Sunrise seemed a reasonable hour to leave the house and start the second day of the tour. Winding around Bluff Hill took us to two lookouts. Again, it wasn’t clear enough to get views of where we’d come from and where we were heading.

Over Napier to Cape Kidnappers.

With not even two hundred kilometre planned for the day, we started off by riding half of my commute. Out of the ordinary, we stopped in Bay View for an extended coffee break – having only just left Napier. Decadence. A short stint of highway later the route went up Waipunga Rd – one of my most-ridden local gravel roads. Twenty kilometres and seven hundred metres of climbing, it usually takes just over an hour. It was in horrible condition after seventy millimetres of rain and logging trucks running during said rain (I’m told) ten days beforehand. The slowest conditions I’ve ridden in up there dragged it out to near two hours.

However, Darkys Spur Road was in great condition as we lost most of the altitude gained in the run to Tutira, and another big stop at the last store we’d see that day. Ice cream in a milkshake and ice cream in a cone may have been involved.

Towards Maungaharuru Range from Darkys Spur.

Twenty kilometres of quiet, and hilly – naturally – back road got us off the highway as the day warmed. We turned to have the far-gentler-than-yesterday sou-west wind at our back. Next was the part of the route I was most disappointed with – twenty kilometres of highway that I just couldn’t avoid. Thankfully, the long weekend traffic was light as the shoulder was close to non-existent. Topping up water bottles at Kotemaori School, there wasn’t long before Mohaka Coach Rd – that I’d only driven while scouting.

Very much looking forward to riding it, I was not disappointed. Some shaded valley floor riding was appreciated as the afternoon warmed then gave way to a climb through farmland up to twists and turns through forest. We even passed a vehicle somewhere before a lovely descent to the mouth of the mighty Mohaka. Following a shady snack stop in the township, a series of pinch climbs and sharp descents didn’t seem the most efficient way of getting up to Raupunga.

I continued to regale Pete with tales of all the extra hills I considered putting in the route. 120 km and a couple of thousand metres of climbing into the day, I was glad I’d found some measure of restraint. Astonished to find a food cart just down Putere Road, it was disappointing that it was closing down for the day and we couldn’t get one of the large ice cream floats that was prominently pictured on the front. We settled for cold lemonade before setting off for ninety minutes of climbing towards Putere. Occasionally views of the Mohaka and beyond appeared through the forested area.

Turning onto Cricklewood Road, I was excited to be there as it was one of my favourite stretches from my scouting rides. Topping out just over five hundred metres above sea-level early on, you’d be forgiven that the remainder of the road returning to the low-land would be straight forward. But what Cricklewood Road keeps giving in views over the surrounding valleys, farmland and distant ranges, it gives equally in yet another climb after each little descent. Bathed in late-afternoon light it was mild as we made our way towards Wairoa.

It was tough, but I absolutely loved it – it doesn’t let up until five kilometres from the highway when it plunges giving up the remainder of the elevation. By then, you’ve earned it with over seven hundred metres of climbing; it’s tough mentally as you can see that you should be dropping soon, but the climbs just keep coming.

The last two hundred kilometres of the route may be my favourite as the roads are rugged, very quiet and give spectacular views. I’ve since been told Cricklewood Road is evil and the end of the route is brutal – which I consider a ringing endorsement.

Arriving in Wairoa around dusk, it had been a long but satisfying day. Just as much climbing as the day before, but in three-quarters the distance. Straight to find food, we’d barely leant our bikes against the shop front when Debbie and Emma arrived – after a later start, they’d been consistently gaining on us all day as we took many stops. Dinner promptly ordered and served, three mouthfuls later I suddenly came over very nauseous. Weird, I was sure I’d been eating enough salt and drinking enough. My propensity to be affected by the heat laid me low for a few hours.

Plans for bivying somewhere dissolved as the others arranged cabins at the unexpectedly delightful campground. With some extra fluids and electrolytes, I started to improve – but not enough that I could face watching a supposedly important game of rugby. I woke at one in the morning to find I’d not missed much, I was back to normal and ravenous – nothing for it but to finish a challenging, but excellent, day devouring cold takeaways in the dark.

Three short months since the idea struck me, thirteen of us assembled in Waipawa to ride the first Hawke’s Bay Anniversary Tour over the four-day long weekend. 550 kilometres awaited to take us from the south to the north of the province on backroads, gravel, through a farm, on cycle trails and a short stretches of highway. Well pleased that anyone turned up at all, it was excellent to see a couple of familiar faces and meet many for the first time, after much correspondence.

