Our hut-buddy kept Perry Saddle hut insanely warm all night, nice to get up to a not-freezing hut on a grey morning. It looked I might have to don my raincoat for the second day of the trip – but the rain abated just enough to start climbing to the high point of the track without it.

Easy climbing for twenty-five minutes.

Time to give the bikes another rest at the summit; usually worth a wander to the lookout.

South over the Flanagan Creek valley.

East to our first sighting of the Aorere River, which we’d follow all the way to Golden Bay.

There began our ninety minutes and eight hundred metres of descent to the end of the trail. Much fun with occasional stops to look through any break in the bush, chat to the only other trail user we saw (a trail runner out for the day) and clear the odd bit of tree fall.

A fleeting friendship at Aorere Shelter.

Two hours in and we were marking the end of an excellent, slow trip through the Heaphy with it mostly to ourselves – another memorable ride through, certainly is a special trail and place. Bit of a shock seeing even a little bit of traffic again as we rolled the thirty-five kilometres to Collingwood.

Brief stop at the Bainham Store, one day I’ll visit when it is open and poke around all the curious things on display inside.

They seemed to have a complete set.

Our charmed run with the weather continued as the rain threatened but stayed very much in the hills, as we went back to Rockville.

A big, delicious lunch was savoured at The Courthouse Cafe in Collingwood before we set off for Takaka, which was only half as far as I thought – score! Even better, the norwester was at our back the whole way.

A warm afternoon, well – warm enough for ice cream. We pottered a bit getting a derailleur hanger straightened and working out where to stay that night – we still had a day and a half to complete the last hundred kilometres to Nelson and Pete’s flight home. Jonathan came through for us and we could stay in a hut halfway up the last climb of note of the trip. Time to stock up for another night in the bush; I was most thankful for this as the late-afternoon rush in Takaka was a bit overwhelming and I just wanted to escape again.

I may have got a bit carried away buying non-freeze-dried ingredients to cook dinner. Somehow everything was squeezed in or strapped on, off we went.

With overloaded bikes, and half a dozen eggs, we opted for the easier and smooth gravel road climb over the singletrack. As it was, it was steep enough! We were pleased to see slips from recent heavy rain had been cleared, as I was happy to clear the climb.

Made it!

How good is this?!

I particularly enjoyed all the native birdsong, especially a raucous kea, that goes with all the hard work in planting the hillsides in natives. Cooking far too much carbonara in a large pot on a small stove by torchlight was also fun – plenty left for breakfast and lunch the following day.

The following day, the last of our excellent tour, is without photos as my phone further made its case for replacement. But it was fairly uneventful – I loved the Rameka climb again (we walked and chatted a lot, occasionally I tested myself on some of the technical parts, there was one slip which required a bit of carrying), Canaan Downs is very pleasant, the top half of the huge descent off Takaka Hill (sealed highway) was exhilarating, by the bottom half I was bored and disengaged! From there, I just told myself it was an eighty kilometre commute to Nelson and didn’t expect any more. Unexpectedly, I did get the second-best pie of the trip in Motueka – so that was a high point.

Andrew met us on the outskirts and guided us back to his, ending our ten-day Hokitika to Nelson tour of some of the best multi-day trails to be ridden in NZ. What a trip, so fortunate with the weather enabling Plan A to be realised, and being able to take our time through spectacular country wth few others around. Only some minor mechanicals (mostly flat tyres) slowed us, but not enough to disrupt plans. Thanks Pete for the idea, planning and invite – another trip to remember. Also thanks to Rachel, Nina, Jonathan, Andrew and Diana for the accommodation, food and mechanical support.

Twenty-three kilometres! Easily my shortest day of bikepacking yet. It was utterly fantastic; such a luxury to take our sweet time through the deserted Heaphy – we saw no-one else on the track all day.
Hand scribbled notes and maps in James Mackay hut told of a short track up the hill behind. On a nice morning, there was no way I wasn’t going up there. Even with a rough track, which was mostly up a rocky, rutted water channel, it was only fifteen minutes to climb the hundred metres to the summit of Otepo.

