Tag Archives: Featured

Top End by campervan

Into the Northern Territory, where the roads deteriorated markedly but perversely the speed limit went from 110 to 130 km/hr – not that the camper was worth driving at those speeds, 100 was plenty. The landscape of vast flat plains, occasionally interspersed with mesas, covered in low-density, low-height forests and scrub continued. We regularly saw controlled burns keeping the undergrowth in check, only once having the highway completely engulfed in smoke.

Posted observation points were welcome, they helped to break the driving. This one just short of Victoria River had a bonus walk up a hill in the sweltering heat.

Trees and rocks, with a bonus river.

Down to the roadhouse, with attached campground, the only facilities for many miles.

Said roadhouse, without all the vehicles belching diesel. Saw a bunch of big motorsport team trucks rolling through, a change from the preponderance of mining and cattle road trains. Found later the Supercar roadshow was moving from Perth to Darwin.

After not having seen a supermarket all week, a restock in Katherine was needed before heading to Nitmulik National Park for a couple of nights. The Three Gorge boat tour gave us the opportunity to sit, occasionally walk to another boat and learn about the gorge from a local. Towering cliffs and how the volume of water in the wet season has shaped the landscape were impressive.

This may be recognised from some films, but not by me.

Somewhat inexplicably to me, we had an hour to swim at Lily Ponds under a tall thread of a waterfall. About a third of the group got in the water, most else sat in the shade.

I found a marked track that involved plenty of rock-hopping and steep scrambling to the top of the waterfall. Much better view and more interesting up there.

The creek approaching the cliff.

Spot the tour group.

Further up the gorge, past where boats can reach – there are a lot of rocks around these parts.

On the return, the longer walk (not long) between boats and impassable rocks.

First crocodile in the wild for the trip.

Our guide pointed out a viewing platform up high as we neared the end of our boat trip, suggesting it was a good place to see the sunset. As it was the first time I’d seen significant clouds in the sky since our layover in Melbourne, I was hopeful it would be worth the walk and steep staircases. It was.

But first, different rocks! Curious conglomerations.

The start of the Kakadu Highway held the most engaging driving of the trip – especially in a seven metre long, three metre high van. Alas that didn’t last long, but probably good for Mum’s comfort and getting to Jabiru campground before dark. I was a bit under the weather for our two days there, unfortunately coinciding with the hottest weather of the trip – alarmingly close to forty degrees Celsius.

Better than your average water tower.

A little boat tour up the East Alligator River (no gators in Australia, only crocs – the river mistakenly named) was slightly cooler than staying on land. I found the local guide interesting, plenty told of how the local flora and fauna form part of their life. Not a lot of wildlife to be seen in the heat of the afternoon; more time in Kakadu and even getting into the vast, sparsely populated Arnhem Land would be cool.

Spot the fictional characters – Homer, E.T., Robocop…

Although not that far back to Darwin and campervan return, certainly less distance than we had generally been driving, we broke it up choosing to stay in the middle of nowhere. Bark Hut Inn had a great campground, adjoined to a roadhouse, built in an area that once was predominantly buffalo and croc hunting (the old modified Landcruisers with a lot of external steelwork looked plain mad). Disappointed by the lack of wildlife on the trip thus far, we booked one last boat tour on the nearby Corroberee Lagoon – thinking we had enough time to pack, clean the camper and drive to Darwin the following day.

It turned out to go swimmingly (except no-one literally went swimming for obvious reasons). An exceptional tour with a very knowledgeable guide who was only too happy to answer questions, show us what we wanted to see and keep us both amused and informed. Helped that we saw plenty too – here’s a little of it:

On that high, the campervan was returned on time leaving us a day and a bit to have a look around Darwin. With the Supercars in town for the weekend, the excellent night market at Mindil Beach was packed – but the city seemed deserted the following day. Perhaps it’s always like that, but it seemed an odd place. Give me the wilderness instead.

Paparoa, Pike29 loop

Not having seen Rachel since her last big bikepacking trip abroad, time was running out to get the Oteake crew back together for a more modest bike trip. The weekend long since decided, the location was only confirmed closer to the time as late-autumn forecasts considered. Andy and I were keen to ride the recently opened Pike29 Memorial Track, off the Paparoa Trail; Rachel was happy to ride it again – possibly as it meant she had the shortest drive. Richard (soon off to Tour Divide), Tom (recently reacquainted with on previous ride) and Ian made up our group assembled in Blackball Friday night. The plan was to ride a loop from Blackball, to and along the southern section of the Paparoa to the Pike29 intersection, the Pike29 and thirty-odd kilometres of road back to Blackball.

