Taking a longer way home

It is fair to say that over the last few years, I've fallen into some unhealthy riding habits.  

Saturdays are a good bad example.  Back in 2017, I logged rides on 41 out of 52 Saturdays, whereas this year, I've only managed 22 (with a single opportunity to come).  Of those, the vast majority have been on trips (15), and I can only find a couple of times that I've gone out on my own at home.  My brain generally tells me I'm too rooted to ride, and I can't muster any excitement to counter that.  The trips are as much as anything, a deliberate strategy to combat this, but I do feel ashamed that they are what it takes to get me out.  

The wheels began to fall off, or more to the point I began to fall off the wheels, in 2018 after returning from an incredible month in France.  And since, the natural extension of A Karori Caper - riding down every street in the country - has begun to involve at least 3.5 hour's travel (car or plane) to get the next launch pad and back again.  

Needing help, I tried to combat this in 2019, and in the first week back at the office, I rode home "the long way" three times.  Taking the direct route past the Botanical Gardens would have been a 5km ride or thereabouts, but instead I developed the habit of riding out to Johnsonville, before enjoying about 40 minutes riding in the countryside - the Makara Loop to the locals.  On a good night, I'd crank out the 32km ride in a little over an hour, while on a very slow night, it might be closer to 90 minutes.  

It was a successful strategy, and by the end of the year, I'd ridden that route no fewer than 103 times.  It would likely have been more, but we had a few weeks overseas (including our first cycle tour in Taiwan, and my first trip to Mongolia), but also I had problems with a recurring lower back issue which kept me off the bike for six weeks in between numbers 15 and 16.  

Especially through the winter months, I noted the transformation that would typically occur by the time I reached Johnsonville.  Many nights it would be a battle to find the energy to get changed, but I'd managed to flick a switch somewhere in my brain, and once outside, I'd force myself to turn left rather than right, and some 25 minutes later I'd be blasting through the outer suburbs, without a care in the world.  

In 2020, we had our first taste of lock-down life, and commutes consisted of a very short indoor stroll.  Once we were all liberated, I tried to mix up my short commutes a little, aiming to walk once or twice a week - about an hour if I was headed to my office in the CBD, or 45 minutes if to or from the Kelburn campus.  

By this stage, Sarah had taken to riding her mountainbike through Waimapihi Reserve.  Try as she might, for some reason I resisted, and left her to enjoy it alone.  Springing for a new Yeti SB115 in March of 2023 didn't immediately help, and while I enjoyed the bike immensely when on it, I only dabbled with using it to commute.  

Takahē through the Zealandia fence, one October's evening

The useful kick in the arse that is my brain may well have been the trip with Sarah and Khulie to Tasmania.  In the write up, I stated:  

I clocked up almost 275km of riding, on my brand-new-to-this-blog 2022 Yeti SB115.  I've had it since March, and bought it hoping it would reinvigorate my interest in riding.  While I haven't ridden it a huge amount, every ride has put a smile on my face, and it has helped mix my exercise regimen up a bit.

I started 2019 with a goal to ride the Makara Loop home 100 times, and titled the rides in anticipation "first of many", "#2", "#3" etc.  My commitment for 2024 was less overt, but I was nonetheless determined to make a regular thing of it.  Now that work is done for the year, I'm happy to reflect on a successful strategy.

For a start, the big bike was an absolute hoot to ride into work.  Mostly down hill, I did particularly enjoy the mornings where traffic conditions would require me to take evasive action of some sort, or pop up onto a curb, and latterly, hit the many new "sleeping policemen" (aka judder-bars, for those not in Mongolia) at speed.  Big fat tyres and powerful brakes for the win!!!

The regular MTB ride has helped me realised how little it actually rains in Wellington, and even when it does, how quickly my new go-to trails dry out.  The wind is partly to thank for Transient, Highbury Fling and the cheeky little track along the fenceline to Waiapu Road being so solid soon after rain, but so too the build quality of the tracks themselves (especially the first two).  I've chipped in during wet weekends by going in with a leaf rake and pulling organic material of the trails until either I'm done, or am blistered.  