Down to Heaphy mouth.

The trig on top has certainly seen some weather.

Over to the Tubman Range; Heaphy River down in between somewhere.

Can’t stay staring around at the summit all morning, time to head down. Lush.

By the time I returned to finish packing, who knows how many coffees Pete had had – and it had clouded over. Shockingly, I had to put my raincoat on for the first time on the whole trip – seven days on the West Coast! Incredible fortune with the weather late-winter. The drizzle was light and the jacket didn’t last long as it soon ceased.

Back into the forest for a short while as we climbed towards Tasman district.

A small drop, with some trail clearing, took us to these flats beside the Saxon River.

I was hopeful of seeing my first takahe some time during this sightseeing day. I was delighted to see this pair as soon as I looked around the corner of Saxon Hut.

It was time for a long lunch in the hut watching their antics; very cool, and at times amusing.

Out into the Gouland Downs section; pleased the rain has stopped, always feels a bit exposed out here.

Here’s another Big River.

It didn’t really matter how slow we were going, but progress was reasonable enough as we entered the Enchanted Forest for a short time before popping out to Gouland Downs Hut.

It’s such a charming little hut, we were tempted to call it a day there – but it is very dark inside and the open fire has leant it a decidedly smokey atmosphere inside. But nevermind, caves to be found! On previous rides through I had no idea there were a number of small caves back under the Enchanted Forest – I’d unknowingly ridden over one four times! Leaving our bikes at the hut, we went exploring.

Down off one side of the trail…

The caves certainly were not hard to find.

And none too wet, we could walk underneath the trail with dry feet soon popping out on the other side to clamber back up.

Beginning to see how the forest got its moniker.

Follow the water and they’re even easier to find.

Back on the bikes for the last stretch, climbing gently a few hundred metres to Perry Saddle.

Leaving the Downs, another brief spell of jacket wearing.

I had good fun clearing as much as possible as the trail got rockier and more difficult to negotiate.

At the hut just after three, that was a most enjoyable short day seeing more than I have on previous faster rides through. We even had plenty of time to properly heat the sprawling hut this time; again, a bunk room each. I found a large book detailing the history of the track and area – fascinated, I read much of it that evening.

The briefest of appearances for the afternoon.

After all the food we’d eaten in Karamea, I’m wondering how we even managed to leave at nine o’clock. Overnight rain had gone, so our purple patch of late-winter weather continued with a slight breeze helping us north during forty-five minutes of flat road. With timings and weather not throwing any spanners in our plans, we were planning two nights on the Heaphy Track – which I’ve easily ridden in a day a few times. I was very much looking forward to spending the time to go slower and see more of the national park.

The unknown factor in our day being whether or not we’d be able to safely cross the Heaphy River – the large bridge over it having been destroyed in floods earlier in the year. Many days since any significant rain and plenty of time and contingency up our sleeves, we were going to give it a good look and see. Pete, and many others, had waded through the river with a bike before the bridge was built – so the plan was sound. We’d also heard of a big slip on the climb after the river, but that was being worked on.

Heading for Kohaihai – can see the bluff in the distance.

At the trail head we met someone also going to check out the damage and do a little trail work. We learnt of smaller slips on the coastal section, but were encouraged in our plan. Straight into the forest, and nikaus galore – they give such a tropical feel to the area, before the short climb up Kohaihai Bluff.

A short diversion to the lookout – north along the beaches which we’d ride beside for the next two hours.

Back along Scotts Beach to Kohaihai Bluff.

Still a few bridges across the bigger creeks pouring straight out of the hills into the sea.

Nikaus! Tall ones at that.

A clear section of trail – much of it was littered with big nikau fronds, other tree fall and wash from big, stormy tides.

What a day, what a place! Again, with the bridge out, we were the only ones going through and pretty much had it to ourselves.

We did find a few small slips along the coast which required a bit of bike-carrying and -wrestling to clear – nothing too serious.

