Another doorstep challenge that's worthy of a quick post, mostly to showcase another of James' cool Relive videos: We decided to have a bash at a single day expedition linking up a few classic local mountain bike trails. It's pretty impressive that you can do 50k's and six hours of continuous single track action this close to the city.
We started in Johnsonville, cycled up to Kaukau then took the Sky Line across to Karori; Went to the top of Makara Peak, then down Leaping Lizard; Up Salvation and on to the Brooklyn Turbine; Via Car Parts Extension and Barking Emu down to Red Rocks. The Relive video below does a better visual job of explaining the journey.
We were knackered after the first ascent and ended up doing a pretty reasonable total climb of around 1.5km. Starting out with some style and grace we descended into 'letting the bike do the work' in the latter stages - too tired to avoid rocks, gorse bushes or take appropriate lines. Being this close to civilisation meant there was also no excuse to run out of water, but it was scorching hot and we got distracted by pies and ice cream. Easily done.
After some minor deliberation and planning, Ollie and I decided to embark on the Big Coast cycle adventure. It departs from our doorstep and circumnavigates the Ororonga's. The ride was designed to replace the usual Taupo cycle challenge, which I ended up doing anyway (but didn't seem to benefit from the extra saddle time). And it should have also included Jake, but he piked the week before, citing a dubious array of excuses. It was also a reconnaissance, of sorts, as there are a bunch of keen friends that want to do it in the new year.
It's a cool route that takes in the Wellington harbour, the Rimutaka Rail Trail, Lake Ferry and back around the south coast into the harbour (see map). To make it more adventurous, and because 5 - 10% of the course is over sandy beaches, we set off on our first fat bike adventure. The other 90% of terrain would have suited a bike with less traction, but we weren't trying to break records here, just enjoy the ride.
The 90k's on day one really took it out of us. The weather was amazing but the heat really sapped the energy that the hills and pushing half an acre of rubber across tarmac left. We found that the second hand Brooks seats, already shaped into a strangers posterior, became pretty unforgiving towards the end of the day, too. The sight of us cycling the home straight, towards our accommodation, was a pitiful sight to behold but the beer, steaks, shower and rural tranquility were a worthy reward.
The second day was equally hot but with the addition of ferocious head winds. The oversized, high walled tires on these bikes present a really good target for the wind to play havoc with. We didn't even make an average of 10k's an hour over the final 45k's before we called it quits. Eating lunch in the wind shadow of rocks and trees, we had already decided that the ferry at Days Bay would be far enough. En route we got lost, lost our sense of humour, got a puncture, got petulant, and just made the last sailing of the day.
Looking forward to next time already.
My old cobber, Tom. I was lucky to get a whole week of the man's time between a busy work schedule, a busier holiday schedule, an even busier fell running schedule and a riotous craft beer drinking predilection. I was collected from Munich airport and we drove around Austria and did the following cool stuff:
Ishgl
Normally an up-market ski resort that tries to keep some kind of momentum going during the summer by attracting mountain bikers and hikers to the mountain. We took bikes up to the top but couldn't find any of the easier tracks we'd wanted to build our courage up on. It was pretty cold up there, so we made a quick decision to take a valley/forest route to the bottom, which ended up being pretty technical - tricky but fun. After lunch we made it back to the top and down the proper downhill track. I've never ridden that far without peddling before, but it meant I could complain about my arms being shaken out of their sockets rather than my legs failing. Tom lacked confidence in his skills on the steepest of descents, which lead to my surprise when he passed at pace and bolted over a massive fence stile and down into a gully. There was some skin lost, some nerves frayed but an invigorating time had by all.
Solden and the Timmelsjoch
We set off from Solden and took the west ascent of the Timmelsjoch - my first, proper alpine climb on the road. I didn't leave granny gear while grinding up the 2,400m pass, and I can see why doping and blood transfusions have been popular when riding professionally in these parts. The never ending stream of motorbikes heading to Italy, or the motorbike museum at the top, were a bit disconcerting as they screamed past and bobbed and weaved into the distance. The hire bike was great going up but it was unfamiliar enough that it didn't inspire confidence on the crazy descent back down, so I didn't really take advantage of hooning the hairpins. We decided to tack on a side trip, en route back to Solden, but had to take refuge in a bar when a fierce storm ripped through the valley, and caught the bus back home.