Toutouwai keeping an eye on my progress

I've been joined by Sarah fairly regularly, and also Paul Morten who I first met when I turned up to the Freyberg Bunch on my flat-bar road bike a decade or so ago.  Often though, I've ridden on my own.

Morty and Sarah up near the windmill.  Photo:  BBJ (aka Big Bad John, per Morty)

The trails are busy, and I enjoyed the winter months because I ceased to have problems with head-phone wearing joggers!  For one, they were less common, but also because it is pretty obvious someone is behind you when all of a sudden you're running in your own shadow.  On more than one occasion in the summer months I've started to feel creepy while following behind a woman jogging, incessantly yelling "HELLLLOOOOOOO!!!!" at an ever increasing volume.   

Aside from seeing a few thousand fellow trail users over the span of the year, the birdlife that has ventured out of the sanctuary has been a highlight.  It wasn't uncommon to hear the very distinct call of  Tīeke, which were absent from the New Zealand mainland for a century, before being introduced to Zealandia in 2002.  When I was raking, I'd often be followed along Highbury Fling by Toutouwai, and of course Kākā and Tūī are a dime a dozen.  One evening in October, I rear-ended a Kererū!!!  I'd startled it as I approached a narrow bit of track, and rather than sitting tight, it decided to fly ahead of me.  I got its tail feathers in both eyes before it finally got up to speed, and boosted off.  I was still in a bit of a flap myself a minute later, and almost came a cropper on a wet root!  

The trail down to Waiapu Road was a nice skill-builder, and a couple of sections in particular kept me on my toes.  After a few runs, I discovered I could not only safely descend a short flight of wooden stairs, but also cross the ditch at the bottom without getting stuck in it.  I'm still damned if I know how the ditch-crossing actually works, but with a hundred successful attempts this year under my belt, I can confirm that it seems to...!

Photo:  Khulan Tumen

These rides have been a god-send on a bunch of levels - the physical benefits of an hour's commute most evenings for one thing.  Not only have these rides got me from work to home, but while doing so my fitness level, such as it is these days, has been handily maintained.  The downside of my stability on a road bike is a lack of movement in most of my body, and my lower back was yelping objection with increasing regularity and intensity.  The relatively dynamic nature of being on the mountain bike seems to suit me much better.    

Further, as my skill level subtly improved, and the trees lining the singletrack section seemed to move back from the trail ever so slightly, and I've been able to relax in a way that traditionally I'd only been able to on the road.  And boy, is half an hour in native bush good for the soul.

Sarah's pottery continues to go from strength to strength, and so being able to commute with her also gave us a nice bit of purposeful quality time, even when we didn't find ourselves overlooking the city basking in its own glory.

#woagd

It is a shame I need help to get out and ride one of my beautiful bikes, but tricks like this continue to be necessary.  Maybe saying this out loud will make future tricks either easier to come up with, or less likely to be needed.  Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and happy plotting and scheming for what lies ahead.  

118 ascents of Transient for the 2024 year, with slight variation beyond it

Craigieburn Thanksgiving

Had Ashley Peters invited us to the lamest place on earth to celebrate both Thanksgiving and her 40th birthday, we would have leapt at the chance.  Ash doesn't do lame, and so we were able to look forward to seeing her and some of her nearest and dearest, while also sampling some mint mountain-bike trail in Craigieburn Forest Park.  

I'd ridden past once, during the inaugural Kiwi Brevet.  However, the trails themselves weren't on the course, and I covered the road from Arthur's Pass to Porter's Pass while inside a cloud, and didn't see much more than tarmac [ed: at least so I thought, but my blog has a sharper memory than I do - I guess the sun did come out...].  

Sarah and I rented a car at Christchurch airport, and were glad to be in it as we made the drive up to Forest Lodge on the Mt Cheeseman Skifield Road - there was a hell of a wind blowing, and it was baking hot to boot.  Shortly after Porter's Pass, we gazed fondly upon Lake Lyndon and a sweet bit of gravel road that we'd come through in early 2022, towards the end of a tour between Queenstown and Christchurch.  