Shortly before lunch at Heaphy Hut, it was the turn of Pete’s rear tyre to spring a leak. Strangely a plug wouldn’t seal it, so it was a nice long lunch for me – chatting to a helicopter pilot who’d landed down on the beach.

Lunch views. Tough day at the office.

The next section of trail had been used even less, so there were still more obstacles to be negotiated – it slowed us a bit, but wasn’t much of an issue.

More green beauty.

This however…

Bridge has definitely gone.

Scrambling down the bank, without bike, we quickly found this spot was much too deep. Further upstream, with a lot of bush bashing, it was far shallower – but quite rapid; unloaded we crossed successfully. I didn’t fancy being exhausted by hauling bags and bikes through the tangled bush before even attempting to get them across the river. The right bank was far more open, so it was easier to head downstream, past the bridge site, and investigate below the confluence of the Lewis. The rapids here were easier, and just above them Pete found the best crossing site. Certainly was worth taking our time to find this spot.

We returned to our bags and bikes upstream and brought them to the crossing spot. It all went swimmingly, except in the literal sense, and the crossing was easier than the Mackley three days before. Generally it was mid-thigh and, once the spot was found, there was nothing to it.

Over the Lewis to the missing hut (such a shame, it was a classic and actually had character – unlike the big new huts on the track) and the strange new shelter perched higher.

After poking around the shelter perplexed (why reduce the facilities available in unforeseen circumstances – i.e. the river is up?), there was two hours of riding and seven hundred metres of climbing to James Mackay hut. Along with whatever obstructions we found…

A few minor trees to carry over, a quarter of the way up we found a much larger tree, and its associated eco-system, over the track. Off the bank wasn’t safe, up the other bank was an impenetrable mess. So over the tangle it was. Cue twenty minutes of clambering and sliding over all manner of branches and vines, heaving bags and bikes in our chain of two to the other side.

Where has Pete gone?

Oh, there he is.

Am I grinning far too much in this situation due to the absurdity of this self-inflicted episode, or due to it being far easier than the Nydia bike-dismantling with a buddy to help, or because it’s a grand day in a fantastic national park? All three I’d say.

Through; yes there’s a track either side of – and under – that.

No sooner were we back on the bikes we spotted motorbike tracks – the trail crew had got this far, encouraging! We were soon seeing evidence of all the work they’d been doing (based at the hut at the top of the hill, they were working down). So while we had to deal with that fallen tree, we found the track had been reinstated through the slip and our progress was barely interrupted on the rest of the climb.

Through the slip.

For the consecutive days, we arrived at our destination comfortably before dark – much preferred. The hut is so large that we had an entire bunk room each, but it was a challenge to heat devoid of warmth and charm as it is. The trail workers were based in the warden’s accommodation just up the hill; so surprised to see people in the main hut, they came down for a chat. Turns out they’d got to the big fallen tree last thing at the day, took one look at it and left it for the following day – damn! Another successful day of our trip going to plan, great to be out in such weather enjoying little traffic on a popular track.

Woken a little overnight by the wind, it did have the effect of blowing a lot of cloud away – we were both delighted to find the morning a lot less clagged in than on either of our previous trips (mine here). We would see far more this time! Off we went completing the climb of the Croesus Track with a stiff, cool wind buffeting us from the right.

More nice rocky trail, heading towards Croesus Knob – must wander up there one day.

Towards Moonlight Tops. Spot the trail, left to right.

In the cold my phone continued to make a further case for its replacement, dying on me. But no matter, especially as there were soon other things to deal with. Nearing the high point of the day, two hundred metres higher than the hut we’d left, some innocuous-looking rocks conspired to put a two centimetre slash in the sidewall of what was, obviously now, too light a tyre. Frustrating; wouldn’t have been too difficult to consider what tyres were on my bike and the rockiness of these trails at home, and sensibly change it for something stronger and heavier.

