Category Archives: GPS

bikepacking, bikes, GPS, national park, NZ

A40BPT1 – Hokitika to Ces Clark hut (Paparoa)

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Eight weeks earlier I got a speculative “I’m flying to Hokitika and biking to Nelson over ten days, what are you doing?” call out of the blue from Pete. As it happens, not enough that I didn’t quickly sign up for riding three of the best multi-day (if you take your time, which we were planning to do being late-winter touring) bikeable trails in the country. It also helped that it made the long drive for the preceding weekend’s plan (which was postponed due to all the rain) far more worthwhile. So it was that I came to pick Pete up from Hokitika airport on a bleak West Coast afternoon – which just happened to be a notable, but quiet, birthday for me.

Over a suitably extravagant birthday dinner, the plan was reviewed – hoping to ride the Paparoa, Denniston Shortcut, Old Ghost Road, Heaphy and Rameka routes late in winter, we put in plenty of slack and options should the inclement weather continue (although the forecast was remarkably good), either of the two major rivers we had to cross be impassable, or other mishaps befall us. Back to load the bikes – it was summer that I’d last bikepacked, so there were far more layers and general touring gear to find a home for. Rain overnight kept me awake a bit, but the day dawned without it.

Pleased to have the bags back on, and keen to see how a suspension fork goes on these technical trails. I survived rigid last time, but I suspected I’d enjoy the change to plushness.

The day’s destination – them there hills.

A flat warm-up along the highway to Kumara Junction, somehow I managed to soon fall off. Trying to get on the footpath to avoid the traffic on a narrow bridge, the angled curb was far greasier than I expected and away went my front wheel. A bit of a wound on my knee to clean out and cover, actually using the always-carried, but seldom-used, first aid kit. Annoying, but as that was my only fall on a trip that included some tricky trails I’ll take it. Oddly and amusingly, one of Pete’s water bottles sheared clean in two on one snack stop. Left me wondering why I was carrying two large bottles on the Coast, where drinking water is abundant.

We joined the West Coast Wilderness Trail along the coast to Greymouth, where it took an age to buy a hut ticket.

A cruisy hour and a half up the Grey River valley and the short ascent to Blackball where the last shop before the trail provided us with more snacks. Apparently the road to the southern trailhead was closed due to a slip, but we expected we’d get past it. Strangely, for all the Road Closed Ahead warning signs and closed gates, we never saw a Road Closed sign as we approached the Smoke Ho carpark.

Oh, is that it? Of course, DOC *eyeroll. We saw much worse than this on, open, main West Coast roads. Clearly, we passed this easily on bikes.

One wonders how much the small communities vested in such trails suffer from disproportionate risk aversion. Such a waste after all the resources spent on these facilities in national parks. This ridiculousness meant the carpark was empty, and we had the whole amazing trail and huts to ourselves.

Time for what must be one of my favourite climbs – the old Croesus pack track.

Ooh, this is new and more colourful than I’m used to for such things.

Much of the two hour, ten kilometre climb is graded like this (around six percent) and the surface is so long embedded that it holds up well in the local climate.

A couple of bridges to cross before following the true left of Blackball Creek for some time.

Love the moss and general green – so nice to be back in the bush, I miss it.

There used to be a hotel here. Heading for that ridge up there.

Bits of the trail are a bit chunkier.

Actually, a lot of the trail is more technical – but I was having too much fun trying to ride as much as possible to stop and take photos. There are plenty of little stream crossings in and out of bends in the track – these are the most tricky parts. Heavily loaded and with not much time on a bike recently, I was well pleased to clear ninety-nine percent of the climb; satisfying, and very engaging riding.

Emerging from the bush, almost there.

Top Hut, perfectly good overflow shelter if the main hut happens to be full

We arrived at the hut in plenty of time to enjoy the views, get the fire going, appreciate a great day getting into the trip and eat a lot of the food we’d dragged up the hill.

