Waipukurau. Saturday. One o’clock.

That’s where Carl had to be to meet his family returning from Palmerston North. Why drive when you can ride a bike and camp at the beach overnight? A plan was hatched during the week to enable this and get some bikepacking, not to mention training for Tour Aotearoa for Carl, in. I managed to sort-of work in a paper road I’d wanted to ride for some time into the plan.

Friday after work there was much rushing to get my bike loaded before we rendezvoused at the mouth of the Tutaekuri River. Battling a strong on-shore wind, we met and the drizzle set in. Nearing six o’clock, would we have enough time to ride with loaded bikes the forty kilometres over the hills to Waimarama before the pub kitchen closed? (This is becoming a theme, one I quite like – ensuring one rides efficiently and fast enough to get one’s dinner. Strong motivation.)

Familiar cycle trails were easy miles as the rain strengthened. We crossed the Red Bridge and things became less familiar – I had been on this road once before, back in July. On a grey, damp evening traffic was light; there was ample opportunity to ride side-by-side and discuss bikepacking, TA details and thankfully, little work. With only three hundred metres of climbing, it was a leisurely Friday evening ride – the rain and the summer heat making it rather muggy. Ascending the last climb, the rain had ceased and it was pleasant riding as we drew closer to that kitchen.

At the crest of that climb, Waimarama Beach and Bare Island stretched in front of us.

Whizzing off the hill and along the flats, we made a bee-line for the pub, put our orders in and went to make camp at the local camping ground while the light held, as did the clouds. We returned to demolish our meals in one of those pubs where the patrons propping up the bar have not seen people riding into the local from a distant place, loaded with camping gear – it’s fun and amusing to be accorded astonishment and respect for such a small ride. Marveling at how achievable and great Friday-after-work bikepacking escapes are, we began plotting other possible ventures.

Rising after a sound sleep, decamping, and snacking we rolled off into a grey morning at the leisurely hour of seven o’clock. Gradually climbing up Te Apiti Road through farmland was an easy warm-up for the day. After ten kilometres we reached the end of the road and lifted our bikes over the gate onto Te Apiti Station. Checking in with the manager the day before, he’d warned Carl that it was raining and the track would be boggy. We figured we could deal with this.

It definitely wasn’t boggy. The track hardly looked wet. But we quickly found, when we couldn’t even ride up the first short, steep rise, that the innocent looking dirt track was exceptionally tacky. Rolling over it, walking over, the surface much preferred to detach itself from the earth and fasten itself to tyres and shoes. I have never experienced such vast quantities of such adhesive mud.

For two hours we tried to ride on the grass when possible; most often we couldn’t and so resorted to churning through the tackiness. This mostly consisted of pushing one’s bike until the wheels bound themselves in the frame, then dragging the bike and finally succumbing and stopping to remove vast wads of mud from, well, everything. At one stage in the middle of it all, we rode a few hundred metres and it was incredible! Just when it seemed to be getting better, we struck the worst patch yet – unfortunately this coincided with a steep, slippery ascent from which there was no escape to grass on the side. Getting ridiculous by then, we finally could look down and see a gravel farm track – it was almost over! That two hours got us a massive five and a half kilometres.

You know it’s bad when your 2.4″ tyres turn into 4″ fat tyres; and you know it has gotten worse when the mud has bridged over the rims.

My new shoes, bought to be more comfortable for hike-a-bike, were getting a bit of walking in – but not looking so new all of a sudden. On the bright side, I did grow a couple of inches in stature.

Usually I have plenty of clearance between tyre and fork – not this day.

Nope, that wheel is not turning.

The countryside was ruggedly beautiful, but mostly I remember the remarkable mud. Bliss to be on a gravel road, our speed increased as we crested a couple of smaller hills before rolling down to Kairakau Beach. A small settlement of holiday homes, we tried to find somewhere to clean our bikes and shed a few kilograms of mud. Once again attracting attention for being a little mad, two dear older couples from Napier with long (five or so generations) ties to the area plied us with a large pot of tea and biscuits. And let us use their hose to wash our bikes from brown back to black. Fantastic.

Carl had somewhere to be and I had to get home as I was expecting guests. It turns out that riding out of Kairakau involves a good 250 m climb at a decent seven percent gradient. A different type of work, but preferable to making little progress through the mud. We parted ways at Elsthorpe, I stopped in at a country equestrian meet expecting a food stall of some sort – I was not disappointed. I enjoyed my first ride along the undulating Kahuranaki Road and arrived home in plenty of time after battling the same on-shore wind.

A most excellent little outing, made more memorable by being a lot more challenging than expected. As I’m starting to say more often on little adventures that don’t go quite to plan – good training for something. What something will be remains to be seen.

Over my two summers so far living in Napier, I’d not quite made it to Waipataki Beach and its camping ground. Recently bought by the local councils to ensure that it was kept open for locals, I decided it must be worth a visit. The original plan was to load up my bike and ride that bike to work one Friday morning and then after work ride to Waipataki – I figured this would be easily achievable before dark in the summer. However, that never quite worked out and the Friday after work plan was discarded when daylight savings ended.

