Down the Whangaehu

Down the Whangaehu

If you're going to do a cycle touring trip, what could be better than starting at 700 metres and finishing at sea level? That was my philosophy when I suggested a trip down the remote

Whangaehu Valley for the 2001 trip schedule as a follow-up to the previous year's trip down the Wanganui River road. Grant signed up as leader and the trip was on.

he Whangaehu is one of the rivers leading down of{ the Volcanic Plateau southwards through the Wanganui hill country. To the west lies the Parapara highway between Wanganui and Raetihi, with the Wanganui River beyond; to the east lies the Rangitikei Valley and

State Highway One. Halfway down the valley between the mountain and the sea lies the little settlement of Mangamahu, offering a natural stopping point on the joumey.

Friday night saw a group of seven of us camping near the Mangawhero Lodge just up the Mountain Road from

Ohakune. In the morning we packed up our panniers and swept down into town. (Or at least, six of us packed up our panniers; Deborah had one of those newfangled cycle trailers.) Our first port of call was of course the chocolate 6clair shop, to pig out and load a few extras into the panniers for later in the day. Then it was out onto the main highway eastwards towards Waiouru for 10 km to the start of the

Whangaehu road.

Turning offthe main highway at Karioi, we immediately found ourselves on pleasant, deserted ruralback-roads, with Mt Ruapehu rising as a chocolate-box backdrop behind us. After 20 km steadily losing height we finally arrived at

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.q6 {s z the floor of the Whangaehu Valley itself. Here the tarseal ended and a warning sign loudly proclaimed "No Trailers" ! After suggesting that Deborah would have to turn around and go back the way we had come and meet us in Bulls, we decided we could safely ignore this particular traffic regulation and carry on our way!

A few bends later we came to a big hill up and over a bluff. Low gear wasn't low enough and some of us were soon off and walking. A steep descent down the other side followed, with brakes screeching loudly all the way to the bottom, where we pulled over beside a bridge over a sidesheam and stopped for lunch in a pleasant spot in amongst some trees beside the river. The Whangaehu flowed past, grey and muddy and completely undrinkable, fed directly from the acidic waters of Ruapehu's Crater [-ake. Anybody rycling this way needs to make sure they cam/ enough water to last the whole day.

That afternoon provided more great cycling as the road wound down-valley, high above theriver, almost completely free of traffic. In the whole day I don't think we saw more than 2 or 3 cars. Some unpleasant gravel made for hard work and required care. At one point Fiona suddenly skidded off her bike just ahead of me. I tried to avoid her, but was

Tramping and Mountaineering 2007 /2002 imith and note ; trip ; on.

following too close, lost control, and skidded over on top of her. The two of us ended up in a tangled heap in the middle of the road, but fortunately we only sustained a few minor scrapes and were able to pick ourselves up and continue on ourway.

But despite the great cycling, there came a point sometime in the afternoon when the enjoyment wore off and it became tiring hard work. Our legs began to feellike rubber; surely we were getting close? Around each bend I hoped to see Mangamahu coming into view, but each bend was followed by one more, and one more after that. It seemed we would never get there. It was with some relief when we finally rounded the lastbend and swooped down the final slope towards our day's destination.

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The main settlement was over a bridge on a terrace across the other side of the river. This is where we had originally hoped to find some water and a place to camp, but earlier in the afternoon we had met a local who had told us about a bush reserve up a side road, so we set off for there instead. After another 5 km of weary travelling on the winding gravel road, high above a deeply incised stream, we reached the spot. Unfortunately it didn't look very good - rough, boggy-looking ground, with no decent water supply. Should we stop here or should we continue on up the side valley? Should we go back to Mangamahu? The troops were feeling pretty stuffed, so Deborah and Grant went on ahead a few hundred metres and called in at a farmhouse to ask if there was anywhere we could camp. The farmers hrrned out to be a nice couple who had moved here a few years ago to escape from the big city life in Wellington. They led us down to one of their grassy fields beside the stream, then brought us down a tractor-load of firewood and buckets of drinking water!

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That evening we enjoyed a pleasant time around the campfire. Eventually everybody had gone off to bed except

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a -o i w ( i me. Looking to the south, over the tops of the hills across the valley, I could make out a faint glow in the sky, like the glow of a far distant town or city, only red in colour, with the odd streak of white in amongst it. The Aurora Australis - the Southern Lights! There had been unusual solar activity over the last few days with sightings of the Aurora in the deep south, and I had been wondering whether we would get to see it. In the lights of Wellington it probably would have been unnoticeable, but out here in the country the faint glow was visible. Unfortunately there were none of the curtains of spectacular, shimmering, multi-coloured lights that a good Auroraldisplay is supposed to have, but I suppose I shouldn't complain - after all, it may have only been a faint red glow but it's still the only Aurora I've ever seen!

On Sunday, after saying goodbye to our generous farmer hosts, we carried on down the Whangaehu Valley. This soon opened up into broad, farmed river flats, and after

\5 or 20 km we turned off and headed eastwards over scenic backroads into the Turakina Valley, with trees and some small patches of bush. After a lunch stop in the shade of some roadside pine trees, another link road led east towards Marton. On the map this looked deceptively flat, but we found ourselves grinding steadily uphill before we finally crested the top of the rise and had a short downhill run out onto the plains north of Marton. Here we made good time, and after an ice-cream stop in Marton we soon found ourselves in Bulls, to be picked up ai 5 o'clock by the Orient Express.

And so ended an excellent trip through some scenic and little-visited country - a trip which deserves to find a regular spot on the club schedule.

The cyclists: Grant Newton, Deborah Prowse, Peter Misich, Fiona Pratt, Jane Perkins, Kim Vickerman, Harrv Smith.