Over the Grey River to Lake Brunner and the Southern Alps beyond.

bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Canterbury Alternate

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Unfortunately, with a week of heavy rain forecast, our long-planned and highly anticipated weekend exploring Mt White Station was postponed. But with another trip planned in tandem the following week, it was still worth heading to Christchurch early to catch-up with friends and attempt to get a little riding in and some fitness back after a strangely inactive winter (unusually wet in Naseby, and winter ills didn’t help).

Andrew and Richard were keen to get out for some rain-riding in preparation for a slightly insane upcoming event; I was happy to tag along as it wasn’t a daunting plan, despite the forecast. A hundred-odd kilometres on the Friday, backpacker accommodation and a pub meal, a shorter return the following day; easy. Meeting in Sheffield after eight, it wasn’t too early for one of the famous eponymous pies. I was surprised how soon the gravel started off the highway (immediately) as we headed southwest towards the Rakaia river under grey skies. I was slow, but had a chance to catch breath as Richard dealt to a flat tyre early on.

Easy going to start.

New places to me, we were soon through Whitecliffs and on another section of provincial highway. Spotting a “Defence Area – Keep Out” sign, I was a little mystified – didn’t know there was a military base out here, but there was a second sign so I wasn’t seeing things. Off the highway, we didn’t drop to the river – staying on its true left as we headed towards the mountains. Past the top of Zig Zag Rd, things looked a little familiar from halfway throughTTW last year. Easy going with a slight tailwind up the valley.

Oh yes, I remember this plethora of signs in the middle of nowhere. Continuing straight was new again and took us to Lake Coleridge village and a lunch stop.

There began about five hundred metres of elevation gain, the gradient never really getting above five percent – but my lack of riding was soon shining through, feeling decidedly flat (me, not the hill by any means). This shouldn’t be this hard, but nothing for it to keep an eye on the scenery, continue eating and keep pedalling.

Across the Rakaia.

Over the penstocks to the Southern Alps.

Things flattened briefly as we rejoined the TTW route near the end of Lake Coleridge. The Lake Lyndon road was apparently closed for winter, so it was odd to see some inappropriate cars giving it a go – folk from the city looking for snow! It had all been washed away with the rain. Another long slow climb to another lake, the surface being wet and slow didn’t help – but mostly it was a lack of fitness. Richard had had Covid-19 more recently than me and was suffering even more, even I in my state had quite a wait at the lake.

Out to the highway and a short pinch climb up to Porters Pass, before the long descent to Springfield where a hot shower, a pub meal and a miserable excuse for a futon awaited. A good day on the bike, strangely tough for a benign route (good training for something), some new sights, fun company; alas, none of the promised rain.

Just a few hours of easy riding planned to get back to cars, but we’d been told we could ride in the forest at Mt Misery (yippee) en route. This soon became questionable as with the earth sodden from all the recent rain and clearly some big winds having ripped through, there was tree-fall like I’ve never seen in a plantation forest. I’d have preferred to go to the summit, but around the hill we went. Thankfully, the double-track had been cleared of the fallen trees; this meant the surface was both sodden and chewed up. Slow-going, but it could have been a lot worse.

Just as well I had a sacrificial drivetrain – expecting wet and grit on the West Coast the following week.

The Defence Area signs made more sense seeing what we couldn’t see from the road on the other side of the valley floor the previous day. Munitions dumps, cue too many memories of reading about process safety incidents, design and the hierarchy of controls.

Eventually we got out of it and climbed on decent forestry road.

Reward for the little climb and slow surface.

Best example of the storm damage in there.

The fast descent off the hill was much appreciated and we were back on the roads to Sheffield, and another pie. Sodden farmland everywhere, looked like a tough winter as some paddocks more resembled swamps. Malvern Hills Rd strangely wasn’t hilly, mostly just skirting the base of said hills. Done by lunchtime and back to clean up, eat, and rest. Still none of the promised rain.

Sunday I’d arranged to catch-up with Mark, hopefully over a gentle two or three hour ride. But agreeing to take the passenger ferry across Lyttelton Harbour to the notoriously hilly Banks Peninsula the writing was on the wall; Grant arrived just as we boarded, by then it was in screaming capitals. My first taste of bike riding on the peninsula was going to be very climby.

But with a day like this…

The calm before.

