Bike Camping, chapter 2

The second phase of my experimental bikepacking project launched on Waitangi Day.

It is all very well being able to go somewhere, camp, and return alive. That concept was proved to be workable a few weeks ago. Now an extra day or two would be required, and a bit of road mileage, to find out whether I am up to that, and whether my bike of choice is the right one for a mixed terrain route.

The idea was to pedal directly out the door, and make my way across to the Waikato River Trails. Travel north along the mighty river, then cut back east across the Mamaku Plateau to home. This plan had several things to recommend it. First it would be 100% bicycled, and secondly I had only had one previous look at a small section of the River Trails. I had traversed the Mamakus via the designated route once before, on a there-and-back mission a long time ago. Even the route I plotted to get to the River was new territory for me, so the whole thing had a nice exploration feel to it.

That devils tower looking thing in the middle distance is Pohaturoa, a volcanic plug that marks the start of the Atiamuri section of the Trails. The v-shaped declivity almost on the horizon is where the river delves between two cliffs, and where I am headed.

The ride to the Trails was longer and harder than I expected. Got on to gravel at about the 45 kilometre mark, and didn't see any trails until 60 kilometres had rolled under the Krampus. A decent sized hill provided a completely new view of the Waikato and the volcanic plug of Pohaturoa guarding the start of the trail.

The first section of trail was vaguely familiar, we had ridden it when it first opened in 2011. It has changed a lot in 15 years, and the section from the start to Whakamaru is mostly in really nice forest along the side of the river. There was no water at either of the two pretty good looking campsites along the way, so I kept going to the little village of Whakamaru where there is a store. I decided to continue on to Mangakino, making it a hundred kilometre day. That was a good call, camp was made on a grassy reserve on the lake formed behind the Maraetai Dams. There were a couple of other bike riders in residence, doing their own versions of Tour Aotearoa.

The following day was kicked off with a decent coffee at Mangakino village, and then a surprisingly hard section to Waipapa Dam. Would have been fun on an unloaded mountain bike, or maybe the Krampus if it had better brakes. Decision to upgrade from the cable disks made on this section.

Disappointingly, the next section was on road, with zero signage. It was not a bad road, but it was fairly busy, and a close pass by a big ute made me ride the wrong side of the road for a while whenever the curve was going left. There was no shoulder beyond the white side line, and having been collected from behind by a car once in my bike riding career I have no interest in a repeat performance.

Eventually back on a trail a couple of kilometres of dirt got me to the excellent Rhubarb Cafe in Arapuni.

I ate two lunches in a row, so I would not need dinner. The trail from Arapuni to the Little Waipa Reserve was nice, and the reserve was home for the night. It was a zoo, middle of long weekend crammed to the gunnels with campervans, caravans, crusty vans and tents. I found a spot under a tree and set up my little outfit. A swim to cool off, then a long nap in the shade.

Low on water again, and none available without begging, I decided to start early on the next day and go back to the Rhubarb, where there is a water fountain on the sidewalk next to a bike repair station. Also, coffee.

I got started early and thirsty, and had the best 5 kilometres of the whole expedition. Same excellent bit of trail, but with the added chocolate box look of morning light and nobody much about.

Rhubarb was on point again, and I earwigged a table full of women comparing notes on their various bike adventures while I waited for my eggs.

The ride from Arapuni to Putaruru and beyond was completed with a vigourous breeze exactly where it was required, going in my direction.

In fact, the ride along the quiet roads to Putaruru was so pleasant I deferred my original scheme of coffee in the town to the more energising idea of a beer when I reached home.

Crawling over a couple of decent lumps was the price to pay for entry to Leslie Road, where a long drag commenced at the slightly intimidating NO EXIT sign.

This grade was interminable, varying in pitch but not letting up for about 5ks. Felt like 15. Once past a gate where council absolved themselves of responsibility for the road, it was into the forest, and it was much nicer than I recalled from my previous visit. Very nice gravel, patches of native bush, not a soul except me.

Apparently the legal status of the road is public, but sections of it stray into private land so the forestry managers block it at both ends. There was a gate where I entered it, but the other end on what is an extension of Cecil Road out of Mamaku village, there are major earthworks created to deter visitors. Ditches across the the road, as well as what appeared to be ditches running along the road make it impassable unless you are keen.

Somebody gets in there on a moto, and they have created a section of singletrack that is easy enough to follow. It includes a sort of log bridge over a deep water filled ditch (think moat) which must be attention-getting on a moto. Safely walkable with a loaded Krampus.

After the dawdle through the sleepy village of Mamaku there was nothing left to do except freewheel for most of the last 15 kilometres (felt like 5).

This little outing proved that my sleeping arrangements work, although I am not slick enough at setting up the tent to enjoy doing it in the rain. That will happen, just hoping I get to erect/dismantle it a few dozen more times before then. I established that back-to -back days of riding are doable, but not at 100 a day. Not yet, maybe not ever. I need to be able to carry more water, or invest in a purification system, or something. The first day was surprisingly desert-like for such a green and pleasant land. No shops, no taps, and mercifully, precious few cars. Cable disk brakes are ok but with a loaded bike and steep fairly technical sections I would prefer a bit more grunt. I thought running cable disks would avoid hydraulically-based trailside tech issues, but when does that happen? My XTs on the mountain bikes operate faultlessly with zero maintenance, just an occasional new set of pads and a bleed. That is what the Krampus will get, soon. The ten speed drivetrain is getting to be old-school these days, but it is rock solid and I used every cog on the cassette at some stage of the outing. I only walked one climb, and I don't think a bigger cog than my 46 would have helped.

The main take-away from this weekend jaunt was how pleasant it is to disconnect, to dial back the thinking to wondering what is around that bend, and where exactly will we sleep tonight? And being able to do that from the back door is very good too.