Soon after, we overshot our actual turn-off, but only by half a kilometre or so.  Stop-Go folk overseeing highway repairs made for a relatively stress-free U-turn.  

Once at the lodge, and after a round of greetings, I assembled our bikes (wheels, pedals, rear derailleur and handlebar).  All went smoothly, though the sandflies in attendance eventually dictated trouser-wearing, despite the warm weather.   

Ash has made a tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving, and many there were much more regular attendees than Sarah and I.  Each individual was invited to express gratitude for whatever tickled their fancy - I chose to acknowledge "passable physical and mental health" and really enjoyed the contributions of others.  Dinner was delicious too, though I initially mistook the marshmallow-topped pumpkin mash for dessert - crazy Americans (and if only that was just in the culinary sense).  I was a bit cheeky, and had second helpings of the pumpkin pie for actual dessert.  

Before it got dark, Sarah and I managed a short walk in the lodge's stunning back yard.  

The ice-skating rink "closed" for the summer

The following morning the group of 30 or so, from as far north as Rotorua down to Invercargill in the south, ate communally before ride plans were hatched.  

Sarah and I joined a group of mostly acoustic bikes heading for the Luge.  I was excited to ride with Leigh and Leif, two friends I hadn't seen for the best part of a decade, as well as Helen, Claire and Jonas - all Wellingtonians.  

Following Leif across Drac Flat

After 20 minutes or so, we were passed by the e-MTB bunch, who'd snuck in a gravel road climb before bombing down Cuckoo to intersect with our route.  They were heading for a high ridge, and had some hike-a-bike ahead of them, despite their motors.  Our numbers swelled slightly, with Lou joining us from this group.    

Most of the crew in sight:  Sarah, Leigh, Claire, Jonas, Helen, Leif and Lou.  (Matt obscured)

After a short rest, during which I enjoyed telling everyone about Sarah's use of ice as a cooling mechanism during our cycle tours, we began a descent to the start of Sidle 73. We passed a large group of trampers.  They and their humungous packs took my mind off the very cold air we'd found ourselves in - surely coincidence but I couldn't help think that my recent tales had conjured it up.    

As we began climbing the Craigieburn Ski Field Road, we said hi to another group of trampers, though that seemed to go down like a bucket of the proverbial.  We did subsequently wonder if the group of mostly teenagers were on some sort of boot camp - none had smiled at us, despite our friendliness.  Maybe we looked like we were having too much fun...

The clouds starting to burn away

Things got a touch messy after those of us in front missed the turn off to the Luge.  Lou blatted to and fro on her e-bike, desperately trying to coordinate things and to ensure that no-one ended up unaccounted for.  Eventually we did form a couple of smaller groups - Leigh, Leif, Helen, Lou, Matt and I continued up the road (not yet together), while Claire and Jonas were giving the Grade 5 trail The Edge a swerve (lest an ill-timed swerve take the relatively inexperienced Jonas off the edge).  

By the time we reached the ski-field, the clouds had all but vanished, and we were treated to stunning views.  Matt realised he'd blown through his child-free time budget, and made a beeline for the lodge, while the rest of us regrouped by the rustic ticket office.  

I watched from above while the rest of the group traversed the first of a few scree slopes before disappearing into some mint beech forest.  The trail was indeed exposed, though the sketchiest sections were often in the bush where a bench had been cut into bedrock, its narrowness testament to the effort required.  

I tended to ride at the back of the group, and I was pleased to see Sarah taking an occasional tactical walk when things got particularly steep and/or narrow, or simply when all didn't go to plan and a reset was needed. 

There was a fair bit of leap-frogging though, as the scenery dictated plenty of photo opportunities.  

Following Helen.  Photo:  Lou Hunt

Once the Edge had been successfully negotiated by everyone, we had to climb to the start of the Luge, and that required some careful power and traction management to stay on the bike.  We rested before cracking into the descent, and while we did so Lou fretted about her remaining battery, though as it turned out, the 2 remaining bars (of 6) were pretty much sufficient to get her home.  

After the Luge, we rejoined the Dracophyllum Flat track, which was not at all flat but might have been on average.  For a moment, I thought I was going to come a cropper but managed to somehow turn the huge hole I steamed through into a berm which helped ensure I made it out the other side.  

