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Scouting Saturday – Te Apiti and Maraetotara

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With just one more section of the route I had in my head left to confirm, it was an early Saturday start to drive south.

I was early so popped down to Kairakau Beach to check out the camping facilities – but mostly just looked at the view.

Meeting Richard and Ange, the farmers who are being kind enough to not only let me route through the station but suggested a far better track to follow, we soon sat down to discuss how these sorts of bikepacking group rides work. Working out what was reasonable conditions to let an untold number of bikepackers loose across the farm was fairly straightforward and we had a good understanding.

Richard was tried to describe the route I should follow using a map; visualising it became a whole lot easier when he pulled out a drone and sent that off into the sky above and around the hills. What a fantastic tool, it made route-finding on the ground a cinch. After checking out the shearers’ quarters generously offered for riders to stay in (hot showers, bunk rooms, kitchen, BBQ, WiFi – luxury! definitely better than sleeping in a ditch), I was off riding.

I was soon reminded of the peanut butter mud-fest that struck us the last time I’d been in the area. Just the slightest moisture overnight on the exposed dirt turned an innocent looking surface into a wheel-binding paste. Not even twenty metres in, I couldn’t ride and was off pushing. I don’t believe it! Again?! This stuff sticks to everything. Thankfully, after scooping the excess off and only a little bit of walking, enough grass appeared beside the track that wheels would turn without accumulating more mud. I could ride, however slowly. Situation much improved, I got right into the ten percent climb. The sheep and lambs were vocal as I interrupted Saturday morning brunch.

Climbing so, the views quickly opened up as I looked south.

Half an hour of ascent, and many gates, later I was not lost and set off along the ridge. The cattle were even more perturbed by this strange apparition, but took it well – naturally becoming curious as I rode on. Talking to them may have helped.

Bare Island came into view; but more importantly, one could see the finish way off on the horizon. It’s only another 400 kilometres of riding away, and just a few hills.

The descent was fast enough for me on rugged farm tracks, with hard tyres and no suspension. Obstacles, holes and livestock were easily avoided. Off the farm, it was a short cruise down to Waimarama for lunch. I figured it was such a nice day and I had the time – a beach visit was in order. Pleasingly, there was quite a line up of old tractors, hitched to boat trailers, patiently waiting the return of fishers.

Making a break from these scouting trips.

Another horrible day out exploring Hawke’s Bay.

Time for more roads new to me, I left town up Okaihu Rd; and I do mean up, straight into another ten percent pitch. Cabbage Tree Flat didn’t have many such trees to speak of, but it was refreshingly flat(ter) and lovely gravel. Topping out after four hundred metres of climbing, I enjoyed the long shallow descent down past Maraetotara. The views of Kahuranaki were constantly catching my attention, and it was odd to see Te Mata from a distance south. I realised it was actually quite windy, somehow I was sheltered earlier from the westerly despite riding along a ridge top.

Turning at the end of the road to retrace my steps, I snacked and only then realised I’d been in the sun for a few hours and sunburn was a possibility. Funny how one forgets about that, it’s not like winter was particularly harsh or bleak. Even before the end of September I was riding in fewer clothes than I do most summer; but that was only because I’d lost my Buff at the start of winter – which I replaced the following day as something to stop sweat dripping in my eyes is again necessary.

Stopping to distract the livestock from the view on my return to Waimarama.

Shortly after this old shearing shed, I was back on the farm.

Going north to south was the more difficult of my two trips across Te Apiti. The climb, while not quite as steep, seemed to drag a little compared to the morning’s – tired perhaps. I took the shorter of the two options down to the car.

It did afford this view – I’m sure I saw more cabbage trees up here than on Cabbage Tree Flat.

That route down was steep and, my, it was rocky and loose. I let a little too much air out of my front tyre, but it did soften things a bit; still, my lower back hurt from the shake down the hill. Turning to look back up, I was certain no one would thank me for routing up what would surely be a needless hike-a-bike. Having said that, with a loaded bike the longer path up may involve quite some walking.

Another fantastic day out riding new places and now I just have to sit down and sort all the administrative details of HBAT.

