Pioneer Trail - Thursday 18 July

Pete has very kindly agreed to drop me up to the Denniston Plateau for a head start on the Denniston short cut. We leave in the dark and drizzle just after 7am and drive through a Westport that is sending the next shift up to Stockton.

The road climbs steadily and steeply up the ridge away from Waimangaroa, with the coastal plain opening grey and wet in the gloom below. The odd coal truck rumbles down the hill.

We don't pause at the top but the various relics of old settlements are scattered along the route. The landscape is shrouded in clag and it doesn't take much imagination to picture a fairly bleak existence up here. The road branches and winds getting rougher and we're pretty pleased to be in the Hilux. Eventually we get to what must be pretty close to the top, the drizzle has let up so I shake hands with Pete and pedal off into the clag as he executes a u turn.

Two electricity utes come in the opposite direction as I start down a steep descent. At the bottom there's a bit of straight and I'm feeling uneasy about the direction of travel when a section of road clicks and I realise we came up this way. Sure enough a minute later Pete drives around the corner; "How the hell did you get here!" You can only laugh. The bike goes back in the tray and Pete performs another u turn.

The road executes a long loop and in the clag the power lines can't be seen to give a bearing. There are a number of turn offs that could be possible routes off the top. We end up checking a couple of duds including one that follows a new line a long way down. As a pylon service road there are regular side roads to each structure. Most are clearly minor but when you can't see the wires it isn't always obvious. 

Eventually we have the right one (it is marked with a loose rock cairn that you pass on your left) but Pete's not about to let his guest head off into the mist down the precipitous track so keeps going saying he'd better check out the ford at the Mackley River (officially: "Orikaka or Mackley River"). The track drops and winds and drops. It takes longer than either of us expected and is fairly steep in places with a few stiff climbs out of Stevenson and Mt Williams stream gullies.

The service utes are still in front of us somewhere so we know the route is passable (or that we will have company if not).

Eventually we drop to the river, it's sizeable with a bouldery approach but a good drivable line. The exit is via the mouth of Blue Duck Creek and looks undrivable. However we see the other utes have got through so we chuck some rocks in appropriate places then Pete launches his pride and joy at what amounts to a wet boulder pile. The Hilux bucks and bounces over the bank into the stream and attacks the steep exit. Pete's head is rocketing around inside like a blonde pinball but it carries through.

There's no way we're about to go back through all that so there had better not be any locked gates.

It's still a fair old way out and the service ute tracks we are following have turned up all the side tracks so there are a few intersections we have to check. However, after the climb from the river the track is smoother and less steep. There's old coal mine workings and eventually farm land at New Creek and a sealed road that takes us to the iron bridge over the Buller River.

At 11.30 I once again shake hands and say good bye to Pete feeling guilty about what we've put his truck through.  We're both a bit sheepish about the morning's navigation but it was a pretty good adventure.  He and Wendy get many visitors from off the Coast who are all treated to their generous hospitably so I'm also conscious I have taken up a day and a half of his time without the courtesy of a pre-warning.

The drizzle has cleared as I head up the gorge while Pete turns for a long but somewhat smoother trip back down the road to Westport, Cass and his Wekas.

Having time and supplies to get a bit lost for awhile, I was relaxed about the shortcut but there are a few lessons. Some of the written descriptions of the route are not easy to relate back to the landscape you see so I recommend taking the 1:50,000 map(s). The road is steep up and down and winds around the craggy ridges so it's very hard to keep a bearing in clag if you can't see the wires.

The trip up the gorge is straight forward. 2-3 K after the Iron Bridge is Lyell and the start of the Old Ghost Road then it is through the Upper Buller Gorge, past the fault scarp at White Creek, past the intersection with SH 65 and on to Four Rivers Plain (I assume these are the Buller, the Matakitaki from the south, the Matiri from the north and the Mangles from the south-east. The Rain has been through but the cloud is broken and there's occasional glimpses of sun. The tearooms in Murchison supply lunch again before the long stretch beneath the Blue Cliffs Ridge to Owen River.

