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Mangatu(times)tu Four

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Having had to cancel last year’s annual overnighter to Mangatutu Hot Springs, I was excited to get back out there for the fourth time. Previously it’s been an quick easy trip to kick-off the bikepacking season – but not this year, as it seems I’ve hardly stopped riding over the winter. Also, I was looking forward to sharing this little ride with half a dozen others from the fledging Hawke’s Bay Bikepacking community. Only posted at the start of the week, it required far less organisation and I was looking forward to meeting a few I’d not ridden with before.

Two of the group had set off earlier in the day to make the most of some cooler hours. Four of us left the Taradale clock tower for a pleasant half hour of easy riding and chatting on cycle trail to Puketapu.

Where we promptly stopped at the pub for lunch – would have been wasteful not to make use of the last services.

Kiwi burgers all round, Steve arrived and promptly ordered another. Before noon, we’d managed to avoid the crowds at this spot popular with those on all manner of bikes. Steve was excused for being late as after six months away, he’d had to find his bike buried in the garage and, not having ridden it since I last dragged him bikepacking over three years before, replace a tube and pack it with what gear and food he had. Enthusiasm for adventure does go much further than waiting until you have all the gear and everything just so.

Instead of just heading straight up the sealed Puketitiri Rd as previously, I’d opted for the longer route that would give us more gravel. The river flats lasted until twenty kilometres in and crossing the lower Mangaone River. It was warm, but not hot and for a change the wind was at my back heading out here. I found this route far better than Puketitiri Rd – there was next to no traffic, it climbed steadily (instead of steeply climbing in and out of valleys) and there was some very nice gravel.

Nearing the end of Dartmoor Rd.

Alan peeled off for said sealed route, so Chris, Brent, Steve and I moseyed on at a reasonable and constant pace admiring the views over the Tutaekuri to the Ruahines and Kawekas. Strangely, for what has been a very mild spring for allergies, both Steve and I started to suffer from hayfever – the standard sneezing, runny nose, irritated eyes. Not much for it but to keep on riding and admire the views. Only later did I realise that the source of the allergic reaction was the liberal dose of bushfire smoke that had drifted over the Tasman.

Chris heading up Waihau Rd.

Steve sporting the latest in summer bikepacking bags, as the day starts to get a little hazy from the smoke; the haze would worsen over the weekend.

The afternoon warmed, at Waihau itself there was a big rest in the shade of large trees – dreaming of ice creams that were not to materialise from anywhere. Reaching Puketitiri Rd, we were close to 600 metres high – we wouldn’t get much higher that this all day, but we would drop down plenty of times to return to a similar elevation. Brent well knew this and just how steep the end of the day got – with little loaded riding in his recent past, that was the last we saw of him as he opted for a different route.

To my surprise the golf clubrooms were actually open – I still haven’t seen anyone, sheep excluded, on the fairways. We topped up our bottles, ate and rested a bit. The local search and rescue group were out this way training, hence the open doors. Past Balls Clearing the gravel starts again and far fewer people ride bikes (a road ride to this point is a local roadies’ favourite, I understand). There’s one big plunge before the real work begins to earn the reward of a hot spring soak.

The drop towards the Mohaka River – a repeat of a photo I’ve taken a few times now.

Eleven kilometres of Makahu Rd leads to the campground at its end; it starts immediately with a climb so steep that it’s sealed. We sweated our way up there in the late afternoon heat, it’s mercifully only a kilometre long. Dropping down to the Makahu River, the ford was just low enough to get through with dry feet. The second climb is longer, and only a little less steep. Mostly shaded, it was sheltered enough from the breeze to be stifling.

Nearing the highest point of the day, the farm gate here is a natural resting and regrouping spot, with a peak of the Kawekas over yonder.

Contemplating one more hill.

Down again to one last stream crossing and to tackle the third in the series of greater-than-ten-percent climbs. This one you can see ahead as you cross the bridge – I’m unsure if that’s better or worse. It looks steep, but you can at least see the end point – although that knowledge may not have been common to all.

Farms and plantation forest left behind, the last descent has one surrounded by native bush.

