Rode Old Motu Coach Road, Coach!

After the last couple of outings on the bike, I was in good need of an enjoyable ride. As always, getting rides in is a constant juggling act - between work, home, a relationship, and as Wellington's current offering reminds me, the weather, it can be very hard to get the quality time needed to excel come race day. And, with every training opportunity missed, the race doesn't magically reschedule to allow you to be at your optimum.

I'd squeezed the shitty tip track and Akas loop rides in to put less riding pressure on for the days Carly, Kaitlyn and I would be on holiday together. In case of emergencies, I had the Brevet 69er on the car, but intended not to use it for the first few days at least. We slowly made our way north, and I was excited to drive by ...

Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaunga-horonukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu

for the first time. The road east of Dannevirke and then north to Waipukurau was well worth the detour! The next days were spent at Splash Planet, Aratiatia Rapids, Taupo's Prawn Park, and Waitomo's awesome Ruakuri Cave, among other bits and bobs. We met Mum and Dad in Tauranga, and farewelled Kaitlyn, before heading to Waihau Bay on the East Cape. While the holiday so far had had heaps of highlights, it had been very short on down time, and hadn't offered any sensible riding opportunities. Nor had I felt any need to upset the apple cart by insisting on a ride. I'd hoped to do W2K in Taupo, but it simply wasn't worth missing out on Carly and Kaitlyn's company.

By the time I woke up on Monday at Orouaiti Beach, at the eastern end of Waihau Bay, I was beginning to feel the pressure of looming events. The morning was spent pulling Tarakihi from the sea - with frightening but delightful regularity. We pulled them in so fast, the boat trip was short, and so in the afternoon Carly and I went for a sifty ride to the boat ramp and up to the village and back. Upon our return, I immediately got changed and headed out for what was meant to be a hammer session. With my GPS unit on board, I had the local road map, and planned to head east exploring as many roads into the hills as time would permit. I got as far as the Wairoa River, but really wasn't enjoying myself, and the black dog was once again loping along mocking me. When I got back to base, I was anxious about the ride, and was wondering what the hell was going on. I might have been focussing too much on the speedo, but the fact that I'd struggled to work up a sweat when at full noise I have sweat dripping off my chin onto the bike, was concerning...

I have ablsolutely no recollection of Tuesday, but it certainly didn't involve cycling, or if it did, I've screwed up Monday. In any case, it was nice to settle down with a book. Although I'd originally planned to head off on Wednesday after lunch, I'd decided to stay on and head back to Wellington on Thursday. This gave the opportunity for Carly and I to do a bit of exploring on the Whangaparoa peninsula. We beached at a small bay after an unsuccessful attempt at going after some snapper. After a quick bite to eat, we headed off up the nearest ridge, aiming for a high point with a radio mast on it. It had looked reasonably simple from the water with a prominent ridge taking us all the way up. On the ground of course it was much less simple, with some very steep sections, dense bush, and a few high points along the way. Eventually we made it to the top, with some good work in the legs. After a brief stop, including the most awesome bush-shit I've ever done and the unexpected opportunity to answer some txts (no vodafone coverage down below), we made our way back down the ridge. We got at least half way down before deviating from the route we'd come up. After some very tricky stuff which Carly handled with aplomb, we were almost back at sea level when, pushing through some grass, I felt a very sharp pain just by my right knee... Eventually I spotted the cause - one of these little suckers...

which I'm guessing are some sort of native New Zealand wasp. I really glad the nest was as small as it was, and that I was only stung once... We made it back to the boat within a few minutes, after skirting around a couple of small bays. The exercise had been nice, despite the challenges of getting up and down in one piece.

Thursday morning came quickly, and by 8:30 I was away. First order was a drive of about 90 minutes towards Opotiki. A few km short, I turned left into Motu Road, and parked up in front of a small church a kilometre or so up the road. I now have two bottle cages on the 69er, and had loaded these up with two big (900mL) bottles of diluted Mizone. In a pocket I had a couple of muesli bars and a single One Square Meal bar. Not enough it turns out...

The gravel road was a few minutes ride away, and (apologies for this) after my second best ever bush-shit, and a quick photo-stop...


I was underway. The gravel road was in awesome condition, and boy oh boy the 69ered XTC is a great machine for that sort of riding! The first hour or so had a few nice little treats, including weka scurrying off into the bush. It also gave me time to think about what was so different about this ride and the previous three, apart from the obvious absence of my black dog. I'll come back to that at the end.

The ride to Motu consisted of three longish climbs, with slightly shorter descents into the next valley. The road was great, and apart from a couple of vehicles, I saw no-one. The views were stunning, even without the bike.



After almost three hours I reached Motu. I felt slightly lucky to be there as a couple of minutes out I'd passed within a few metres of a rather large bull who'd snuck out of his paddock. As if once wasn't enough, a second one was lurking around the corner in much the same state. The school at Motu was a welcome sight indeed.


Ironically, there was also a well-appointed toilet block there, but I had no need to use it. Simon's rear wheel had been giving me a few problems on the way and so I popped it out of the frame for a gander. I could do nothing about the broken spoke nipple (nor did I need to), but I gave the wheel a bit of the old shakey-shakey rotating it slowly as I went, and this was enough to sort out the slow leak somewhere in the tyre. After getting the tyre back up to pressure, replacing it in the frame, and scoffing the last of my food, I started back the way I'd come.

The bulls had moved from where they'd been, and one in particular took a bit of getting past. Damn those things are big! Eventually I was by though, and on my merry way. The climbs were smaller in this direction - approximately 1100m climbing was only about 700m heading north, and so things were easier. Luckily the beautiful native bush afforded me good shade for a lot of the ride, and so things didn't get too hot. As a consequence, the amounf of fluid I had was sufficient, but I could have done with twice the amount of food I'd carried. By the time I got back to the car, I was famished, though luckily I'd still been able to ride strongly enough. I ate 6 toffee pops three at a time - they were so melted together that individually wasn't an option even if I'd cared. I left Opotiki at 4pm, and it was just before 6pm that the food properly hit my system. I was safe and sound in my bed back in Wellington by midnight.

This ride had been lovely, and a blessed relief. 100km on gravel road, with just under 2000m of climbing is no walk in the park, and it was good to have had 5 hours of saddle time. It also helped convince me that I have to want to ride for the riding's sake, and not ride because I feel like I must. This latter characteristic had been a common one of the previous three rides, where I was struggling to make way for the holiday. This mindset had really marginalised their benefit, and it's entirely possible that I would have been better off without one or more of them. I haven't been on the bike since the Motu Coach Road ride, but am not stressed about it. Rather than writing this, I should be time-trialling in the WVCC's 2 Day Tour in the Wairarapa, but this great event has unfortunately coincided with a very wet southerly storm. Simon and I have both blocked out tomorrow morning for a good effort. With luck, the weather gods will play ball. I like riding with Simon. When he's around, the pooch rarely dares show his face...