Mountain Biking

Text taken from the club newsletter.

MOUNTAIN BIKING

From newbie to the Heaphy Track by MEGAN SETY

I’ve always been terrified of mountain biking. I just assumed it was all wild extreme downhill riding that would finish with me flying over the handlebars and crashing into a tree. Ten I saw a documentary about the making of the Old Ghost Road.. And for the first time, I thought that mountain biking could be fun and might not always involve near-death.

It turns out the multi-day Old Ghost Road has a few sections described as ‘long narrow, technical and rough section of trail (Grade 4-5 mountain biking)’ Clearly I have some work to do to make the leap from cycle-to- work commuter to mountain biker.

Becoming a mountain biker

I talked a few friends into taking an intro to mountain biking course with me. We spent a few hours learning the basics before we cycled up and down some of the easy tracks at Makara Peak. I remember thinking how ridiculous it was that the instructor was chatting away while I desperately tried to stay on the track. Riding uphill! But it was more fun than fear and our group started making regular trips to Makara Peak.

Garth Ireland took a few WTMCers on a tiki tour of Mt Victoria. He taught us how to ride down stairs, over seesaws, up steep hills, and most importantly, when to get off and walk.

Over the next few months, our group kept meeting up for rides. We adding tracks at Polhill and Belmont to our belt. Eventually I got up the courage to do some rides on my own.

Riding multiple days

It’s one thing to gain some skills riding, but it’s another thing to ride for a whole day and carry your stuff! Amanda Wells stepped up to organise a 2-day ride of the Timber Trail. It would be my first chance to try longer rides and multiple days. To make it an easy introduction, we stayed at a bach overnight and got shuttles to and from the track. Tat meant we didn’t have to carry as much gear.

It was a fantastic trip. Even though I was a bit sore, I got the feeling this mountain bike packing thing wasn’t all that hard. I got a chance to test a new bike bag and we debated the merits of bike shorts sans underwear to ward off chaffing. Again, it was clear there was a lot to learn with my new sport.

Putting it to the test—mountain bike packing

Next up, we set our sights on the Heaphy. Te DOC website said I should be prepared for a tough ride. Tey specifically said “Te track is suited to riders with advanced skills (Grade 4) with distance, remoteness, and the technical skills riders require in wet and/or cold weather needing to be taken into consideration.” I’m not sure this matched my idea of mountain biking that was fun and avoided near death-experiences. But I talked with experienced WTMC friends who reassured me I’d be fine and might just have to walk a little here and there.

Tat was enough to kick off the planning. We settled on the DOC recommended approach, with a few hours the first day, a ‘big’ day riding about 8 hours on the second day and finishing with a few hours along the coast. I put all the hard yards in coming up with a detailed transport plan. We talked about food and gear. We worked out how to rig bags to our bikes. I even got up at 6am to book our Great Walk bunks in case there was a mad rush on the day they opened for booking.

Te week before our trip, this funny little storm began to show up on the eather maps. Te forecast was predicting a massive cold front with severe gales up to 120 m/hr. As we were wondering what the track would be like, Ian Harrison sent through a link to swellmap. co.nz Te swells were forecast to exceed 6 metres—in the middle of our ferry sailing.

Te Interislander jumped ship and cancelled everything the day before. We debated and decided we could still take next day’s morning ferry, then the 5-hour shuttle to the start of the track and still have a couple of hours to cycle up the hill to Perry Saddle Hut for the night. So it was in the early evening we were rushing to load our gear and get up that hill before dark.

But it was a big hill. We climbed about 800 metres over 17.5 km. While the path was wide enough for a quad bike, it had giant rocks in it. I’d never ridden over rocks like that. You really have to keep your momentum going to push the bike over them, otherwise you just bump into them and fall over. Which I did.

As we made our way up the hill, Stuart Meiklejohn tracked us on the GPS. At each 30-minute check in, he would tell us how much distance we covered. We were slow. Very slow. Slower even than the DOC time. We arrived at the hut very late, ate a sad meal of dehydrated food before crawling into bed. We’d hardly seen a thing on the cycle up.

Te next day we woke up to the cloud clearing away, blue sky and sunshine. It was still brisk with the lingering cold temperatures of the southerly, but was beautiful. We were excited but feeling a bit apprehensive. DOC said the ride should take 6.5 to 10.5 hours. Te day before we’d been significantly slower than the DOC time and that was without breaks. I worried I’d overestimated my ability. Maybe I wasn’t experienced or cycle-fit enough for this track. What if I was behind the DOC time again? What if it was a 12-hour day!?

We started early just in case and kept the breaks to a minimum. We did squeeze in a stop to see if could spot any kiwi or newly released takahē. Illona Keenan called out to the birds, but they ignored us. We took in the expansive view and finally got a sense of where we were pedalling and how unique and changeable the terrain was going to be. We had come up through dense forest getting occasional views the night before. Now it felt like we could see nearly to the ocean. We would cycle through flatlands and eventually wander through hills before descending to the ocean.