I rolled into camp, nabbed my usual spot and was pleased to find Jan and Andrew had arrived considerably earlier. Shortly after, Steve, Chris and Alan arrived. With plenty of daylight left it was a relaxed evening of cooking, eating, chat, soaking in the ever-so-hot pools and consuming the vast amount of sweeter food that had been hauled in – special mention to Steve who’d lugged half a Christmas cake in. That cake sure was dense, in wonderful flavour too – not just mass per volume. There were some tired souls around, after all it does get a little hilly at the end – so pleasing to see people having ridden more than they thought themselves capable of and comfortable with. Hopefully the route choice doesn’t repel too many…

The upper Mohaka from the campground.

A leisurely start to Sunday morning, we gradually left at various intervals. The climb from camp was a good one to get the legs and blood moving. To mix up the out and back nature a bit, I opted to turn left at the start of Makahu Road to see what was at the end of Pakaututu Rd. Steve is unable to turn down opportunity for more discovery and exercise so he joined me. Over the Mohaka we found another steep climb, it would turn out to be the largest of the weekend and was fantastic as the mid-morning sun beat down on us. The views of the Kawekas from the north were easily the best we had all weekend, and there were hills, ridges and valleys all around. My mind boggled trying to comprehend just where we were with respect to places so close that I’ve ridden or driven – the bush clad contours just beyond the farmland were so numerous I was a little disoriented.

Crossing the Mohaka – much closer to the headwaters than the crossing six weeks beforehand.

As I neared the ridgeline, I came across a local farmer out moving stock. Correctly presuming he was the father-in-law of a colleague I chatted for some time. Amongst talk of the terrain, farming history and bikepacking, the biggest nugget was learning of the old coach road to Taupo – that begs to be followed up. Taking it easy for the mellow gradient along the ridge, admiring the views, I happened upon Steve waiting for me in some shade. We rode the last kilometre to the road end, me well pleased to finally see what was there.

Yes, there’s a woolshed and some stock at the end of the road. Hardly a shocking discovery.

This little lamb looked almost as pleased as I felt on such a glorious morning.

We turned and headed for home.

Not rubbish riding.

Over the river again, the biggest climb remaining took us back to Balls Clearing where we found the Search and Rescuers sitting some sort of a test at picnic tables – at least, I hope they were under test conditions as, besides colleague Mark who gave us a wave, they were decidedly reserved and stand-offish. Snacking and topping up with water, the Puketapu Pub beckoned for a late lunch.

Back onto the gravel off Puketitiri Rd, this time I didn’t see Steve waiting again in the shade; I blithely carried on assuming he was well ahead of me by now, as he’d been most morning. So we spent the next hour chasing, at a rather sedate pace, each other down all the while battling into a southerly. Unfortunately we were too late to lunch with the others at the pub and were running quite low on snacks. Stopping near the fields, that the previous day were raked and baled, to clear my ever-running nose, I was quite surprised when Steve cruised in after me – rather spent. The last of the chocolate supplies got us to Puketapu and a huge bowl of nachos – which seemed to have an entire tub of sour cream plonked on top.

A most excellent overnighter – so nice to share that ride with more people, not have my knee ache and discover what’s at the end of another road (there are still plenty more we passed that I’m yet to see) and learn of potential new adventures. The alternate route was a huge improvement, I wouldn’t be surprised if this becomes more regular than an annual ride.

bikepacking, bikes, event, food, friends, GPS, NZ

Mega GGG 2019

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With a hilly and tough HBAT only two weeks behind us, I was pleased to see six of us backing up on the 200 km longer Mega. This turned the start into a bit of a HBAT-reminisce and catch-up before Pete sprung the honour of leading the forty-odd riders out through the Rotorua morning “traffic”.

Time for a few stories with some HBATers.

A bit more time for a group photo.

This is a bit different to my usual dithering and chatting at the back of the start group.

A few kilometres in we regrouped off the road and headed out of town on the easy cycle trail to Ngongotaha – much time for meeting new faces riding towards the climb up the Mamakus. The route familiar to me, I figured I may as well cut my stops out until the resupply 120 kilometres in at Mangakino. A mild morning with no wind to haunt my memory, the riding was good as riders ebbed and flowed relative to me. Knees still noticeably achey from charging up too many Hawke’s Bay hills, I determined to spend far less time standing on the pedals uphill – which is tough, as I do like climbing.