The heinous winds of the previous night had died down somewhat, but as the sun rose it was still blowing a fair bit from the west under grey skies.

I had a brief moment to myself not at all worrying about anything I may have forgotten.

As six-thirty approached, riders arrived but some were still missing – just as well no one was in a rush. Ten minutes later the last of the trackers were handed out, a brief and incomplete briefing delivered, a few photos taken and we rolled out a casual ten or so minutes late.

I’m smiling as I know what is to come on the route, just waiting to see how it will play out; everyone else is doing so as they’ve no idea about the hills and are off into the unknown.

It was an easy start, and although most had cool digits – the rain didn’t eventuate. With quiet backroads and wide cycle trail, chatting was easy – so much so that I completely missed a turn. Some turned back with me to battle the wind again, others didn’t; it really didn’t matter. The rural roads even quieter than I expected, chat flowed freely as various stories were swapped. As the group spread and the strong westerly momentarily became a headwind, Pete and I settled into our similar pace. The route turned away from the wind and was never that bad. Ugly Hill Rd, followed soon after by Old Hill Rd gave us first real climbing of the route.

Before long, we were plunging down two hundred metres to Porangahau careful not to be blown over by the gusty crosswind. We’d made good time to arrive for morning tea – pie time, and a relaxed break at the always wonderful horse-float coffee-cart. I’m told the coffee is very good, judging by the smoothies and home-baked muffins I’d believe so. Turning to the east, we left town as others arrived.

Parallel to the coast, we now had a tail wind up a long straight before turning onto more gravel to Blackhead Beach. Pretty lush gravel gave us a few little hills, but distracted us with views of coastal farming. We were surprised to catch up to Debbie and Emma – they’d clearly not stopped. Dropping suddenly to the beach, a squall blew through for the ten kilometre section. More than three hours before high-tide, it wasn’t as firm and fast as on the scouting ride, but easily rideable and charmingly beautiful.

Appropriating a hose at Pourerere, we rinsed the sand and salt off our bikes before the long climb away from the coast. The following section of gravel was far more fun in the reverse direction, as we headed down towards the coast again at Kairakau. Alas, we turned north a few hundred metres short and made for the farm. That five kilometres sapped the energy from us as the shingle was wet and slow.

The rain came into visit again and things cooled dramatically; the four of us stopped briefly in the shearers’ quarters at the farm entrance for hot drinks. It was very generous of the farm manager to allow us access across the farm, and use of the quarters – five riders would stay there overnight. There was even WiFi! It was fun to check on everyone’s progress along my little route. I was pleased that all, that planned to, got through the beach section before the incoming tide prevented them; it was less pleasing to hear later that they got fairly hailed on.

We couldn’t sit around all day…

With the wet weather, the climb through the farm was now a push where others discovered what I’d try to relay about how quickly the innocent looking dirt, when only slightly damp, sticks to wheels and bind them. The views I’d had the previous month were not around as we got wetter and wetter with a front blowing across. At times, it was downright cold – as far as that happens around here.

Kairakau is down there somewhere.

However, as happened last time, once riding along the ridge in a small gully it was quite sheltered and the rain left us for the rest of the day – in fact, the rest of the weekend.

Bare Island was finally visible; no chance of seeing Mahia and the finish this time.

Riding through the farm was easier this time as I knew where to go and the farmer had moved most of the stock – which meant half the gates were open, so good! The descent towards Waimarama was still proper bumpy, more so on a loaded bike. That ten kilometres over in seventy-five minutes with quite wet feet, and our bikes washed again, Debbie and Emma leap-frogged us briefly before the long sealed climb up to Maraetotara – mostly into the wind.

Crossing the Tukituki for the second time, suddenly there was traffic and heading into affluent Havelock North was a bit much after a very quiet rural day. The long climb up the road to the iconic Hawke’s Bay summit of Te Mata Peak was tedious after twelve hours. I’m not sure it was worth it, so it may be first section of the route to be altered.

At least the summit always has something different to offer for views. Looking towards Napier.

I did enjoy bouncing down the only section of singletrack on the route, although I was in the minority. Rolling into the “village”, it was time for a big burger before the wind-assisted spin into Napier. Delightfully, two friends, and dot-watchers, met and rode with us for different stretches into town. I’d always hoped to ride to Napier on the first day, so was well pleased to get home in good company. The weather wasn’t the best, but it was far better than we’d had earlier in the week and the forecast for the coming days was friendly. I fell asleep rather pleased with how things were coming together.