Leigh, Leif and I overshot our turnoff to the lodge, and while they doubled back, I kept going and soon after hooked into the access road we'd driven in on.  We were late for lunch, but there was still plenty of food out, and the body was soon in recovery mode.  

Later in the afternoon, I joined "Whiskey Mike", another long-lost friend on a 45 minute ascent to the start of Cockayne Alley.  The road was a bit of a grind, but conversation and some more stunning views kept us entertained.  Mike knew the area well, and so was able to point out where he and the e-MTB bunch had ridden earlier in the day, as well as the saddle from which the Luge began.  

Within a minute of Mike and I plonking ourselves down at the start of the single track, Russ arrived on his e-bike, and was polite enough not to rub in that it had taken him a little over a third of the time to complete the climb!

Perched high above the road. we saw more of our friends making their way up towards us, but a long wait ensured, and we were eventually forced to conclude that they'd turned off before reaching us, dropping down Cuckoo, presumably.  

I'd gotten a bit chilly while waiting, so was glad to get riding again.  Briefly, that was, since I soon came upon Russ standing in the middle of the track, looking at a bike lying in the tussock.  Initially, I didn't notice that some of the tussock was actually Mike, but eventually his green helmet and shirt started moving, and my brain pieced things together!!!  Fortunately, both he and his bike were fine, and Russ and I didn't see him again until the bottom of the trail.  I was glad it was dry (but not too dry), and had mostly enjoyed picking my way down.  I fluffed a tight corner or too, but was otherwise happy with how I'd coped with the techy trail.  

Back at base, it was time to get washed up, and ready for Ash's birthday dinner.   Steven had asked me to read a very sweet email from Ash's mum.  I didn't ask to pre-read it, taking a punt that I was better to to read it sight unseen.  The beautiful and very accurate list of 40 of Ash's best attributes deserved a good reading, and I carefully managed my own emotions by occasionally injecting a bit of humour - Steven, who was sitting right by me, was immensely helpful, though may not have realised at the time how much I was relying on him.  Nice that it was a two-way street.  

"Giving me Brook" was the last item on the list, though no mention was made of Brook's spectacular rear disc rotor being almost being as large as her wheel!  

The lodge and its temporary inhabitants were all in great form, and it was nice to sit and chat, crank through some of the seemingly endless stream of dishes, or simply admire the community that Ashley and Steven have built over the course of their relationship.  

The next morning it was time to go biking again.  I was keen to explore the trails towards Castle Hill Village, not least because I'd heard from Ash that there was likely to be a coffee cart there.  Despite this draw-card, Sarah was the only other taker, and after a slow start, we set off together.  

From the Texas Flat carpark, we began the Hogs Back Trail.  It climbed initially, and I got the sense we were the beneficiaries of some nice re-routes to lessen the gradient.  There were plenty of switchbacks on the way up to the ridge, and this made for great views back over the lodge, elements of the previous day's rides, and into the mountains.  

We dropped into the next valley, before making our way up a relatively short climb to "the lightning tree".  

Not long after we were stopped at a fork in the trail, and had the good fortune to be met by a pair who were clearly familiar with the area.  They told us about a third option - the Snout - which we decided to take.  When strangers describe a trail as "technical", it is very hard to know what to expect, and I was anticipating some walking being necessary.  It turned out this wasn't the case, and the steep plummet that I was expecting never came.  There were some "spicy bits" after which I had some nervous waits for Sarah, but we were soon riding mellower trail along a stream, and this took us to with a couple of minutes of the coffee cart.   

Sarah on the Snout

There, we enjoyed coffee and some food, as well as a nice chat with the barista, who was one of 35 or so permanent residents of the village. 

While smashing back the very good coffee, I hatched a plan to climb back up to the start of the Snout, and to descend the remainder of the Hogs Back trail, thereby covering the three options we'd had to choose from, albeit one in the uphill direction. I suggested to Sarah that she chill out and have another coffee, but she indicated a preference to head back to the lodge.  