I allowed myself a brief photo stop; tellingly, my best photo of the day is of a giant scar of a quarry contrasting with the more picturesque backdrop.

Subsequently, I was in no rush over the stretch of the Waikato River Trail that is notoriously punishing with plenty of sharp climbs. As the day warmed I continued to take it easy and walked far more of the sharp climbs than I ordinarily would.

Not stopping had me in the first few into Mangakino where I had plenty to eat and drink, including a big bottle of electrolytes. Many others arrived before I headed for the infamous wire-bridge at the end of Arataki Rd. Mid-afternoon it was hot by now, so much for the forecast 20ºC. While it was toasty, I’d not got it into my head that it was well above that temperature – most reports came back around 30ºC. Mentally, and therefore physically, I was not prepared for such heat and quite rapidly I was cooked. Succumbing to the dehydration of which I seem particularly prone (a disadvantage of having little mass and barrier against such swings?), a rest in the shade was in order as the waves of nausea swept over me and suddenly most of the food I’d eaten that day was rejected.

Completely spent, I tried not to berate myself too much. With some more electrolytes to sip on and cooling a little, almost an hour later I could face limping towards the cabins at Pureora – only twenty-five kilometres, but with most of a 400 metre climb. Moving so slowly, walking much and generally feeling awful gave me far too much time to question why and how I like to ride long distances. Having read my post of the first Mega two years prior recently to remind me of the course, I recalled a discussion about how such rides need to be fun. I wasn’t having much fun as thoughts turned to neglected friends in the Bay of Plenty I could be visiting instead of punishing myself. What’s more, with too many people close to me having significant medical diagnoses recently riding seemed a little selfish and pointless. On the other hand, if I could continue I would – what a privilege to have the time, health, means and freedom to explore our fair land. There was much to see and I knew I’d soon be back enjoying myself; I was really looking forward to seeing the roads from Taumarunui to Kawhia Habour – the most significant change to the course. Also, after last year’s magpie incident I was really keen to avoid another DNF – even if it meant adjusting my expectations, and taking more time off work.

The first time I’ve had to put the much-repeated lesson of “don’t pull the pin at the end of a bad day, wait for morning to decide” to good use, it paid dividends. After taking two hours to crawl to the cabins, some downtime, plenty of food and a thoroughly poor, but just sufficient sleep I was good to go again before five-thirty Saturday morning, albeit a little tentatively. But first, where did this rain come from? The lightest of misty rain, it set in for the gloomy climb to the summit of the Timber Trail. Only near the top did it get sufficiently heavy to have full raingear on. Relaxed enough, the trail was in the best condition I’d seen it and I reminded myself yet again to come back and ride it over more than half a day.

Eighty-odd kilometres of trail went by in a bit of a blur, I passed the lodge and campground mid-trail at around the time those that stay in such places hit the trail – so different people to chat to. Comments above aside, the last part from the Ongarue Spiral to the end was a fair mess. Nice to get off that and ride the deserted gravel to town and a big lunch. Many other riders were coming, eating and going from town; I enjoyed a Full English in good company at the same place I stopped on the Tour Aotearoa. Time for new roads!

Two sustained gravel climbs followed in quick succession and my legs were back – the refuelling must have helped, as did the mild closer-to-forecast temperatures, as I caught up to, chatted with and eventually passed a fair collection of riders. Yesterday’s dehydration effects were long gone, but the memory wasn’t – I ate and drink even more. Dropping into Ohura, I finally got to visit the much-vaunted Fiesta Food Cart. In a town where very little seems to be, let alone be open – a food cart that serves a large plate of fresh Mexican food is quite a novelty.

Thirty kilometres, mostly deserted gravel, had only the slightest of gradients to contend with. The northerly wasn’t too bad to contend with, unfortunately it was rather cloudy. A sudden drop took us down to Aria, before the last little bit of climbing for the day. Here the wind picked up and 200 kilometres into the day, the last stretch became pretty slow. I was pleased to get into Piopio (delightfully pronounced locally “Pew Pew”) in daylight. Well aware of the upcoming downpours, I scouted out some shelter on the way to find the Cossie Club – where a truly massive burger, fries and ice cream sundae were demolished. This was clearly the local and with four of us there in our riding gear devouring large volumes of food, we attracted plenty of good-humoured attention. A local dot-watcher came down to chat all things bikepacking and local AB rounds before we headed off to get out of the incoming weather. That was a far more successful day.