There is no sun in the afternoon as I pass the Owens Junction pub, the Road beside the Gowan River to Lake Rotoroa and Kawatiri junction with the remnants of a failed railway link to Nelson. Last time I came through (1989) the pub was an obligatory stop for a beer and I ended up sleeping the night in the disused railway tunnel (nothing to do with the beer).

Kawatiri Junction; left to St Arnaud, right to Murchison

North from Kawatiri Junction is the long road over the Hope and Spooner Saddles to Nelson but today it's 25k to St Arnaud and maybe 20K further to the DoC camp site at Kowhai Point.

It's about 4.30 and starting to get dim as I ride into St Arnaud so I'm happy to call it quits. At the petrol station/store I have just discovered that the Takeaway wont be open today when a voice from behind asks; "Where've you come from today mate?" I turn and we recognise each other. Ashley is an erstwhile work colleague, a mad keen cyclist and an all round good bloke. He casts an expert eye over my set up, makes the right comments and enquires about my route in detail. He's coming up to the Lodge restaurant later so promises to shout me a beer.

I have a dorm room to myself again. After watching the pink light drain away west from the (now) sparse snow on the ranges there's time for a shower and to set sweaty gear to dry, all much better done in a room than a tent.

My blue cod and chips is generous and tasty, and with a glass of Neudorf Chardonnay cycling catering doesn't get much better than this.  Ashley pops over for a chat, as does mine host and before long it's time to turn in. I'm intending to head for Picton tomorrow and although there's no hills it could be a bit of an effort.

Go to blog for Friday; homeward bound

Pioneer Trail - Tuesday 16 July

At 7am it's dark and there's a good frost. By 810 it's light enough to leave my cosy room and crunch through the frost to the road. There's wispy high cloud but the snowy tops are clear and catching the first light.

Not many photos today so here's an irrelevant shot of
me being cold beside my bike near start of the Porika track

2k up the road a right turn across a frosted bridge over the Muria River leads to the single lane West Bank Road. There's workmen blocking the bridge, one of them with just the top of his head showing where a couple of deck planks have been removed. It's an easy step across carrying the bike to squeeze past their digger.

The road is sealed for a few K then turns to well compacted gravel.  It's essentially an access road for the local farms and probably a little slower than the main road but gets you out of the traffic.  The frost on the farmland is hard and the quiet air is crisp.

The sun soon cracks the ridge providing a boost but little heat so fingers and toes become progressively more numb (number?). The road winds into beech forest with the sun filtering horizontally through the trunks and after dipping and rising eventually drops back to the flats for the run back to SH 65 then SH 7 and Springs Junction.

It's only been about an hour on the road but the cafe is a welcome excuse for a morning coffee. The owner points me to the fire to thaw feet and hands and look north through the large window across the flats to snow clad hills in the distance (possibly Mts Cann above the Glenroy River and Mantell North of the Muria Saddle).

Chatting to one of the waiting staff it turns out that he lives in a cabin nearby and came down from Auckland for the job a couple of months back. I don't imagine the pay is very good and have to admire his willingness to follow a work opportunity into the middle of winter and nowhere. I don't ask where he came from before Auckland but it could be one of the 'stans. He asks where I'm headed but looks blank when I say Inangahua.

Back on the road the sound of 9k up to Rahu saddle is not enticing. However after a short steepish stint it's a reasonably gentle 'up' on a very nice driving road. The traffic is sparse so it's good riding despite a few false tops. The frost limns the beech trees on the approach to the real top which has a DoC sign (Klondyke? route) then a modest AA sign noting 696m.

Now there's about 500m to lose before Reefton, 37 km away. The down hill lasts and lasts. Thick beech hems the road (mind the grit and ice) with mossy bouldered streams appearing from the dim recesses of the forest to join the upper reaches of the Inangahua river. The river bed doesn't look very active as the boulders are lichen covered, suggesting they're not moved about much.