The sealed climb out of Diamond Harbour passed quickly enough in the cool of the morning and with plenty of chat; maybe a bit too fast. Soon the drop to Port Levy – the only place I’d previously spent any time in the area, a few days of eating, sleeping and barely moving trying to overcome the fatigue and limping post-TTW. I certainly didn’t spend those days riding up four-hundred metre climbs back to back.

Down to Port Levy on the climb out.

By the second summit, I was done. I could either turn back now alone and retrace my steps, or continue with three more climbs (the next the toughest, the following the biggest) with Mark and Grant. Riding alone was not the point of the day, but I’d only brought snacks for a few hours. But encouraged by word of a pub lunch and plenty of snacks to be shared – the choice to continue on a glorious day to see some new places in fun company was the only one to be made. I’d be slow, but I’d get there.

Down to Pigeon Bay.

The Pettigrews Rd climb was, I was told later, not the easiest way to the Summit Rd – but at twelve percent for over half an hour, it was not as tough as the impression I got of it beforehand. Still, I lagged. The reward, delayed by ten minutes of riding along the ridge, was the Hilltop pub and a lot of tasty food (even chicken chips/crisps, which I generally detest, tasted good) soon disappeared.

View to Akaroa Harbour wasn’t bad either.

A fresh descent of Harmans Track was over in a flash, to leave us with the slightly less steep, but much longer and higher climb up Western Valley Road. It certainly went on, but with all that food I wasn’t falling so far behind. Unfortunately the drop back to Port Levy was a bit mucky with recent forestry traffic, but fun all the same before the last four hundred metre climb of the day had us back at Diamond Harbour with time for refreshments before the ferry back across the harbour.

An excellent introduction to Banks Peninsula riding, I survived and hopefully got a bit of bike-fitness back – plenty of food certainly helps. Thanks Mark and Grant for the encouragement and all the chat.

That was about the riding for almost a week around Christchurch, I must return for some more. Special thanks to Jo and Andy for such generous hospitality.

bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Southern Special – Meg Hut to Clyde

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Wet feet as soon as leaving the hut, we were soon pushing and lifting our bikes up a skinny track for a bit of early (well, eight o’clock – early for this trip) hike-a-bike. Andy and I were thoroughly schooled as Rachel went for the full bike carry across her shoulders. But the tussock and trail were not so bad to dissuade me from keeping my wheels on or close to the ground.

A clear start to the day, but it hadn’t been cold overnight.

Hut getting smaller; Rachel’s photo.

Bit of a switchback, waiting patiently for the sun to strike the corrugated iron of the hut. Alas, as slow as progress was hiking up the hill – it wasn’t slow enough.

After gaining two hundred metres in half an hour, the Cromwell Cardrona Pack Track became old 4WD track and surprisingly rideable.

Well, there was still the odd steep part. The ridge behind, part of the previous day’s route (left to right).

We started to get glimpses of snowy peaks in the distance.

Almost two hours and five kilometres, in it was decision time. Do we continue on the direct pack track to Deep Creek on a barely-there trail (bound to be overgrown with tussocks and spaniards) or do the other two sides of a triangle north-east and then south on 4WD track? After much deliberation, we gave the pack track a go. That barely lasted a hundred metres, the going was far too slow and tough. We bailed and headed off on the double track.

This did mean an extra couple of hundred metres of climbing, but it was far more rideable than the pack track!

Andy in his element setting up for more videoing. Nevis Valley way off south.

Mt Aspiring making an appearance.

The climbing pretty much done now, we had quite a descent to look forward to. About 1400 metres, wahoo!

But first, someone insisted (ahem, me) that we should walk up to the highest point of our trip – Mt Dottrel – as, when would we be back?

A steady climb to the flat top, the first real bit of downhill we’d done that day behind.

I think it was worth it. Cromwell down below with Lake Dunstan and the Cairnmuir Mountains behind. Old Man Range on far right, we’d go over that low point between the two later in the day

Back at the bikes, there was nothing for it but the long, surprisingly smooth considering, downhill interspersed with many stops as new angles on the view opened up to stop us in our tracks.

Mt Dottrel at rear.