With a brilliant autumn weekend forecast, I readied myself and shortly after lunch on Saturday set off on a little adventure to explore somewhere new. In actuality not much of the route was new – I avoided the highway as much as possible and took the long route up Waipunga Rd. Waipunga Rd being a favourite route of mine when I was trying to get at least a little ready for Tour Aotearoa.

Leaving the Hill behind, over Westshore Bridge I followed my commute route for ten or so kilometres.

What’s this? Offshore power boat racing. That’s different. Not to mention loud, fast and repetitive.

I was heading for the coast in the far distance, just right of centre in this shot.

The crossing of the Esk is at the start of Waipunga Rd, before the hills start. It’s looking a bit lower than a couple of weeks previous, when we had 200 mm of rain in less than forty-eight hours at work (process water at work is taken from the Esk).

In the mid-afternoon sun (warming enough to only need arm warmers in addition to shirt), the climbing began – as did the views of rolling green hills and distant ranges.

The largest part of the climb ascends this ridge from right to left, steadily gaining about three hundred metres. It’s very nice.

I really enjoyed the gradual climb – stopping often to snap photos to share.

On top of the ridge, the road surface changes to gravel while the climbing slackens off markedly. With no traffic, the warming sun and the changing views it was blissful.

Eventually, the road starts to roll up and down a bit more – gradually climbing overall.

I paused at the end of Waipunga Rd to look north – this was as far north as my route would go, and also the highest altitude. I had five hundred metres to lose in the twenty kilometres to the coast.

I turned right onto Kaiwaka Rd – more lush gravel! I headed for the highway to cross it.

The sun sunk further, setting nicely on this rather out of place patch of toetoe.

More hills – thankfully I didn’t have to ride them all.

I kept a watchful eye on my shadow as I lost altitude quickly.

It seems one can’t really escape work – the pulpmill steaming away on the right; Napier easily visible stretching left across the water, the hills south of Havelock North in the distance.

I said my goodbyes to cell coverage with one big downhill, a few hairpins and cool rushing air as I blasted down to Waipataki and the sea.

That was a great little ride (three hours, a shade under sixty kilometres) in the hills to get to a new spot. Checking in and setting up my little tent, it was time for a wander down to the beach in the last of the light.

First I had to work out how to cross the stream.

Big stepping stones helped, I didn’t fall in; just.

I gazed off over the Pacific (which I can easily do a few hundred metres from home admittedly, but it’s different when there’s no one else around, no houses, no city…) and wondered what might be over there – more new places to explore one day, no doubt.

Darkness overtaking the campground, I cooked my modest dinner, and gratefully accepted three large lamb chops from a couple that had brought too much food; funny, I never have that problem. I found a book and settled down in the warm of the lounge to read for a while before retiring to my tent. Thinking over the afternoon I fell into an excellent night’s sleep.

Up before dawn, I strolled down to the beach in the cool of the morning, found a better place to cross the stream and waited for the sun to rise.

Having cooked and eaten my porridge, I waited a little for the first of the sun’s rays to rise over the cliffs and dry my tent some. I was happy to do so as I still had a book to read.

It quickly became apparent that it was to be another stunning autumn day.

All packed up and ready to ride, I resolved that I must plan a two-night stay sometime so as to explore the many walks and some biking possibilities.

Pedaling up the driveway, the day’s only sizable hill rose in front of me.

It was easily conquered and I was soon on the highway and on the short route home.

The highway gets rather close to the coast and the puffing pulpmill comes back into view.

And just like that I was nearly home, back on my commute route.

A fantastic little ride from home with plenty of wonderful distractions and more discoveries for me.

The hunters returned to camp about the time I was drifting off to sleep. I vaguely remember that and hearing the chatter as dinner was cooked and eaten. But sleep I certainly did after a wonderful day’s riding and an evening with good food, beer and company. A leisurely start to the day, with plenty of chat, we decamped and set off on a grey morning – Ross joined us for the second day. We were attempting to get through to Patoka on more paper roads. But first we had a gentle climb to the highway, and then a long haul up a hill on the highway (ten percent gradient for two and a half kilometres).

Definitely getting closer to the clouds as we reached the summit of the road. This looks north, we turned south onto a paper road and kept climbing.

This view would normally look out over the Pacific in the distance. Not today. We turned onto the next paper road near that small solar panel on a pole.

Junctions and paper roads were not immediately clear as the clouds rolled in.

We stood around and pondered for a while as to which way to go. I apparently took to riding wearing only one glove a fair bit.

We cut across a paddock/field which got progressively steeper. It was tough going. No formed path meant the surface was rather bumpy, the mist making it slippery. I had to get off and walk at one point – losing traction. I really should replace my rear tyre; having done Tour Aotearoa last year and riding since, it is pretty much a 2.2″ slick. But the heavy hub helps keep it stuck to most surfaces. We got back on a farm track, probably the paper road we should have been on through the trees that we bypassed, and climbed through a small cutting.