When the road finally drops to farm flats at Craig's Clearing the sun is welcome but is still not enough to thaw the extremities. Down the valley the river is wide with round white rocks. There's plenty of reminders of mining; walks to old workings, the access road to an active gold mine (Oceanagold's Reefton open pit mine) and finally at Black point a museum and associated industry. As it is just 2K through a cold gorge to Reefton, there's no stopping now.

Rounding a corner the road simultaneously breaks into bright sunlight and into the basking township. Although 11.30 is a little early, it's the only lunch option today so after a cruise of the main street my eye falls on the Broadway Tearooms and Bakery. The proprietor has recently returned from a cycling holiday in China and relishes the chance to talk shop with a comrade on wheels.

Nabbing a chair by the heater I'm content to spin my creamy chowder out for much longer than necessary and read the paper. The place is busy by the time I leave.

By my reckoning it's 33K to the Buller Gorge road so I follow SH 69 north along long straights through healthy farmland. On the right the snowy tops of the Victoria and Brunner Ranges and on the left the lower foothills of the Paparoas with Charleston somewhere on the other side. There's plenty of trucks and company utes about suggesting that some parts of the local economy are doing well.

Not having looked at the map recently I am expecting to arrive at the township of Inangahua and the intersection with the Buller Gorge road. Instead there's an intersection, a house, signs pointing to Westport and Murchison but no mention of Inagahua. I find out later that it was just up the road a little.

My plans at this point are a little vague but a trip down to Westport seems to be on the cards. I leave a message on my mate Pete's cell phone and head for the lower Buller Gorge. It's around 2pm so plenty of day left although clouds are lurking in the west. The gorge is busy but I'm given a wide birth and keep pottering along.

Having done the Buller half and Marathon along this route in recent years, I have an eye out for the first familiar landmarks. This comes with a white line across the road with the word "Turn" shortly before Berlins. Then the Ks count down from 8 to the starting point of the Marathon at Hawks crag (they set off up the road to start with).

Hawk's crag and the start of the Buller Marathon

The crag is an iconic spot on the river which has been known to flood the road at this point. Some quick arithmetic confirms that there must be a further 5K to the half marathon start. Sure enough the road markings continue counting and just after 21 I recognise the spot and see another line on the road. Having run this stretch twice it is all familiar now.

The road winds up and down above the deep green river until dropping to the flats. Pete calls but takes some convincing that I am in fact just up the road. He offers to pick me up in the ute but tempting as it is I'm sort of enjoying reliving the route with the km marks ticking up towards 42 so elect to continue; recognising water stops, noting where the piper always stands at the top of a rise and the final down hill, which is where I leave the course today.

It's been a longer day than expected so at 4pm I'm very pleased to be barked at by Cass and to settle on the deck with a cup of tea. We yack until Wendy gets in.  Pete is a long time Coaster; he was teaching at the school and coaching local rugby teams long before we worked together in Wellington.  He has retained that annoying trait of a good teacher; being able to see right through you with a piercing eye.  He wouldn't admit it but he is what he would describe as a bit of a clever bugger.



His garden has fair come on since I was here last, he's been looking after the birds over winter with sugar water so there's a good number about. In particular he points out a quiet little brown shape; it's a fern bird which I would not have noticed amongst the sparrows.

None of the Weka are about but no doubt will make an appearance before long. Some of the Coasters have a bizarre attitude to Weka, treating them with something that goes beyond indifference into contempt. It's a real shame; visitors can see their charm and find them irresistible. There's been mixed success with his neighbours; some are taking a little pride in them now but others haven't got much past the urge to put the dogs on them.

Pete talks about some work he has been doing with DoC and has recently been up the Old Ghost Road which has had some considerable investment poured into it. Definitely something to return to with the bike.

Wendy gets in from work and prepares an absolutely delicious dinner with matching wine (courtesy of a son in law wine maker in a prominent Marlborough vineyard); very welcome after the eclectic eating patterns of recent days.

Go to blog for Wednesday: Knocking around Karamea