Innsbruck and the Kuhtai Pass
We headed out from Innsbruck and cycled along the river before turning into the valley and making the climb from the east. Another brutal slog to the 2,000m pass, but the quaint villages and impressive mountain vistas were a pleasant distraction from the aching legs. The descent on the other side was amazing fun, and this bike inspired the confidence to let rip. Unfortunately the legs weren't quite up to the remainder of the 100k round trip, which ended up being a bit of a grind, even after stopping for lunch to allow the adrenaline levels to lower.
March 2017
We decided to press the button on another OGR trip. The first was so awesome that we couldn't resist the temptation of another tour. And, when guaranteed another three days of blue skies, fun times and glorious west coast scenery, we'd have been completely mad not to.
This time we went with a full car from Wellington, caught the ferry south and stayed in Murchison (surprisingly home to the best French bakery to be found outside of France - in Murchison!?). It was great to catch up with the Chch guys again, but a shame not to have Ray along for the journey (we certainly missed his fat bike pack-horse capabilities, and I think we missed his remorseless rapier wit). Replacement, Dave made an immediate impression by realising he'd forgotten all his riding gear when swapping cars back home. He remembered his bike. The resulting morning mad dash to a bike shop in Westport gave the rest of us a good head start on the trail. There's not a great deal extra to report over last time: it's a really special journey through spectacular country. We stayed in different huts this time around, but still decided to take our time and go fully armed with the creature comforts of fresh food, booze and tunes.
Thanks to James for uploading his Strava data to Relive, which makes super-cool videos of his efforts and pictures. And a sterling effort it was, what with heart rates peaking at 175 and over 180 on a couple of hills. Good work fella!
One man's misfortune is another man's gold nugget of joy. Appropriately, Dave careened down a track at unnecessary speeds, meeting his fate - handle-bar gripped fist into stoic tree trunk - thus freeing up a place on the glorious quest to ride the Old Ghost Road, and, unfortunately for Dave, metacarpals from wrist. I snapped up the opportunity.
From Ray's man cave, the bike was reassembled and excitement built. The next day we met with the team, hit the road and headed west. Mid-afternoon saw packs loaded, wine stowed, steaks packed and anticipation unleashed.
DAY 1: A stiff climb from the Lyell end of Buller Gorge took us up into the trees, yet the 'baby heads' of lore (the irregular rocks that once reeked havoc on this ascent) didn't materialise, and the crushed quartz that greeted us felt like a groomed highway, in-turn being crushed by the massively fat tyres of Ray's ten tonne tractor. His pack-horse of a bike made the Lyell Saddle hut first, by a fair margin, thus proving the point: there's no 'i' in team, there's no team in Rai, and the old boy has still got an impressive amount of juice left in his tank. I got there just before dusk and was welcomed into the hut with a roaring fire, glass of bourbon and comfortable camp mattress.
DAY 2: Heading out the next day we set off further up the mountain, exiting the tree line to catch sight of the most crazy traverse I've seen. It's spectacular. It's spectacular that someone came up with the idea of smashing a narrow trail along the steep ridge of some mountains, joining two redundant mining tracks from Lyell to Mohikinui. It's pure genius in its conception, impressive in its engineering and jaw-dropping in natural rugged beauty. Adrenalin competed with excitement, competed with saddle-bound religious fervour at each turn and vista. The drop from Old Ghost hut, after lunch, was pretty darned challenging: steep, gnarly and acute switchbacks. The Stern Valley hut was well equipped, the curry delicious and a few glasses of red wine complemented the glorious after glow.
DAY 3: The morning comprised a lovely cruise through a beach forest, lulling us into a false sense of security. Lunch was had, eating tuna sandwiches as fast as humanly possible, so that the body would metabolise red blood cells faster than the sand flies could drain the same from your legs. Back on the bikes the trail joined the Mokihinui river, which is a steep gorged affair. The track was pretty high and, at times, unfeasibly narrow - raising the following two questions: Why did I chose a bike with downhill handlebars wider than said track, and why is mountain biking appealing when I'm so prone to sweaty palmed attacks of vertigo. The sheer drops from foot to river valley floor induced fear when pushing the bike and the swing bridges only added to the incessant mild panic.
We made it out of the trail, a few celebratory jugs at the Seddonville Hotel, a good deep fried feed and a couple of essential west coast community visits (Patricia and Em of Powerbar fame) before heading back east.
Massive thanks to Ray for the invite; Ross and Nigel for camaraderie, crass jokes and cool camera capers. It was the most impressive ride yet.