The rain didn’t arrive that night and I caught plenty of sleep with the wind blowing around and through my shelter. Up early and straight into a big climb out of town, it promptly started raining. The lightest rain imaginable as dark slowly gave way to a grey gloom. Gravel, native bush, farmland – all on the winding path north. At times the rain was heavy enough to don full raingear, but that didn’t usually last long. Raingear was promptly removed as, while it was head-windy, it was never cold. I’d love to go back and ride these roads again and see a bit more – so quiet and they felt so remote. Four and a half hours into the day, the first car passed me.

Shortly before ten o’clock was just in time for the breakfast menu at the Oparau Roadhouse. I arrived as the heavens opened again.

Catching up for the last five hours, and fuelling for the next six.

A few of the riders I’d passed with my early start, and that I’d not seen since Rotorua, arrived with various tales – most involving rain. With a good rest and meal in, I was ready to leave. The heavens promptly opened, so I retreated inside before eventually setting off in the rain – it soon abated and by the end of the climb up to Raglan Road I had to delayer without delay.

More great gravel backroads heading to my favourite part of the 2017 course – the coastal detour around to Raglan. Mostly dry, mostly into the wind; out of nowhere, boom, torrential downpour. From the first spits I stopped and couldn’t get my jacket on in time. Good fun, and it abated after ten minutes for the scenic coastal foray of repeated climbs and descents. Raglan by mid-afternoon for a short refuel and to get going while it was dry. That didn’t last long, another big downpour, but at least briefly the wind was less of a hindrance as the course turned east. Old Mountain Road was a new section, and being the steepest long climb of the route one of my favourite parts.

From the summit, Hamilton was within touching distance east; we promptly turned north, back into the wind for quite the dog leg to Ngaruawahia. Just the sort of thing I’d do, and did do, when course-setting. Joining the paved river trail at the northern-most point of the ride, the whole day’s toil into the wind paid back in spades. A very helpful push had me in Hamilton as dark descended, in time for a large dinner. It may have rained again. I’d long ago lost count of the raingear-on, raingear-off routine.

I was definitely making a point of eating well, and all was well on a big day.

Into the dark through the tedious cycle-path route out of Hamilton to Cambridge, it rained again but the wind was still mostly helpful. Nearing eleven o’clock I considered the last hundred-plus kilometres back to Rotorua, the ominous thunder-storm heavy forecast, crossing the Mamakus at night and opted for finding some shelter and finishing this thing in the daylight. Very happy with a big 255 km day in less than ideal conditions – just a pity about the lack of photos.

To my surprise I slept late and was not properly going until six-thirty, keen for the familiar path back to Rotorua. The multitude of small hills to Arapuni felt good, I was disappointed not to see my magpie nemesis. Second breakfast at the Cow Cafe in Putaruru is now a tradition, and a thoroughly good one. The wind was still at my back and I hardly even got rained on – it was a grand morning to finish up, especially learning later of all the thunderstorms I’d managed to avoid the previous night. Even the blockades on Cecil Rd weren’t as bad as expected and running down the hill to town I was pleased to find I had plenty left in the tank.

Finishing in three days and six hours-ish, it was great to see Pete, Roger and Chris there and just sit in some sunshine for a while sharing stories, before another big meal. While things didn’t go quite as planned that first afternoon, I got to ride my bike a lot, see plenty, learn loads, share the ride with others and actually finish it this year – fantastic. Thanks to Pete for organising it all, I look forward to the next such ride.

Thanks to Roger for bordered photos.

bikepacking, bikes, event, friends, GPS, NZ

Classic GGG 2019

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The fourth and last of a very unusual run of weekends away, I was very much looking forward to this year’s Classic Geyserland Gravel Grind – even if it meant another week away from my current obsession of route and event planning. The promise of a weekend of leisurely bikepacking with fifty others, catching up with friends, good spring weather and an enjoyable route is good like that.