A very frosty morning, we were eventually underway after I’d sorted my car loaded for two weeks of adventures (and possibly two weeks of work) out. Getting up to the trailhead at Smoke-ho was an opportunity to warm a bit, but it wasn’t too chilly – even being the only one in shorts. The climb to Ces Clark hut is one of my favourites – an old mining pack track, I’ve always found it an achievable technical challenge on a loaded bikepacking rig. I was looking forward to the Paparoa on my unloaded trail bike; the climb seemed a lot easier – it seemed to have been sanitised in parts, but it was probably mostly the change in set-up.

A few bridges early on; the entries and exits the only non-rideable parts of the trail.

Frosty at the old hotel site, around 400 m elevation.

Ces Clark hut view down the lower Grey River valley.

As we reached the tops, the breeze picked up a bit – cooling things off a little. Despite a few prolonged stops, not many photos taken (previous trips here) as I was enjoying riding and being on the trail.

After lunch at Moonlight Tops Hut, it was into one of my highlights of the Paparoa – the goblin forest as you ride along the escarpment. My lack of time on the bike starting to show – I don’t remember there being so many little climbs! With all our stops, it was about six hours before we reached the top of the Pike29 track.

From the top end, the trail starts with a somewhat unexpected climb for half an hour – at my, now, slow speed having walked an alarming amount of it. You’d think I’d have dropped from the 32 tooth chainring by now, but no – at least getting a smaller one is finally in progress. 32t was manageable when I was in some sort of bike-fit condition and I’m definitely no longer that.

More, possibly even better, goblin forest at the top of the Pike29.

All were waiting for me at the final lookout at the top of the descent.

Finally, the long descent to Pike River – which was the main reason for bring the more-fun (on trail anyway) bike today. Wow, I don’t know of a longer downhill on an intermediate, built trail in the country. Dropping eight hundred metres over seven and a half kilometres, that was fun that continued for twenty+ minutes – little effort to give, I just enjoyed the descent twisting through the forest. For the time of year and location, the trail was remarkably dry (well-built and little used so far) – only getting a bit sticky on the lower parts near streams. An extraordinary trail, both in itself and the memorial aspect of it.

I waited for five minutes at the carpark, time to rest, look around and consider some of what had happened here in the previous fifteen years. Realising, as the slowest one on the road, I was wasting time I began what can only be described as a plod thirty kilometres back to Blackball. With big, slow-on-the-road tyres and little energy to push them it was only twenty-five minutes before I was caught and fairly unceremoniously dropped. The rest of the way being character building and good training for something. Thanks to Ian for picking me up just before the final climb to Blackball! A grand day out on two excellent trails.

The Christmas Letter 2023

Time spent riding this year was always going to be down with shoulder surgery scheduled mid-year, less expected is the year drawing to a close with the least distance covered by bike in over ten years. The year started predominantly at home in Naseby around family. I kept pleasantly busy with casual work driving vans carting bikes, baggage and people around the Otago Central Rail Trail (hard to get sick of driving around Central Otago) and volunteering as much as possible on the local ambulance in an attempt to have all the practical skills signed off to complete the first responder qualification.

The remoteness of the region means we see helicopters responding far more than in urban centres.

I did manage to get out for a few small bikepacking adventures, none of which went quite to plan. After one of the best trips I’d done the previous year, I was keen to head back with Andy to the Lindis headwater area. Strange how we forgot that we swore never to return to this area with loaded bikes. Sweltering in summer weather, it was quickly apparent I was not in any sort of condition for such hills. We did manage to complete most of the loop planned and I was particularly pleased to make it along Grandview Ridge.

The every-other-year Great Southern Brevet, one of my favourite bikepacking events, was only two weeks later and I was in about a dozen different minds about whether I’d show up to ride what is now my backyard, especially with Andy’s much-awaited Nine Stations immediately after. I couldn’t face Grandview Ridge, in the more difficult other direction, again so soon – but the course was changed to take it out and instead include some private land – that was enough to entice me back.

While nice to see so many familiar faces again, it took me a good day and a half to get into it and by the third day things were going well enough – that is until I pulled up at the end of the day with very tight achilles tendons. A good rest overnight, I tried to ride away into more mountains – but quickly decided against that. A few days of rest was enough to allow a day’s ride to collect my car and make it to the start of the Nine Stations ride – but the achilles injuries plagued me for quite some time, and they’re still not a hundred.

Route-maker extraordinaire Andy had somehow got permission to ride through many private stations to put the loop together, it was a privilege to ride some new places with a good group.

Got to stay in this restored hut that we’d seen the previous year.

Dropping down to the Rangitata – TTW memories.

Far enough up the river to safely cross the Rangitata.

Unfortunately, a mechanical early on the third day meant I sat the fourth and final day out – but that held less interest for me, so I wasn’t too put out.

