Some people seemed eager to get on the trail, so campsite noise began early. Apparently the wind had really got up in the night, but I’d missed that – so my night maybe wasn’t as sleepless as I’d thought. Breaking camp it was down to the store to find breakfast – hot meat pies are fine for breakfast, right? Retracing our path a little along the highway we were soon climbing up in front of the cliff faces to the valley that Herepuru Road lies in.
Gaining that little bit of elevation quickly confirmed that it was another glorious day in the Bay. That’s White Island puffing away on the horizon – I really should visit one day.
While the more magnificient Tarawera Falls were near to our route, this would be the largest waterfall we saw on our trip.
Gaining four hundred metres in altitude was a little bit of a shock first thing in the morning, but it was a lovely climb up through quiet farmland and then onto another stretch of the gravel Manawahe Rd. A fast, loose and thrilling ride ensued on the gravel as we quickly returned to the plains, which were basically at sea level.
Looking toward Kawerau and Mt Edgecumbe partway down the descent back to the plains.
We made good time against a slight wind on the highway before turning south at Te Teko – our last place for getting water and buying supplies for sixty kilometres. Buying more pies, we rolled out under the watchful eye of a local Mob emissary – much speculation was had as to whether he was checking out the patch of the Coastal Crew (a group from Kapiti with their own printed riding gear) or just generally impressed by the large twenty-nine inch wheels.
For the next seventy kilometres we followed quiet backroads through an awful lot of forest, much of it unsealed. I was surprised to see a rail line through here – I’d no idea, apparently it brings logs from Murupara to the mills at Kawerau. It was not unpleasant climbing up to five hundred metres, even if all the pine trees were somewhat similar. We found a trail angel just past the halfway point of the day and gladly accepted oat cookies and were happy to stop and chat for a while. Eventually things flattened out and the hills became undulating; it was time for lunch in the sun on a big grassy patch, and another pie. Stopping briefly in the shade at Rerewhakaaitu School to refill bottles, I looked across the road and saw the hall that we stayed in twenty years ago on aforementioned cycle tours. Those were the days where you could walk or ride up & down Tarawera for the princely sum of two dollars. Always so much fun running down into the crater and then blasting down the 4WD road off the mountain.
Here’s a view of what I consider the back of Mt Tarawera, and what is definitely Steve’s back.
Having skirted around Lake Rerewhakaaitu and passing the roads used to access the northern part of the lake, I recalled numerous days and nights camping beside the lake and finally learning to deep-water start on a single waterski. Gosh, it’s been years since I’ve been waterskiing. There’s a nice bit of new singletrack around the edge of Rainbow Mountain that gets bikes & riders off the highway for a bit. We took that before stocking up for the next day’s breakfast & lunch at Benny Bee cafe – and feeding ourselves for the present as well, naturally.
From there all that was left of the day’s riding was to ride the notorious Waikite Hill – albeit in reverse, we went down the near-twenty percent gradient hill before arriving at the campground. Well, Steve had somehow managed to lose his debit card on the way down – so he got to climb the hill properly; pleasingly, he did manage to find the lost card. The best thing about the campground was that admission to the site also included the adjacent hot pools. Pre- and post-dinner soaks in the pools? Don’t mind if I do. A close second to the pools was the huge plate of beef nachos I devoured. I could get used to bikepacking for the day and finishing at four-thirty – most excellent, especially with hot pools, large dinners & beer.
Waiting for the off; once again Steve, as the accomplished & strong triathlete, had the pleasure of carrying our tent. I travelled lighter than in 
For an event called the Geyserland Gravel Grind, appropriately our first bit of off-road trail was through thermal flats beside the lake. One of my favourite smells, the rotten-eggs of hydrogen sulphide, hung heavy in the air – we must be in Rotovegas!
I stopped to snap a different perspective of Mt Tarawera.
Said perspective, looking across Okareka.
A nice smooth section of trail.
That done, we were on the shore of yet another lake – Rotoiti.
It turns out that the turn was marked, somewhat; although the trail is not immediately apparent.
The buildings were about the only things watching us up here.
Looking west towards childhood homes – if you squint I’m sure you can see Te Puke there somewhere.
We fair took over three or so sites (this being about half of our tents) – the campsite was busy with the long-weekend and the popularity of the spot.
Back on a Bay of Plenty beach with proper sand & all! There’s even Whale Island over there too.
Plenty of people out enjoying the late-afternoon sun and fishing.
Earliest picture of said Dobies, late 2008; fitting as on a trip with Roger & Mark to Whangamata – I really started to get into riding more once I met those two. Notable also for the NZO socks, gloves, shirt & buff.
Living the dream – riding in western USA mid-2009; the start of my time away from NZ, the riding was fantastic. This must have been the ride I met Chip, a recurring riding buddy whose bike-over-the-head pose I’m trying for the first time here.
Black shorts may not have been the best idea on a day that reached 40ºC by nine in the morning – riding the Bootleg Canyon trails, near Boulder City, Nevada. The brewpub was welcome relief at eleven o’clock.
Having a blast on Just Outstanding somewhere in the Sierra Nevadas. A weekend spent camping with MTB randoms I met on mtbr.com – what could go wrong? 
Black Dobies turn up in the teafields of Kenya – some excellent biking & exploring to be done, I was to return despite the dislocated shoulder incident.
Then a whole summer and fall of biking in the Canadian Rockies. Here Black Dobies are a late ring-in for a Calgarian team competing in the 24 Hours of Adrenaline. Suitable photos worthy of portraying what a fantabulous summer of biking it was are, sadly, lacking.
Black Dobies were on the excellent 
But the shorts couldn’t be kept away from North America – here, arguably 
My first multi-day MTB event – the three-day 
Then I was made redundant, so the Black Dobies & I set off 
On a bridge between Germany & Belgium, it seemed I was constantly crossing borders – the shorts were often confused as to which country they were in.
Crossing the Alps into Italy.
Another month of constant Dobies wearing – 
Just a little 
Then I was back in NZ, for good! Dragging best-sister up steep hills on bikes happened a fair bit that summer.
My first bikepacking event seemed like a good idea. The 
From the same trip, this seems to be the last momentous photo I have of Black Dobies.
We stopped en route at about midnight to sight the church where the service would be in a week’s time. It was already frosty, much colder for winter than I’ve grown accustomed to; naturally we skated around on the lawn.
We spent the weekend staying at a house that was stuck in the ’70s, it was brilliant inside & out – the views of The Remarkables & Coronet Peak weren’t too shabby either.
The days were cold and still – we spotted a few hot-air balloons floating around early morning.
Craig turned up with a wood-fired hot-tub he had made on a trailer – brilliant! We quickly got to work thawing the garden hose, filling the tub and heating it up. The tub got a fair bit of use over the week – they’re incredible, 
We drove most of the way up the Coronet Peak access road, for a reason I could not discern. The view was adequate compensation.
As the light faded, we headed up the gondola for a bit of luging (little carts on a concrete track, not the Olympic type of luging.)
Sunday morning’s activity, which ended up being in the afternoon, was skydiving for the stag & a few of us. It was a glorious day for it &, I’m told, the experience was quite amazing.
A very pleasant drive through Central Otago looking at the recent snow contrasting with the dry pasture soon had me at Mum & Dad’s, where Adele had also arrived from Westport.
But as this photo has been shared publicly (if you know where to look), I’ll put it here just to show I’m not making this all up – there was in fact a wedding.