Friday after work I drove towards the start in Rotorua, but again stopped short and left my car in Waikite (the end of the second day’s riding) before biking the short distance into Rotorua.

Tucking my car behind the scout hall, I left it under the watchful eyes of some cattle as the day drew to a close.

It was a very pleasant evening for the ride into town – just a little hilly as I made it through farmland to the highway and much-too-adjacent cycle path down to Rotorua. Dark long since come, the full moon rose further as I approached the forest to cut through.

This toilet block looks a bit fancy for bikepacking accommodation. Also, my, every time I visit Whaka forest – not often these days – it’s grown a lot.

Reaching Pete’s the night before a GGG event, there was the usual warm welcome, bike and gear tinkering, other riders and tasty dinner – all to the sound of much bikepacking chat. Amanda had just bought a new bike (almost identical to mine, incidentally) so there was much to sort out.

Packing continued the next morning for some and Ian arrived too – so we briefly had back together more than half of the crew from two weeks ago. Before we knew it, we should have left to assemble at the museum. Then it started to drizzle; we finally set off. Riding through the malodour of Sulphur Point we suddenly stopped and turned around as we met fifty-odd bikepackers coming the other way. Oops, we may have missed the briefing and start.

The long and short course riders soon split. I chose the long course as I’d seen the newly opened Royden Downs connector last year and wanted to see how rugged the Okataina Walkway was compared to three years ago. We (around twenty riders) were back in the forest; I may have snuck off the route to ride some singletrack – how could I come here and not?

Just a couple of old favourites were ridden before rejoining the route.

After a bit of forest road, the new trails around by Tarawera Rd were most excellent – particularly the descent to Blue Lake, even if I spent most of it distractedly chatting.

Blue Lake was far more deserted and tranquil than I expected it to be.

Riders spread out and I continued towards Okareka solo. Through the small settlement, there was a short stretch of lush gravel to be found on the way up to the (western) Okataina walkway.

The first half of the fourteen kilometre track was basically all rideable and lovely as it climbed over and descended from a ridge. Reaching a deeply cut out stream crossing, the hike-a-bike began as the climbing also started in earnest.

The trail got a bit cut out in parts.

Then deteriorated into deeply rutted out. For quite a while, there were only three parts like this that necessitated pushing my bike.

Generally the trail was more rideable.

I was feeling a bit sluggish, perhaps due to the little extra gear I was carrying. Due to the relaxed nature of the weekend, and also the forecast overnight rain, I was carrying my tent and extra clothes – was this weighing me down or was I just a little fatigued from all the travelling in the previous three weeks? Still I rode most of it, walking a little near the top and finally began to find a few other riders to chat to briefly. Eighty minutes for eleven kilometres through excellent native forest got me to the high point of our day – although it must be mentioned, without nary a view of the track’s eponymous lake.

The descent was so much fun! Weaving through the forest, some of the trail wasn’t in great condition – but was mostly rideable. In fact, thinking about it now – I just want to go back and do it again. Loaded or unloaded bike, it doesn’t make much difference. Fifteen minutes of exhilaration later and things flattened out and I was soon at the education camp to find buddy Roger and a few other riders. It was great to catch up to Roger, not so great to hear how he fared down there on very skinny tyres and ineffective cantilever brakes. Also, trail angels with much banana cake! We headed for the store and lunch talking away.

Fifty kilometres in, we were following the shore of Rotoiti and had somehow already clocked a thousand metres of climbing – maybe that’s the reason I had been feeling a little slow, it didn’t seem like we’d climbed that much.

The main re-supply on the long course, it was well frequented.

Another bikepacking trip, another pie and packet of salt and vinegar crisps. The spring roll and milkshake went down quickly too.

With only 120-odd kilometres to ride for the day, there was no rush and I enjoyed sitting in the sun as various other riders came and went. Great to catch up with familiar faces and meet new ones. Eventually I had to leave, if only to cease repeated visits to the store. Eight kilometres of highway disappeared and we were back on quieter roads – most of which I’d ridden last year, if not before that.

The roadside foliage parted enough for one glimpse of Lake Rotoma.