Moving a little up the trail to a slightly more sheltered spot, cue over half an hour of giving up on trying to stitch the sidewall (tyre annoyingly too tough for this, but not resistant to the original damage), struggling to get the tyre off the rim, putting a tyre boot and tube in, and eventually getting the tyre reseated. No real drama, a good learning opportunity and for the first time I rode with duck tape and zip ties further protecting the tube – rather hoping it would also somehow stay together at least until we reached the highway, only forty kilometres of such rocky trail…

Pleasant riding along the tops, enjoying the views out west to the Tasman Sea and closer over the topography of the Paparoa Range. By the time we made it to Moonlight Tops Hut, a bit later than expected, it was definitely time to boil the billy and eat – along with putting all my tools back in the correct place and resurrecting my phone.

I do enjoy this view, anticipating getting to the escarpment on the right, and then riding very close to the top and edge of it. Not least for the goblin forest that covers this section.

Predominantly downhill, there is still a bit of climbing to be done – but this is no issue as it’s such a beautiful section of forest to ride through, one barely notices. Getting out of the increasingly strong and cold wind was also a bonus.

The mossy trees don’t have quite the same atmosphere when there’s no mist sneaking its tendrils through; but certainly not complaining about such a clear sky!

Continually distracted studying the old forest.

Popping out of the forest briefly to see the sea.

Ooh, the emergency shelter has been upgraded considerably. Digger garage this end, enclosed shelter other end – another good bivy spot.

We soon dropped off the ridge and began the steep, twisty descent towards Pororari Hut. It was still in reasonable condition considering all the weather it must be exposed to.

With no one else on the trail, I didn’t feel rushed to get off the bridge beneath this waterfall and managed a couple of snaps this time.

One of the more tightly-switchbacked sections through some enormous boulders.

The descent flattened out some, with the odd rise, as we dropped and lost the wind. A beautiful afternoon for riding.

It would be a shame not to stop at this thoughtfully provided seat.

As I was the previous time, I was transfixed by the tight contours of this peak – Lone Hand. The topo map is a mess of packed, twisted lines.

Such a nice, still afternoon there was no need to have afternoon tea inside the last hut.

Dropping to the Pororari River, the riding gets faster and the forest changes to far more ferns – sublime.

The trail crosses the river, and a side stream, before keeping its elevation as the river drops away through a small gorge. This gives a good chance to look back for a last glimpse of the range – only a small part of which we’ve thoroughly enjoyed riding and taking in the views from over the previous day.

The bike track departs from the walking track here and, with one last little sting in the tail, climbs a hundred metres to the next valley. I was astounded to happen across two daywalkers two hundred metres from the end of the trail – such was the solitude we’d had for the rest of the trail, a magnificent way to experience it. A short bit of highway and it was time for an ice cream to celebrate such fun on the Paparoa, and that my rear tyre was still inflated. The duck tape wasn’t much for this world, so off it came before heading north for fifty kilometres of highway.

Calm, clear and mild for a late-afternoon ride – Southern Alps off in the distance.

Heading into Fox River.

There’s still little tourist traffic around, so the highway riding was doubly pleasant. With near seven hundred metres of ascent to Westport, it was as much climbing as we’d done all day along and off the range. I was not fast. Even less so when my tube let go short of Charleston on a steep, twisty descent; that took another twenty-odd minutes of daylight, but it was still a blissful evening of riding into the dark.

Getting towards the northern end of the Paparoas.

Warmly welcomed by Nina, we were spoilt with cups of tea, a large dinner of stew and salad, dessert, much sharing of adventure stories, use of facilities to clean dirty clothes and riders, and most importantly a tyre was found that fit my bike – huzzah! It was much beefier in tread and construction – a far better option for the trails around here, I’d happily take the compromise of being even slower roads. Thanks Nina, and in-absentia Rachel (whose tyre I’d borrowed).

One excellent trail done, forecast still looking good, plans for crossing the Denniston reviewed (I was disproportionately looking forward to this as the only new bit of the route to me) and bike good to go again (sacrificial drivetrain still functioning, just feeling a little off) – our tour was off to a great start and further adventure beckoned.