At lower elevation, sleeping in the proffered gazebo was far warmer than the previous night. Rampant mosquitoes were a drawback; eventually I succumbed and crawled inside my bivy bag. Neither of us got much sleep that night, with Pete being a little ill to add to the sleep-robbery of whining bugs. Astoundingly, two different people in our generous hosting party added a little extra to their respective pans – combining to satisfy even our hunger:

A more leisurely departure, we left around half-seven facing a similar distance day to that which took us to Whirinaki – a little less climbing, no singletrack and more sealed roads should see us finish earlier. First up, fifty-five kilometres of deserted forestry roads. The climbing began straight away to warm us up. Having driven through this easement through privately owned forest, I remembered more plantation – but was pleasantly surprised at how much native forest there was to cycle through.

The rain looked like it was just over the provincial border, so it was some time before we found it. As we climbed through five hundred metres of elevation, Pete was feeling the effects of a restless night – I had plenty of stops before it was suggested I ride on ahead.

Getting on towards noon, with a much better appreciation of the lay of the land I’ve now driven through four times, I was taken aback to see a pick-up just before exiting the forest. The first of the paper roads that I hoped would cut out kilometres of highway was a big jumble of locked gates, signs promising video surveillance, tracks that didn’t follow the legal corridor and six groups of beehives protecting the route that looked most likely. Not overly comfortable with that, I climbed up the old highway to join the traffic on the current one. We were later told that the current owners of the land are rather protective of their crop, of questionable legality, so I’m glad I didn’t find that out for myself.

Mixing it with the roaring traffic down a long hill in stinging rain was over soon enough, and I was through the Waipunga River gorge and stopping at the only store of the day – Tarawera Cafe is a busy little spot, with a fantastic display of local history and plenty of food. I enjoyed refuelling as I watched the constant rotation of squally showers blowing through and the sun reemerging; Pete arrived as I was finishing up, so I lingered a while longer. It promptly poured down, jacket on and a bit more highway until the next paper road. This one went through – I climbed a steady ten percent for half an hour, the jacket not lasting long as the afternoon warmed and the views opened out. Once more, my appreciation of the connectedness of many hills and valleys I’ve only previously glimpsed improved.

Northern Kawekas obscured – but the plateau in the centre is where Steve & I ended up on the Sunday morning of the last hot springs trip.

A little gentle ridge riding led to a big fast downhill, mostly on highway, to cross the Mohaka again before a short grovel up off the main road onto Waitara Rd. Past Glenfalls campground the seal ends and once again there was no traffic to speak of; but the rollers, oh the rollers. Every climb seemed to be followed immediately by an almost-equally large descent. A couple of sprinkles of rain came in on the now helpful wind.

I still haven’t done the Bell Rock hike, but I knew we had to climb to about the height of that ridge before the last long descent.

With just thirty kilometres to go, I promised myself a stop at five hundred metres elevation to eat most of my remaining food and enjoy the scenery before putting on some music and enjoying the remainder of the climb. The steepness soon abated and it really was most pleasant to ride up a road I’d only ever ridden down before.

At the junction with Pohokura Rd a little sun broke through to throw dappled light on yet another section of road to explore.

Most of the way up, one could look northwest over to hills we’d recently been riding through and around.

Clagged in again, but there was no rain on the long descent.

In fact, there was some evening light as favourite views of Darkys Spur and surrounds came back.

Looking west from Matahorua Rd, almost there…

Ten kilometres of seal, some more rollers – kinder this time – and one last little climb later, I was rolling back to the car. It may have taken five months from conception to get to ride my little HBOP loop – but well worth the wait. What a fine and full weekend – fifty hours, 380 km and about 8500 m of climbing. But numbers alone hardly tell the story of all the deserted backroads, greenery and hills everywhere, great people and pleasant mid-summer riding weather (i.e. I didn’t cook). Bike in the car, I popped in to meet Graham and Sue – plied with cups of tea and slices of cake, conversation of bike adventures past and future, history of the local area and potentially arranging access to private land flowed. I could have stayed far longer; but Pete was still out there and there was the small matter of driving home, eating a lot and getting to work in the morning – so off I went suitably exhausted, but fizzing for the ride completed and more rides to come.

Having driven little-known forestry roads to get to the fabulous Moerangi Track last winter, on the return home I couldn’t get the idea of an ambitious weekend bikepacking loop out of my mind. With minimal driving after work on a Friday, many Hawke’s Bay and some Bay of Plenty backroads could be explored. That night, HBOP was compiled; it only took until mid-summer to find a free weekend to ride it (worth noting that the winter weather was warmer than much of the weekend we just had!). Pete, with similar inclinations to explore new backroads (although I’m surprised there’s much of the North Island he’s not ridden) and much more time than me for such trips, was keen to join in – didn’t get any other takers, can’t imagine why.

So with a cool, cloudy and damp weekend forecast we drove the road north from work and started riding at half-four. The thirty kilometres of highway was lumpy and quiet enough – bringing back memories of HBAT. The south-easterly, while cooling, was also at our backs and continued to help as we turned inland and climbed Putere Road. Past the Cricklewood turn-off, we dropped suddenly to Putere and Pete was on new roads. The Panekiri Range (that which is far more imposing from the far side of Lake Waikaremoana) was startlingly close, but shrouded in cloud.

Seems there are quite a few farms up here; we were on to Waireka Rd, leaving three others to return to and explore completely in the future.

I stopped and snapped a photo of Lake Rotonuiaha for, quite randomly, a fishing app that I was contacted out of the blue about.

The descent to the Waiau River was steep gravel, it would have been much faster but due to the grade was some of the most corrugated gravel I’ve ridden in a long time. No wonder steep rural roads around these parts are often sealed in part.

A pause over the Waiau. Now I was on new roads, huzzah!

Heading upstream, things were momentarily flat; over a cattle stop and we turned away from the river and begun to climb. As Pete remarked, you know it’s remote when the pasture is not fenced from the road. We startled a herd of cattle, I don’t think they see many bikes, and they ran off ahead of us. Thankfully they were not corralled on the road and didn’t get too scary. A bit more climbing and a couple of switchbacks later we found them again.

Looking south over the Waiau, that prow in the background demands closer investigation; March: hopefully I can get back up here.

Surrounded by hills, everything was new – climbing four hundred metres steadily, I enjoyed trying to pick out the road across the valley in the gathering gloom. The folds in the hills as things darkened were fascinating, I certainly was looking forward to returning in some light.

Pleasingly, the drop to the Mangaone Stream didn’t steal all our hard-gained altitude. Nine o’clock by now, I was starting to fade and look for suitable shelter while Pete edged further ahead of me. We regained all the height we’d just lost before spying a tumbledown old building. We never worked out what it once was (unusual shearers’ quarters, perhaps), but it had a roof, walls and most of a floor. Luxury – who needs doors and windows anyway? I thought it might be exposed to the southerly, but it wasn’t too bad – we settled in for a decent night’s sleep. Assuredly a most excellent finish to the week – five hours of riding, plenty of climbing through some stunning hills, little traffic, good company and charming shelter to boot.

Huddled together in a corner for fear of falling.

Saturday morning view.

A palace to us.