The southern end of the Dunstan Range – must get up there.

A rut! Quite a surprise. Rachel’s photo.

Lifting our bikes over a locked gate, I was beginning to feel that we weren’t on the farm that we had permission to be on. But what would it matter up here?! We’d eventually get to where we were supposed to be. But with such a warm still day up here – really, not a breath of wind, uncanny – the leaseholders were up maintaining one of their huts. What are the chances?! Apologising profusely for inadvertently trespassing, they were very gracious and up for a bit of a yarn. The beers before noon probably helped us in this situation.

Even this newspaper clipping was dragged out – not the last time we were told that day of Rambo’s demise. After what I saw over a month prior, he had it coming.

With helpful directions of how to get where we were supposed to be (there was still quite a bit of the wrong farm to get through), we farewelled the farmers and headed off – straight up a pinch climb, only just managing to ride all of that.

There was much enjoyment to be had on the Pisas picking out places the three of us had ridden together recently. Here the Chain Hills, Dunstan Saddle, the Lauder Conservation Area were visible in front of the St Bathans Range. Still more places to return to or explore for the first time.

Into the farm we were supposed to be on, finally!

Occasionally spaniard plants aren’t making me yelp in sudden pain, the spikes seen indicate why they often do.

Twas a fun and fast descent.

Rachel’s photo.

Up the Kawarau Gorge; soon, I’m told, there will be a cycle trail down there to connect to Queenstown. That’ll be cycle trail all the way from Middlemarch! Will just remain to connect it to Dunedin.

Getting lower. Over to Bannockburn, the start of the Nevis Road, the Old Man and the afternoon’s route over Hawksburn Rd.

Picking out the sheep tracks that I “ran” up and down on last year’s Mt Difficulty trail half-marathon. What was I thinking?

Down in the valley floor, it was heating up. So we went to the pub.

You wouldn’t pick it, but this photo is for the slight view of the Pisa Range and where we were just an hour or so before. Quite satisfying sitting eating looking at that, exclaiming “we were up there”! It was fantastic after all.

Eating, the real reason we go bikepacking. Also notable for Andy’s remarkably clean shirt (Clean Shirt!), bought just for being vaguely presentable in Queenstown. Rachel’s photo.

Having spied family friends drive past us on our brief road section, I insisted we go and visit in Bannockburn. Partly because I’d not caught up in years, partly because it was midway through a northwesterly-fanned scorching afternoon. I think we all enjoyed the visit, fresh summer fruit, and respite from the sun.

Lagging as we again headed out of town, I was taking it easy. It was a blessing when the hot tailwind turned to a cooler headwind, funnily enough. Just twenty kilometres and five hundred metres of climbing before we returned to our start point, I finally seemed to get stronger. Maybe it was just because Hawksburn Rd had always been a bit of a challenge, but after the time over Percy Saddle and then on the Pisas, this was just a small bump in the topography. The elevation graph certainly shows it like that! It must be said that the surface up to and on the pylon road is much improved – far more rideable than I remember.

Hawksburn Farm in the sun, Old Man Range behind.

Some of the last climbing for the trip, relatively easy going.

Undulating across the saddle, there’s the end of the Dunstan Range again. One day…

Finally, one last, steep downhill back to Mark’s place.

With that, our week-long tour was over. Still can’t believe the weather, never had to put my rain coat on once! In fact, in eleven days bikepacking together on long-planned trips – I wore my raincoat only to drop off the Lauders when it suddenly got cold for a long descent. Considering the terrain we’ve been in, that’s something. And that’s just a bonus on top of the enjoyment these trips exploring lower South Island hills with Andy and Rachel brings – another cracker.

One more plug for a far better summary of what the trip was actually like: Andy’s video.

bikepacking, bikes, friends, GPS, NZ

Southern Special – Queenstown to Meg Hut

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Again, we escaped the conveniences of a town and were on the bikes by the crack of mid-morning (as Andy eloquently put it); there hadn’t been that much weather to miss really. But the overnight recharge in Queenstown, along with all the food, was most welcome.

Ok, one food picture. Not my usual breakfast while bikepacking, or any time at all. Delicious.

