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.

around home, NZ, snow

Naseby snow week

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This has easily been the best week of winter weather this year in Naseby, and according to some – the last few years. A decent fall of light, fluffy snow on Sunday and Monday has stuck around for five days now, with the help of a couple of dustings and some low overnight temperatures. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed getting out in much dryer conditions and playing in the sun riding, walking, running, skating and sledding. Pity my local ski buddy is unavailable this week, it’d be great to try to get back on the Ida Range now.

It’s been difficult to take a bad photo this week, such is how beautiful it’s been – so here are far too many of the sights I’ve enjoyed over the last few days.

An hour into the snowfall, the rain that was falling when I left home was beginning to turn to snow. I was surprised it did such a good job and was soon settling.

Finishing a little work to find this.

Wandering home, no sign of the ploughs yet.

Couldn’t sit at home – out the back of the forest on the bike. So much fun, especially getting showered in snow from the weighed-down branches and generally sliding around.

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Even more around on Monday morning.

I really do appreciate how it sits on the bare branches.

And the washing line.

That’s about the most use my letterbox has been all year – mail doesn’t get delivered to houses here.

Time for a walk.

Scott out clearing the side streets.

Hard work pushing nephew through this, thankfully didn’t take much to get him to sleep.

One of my favourite local houses, probably one of the smallest too.

Three hours of walking in the morning wasn’t enough, time for a run to see more.

Over the Maniototo to the Rock and Pillar Range.

I followed the water race a bit, before ducking off onto mountain bike trails to find some untouched snow.

Getting some elevation, and a lot of snow falling on me as the sun hit the trees.

I was surprised to find how much the pond had risen in the last few weeks with all the rain. It was just beginning to freeze over again on the edge.

With my older nephew at daycare, it was a lot easier to get Adele out to enjoy the idyllic scenes. Pushing the Chariot for an hour in deep snow was my exercise for the morning.

Drip, drip, drip as the roof slowly unloaded itself (it’s still going two days later).

Corrugated and curved snow.

Sunsets haven’t disappointed either.

A little family trip to the pond. With a morning nearing minus ten, there was enough ice to skate – just. See where I put my toe through the ice!

Kakanuis.

Another run to the back of the forest – where I found large patches of still untouched snow. With the frost, it’s so dry now – love scuffing my feet through it while running.

around home, NZ, snow

Little ski beyond Little Mt Ida

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July seemed a month of Covid finally catching up family here. First, I got off lightly with a mostly-enjoyable week of what I’m calling Covid-lite – plenty of reading, watching, eating and keeping warm by the fire. A little congestion returns occasionally, but I’ve been pleased with energy levels generally (as another venesection approaches), and on a couple of easy runs and a short gravel ride. Unfortunately family around the corner didn’t get off nearly so well, having a thoroughly horrible week of illness and little sleep. There wasn’t much I could do to help, save run a few errands; strangely it was more isolating than the week I was confined at home.

That month done, first of August seemed auspicious timing to finally get out in the local hills. James was keen and arranged access to explore beyond Little Mt Ida. Getting up on to the main range and to Mt Ida (which I’d walked to from the back of the range earlier in the year) was mooted, but we’d see how conditions were. I was pleased just to get to go up Little Mt Ida for the first time – long having looked at it with curiosity when nearby.

The access track was still frozen hard as we drove up it on a clear and quickly-warming morning. Truck parked on the zig-zag as we reached the snow, already the wind was picking up as getting the gear organised was very much done in the shelter of the vehicle. Not enough snow to bother putting skins on, as we’d soon be off the track and cutting across tussocks, skis were precariously attached to the side of my pack (tail-ends hanging a bit low) and off we set – trail runners sufficing so far; with no better place to put them, I was left trying to keep ski boot straps on my shoulder.

Mt St Bathans as we left the truck.

A steady walk up the mostly snow covered road, we kept going straight ahead off the road as it switchbacked to the summit. Twenty minutes of gradual descent to the conservation area boundary was easy enough, my skis didn’t catch too much, and there was enough snow that I only got spaniard-stabbed once. But my, it was windy on the saddle.

Getting much steeper, still some way to go before even thinking about putting skis on.

Home Hills on left in front of St Bathans Range.

The walking became much more difficult being undershod, thankfully James was breaking trail. Reaching the small gully we’d been aiming for, we decided it wasn’t worth trying to skin up – so we continued hiking. By now I was getting a bit concerned as to how I’d get down from here if we didn’t find more snow. Bit steep and icy for me carrying skis and boots; a misstep and stumble induced a decent twinge in my good-shoulder, so that was something to be mindful of. After near-on two hours and a whopping two kilometres, and ever-increasing wind, we approached more snow to the fate we’d anticipated – it was far too windy to go any further. Fortunately, there was a little gully off to the south that had been collecting much windblown snow.

Couldn’t stop looking at it.

Time to finally put skis on. Looking over Little Mt Ida to the Ida Valley and Dunstan Range.

Not exactly groomed conditions, so a great time to see if I could remember to ski. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it sure beat trying to walk off this slope! I certainly couldn’t turn as sharply as James, but my way down in some really nice snow was made – with some thought and trying my best to avoid varying shrubberies.

Unsure what I’m doing over there, but some proof I had skis on yesterday.

Good fun, even if big pockets of powder did catch me unawares and leave me trying to get up with skis slightly akimbo. I look forward to skiing again shortly. Traversing through increasing amounts of foliage, the skis were soon back on our packs – at least we’d dropped almost a hundred metres easily and avoided hiking the steepest part. With the ends of my skis constantly catching plants and snow, walking downhill was engaging; amusingly, my right ski kept trying to ankle-tap me as the strong wind blew it around.

Not unpleasant tussock walking with plenty to look at.

We went up the tussock covered slope above the top of the track at right, came down the gully to the right of that.

Back at the road, we couldn’t not ditch our gear for the short walk to the summit.

East to the Kakanuis.

Most excellent to get up in the hills for a little, low-speed adventure. As is often the case, I most appreciated seeing an area I’m somewhat familiar with from a different perspective and assemble the pieces on the landscape further in my mind.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.