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.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, MTB, NZ

Whirinaki and Moerangi Trails

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Thirteen years since I last mountain-biked in Whirinaki Forest Park, it was an easy decision to head over after work Friday to meet a group from the Bay of Plenty to bikepack the since-opened-to-bikes Moerangi Trail. Cutting through some rough and rutted forestry roads was probably a bit of a shock for my little car, which is usually lucky just to get out of the garage. Nonetheless, two hours of driving had me at the Whirinaki Rec. Camp where we would stay Friday night and then leave our vehicles, hopefully, safe and sound.

The three keen ones that had biked over a hundred kilometres from Rotorua already had the fire roaring in the large outdoor kitchen and dining area. Introductions were made, dinners were cooking and the rest of the crew arrived well after dark. Brief and light showers passed as we chatted around the fire and most drifted off to bed early.

Saturday dawned clear and bright. As we had ample time to get to Skips Hut that night, we left our bikepacking kit at the camp and headed off for a warm-up lap around the MTB track. The climb to the trailhead got the heart going.

Continuing to climb through dense forest, the kaka called raucously as we passed. Unloaded bikes were great as we made good time around. Getting further down the track tree fall became more prevalent. Some it was worth stopping to clear, others were too large and required a bit of portage over or around. I had a blast once all the descending started. On a fully rigid bike, line choice became more important as there were plenty of water channels and other obstacles to pick around or through. So much fun on such a short trail.

Back at camp, an early lunch was cooked and eaten amongst packing of bikes and enjoying the sun’s warmth. As we had all afternoon to ride less than forty kilometres to Skips Hut, adding a side-trip to Ruatahuna (there’s a cafe there now) and back was mooted. That would have been another forty kilometres and nigh-on a thousand metres of climbing. We decided to forgo that “opportunity” have a more leisurely afternoon and set off for the Waikaremoana Road.

This camp is fantastic – three ten-bunk cabins ($30/night/cabin), flush toilets, solar-heated showers, no electricity or cell reception and a big sheltered kitchen-dining area.

Up the only decent hill on that section of main road, we regrouped at the top in the sun (trying to ignore the waft of a recently deceased animal somewhere in the bush) before descending to the turn-off. The road gently climbed for most of its length alongside the Okahu stream.

Dense forest surrounded the flood debris and damage.

The kicker was the end of the road that reared steeply to the parking lot and gavevanother opportunity to regroup.

I had plenty of opportunity to lean my bike on trail entrances.

The afternoon started to cool as we lost the sun and headed into the forest. The climbing got even steeper as we wound our way up to the watershed and into Hawke’s Bay. But with the trail twisting and turning to concentrate on, it was easier going than that last stretch of road. Thoroughly enjoying the drop to the hut, a trail crew must have been through as it was clear of fallen trees.

There were a few of these bridges, which in themselves were OK – but the approaches only had a rail on one side and often a precipitous drop close to where the rail forced one to ride. Also, I found the last of the sunlight.

This small waterfall was shortly before Skips Hut.

Slips had made parts of the approach to the hut well exposed, but save a bit of clay mud, all were through OK. With two others already in the nine-bed hut, our group of seven filled it nicely and we didn’t have to carry onto the next hut. Again dinner was cooked, the fire lit and biking-centred chat ensued. Also again, most went to sleep early while Pete and I chatted about biking trips and routes past and future.

Crammed on the third level of bunks up against the ceiling (getting onto the bed and into a sleeping bag demanded all of my limited flexibility), I could have slept a lot worse than I did. We rose with daybreak, ate and packed. A clear morning for the first day of spring, there was a heavy frost. I’d put my bike under the verandah but found myself scraping much frost off it before we departed. Leaving before eight, digits were numb with the cold for the first half hour. The climbing continued, with a lot of the gradient easily over ten percent.

Half an hour later the sunlight started to fall on the canopy not far from where I was; emerging into the open around Rogers Hut, I finally felt its warmth on my skin.

One of the earliest huts in the park, it was built for deer cullers going about their work as deer ran rampant in the forest.

Not many huts I’ve been to have stained glass windows.