Mid-February I watched from afar in disbelief as Cyclone Gabrielle devastated Hawke’s Bay and so many of the places I’d come to know in the six years I spent living in Napier and biking a lot of the backroads. With electricity and comms compromised for a week, information was sparse but the damage over such a wide area was more than I could comprehend.

I’d have never thought the Esk could burst its banks to flood my former workplace with over a metre and a half of water and the accompanying debris and silt.

The end of summer saw me being support crew (at the last minute by myself) for a friend’s team in the ~week-long Godzone adventure race. It was a great week for me around the beauty of Fiordland. All the driving, planning, packing, unpacking, assembling transition zone, team social media updates, washing and drying vast amounts of clothes and gear was enough of an endurance sport for me – I wasn’t even out there doing the hard yards! Pleasing to be able to support others in their mad adventures.

Heading out onto Manapouri.

I did manage to do a little exploring of my own.

Transition zone set-up.

As my own plans to build a small house in Naseby developed, helping my friend Mike replace my parents’ roof one drizzly autumn week was both satisfying and good experience for future building work.

Old and new steel.

The rest of autumn was a flurry of getting firewood for the winter, more Rail Trail work, and completing the ambulance qualification, just, before shoulder surgery. Surgery went very well and I spent most of the six-weeks of sling wearing staying with and being cared for by Mum and Dad in Dunedin. I was surprised that there was far less pain/discomfort and swelling than the keyhole surgery eleven years before. I made the most of the mild weather by going on increasingly long walks exploring Dunedin and surrounding hills.

Out at Portobello for Mothers’ Day.

A week in Auckland near the end of the sling stint was the first time I’d been to the city for at least four years and I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with many dear, and long-neglected, friends – as well more walking and warmer weather. Sling off and it was back home to Naseby, staring at the prospect of a long, cold winter sitting by the fire reading books unable to do much else as my shoulder recovered.

A well-timed check-in call from a mate (a former colleague) detailed just how much work there was to recover from the flooding in the Pulp Mill and gave the idea that I might go up for a few months and help out. I thought three months would be good, but it was five I was needed for – so less than two weeks later I was back in Napier amongst too many people telling me it was like I never left. Things had certainly changed in two years and I still struggle to believe the amount of recovery work that has already been done and how much is left to get the place running again.

It was odd returning, as Napier isn’t home any more, I’m not living alone in my own house and everyone’s lives have understandably moved on. My shoulder recovery, with some physio, continued to pleasantly surprise me and I was able to get on a bike sooner than I expected. I’d not brought a bike with me, so it was an opportunity to give a gravel bike a try buying a secondhand one. I thought I might sell it if I didn’t like it, but I’ve decided it’s a glorified, but useful, road bike and I’ll keep it for some different exploring when I return home.

There used to be a bridge there.

Getting back to parkrun, a large part of my previous Napier life, was good to try and get some fitness back; I managed to cut the gap to my 5 km personal best in half before picking up a side strain which has halted further progress. As it happens, the work in the Pulp Mill is nowhere near complete (which rather hinders my role as Completions Manager – yeah, I’d never heard of such a thing either) so I was asked to stay through summer until pulp should be coming out of the mill again – something I’d really like to see.

We managed to agree on what another four months, and summer, away from home and family was worth – but equally I’m sticking around to see a place that was good to me and is the livelihood of many workmates and an important part of Hawke’s Bay on its feet again. Pleasingly, the work is engaging, keeps developing and very satisfying. The second half of this video gives a better idea of what’s been going on.

I’m down south in Dunedin for a week and Christmas with my parents, and an overdue venesection (haemochromatosis seems to be nicely under control now, blood letting only required every few months), before returning to Naseby for a week at home doing little – maybe some biking and ambulance cover. All the best for yours and the new year!

Lindis Loop 23 – Grandview Ridge

A surprisingly good sleep later (maybe there was some value in dragging my tent around) and I was ready to set off and see how far I might get that overcast day. Things were nowhere near as grim as the previous evening. A little downstream of our campsite, we very briefly went over some of last year’s route on the Melina Ridge track’s exit to the highway and where we camped on the other side of the river.

Following the Lindis down for a bit.

Wasn’t hard to spot our climb to the top of Little Breast Hill, some nine hundred metres above us.

The valley narrowed and we had a cool little section through a wee gorge. We had to cross the river a number of times. The first looked simple enough, but in a sign of tiredness and a heavy bike I somehow promptly fell in the river halfway across. Pity Andy was watching. Although it was only half-seven, it was warm enough that the only real issue with this was that I had somewhat soggy potato chups for the rest of day – ick. I walked a few more crossings than I ordinarily would after that.

Through the gorge, contemplating that track and its gradient. Andy’s pic.