Most of the afternoon was gravel and was solitary riding for me. The norwester somewhat slowed the gradual descent to sea level, but there was plenty of daylight left. One of the flat pedals I’d put on for the weekend (very much in touring mode) started to squeak annoyingly – strangely, if I flipped it the sound disappeared.

For much of the last hour I found company as Pikowai Road took us to the coast, and a very useful tailwind to Murphy’s Campground – where a sea of very small tents was gradually building. Having hauled a tent all day and with the rain radar imprinted in my mind, I couldn’t however turn down a spot in a cabin. Which was prudent, as after returning from Matata fish and chip trip it absolutely tipped down for a couple of hours.

Our cabin rose early Sunday morning, but I was in no rush to leave – so once ready, I moseyed down to the tent village and caught up with Roger. He’d endured a rather wet and uncomfortable night in a bivy bag, but was in good spirits and taking plenty of pictures. I posed for one, but didn’t realise this candid shot had been snapped until I saw it – thanks Roger.

Leaving just after seven, I joined Brent and Amanda – both whom I met on last year’s Mega Grind – as we chatted our way up a steady five percent gradient. Much talk and excitement shared around bikepacking routes in Hawke’s Bay and Wairarapa – looking forward to exploring still more. The squeak from my pedal became more annoying.

Then my pedal became increasingly irregular in its normally circular travel. I looked down and realised my crank arm was coming off. Unusual. With the splines flogged out, even when I got it bolted back on it assuredly did not stay on. Damn. Not much to do but take my bike for a walk towards Rotorua in the warm morning sun – I did at least get to roll down the hills, of which I was sure there would be more of once I was off course. Fi gallantly came and rescued me after almost ten kilometres of enjoyable walking and rolling, then taking me back to Rotorua, feeding me and kindly dropping me at my car for the drive home (the cattle were gone, but my car was still there). I wasn’t too disappointed on missing the day’s riding as I’d ridden those roads numerous times before; but it was sad to miss a great day in the sun chatting with other riders and the eventual campfire at the scout den.

I’ve since realised that’s two GGG events in a row I’ve failed to finish! Just as well I managed to finish a much-tougher Great Southern Brevet in between. This one seems minor as it didn’t involve a dislocated shoulder and my bike will soon be fixed and I’ll be out exploring again next weekend. Thanks to Erik and Peter for another great event – even if I missed half of it – and all those that made it a great weekend, especially Roger and Fi for the company and retrieval.

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

Scouting Sunday – Central Hawke’s Bay

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Needing to ensure that the short section of beach riding required for my planned route was actually rideable was the basis of the weekend’s scouting plans. A few different options presented to kick-off the Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour and get to the beach. In the end, I decided to stick to keeping things in Hawke’s Bay and planned to check out the first hundred kilometres – none of which I’d ridden before, and only slightly more I’d seen from a car. It looked good on maps! Initially, the forecast looked good for more mid-winter camping – but westerly gales put the kibosh on that idea. Putting a tentative call out, I found others willing to join me on my debatably-mad scheme (all a matter of perspective, seemed perfectly reasonable to me).

Meeting in Waipawa at sunrise, the first objective was to find a suitable start point for the event.

This bandstand will certainly do.

With Josh (returning from a very rare few weeks of, injury-induced, inactivity) and Marek (returning from a month visiting back home in Poland, and little riding, and never having ridden close to the proposed distance) assembling – why wouldn’t we have a grand day of riding bikes?

It promptly started to rain, and the westerly continued to whip around us. Rain gear hastily donned and we were off through the few deserted streets, crossing the Tukituki bridge and finding the cycle trail to take us off the highway. It was a bleak soaking inauspicious start, but there wasn’t that much rain in the forecast so we grinned and bore it through Waipukurau.

Leaving the main road again, we cut south through flat farm land. The rain slowly eased as the gradient equally slowly eased us up. For early August, there certainly were a lot of young lambs bleating as the rain fell. We quickly got the idea that cyclists are few and far between up Hatuma way as we were quite the novelty for resident cattle – a curiosity-fuelled stampede was narrowly avoided. As the rain ceased, we got the first sign of a shadow around nine as we finally hit a climb to warm us. Gravel was reached for a fun drop down in to Flemington – which seems to consist of a country school, a playcentre and little else.