We rode on Gouland Downs Hut which had a spectacular fire to warm the six bunks. We checked the map and mentally prepared for a few more hills. We arrived at Saxon Hut and finally took a proper morning tea break. We checked the map and realised we could relax—we were way ahead of DOC times. We basked in the sun and chatted to some cyclists just arriving from the other direction. It didn’t take long before we realised we’d bumped into Ant, an old WTMC member who’d relocated to Christchurch.

Afer a brief catchup, we got back on the track. Shortly afer we started out again, my pedal met a rock it didn’t like and broke. I managed to squish it back together and Megan Banks made sure not to abandon me until I caught up to the others. Illona supplied a few zip ties to fix it proper – as good as number 8 wire.

We wound our way through hills and funny limestone boulders, cycling over easy track and boardwalk. With a big group, it ofen seemed we would spread out quite a bit. I never really knew how far away the others were. As Emily Shrosbree stopped to take a photo of an unusual looking boulder, I pedalled on, not wanting to fall behind. Trying to catch up to the others, I thought about how fast I was passing through the amazing scenery. I looked when I could, but ofen they were short glances, before I had to focus on the track and riding.

We stopped for lunch at James Mackay Hut. I was still knackered from the day before and we’d already covered 24.2 km over the last four hours. We scoffed down our food and soon set off, this time excited by the upcoming downhill. It was fantastic. Not as technical as we worried. Sharing the track with walkers meant we had to keep a more conservative pace as well. Kate Cushing, one of the most experienced riders in the group, thought it might be the longest stretch of downhill she’d ever ridden.

It was heaps of fun, but I didn’t catch much of the forest or bush as we plowed down the hill to Lewis Hut. Another snack break and we were off. Ten minutes later, I stopped with Illona and Emily to actually get off the bikes and look at the spectacularly huge rata trees. Te tree trunks seemed big enough to house a mini family, as if at any moment a hobbit would come waddling out.

Finally I was beginning to realise it wasn’t going to take 10 hours and I could slow down, stop and enjoy the views. In fact I’d faffed about long enough that when I arrived at the swing bridge, no one was there. Since they were all gone, I assumed the obvious. Tey must have gone over the bridge with their bikes. I carried my bike, with bags strapped on, up the ramp on to the bridge. It was awkward, but clearly everyone else had done this since no one was in sight.

Just as I pulled the bike on to the actual bridge, I heard a voice. In the stream below, Emily was calling out to me. Ten Illona at the far side of the bridge was yelling back. I was a bit tired and exasperated at this minute and could make heads or tails of nothing! Emily came over to explain the rest of them (rather smartly) had managed to cross the steam with their bikes. Illona had tried the method prescribed by DOC for crossing swing bridges, but found it miserable with her handlebar bags. I was too far down the line to turn back, so I gave up and dragged/ lifed/grunted my way across. I think the fatigue was starting to set in and I was glad that it was just another 30 minutes until we arrived at Heaphy Hut for the last night. I did manage to appreciate the incredible change in forest to a jungle of nikau palms and thick ropey vines.

We were spot on DOC’s fast time of 6 or 7 hours, arriving by 3:30 pm. Plenty of time for snacks, cups of tea, naps, hut book reading and some walks along the beach. Heaphy Hut has an impeccable location perched on a grassy lawn overlooking where the mouth of the Heaphy River meets the West Coast. Yes, it has a lawn and somebody mows it. Te wonders of Great Walks will never cease.

It was an early night to bed and there was no ime for a sleep-in since we had to meet our shuttle at 11 am to catch our ferry back that night. Te last 16 km to Kohaihai Shelter were the perfect way to wind down the ride. It was a mix of track with an occasional sandy spot that required walking. It was easy riding, with frequent open views to the ocean. I’d stopped worrying about my technical ability or my speed. I was finally just enjoying how easily the bike covered ground that would have taken several more hours to walk and how nice it was to be free of the heavy weight of a tramping pack.

We stopped for a few snack breaks along the way, but fending off the sandflies is never enjoyable, so we never stopped for long. Te very last kilometre of the track is a friendly descent of 100 metres and it felt good to finish the ride with no effort.

The real deal

Te 7-hour shuttle ride back lef plenty of time to sleep and reflect. I’d enjoyed mountain biking the Heaphy Track, but it was a completely different experience than tramping. I’d missed a lot of the scenery because I was focused on riding and worried about being slow. I didn’t think it was possible, but riding uphill was even harder than tramping uphill. On the flip side, all the other riding was easy and I enjoyed moving without the weight of a heavy pack and being able to compare vastly different environments all in the same day.

You’ll have to wait for the next installment as we’re booked in to ride the Old Ghost Road in March. While I feel better prepared afer the Heaphy, I’m nervous about the 30 kilometre first day of riding that climbs over 1,000 metres in elevation.