As we left the valley bottom, we took a chance to fill water bottles at the last creek marked on the map – it would be a long time until we found water again. Trying to eat as much as I could stomach, I steeled myself for the climb ahead – informed it only really looked steep for the middle third. As that approached, having already been walking since the turn upwards, the desire and energy was gone. After some deliberation, I was so close to turning and dropping down through the station (we were now on private land – thanks station owners for access, and Andy for organising, to make this route possible, although I might not have said so at the time!) and heading for my car.

While I was paused contemplating bailing on Andy and the route, we heard the faint sounds of approaching engines. Two ATVs came down the hill towards us, the occupants returning from a few days camping and hunting at the back of the station. They were pleasantly chatty (I was not, but Andy’s the guy who works in communications – so I left it to the professional) and as they departed, they left me with the encouragement to get up to the private hut a couple of hundred metres climb on for a cuppa. That seemed reasonable enough.

The gradient kicked a bit, but it wasn’t as nasty as Dromedary Hill and the surface was far better for pushing. The hut gained, I was feeling ok enough to push on.

Lush spot for a hut! Very tidy it was too.

All the cloud wasn’t great for the views, but there was still plenty to be staggered by – and the temperature topped out at warm, not hot.

May have even managed to get on the bike for that zig. Andy’s pic.

The trail turned off just below the summit, but damned if I wasn’t going to walk up another twenty metres to get to the top after having spent two and a half hours climbing the rest of the hill. I’m surprised to find now that the climb averaged over fifteen percent, about the same as Dromedary – somehow it was easier, perhaps due to the better surface, lower temperature, lack of really steep bits… Pleasingly, there were no two-step, bike push-ups needed.

A twenty minute break at the top was worth it for the rest and complete panorama – more fun picking out various ranges and other features.

North up the Timaru River valley.

West showing a fair bit of lumpy ridge riding to join the Te Araroa trail as it heads to Breast Hill.

More pushing beyond the locked deer gate – thankfully I’d picked up the key afternoon before.

Despite being on the ridge, the hills didn’t seem to be getting any less.

Shortly before the climb up to Breast Hill summit; thankfully we turned south onto the Grandview Ridge track. Hawea and the edge of its lake on right; over to Wanaka, its lake and surrounding mountains.

It turned out to be thirty-five kilometres of far more pushing and climbing than one would imagine considering we had a thousand metres to drop down to be close to the Lindis again! Still, we had plenty of daylight and food – even managed to find some water when we stopped for lunch and more rest. The fun of piecing together the views and features continued; we certainly had plenty of time to soak it in.

Looking from the north along the top end of the Grandview Ridge track – we were heading that way.

Lake Hawea a much darker blue than I’m used to seeing.

Oh, there’s the track from Hawea up to Grandview Mountain; which curiously is lower than the part of the ridge track done. Memories of more pushing helping some train for a long ago Godzone.

Back along the ridge and Lake Hawea. Making some progress now, still very undulating – to put it mildly.

East over tomorrow’s terrain, and the Chain Hills, Dunstan Pass, beginnings of Dunstan Range, St Bathans Range and right at the back – Mt Ida, which I can see from just outside my house where I sit typing away here. Fascinating.

Getting used to the gradients and feeling reasonable – not brimming with energy, but much better than previous night – we then saw Bluenose. From a distance it looked brutal. But gradients are weird, often it’s not as bad as it seems from afar. This was.

Trying to get some speed up to hit that zag to the left. Andy’s pic.

I got to the first corner and then was pushing – suddenly as steep as last night.

Then the surface deteriorated to the toughest all trip. Oh.

Probably a more accurate depiction of the twenty-plus percent. Andy’s pic.

Mercifully, it was only a short section (twenty minutes, give or take some rests) and completely doable. I’d like to say it was all downhill from there, but it certainly wasn’t! But only (!) twelve more kilometres until the last downhill to the flatlands. As we descended the rocky track turned to long grass, just for a change.

Up the Clutha to Wanaka.

Down the Clutha to Lake Dunstan; Dunstan foothills on left, Pisa foothills on right.

Over to more of the Pisas, this time next week…

Nearing seven o’clock we were off the hills. What a route! Hard, but manageable work. While the views were lessened, I was glad it wasn’t overly sunny and hot. We set off east on backroads for a relatively flat twenty kilometres for Cluden Creek and a small stash of food I’d dropped off the previous day. Water was scarce across here, except at the farmhouse we stopped at – we found most of the water going onto the garden and lawn! We gratefully filled bottles from the sprinklers. Dinner done, we were very pleased with over three thousand metres of climbing (much of it pushing, if we’re frank) over sixty-five kilometres in the hills; especially backing up after the evening before. Strangely it started to drizzle just as I got in my tent – maybe it really was worth lugging all that way. Phew, I’m getting tired just thinking about that day.

Addendum: Andy’s video of the whole trip. Some reminds me of all the tough pushing, and other bits of the views and fun riding.