Once I was done with the mountain bike trails, that gave me the opportunity to burn through a little more time by riding down the half a dozen or so cul-de-sacs in the village, something I'll not have to do in the future (see A Karori Caper for background).  Those motivated a second coffee, before I followed in Sarah's tyre tracks on what turned out to be a very short stretch of highway followed by a slow and arduous grovel on the gravel road back to up to Forest Lodge.  

But wait, there's more.  I did have a bit of a rest, including inhaling some leftovers from the communal lunch, but didn't get changed, as I had one more trail I wanted to ride - Cuckoo.  That required climbing back towards the start of Cockayne Alley, which I did in good company.  After talking with Kah for the first half of the climb, Ash came past on her new e-bike.  She was towing Kirst up the hill which slowed here down sufficiently to give me a fighting chance of keeping up.  Despite my weary legs, this was the only opportunity I'd had to ride with Ash, and was able to keep up with her until we stopped at the trail head a mere five minutes later.  

Before getting underway, there was time for a quick "Diamonds in the Rough" photo.  

Ash, Kirst, Helen, Lou and Claire

Ash and Russ hatched a plan to go quickly down Cuckoo and then boosting (using Boost mode, naturally) back up the hill for a run of Cockayne Alley with more e-bikers.  I followed them down, but had neither the skills nor energy to keep up with them.  By the bottom, my hands and legs had had a bloody good work out, and I was pleased to be almost done for the day.

I waited a wee while for those behind me, and started to wonder if there was another exit when I heard voices nearby. I went to investigate on foot, and found the younger members of Ash's extended whanau walking towards me: the Gabites and Parsons kids, plus Mike and Sarah's daughter Rai.  They didn't say what their plans were, but it turned out they went up Cuckoo, and didn't get back to the lodge quite as promptly as they'd imagined!  

Another group of riders came by, and I recognised one of them as Laurence Mote of Ground Effect fame, another person I haven't seen in many years.  We had a good chat while stationary, and then I rode with him much of the way back to the lodge before he peeled off, and I got stuck into packing the bikes for the return to Wellington.  

The evening was a good opportunity for some more family time, naturally celebrating Ash's American birthday, courtesy of the international date line.  

Brook and Steven Peters, keeping one another (and more) well entertained

On the way to the airport, Sarah and I enjoyed a few stops.  A short walk at Kura Tawhiti was spectacular, but we were both a bit thirsty and hadn't carried any water with us, so rushed it a bit more than felt decent. 

We stopped for a coffee and chat at Lake Lyndon Off Grid Coffee, and soon after for a pie in Sheffield.  

Surely a sign of a popular stop

Despite not having any young-uns in tow, our final activity was to visit Orana Park.   I'd been there only once before (with Jolene, while she was pregnant with Kaitlyn, almost 25 years ago), and Sarah had never been.  We were lucky, and pretty much everything was out on display, but we got particularly good views of the cheetahs, rhinos, gorillas and some African dogs.  

It was an action packed weekend, with some great riding, celebration and company, and some quality time with Sarah. 

To a great extent, she'd provided some of the most magical moments of the weekend.  We'd taken with us one of her beautiful ceramic bowls to give to Ash as a present, and some small plates for Brook (one of which Lou requisitioned as a very awesome salt dish for margaritas!).  Even more touching though was taking a couple of bisque-fired items (a bowl and a cup), as well various underglazes a brushes, for Brook to decorate.  These made it safely there and back, and are now fired and ready for Brook to put under her parents' Christmas tree.  

I'm super proud of Sarah's remarkable (and quickly acquired) talent, both in forming the clay, and decorating it.  But, it was her generosity and thoughtfulness that really blew me away, and it was incredibly special to see how apparent all of those things were to Ash, Steven and their friends.  

Across four rides, I covered almost 75km, and was delighted to maintain control of my bike throughout.  Data are available:  Ride 1 // Ride 2 // Ride 3 // Ride 4.  It is always a treat to ride in beech forest, and it was great to be able to do so with new and old friends.  

It was a privilege to spend time with Ashley, Steven, Brook and an interesting and diverse bunch of people, all of whom clearly love the Peters family dearly.  It is an honour to be among their number.