Easy trails around the lake got us through and out of the resort with plenty of room to chat amongst the morning dogwalkers, joggers and cyclists.

Certainly was worth waiting for skies like this.

Down beside the Kawarau before switching to up the Shotover at the confluence, it was all familiar going – albeit in reverse to event routes that have previously taken me through here.

Over the old Shotover bridge, past a head on the river flats, and looking up to Coronet Peak.

A steep climb soon greeted us on the alternative route to Arrowtown – apparently the main trail back down the Kawarau was closed at some point, I didn’t miss the lumpy bit through the deer farm. So backroads it was, some of the signage was easily missed it seemed as we ended making our own route towards the Millbrook resort. Whoever shoehorned a visit to the resort up a nasty climb obviously hated cyclists. Riding through the golf course and interspersed luxury houses was a little odd, and we’d even showered and done some laundry the previous evening.

An early lunch in the sun opposite the famed Arrowtown bakery done, as well as stocking up for second-lunch, we were finally ready to get into the day proper. Riding up Tobins Track was nowhere as steep as I remembered from having far too much fun in the opposite direction, there was shade to start but that soon disappeared. Things flatten out, comparatively, between the end of the track and reaching the Crown Range Road (the most direct road between Queenstown and Wanaka).

Back towards Queenstown with a little more elevation.

Joining the busy road, the surface was smooth and the climbing quite alright – around ten percent. A warm still afternoon, past the farmland we gratefully stopped at the small streams cascading to and under the road to rehydrate.

I spied a turnout and wanted a better view, letting the others get ahead. Down to Gibbston.

Strangely empty road, apart from the two bikes that I now had to chase down.

Finding a lot of energy from somewhere (blood and energy levels back to normal, whatever that is, by now), I eventually managed to catch Rachel and was surprised as I was catching Andy to hear even more exuberant greeting from a passing car than the other toots we’d had. Eventually I realised it was Olly, who I rode/pushed/carried much of TTW with, hanging out a window. Excellent to catch up at the road summit before he continued to Coronet for some mountain-biking. Onto 4WD track, we pushed up and around the corner for second-lunch out of earshot of the traffic noise.

Pushing up 4WD tracks through large tussocks and spaniards is becoming a habit, especially with Andy and Rachel as companions – fine by me as it promises big views, new places and long downhills. Past the switchbacks there was even some riding to be had as the climb slackened.

Rachel’s photo.

Ditching the bikes briefly, an unencumbered walk on the last little bit to Rock Peak was welcome – as was the three-sixty degree panorama.

Mt Cardrona, not much of a ski field at this time.

Spaniards smell remarkably like pine cleaner. Who knew? Well, we did as Andy had been telling of it on the previous trip. Rachel’s photo.

Things kicked again, but more rideable than I thought.

Towards Quartz Knoll, the highest point of the day, as we approached Mt Allen.

Somewhere over there, hidden, is the hut we were looking for.

The push up to Quartz Knoll, looking back to Mt Allen. Nevis Valley, from the first day of the trip, way off in the background.

Standing on Quartz Knoll looking southwest-ish to Rock Peak (left, midground). The Airways installation to help passenger jets land at Queenstown visible.

East to the southern part of the Pisa Range, it would keep until the following day.

Time for the Type I fun to start – fast, rocky, open descents.

More climbing, of course, on typical ridge riding.

Plenty more ridge to go before dropping to Tuohys Gully. The roads to and of Snow Farm and the Southern Hemisphere Proving Grounds (testing of pre-production cars in winter) visible on right.

There’s a hut down there! Not ours though, although that track at the back is also for the following day’s climb.

More enjoyable downhill to the gully, four hours it took us to get our bikes the sixteen kilometres from the road summit – but there was a big lunch in there, as well as three diversions on foot to various high points.

Aha, there’s our hut! One last fun descent and even a stream crossing.

Thankfully no crazy talk of pushing onto the next hut (many hours away), six o’clock seemed a reasonable time to knock-off for the day and soak in the last of the sun as it deserted the valley.

Adorable wee hut, and we had it all to ourselves.