Into a forgotten world While there may be several grades for trips, this trip discovered a new grade – ‘SD’ – Sleep Deprivation! The cycle tour along the Forgotten World Highway from Taumaranui to Stratford is dogged by logistics of road-ends.
They are separated by many kilometres, necessitating the use of the overnight train and the start of our sleep As the name of the road suggests, this was a journey back in time, back maybe into Middle Earth. The last club trip here was led by Glynne “Hobbit” Lloyd. On this trip, the Lord of the Rings atmosphere was fulfilled by the presence of Harry ‘Gandalf’ Smith. This was a trip to places still languishing a generation or two prior, an opportunity for Gandolf to remove himself from those espresso slop-houses that serve foreign muck ending in ‘o’. Maybe Gandalf would discover one of those old tearooms that serve a cup of tea in a half inch thick Railways cup and offer a cheese and tomato sandwich as its gourmet fare.
Now Gandalf is not normally known as a gear freak, but come 3am in Taumaranui, he unleashed a ‘new’ bike - the 3rd he’s been seen riding in 4 years. Surely this would finally earn Gandalf ‘Gear Freak’ status of the highest order! Well, it would if each bike had been new! This ’new’ bike was straight out of the summer 2003 Cash Converters collection and while it did sport a manufacturers logo, little paint was remaining. We all straddled our horses and trotted 5km down the main road to the camp, finally crawling into our pits just after 3:30am and completing our first night of sleep deprivation.
Any chances of a decent sleep-in were wrecked by a hot, humid and sunny morning. With other campers wandering about, we merely slobbed around until we could pluck up some motivation, retraced our steps into town and then onto the Forgotten World Highway.
The hills started immediately but the views were pleasant. With limited safe water supplies en-route, water was conserved, but thirsts arrived rapidly. We stopped and took note of the information signs enroute, detailing the history and refilled with water at Ohinepani campsite (used by kayakers and canoeists on the Whanganui river journey) before facing more hills.
The heat continued to drain the resources of us, the sleep-deprived cyclists - but we plodded on until, and into, the beautiful Tangarakau Gorge, that provided shade & spectacular riding. Although we had only covered 65km today, (plus a few km’s at 3am!), the picturesque rest area near Joshua Morgan’s grave enticed us to stop and camp the night. Joshua Morgan was the surveyor that surveyed this land before he lost his life while working in the Tangarakau Gorge. The native bush was dense and provided shade. The water from a side steam was clear and the ground lay flat. All the makings of a good Tramping & Mountaineering 2003 Grant Newton deprivation.
campsite for sleep deprived cyclists. And so it was until my cold/sore throat picked up on the train, played up, and in turn I managed to ensure one or two others would joining me in remaining sleep deprived!
The rest of the Tangarakau Gorge provided more great riding and we stopped for photos just beyond at the Moki tunnel. It was then into a long climb up Tahora Saddle, lured on by the prospect of a café on top. Today the hills just didn’t seem so bad, maybe it was cooler, maybe we got slightly more sleep or maybe it was the lure of a cold Coke. Upon arrival at the café, we noticed Russians owned it. Now would this be an espresso slop-house serving foreign muck ending in ‘o’? Gandalf didn’t consume anything. The rest of us though enjoyed cold drinks and quenched our thirst.
It was then a fast downhill as we galloped on our iron horses into the Wild West village of Whangamomona. The ghost town has a colourful history, most recently in 1989 when the provincial boundaries were reviewed and it was moved from Taranaki and placed in Whanganui. The locals were in uproar and declared the town a republic, a status that is recognised annually with a republic day. Such a day requires a passport for entry and while this event had occurred the day prior, there were still a few diehards drinking away in the pub and at tables along the main street. It was hard to imagine that this tiny village had hosted 4,000–5,000 people the day before and included such events as whip cracking, car blow-up and the Taihape classic, gumboot throwing. Well I suppose anything is possible in a town that has previously elected a goat as its mayor!
We city types slid down the side road, pitched our flys and ate lunch in the sun. With a fine afternoon in store, overcoming sleep deprivation was delayed to the evening. The panniers were discarded, and off down Whangamomona Road we headed. The road deteriorates into a 4WD track within a kilometre or two and thus an excellent mountain bike ride begins. We bobbled through the humps and hollows, squelched in the occasional bog and slid through tunnels until arriving at the ‘Bridge to Somewhere’. Though a less spectacular location than its more known partner, the ‘Bridge to Nowhere’, it was nevertheless a good spot. Upon the return journey one of the hollows was too much for Gandalf, swallowing him and leaving him with a mud covered shirt.
Cruising through the tunnel into a forgotton world Katja Riedel After hot showers and dinner, it was time to finally rid ourselves of sleep deprivation. After all, this was a very quiet, sleepy town and we were camped in outer suburbia. We crawled into our pits and snoozed off. With only a few zzzz’s in the bank, the possums came out, rustlin. One particular possum was grovelling in the apple tree above Gandalf. This particular possum was as cheeky as a kea and chose to drop the apples, causing Gandalf a very restless night sleep. The rest of us kept trying to sleep until the local roosters decided that 3am was near enough to morning and began causing such a racket that we were to get no more sleep. Ah well, it was an ‘SD’ trip!
The last day promised a solid, but not too long day in the saddle, though the deteriorating weather threatened to dampen us. The hills started immediately with the biggest of the trip, the Whangamomona Saddle, a climb to test the patience after a bad nights sleep. But the downhill amongst the Tramping & Mountaineering 2003 bush made the effort worthwhile. Whilst the climbs came and went, the clouds came, but didn’t seem to go, the threatening weather prompting an increase in pace to Stratford.
After a total of 200km over the weekend, we arrived at 1pm in time for lunch, with nothing but a few very light spits of moisture and gusts of wind to contend with. We found our way to a great café, looking very much an espresso slop-house serving foreign muck ending in ‘o’. Though with rain about to hit us, even Gandalf ventured inside, and when the rain did hit, we were all warm & dry. And Gandalf sat and ate quiche & salad, as he couldn’t get a cheese & tomato sandwich. Anyway, isn’t ‘tomato’ foreign muck ending in ‘o’?
The group were: Harry ‘Gandalf’ Smith, Wayne Stevens, Katja Riedel, Wendy Shuker, Jeanine Langvik and Grant Newton
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