Te Hoe.

Crossing the Mohaka, looking west and upstream.

I guessed at which track to take off the side of the road, and guessed correctly. It quickly closed in with gorse and blackberry encroaching ever further.

Down on the river flats, the track was gone.

Giving up on the track, we turned towards the river for the shortest possible push through the dense thicket of willow saplings. No derailleurs were harmed, thankfully.

Beyond the foliage, we could easily spy the dozer track that we were to take up the face.

Having been told that the best place to cross was five hundred metres up from the confluence, I was pleased the flats were rideable. Hearing a yell from Ian, but not seeing him, we rode upstream.

Finally I spied a quad bike and two people over the river. With much yelling and little comprehension we found a good place to cross the swift, but thankfully low (droughts are good for something it seems), river.

Safely on the left bank, it was great to meet Ian and his friend Brian. Still very sprightly at over eighty, the yelling continued due to some deafness. Introductions aside, we discussed the best way to get out of the valley – we opted for the shorter, steep dozer track. Next time, it’d be good if it could be the longer route – different views and all that.

Ian led us across a bog and towards the steepness.

Averaging over fifteen percent, it was at times much steeper. I managed to ride the first third, but was constantly stopping to take in the expanding panorama. I’m glad it was dry, or else the whole ascent would have been a slippery push.

Te Kooti’s Lookout just right of centre.

West up the Mohaka.

As well as having people guiding us through and opening and closing gates for us, I thoroughly enjoyed the enthusiastic telling of stories of the land. From the struggles of the early settlers (the land broke them), to Te Kooti’s lookout and stronghold during the Land Wars and eventually the development of a sustainable farm. Now six hundred acres of the property is covenanted native bush and I’d love to get back, explore some more and see some of the huge native trees Ian spoke of.

Generously we were welcomed in for a hearty meal of mince on toast (thanks Carolyn), all the while being regaled further with stories of the farm, the area, the other farms (up near where I’d met son Ian a fortnight previous) and the large family. Bikepacking stories were offered up, but didn’t seem quite as interesting to me. Bellies full, we did eventually go on our way.

By no means was our climbing done, as the near landscape soon turned to forestry – although often affording glimpses of ranges further away.

My game of “how far away is Panekiri?” continued – a bit further away this time.

This certainly was a decent climb, but it did plateau before another fast descent again to the Mohaka. The gravel ended for the day. Nearing the river, unusually a helicopter started buzzing around – Marek pointed out it was the rescue chopper, not a good sign.

Pausing at the Willowflat bridge, the river was low and we marvelled at the size of some of the boulders deposited in the flow.

Willowflat was larger than I expected – that is, there were a few houses and actually people around. But my, the climb up to Kotemaori keeps on giving – steep and steady, it just keeps going. Thankfully, our very pleasant riding conditions held and it wasn’t too hot. Worryingly, a lit police pick-up passed us. I’d plenty of time to wait at the first false summit, so proceeded to devour handfuls of ripe blackberries while wondering about the Mohaka Rafting vehicle parked up – ostensibly for cell coverage. Ridge riding commenced (up and down) and seventy kilometres and two thousand metres of climbing in, my waits grew longer – but that just left more time to savour the scenery, blackberries and a staggeringly spectacular day of riding.

Looking over towards the early part of the route.

Back on the highway, cruising down that section to Waikare Gorge is so much better and safer than the grovel up in the opposite direction. With a final few hundred metres to climb, I pushed on – rather enjoying how the hills around here are becoming more familiar and fitting together in my mind more and more. Back to the car, I had plenty of time for a cuppa with its guardians for the day – more tales of local farming history, and bike trips. Bliss; once again, I’m already scheming on bigger rides to further explore another area of the region that in a few short hours proved utterly captivating.

Unfortunately, Graham confirmed that there had been a drowning on the river, which explained all the unusual activity – sad news indeed, but also helps to appreciate wonderful days of being alive and outside.