Another rainbow? That’s just getting greedy as the rain left us for the day.

Briefly back on seal, a long straight was only interrupted by stopping to close a broken gate, and snack. It must be said that the mob of cattle behind the wide open gate were very well behaved and not all over the road. Surprised to see a polo field/paddock near Purimu Lake (we missed the golf course), the anticipation of heading up Ugly Hill Rd was palpable. I never did work out what was so Ugly about it, the climb and views were anything but. Some pleasant undulating ridge-riding deposited us in Wallingford and a few kilometres of Route 52 led us to the gravel of the similarly imaginatively named Old Hill Road.

A more direct, on the map, route to Porangahau said hill was clearly the reason this was not the main road and remained unsealed. We climbed and climbed, all the while getting close to Porangahau – which I knew was down at sea level. Surely we must stop climbing soon…

Time for another snack stop, looking north and attracting the inquisitive farm animals again.

The coast appeared, finally, after many hopeful glances east.

All the while the westerly continued to batter us from the side. Up on the ridge, there was nowhere to hide – large shelter belts were ineffectual. The descent was a screamer – dropping 250 metres in two kilometres. If that wasn’t exhilarating enough, rounding one right-hander we were broadsided by the full force of the wind. Exciting times, especially with a frame bag, come sail. I rolled into town thrilled with the morning’s route and the roads we’d found. The start of the route was promising, even if there was a very easy thirty kilometre warm-up.

The small village exceeded all expectations. The store had delicious homemade pies (I restrained myself at one) and there was a delightful coffee cart in the garden next door – I’m told the coffee was of a high standard, the muffins I can vouch for. Seventy kilometres into the day, refuelled and slightly rested we chewed off easy flat kilometres with the wind pushing us along parallel to the coast. That’s the good thing about loops, provided the wind stays constant – it all balances out, eventually.

Come noon, Blackhead Rd was joined. Marek shunned the easier option of sealed and relatively flat roads back to Waipukurau – keen to see the beach and the objective of the day, no doubt. I was secretly pleased as if he got that far, he may as well complete the ride with us as the alternative would have been neither here nor there in terms of easier length and hilliness. We were back on quiet gravel again. That is, “quiet” being zero traffic, compared to very little. Sidling coastal plains, the farms were windswept and just looked exposed and hard work.

Pleasant riding in the sun with the wind behind us.

Over a little rise, we spied Blackhead Point. The beach is further up the coast and we contemplated the path the road would take to get through or over the hills.

The shingle mostly took us between the hills, but we did eventually climb to about a hundred metres and joined another road back to town. We were but two kilometres from the beach. Josh and I were just persuasive enough to convince Marek to stick with us, see the beach, click over his first 100 km ride with us and we’d get him home somehow – the big climb and headwind may have been glossed over.

Having ridden in on so much gravel, Blackhead Beach certainly felt remote and I wasn’t expecting more than the handful of holiday houses and campground that we found. Having serendipitously timed our arrival half an hour before low tide, the beach provided perfect riding conditions. With that tail wind, the hard-packed sand was far faster than we expected/feared. We flew up the beach.

Grin inducing, in fact.

Marek, and we, celebrated his first ever 100 km ride. A top effort.

Much fun was had.

Reaching Pourerere, ten easy kilometres of beach riding was over and we paused for refuelling and to redistribute loads. I helpfully consumed a huge sandwich. Threats of being deposited in a ditch if it was more than the promised thirty-odd kilometres back to Waipawa hung over my head as we departed. A steady pace over half an hour swallowed up the three hundred metres of climbing away from the coast and gave us plenty of hills, coast and ocean to look at. Another hour of tending down, battling the wind and the odd climb took us over the Tukituki again (downstream of the morning’s crossing) and changing our heading for the final stretch home.

As the long day started to tell over the final few kilometres, the wind eased and a large rain cloud loomed ahead of us – would we make back dry? As I’ve already spoiled that, yes – we did. All pleased to see the cars again, and hopefully I can speak for all in saying that it was a great and satisfying day. Most excellent to have good company join me in trying winter conditions, and successfully put a little more of my route-puzzle together.