Word came through that the tail were fixing a puncture; John and Tony weren’t hanging around as they were riding back to Rotorua, so I continued with them as I was keen to keep warm and make short work of remaining twenty kilometres. That did include a two-hour climb back over the watershed returning to the Bay of Plenty. Thickly forested, there were occasional glimpses further afield.

One of the highlights of the weekend was watching a pair of blue ducks noisily make their way down this rather turbulent bit of stream.

Waiting quarter of an hour at the turn-off to Moerangi Hut seemed a bit much, so I continued to the top before thoroughly enjoying the long and fun descent all the way to the end of the trail.

Looking out over Bay of Plenty hills again.

With plenty of time before noon, on the few kilometres of gravel back to the car I tweaked a few things after my bike fit the previous weekend. While it was a short weekend by distance (less than a hundred kilometres), there was a fair bit of climbing and time on the bike. I’m pleased so far with how minor adjustments to riding position, a new saddle, and arch support in my shoes has made my riding position more neutral and comfortable, while also seeming to give a better base for, and transfer of, power to the pedals. There is of course the chance that I’m fooling myself, but I guess time shall tell.

Lunching in the sun, I packed the car and enjoyed the drive home reflecting on a most excellent weekend and scheming up more rides in the area. It was a great group – most are preparing for next year’s Tour Aotearoa and seemed interested to hear bikepacking stories and tips. Good fun learning from others and sharing the ride, I’m looking forward to more such rides soon. Thanks to Malcolm (from Te Puke, no less) for organising it all.

After four years, I finally turned off the highway and checked out Waipunga Falls – mostly because I’d been driving beside the river for quite a while that afternoon.

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, NZ

Scouting Sunday – Mahia Peninsula

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Being able to ride around Kahutara Point was one of the main extra things that convinced me to spend the whole weekend around Mahia. So the riding schedule for the weekend was dictated by one suitably-timed low tide. The hour from sunrise took me east across the top of the peninsula, as I watched the sun come up over the still estuary and Pacific.

Decidedly unshabby resting spot.

Tide was assuredly out, this boded well.

An hour in, I turned off the “main” road (no traffic at that time of a Sunday) for a short section of gravel before a locked, barbed gate and threatening signs. Spying an actual living person, I easily got permission to ride the short section of private land to the beach. The riding was reasonably hard-packed sand – not quite as fast as Blackhead Beach the week before – and a little bit of flat rock slab where the intertidal zone couldn’t be avoided. Stunning morning to be riding with the sun and breeze behind me.

Unusual sounds snapped me out of my reverie; I realised I was passing a very large seal colony waking on the dunes to my right. The ten kilometres to Wainuiorangi Road was over in just less than an hour, and only had one kilometre of pushing and short carries around a rocky point. I decided to continue along the beach to see just how far the paper road was rideable.

By nine o’clock it was well too hot for gloves and a helmet. What is this winter madness?

Halfway along this stretch, I decided no one would thank me for this rough going – and I was well aware there may be no other way out. So with the tide advancing, I retreated to the road up onto the main road along the ridge.

Briefly the actual road diverted from the paper road, I managed to get across this stretch of private land without reaching for some koha.

There began thirty kilometres of ridge riding – first getting up 350 metres above the sea, and then riding all the undulations. Great fun, mostly gravel – but with some seal on the steepest parts. The wind was starting to get up, and seemed to be coming across Hawke Bay into me. I saw no traffic, admired the varied views (sheep country, native bush, plantation forest, the Pacific and the bay) and came around a corner to see a few cattle grazing the roadside. After some kilometres I reached the farm buildings and gates. With the wind continuing to strengthen and my way barred, it was time to turn and head back.

Have I mentioned I quite liked the ridge riding – Pacific on one side, Hawke Bay on the other?

Portland Island.

Looking down to Rocket Lab’s launch site.

Apart from being blown off my bike, just the once, when riding out of the shelter of a cutting, the return to town was quite straight forward. Back for a late lunch after a most excellent half-day’s riding, the only disappointment was how the road just ends at gates with no views of the beauty one knows is just there. How to end my route fittingly is proving to be a bit of a conundrum.