Also, must get back to Ridgemount…

Thanks to Marek for nine of the photos above and being such a sport on a tough day’s riding; also thanks to Ian and Carolyn for being so welcoming to their special part of Hawke’s Bay.

around home, bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Post-work Friday Waipatiki Overnighter

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The midday switch to a cooling sea breeze was not to last. Leaving work just before five, the raging norwester was back dragging the mercury up to thirty degrees. Steve and I made slow progress along the flat highway, into the wind funnelled down the valley, before finally turning north and meeting Marek at the start of the climb. Waipunga Rd is one of my favourite local gravel roads and I’m pleased that it’s back in far better condition than for HBAT. It may have been the heat, the wind or just end-of-week tiredness – but my, all that food I packed instead of changes of clothes sure was dense. I was slow.

Up the sealed climb at the start of Waipunga Rd – photo from Marek.

Having discussed it over the lunch table, I’d finally figured out which house, most of the way up the road, was Jess’s. Kennels of dogs barking enthusiastically welcomed us, as did the favourite running free – we happily accepted filled water bottles and a huge bowl of fresh guacamole, such a hardship helping to deal to a glut of avocados. Chatting too long, I was reminded that we’d better get going as the sun dropped – we didn’t have many lights between us.

The end of the road had us turning east and the wind at our backs. Five clicks of seal descended to the highway, which we crossed to join the gravelled upper part of Tangoio Settlement Rd. Following the ridge, the pines up here are generally young and allow views both sides of the road. The haze from the bushfires in Australia continues to linger, the approaching sunset looked likely to be a good’un.

Easy riding down to the highway.

Arriving at the junction with Waipatiki Rd, we had enough daylight yet to pause and watch the sun sink. It was worth it.

Thanks again to Marek for the photo.

Still plenty warm, it was just as well as the last two hundred metres are lost rapidly through a short series of switchbacks.

Waipatiki Beach, another of Marek’s photos.

I didn’t remember the turn-off to the campground, but I certainly remembered the decaying machinery from my previous trip here. Checking in, we managed to get our tents up before the dusk faded into night. Quite a luxury having a camp kitchen to cook in, I set about preparing and consuming (in part, Steve helped) the mass of food I’d hauled in – well worth it. Also odd to have a camp lounge to gather in, it was far later than is normal for me on such rides before we retired to our respective tents.

Gusts really got up in the early hours of the morning, giving a couple of hours of sleeplessness as my tent thrashed around. By dawn the wind abated; we rose, ate and packed before crossing the stream to check out the beach a little.

All calm, and hazy, again.

This relic served a purpose, anchoring one side of this:

An unusual water crossing by bike – definitely better than wet feet and wheels being swallowed by unseen holes. Another of Marek’s pictures.

Water still pretty chilly, I wasn’t staying wet for too long. Marek’s again.

Beach rest for the bikes.

Half-eight by the time we set off, all were keen to take a vaguely described paper road to not reverse the big sealed descent of the previous night. A tiny amount of hike-a-bike landed us, with dry feet, on an old forest road heading north and up to Aropaonui Road. It was barely overgrown, well benched and gained us a hundred and fifty metres pretty easily. Reaching the gravel, we climbed further heading away from the Pacific – occasionally getting sideswiped by the norwester. I adopted my trying-not-to-get-blown-off-my-bike stance, and was unusually successful.

The only mud we had to negotiate during the trip.

Missing the concerted effort of Saturday morning Park Run, I pushed a little harder than normal to round out the hour of climbing to the highway. Finding a suitably shady spot, there was some serious snacking to be done to ensure we didn’t carry too much food home. The gravelled top section of Tangoio Settlement Road was repeated, and was just as good as the previous night (save the spectacular sunset) and we were soon bombing down to sea level for the last few kilometres back to work.

Can’t quite see my house.

Even stopping at work to pick up some gear, then at Bay View for boysenberry and feijoa ice cream and fresh strawberries, it was before noon when we arrived in town for quality burgers that I’m still thinking of.

What a great little overnight trip (barely managed a hundred kilometres and eighteen hours) with good friends and plenty of food to round out my Hawke’s Bay bikepacking for the year. It’s been such fun, and I’ve seen so much of this little province – finding plenty of hills, views and food along the way.