We were getting into the clouds further and further. Route finding became challenging, but it was decided our path continued to climb (not the track you can just see in the picture, we went up further into the clouds).

On a poorly formed track through more rutted, holed farm track we ascended. It was just rideable. We were heading to the top of Te Waka-o-Ngarangikataka Ridge, which we would follow south west to a transmitter.

Eventually the path became less apparent and we made our best guess as to how to follow the ridge, without falling over it to certain peril. All of us were walking as the cloud enveloped us completely and the wet, slick grass was too steep to ride. Thankfully it didn’t start raining or get cold. There was much discussion as to where the route might be at times; we continued at a reasonable, albeit slow, pace.

Just as well it was worth it all for the views.

We saw hints of the ridge and the bluffs.

Here we pass our first fallen tree….

Still we climbed through the murk; this road is definitely only on paper.

Nearing the summit, we worked out where the paper road went and followed it. Big mistake. We then spent an hour to get a further kilometre down the road, climbing and hauling our bikes over the largest amount of deadfall I’ve ever negotiated. Most of the trees came down in the big snowfall last August. I picked up Mark’s sunnies; I struggled to lift my bike over tree trunks and through branches. I found spiked, flat pedals are really great for getting stuck on trees when you try to lift your bike over.

Stinging ongaonga (a native tree nettle that has been known to kill stock, and a least one human – that was in 1961) was ever present, as was the risk of falling down a steep bank. Fallen tree after infuriating fallen tree was negotiated. Occasionally I got a helping hand as we finally gave up on the road and bush bashed, no easy task in itself, straight up the hill.

Shaun finds the route.

Ignoring the peril, I’m still managing to lift my bike here.

Finally emerging from the trees onto grass and then pasture, we pushed up to the steep sheep track to the summit. We got to the top two and a half hours after leaving the highway, a grand total of six kilometres travelled, and almost three hundred metres gained. The kilometre through the trees taking nigh on an hour.

That’s a lot closer than it was!

The transmitter tower, looking rather spooky in all that cloud.

Short photos stop done, a bit of time on phones working out where to go next and so on, we took off down the service road – it got a bit loose at times. We got to a bit of a clearing, the view opened up some as we were below the clouds. It seemed like a good time to turn off the service road and strike off over a field on another paper road – before we lost too much altitude. The ridge riding was pleasant as we were high above some gullies.

Our only mechanical of the trip – not entirely helpful, but it was quickly repaired!

Out of the clouds. Just.

The descent briefly got very steep on rough pasture before rejoining a farm track that took us into a pine forest – which seemed to have far more roads than we knew what to do with. Still we lost altitude rapidly and it was great fun to be moving a bit faster than we had been most of the day.

Shaun realised we had taken a wrong turn somewhere in the forest and were one ridge over from where we should have been. There was some discussion over whether we should carry on down and cross to the correct valley later, or ride back up the hill. We elected to keep going.

Which meant we had to push up that hill in the centre of the picture, just to the right of the pines. That was after avoiding a large bull that had quite a stare on it.

I pottered over a stream on the farm before making it not very far up the hill – there was a lot of pushing to the top of that ridge.

But that ridge crossed, we were soon back on the paper road and then a proper road. Gravel and everything. Three kilometres down that road, we found the next paper road that might allow us to connect through to Patoka. We regrouped at the gate and contemplated how late it was in the day, what we might face, what time we might get home and so on. Having come this far, we decided to ride down towards the river and at least see what was there.

A couple of kilometres downhill on wide, disused forestry road and we were on a narrow ridge, with cliffs either side of us. To the south was the river with a large cliff looming over the far side. It didn’t look feasible; the road reduced to a narrow track, overgrown and in rather rough condition. That track did at least take us down to the river, and more cliffs on the other side. We contemplated, crossed the river easily and headed towards what looked a possible route. With masses of blackberries and steep cliffs behind them, it looked a whole lot less possible.

Only a couple of twenty metre cliffs between where we stood and the field on the other side – where we wanted to go.

The Mangaone River was quite nice; a packraft would have been nicer.

Wisdom prevailed, we turned around slowly made our way back up the track, most of it so slippery it was unrideable, to the pines and then the road. It was a slight climb back up to the highway, and then a bit more climbing before we started the descent back towards Napier. Despite my arms being exhausted from the tree-fall hike-a-bike, my legs were still in good shape. We made reasonable time, probably the best time of the whole weekend, back to Simon’s place and our cars.

It was definitely faster on the highway! The first half of the day’s distance taking six hours, the second half less than ninety minutes. We were disappointed not to get through to Patoka, but it was a grand adventure with some excellent exploring of new (to me), rather wild, places. I hope such a ride does become an annual event as discussed – the first day is pretty much sorted. We just need to work out a way to get through to Puketitiri/Patoka and avoid the highway on the second day. I’m sure it’s possible. Thanks for doing the organising, Shaun, and the gear transport, Simon.