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.

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.