Tararua Trails

Last updated: Mon, 28 Jan 2008 08:20:00 GMT

Chris Reece versus the Little Akatarawa: two falls, one submission, and the scenery was knockout.

But first, a very quick chat about gear. I like gear. Motorcyclists often like gear. Men often like gear. Spods often like gear. So I'm pretty much predisposed to like gear. But gear's a double-edged sword, and it costs. I'm also a tightwad. There's a part of me that doesn't want all the gear, because it's just too flash. Wearing all the flash gear says "ph33r mUH sk177z!!1" like nothing else. If you dress up like Josh Coppins, you better damn well get out there and show us some tricks, or you'll be falling flat on your harlequin-patterned ass. I'm no Josh Coppins.

So, here's what I'm carrying:

RJays Evo touring jacket -- I paid a decent price for it. I wear it on the road, too. It's got plenty armour, pockets up the wazoo, and it seals nicely against the rain. Even with the various vents open, it's damned hot when the going gets slow and effort levels rise.
Hein Gericke Tuareg adventure boots -- motocross-ish in style, but leather throughout, so much more flexible. These were a great buy. They get warm, but not too hot. They're armoured and fairly heavy, but at a push you could hike out if you had to. Goretex and good design keep my feet dry except when water gets in over top. They've saved my feet and ankles I don't know how many times. Tread pattern is begging for improvement, though.
Hein Gericke road/sports summer gloves -- a fairly heavily armoured set of road riding gloves, but summer weight. Plenty of feel, a but warm off-road, but not too bad.
Cheap ass MX helmet -- bought to compete in the 2004 Ryedale Rally, whose rules stated that I had to be wearing an ACU "gold" approved lid. This was the cheapest I could find. It's still a composite lid and all, just no bells and whistles. A bit noisy at speed, but I'd hate to be panting like a dog inside a regular full-face road lid. I've crashed in (and on) this more times than I can remember. Literally -- I once woke up lying on my back in a field, ten feet from my Can-Am Bombardier. I suppose I should replace it.
Scott goggles -- cheapest I could find, after I lost my oh-so-fly double-glazed Scotts in the Big Move. These things steam up without the slightest hesitation and I had to remove a bunch of the nose-bridge foam so that it didn't restrict my breathing.
Animal snowboarding backpack -- built-in back protection, great shoulder, chest and waist straps, handiest pocket layout known to man. Spoiled slightly by a neck so tight that I can't get a laptop in it, so it's useless for day-to-day commuting. This was given as a gift. It kicks ass. I've bounced down the road on it twice, and off-road innumerable times, too.
Oxford 1 magnetic tank bag -- got it on special, it's long past its best. It's done thousands and thousands of miles on road bikes, but it sticks fairly well to the DR200, and has a well-placed map pock on top, for notes, permit etc. Handy pockets, and petrol resistant; great for when you drop the bike and gas starts leaking out of the filler.
Two mobile phones -- well, you've got to carry them, eh? They're on two different networks, one CDMA and the other GSM, but there's no coverage where I've been riding. Both Nokias, one is bulletproof and has a white-light LED torch, the other is slim and fancy and has a "camera."

All of which is lead-up to a small review... A few years back, when Martin and I were Green-Laning in preparation for the 2004 Ryedale Rally, my wife and sister got their heads together and bought me a Camelbak. It's the stand-alone kind, with no webbing, for fitting inside your own pack. I was impressed, really, but just a litte reticent to actually use it, lest people think I thought I was some sort of hard-core trail-riding type person. Dolt.

Only four years after it was purchased, I decided to give it a whirl. Talk about convenient! I rinsed it through, cut the still squishy teat-thing with a Stanely knife and put it in the fridge overnight to cool. In the morning, I strapped it inside my faithful Animal backpack and threaded the tube over the shoulder through the pack's D-rings, where it hung conveniently for the rest of the day. Every time I stopped, frosty-cold water was just a teat-chew away. Though the packaging said "sans gout!" there was a slight plastic taste to the water, but it wasn't like drinking out of a condom, as I'd feared it might be. The only bad thing I can say about the thing is that I was so well hydrated I kept having to stop to pee. Go get one -- they're cheap as chips now.

I prepped the bike the night before, got all my gear together, with visions of an 0600 start, back before lunch. As ever, it took me three hours to get out of the house. I don't know where the time goes. My daughter pretended to help, but she's useless until she's onto her second cup of coffee anyway.

I zipped north up SH1 to Waikanae, nearly losing the Nikon CoolPix SQ on the way as the slope of the DR's tank slowly shook the camera out of the map pocket. A gentle nudge on my inner thigh and there it was, ready to dash itself to pieces on the road. Pulled over, stuck it somewhere safe. Velcro safe. At Waikanae I took a right at the lights to head out to the north end of the Akatarawa road. It stopped at the suddenly windy top for the obligatory photo. The Nikon's prone to over-exposure, and wall-eye at very close range. But easy to operate for point and shoot. My only real complaint is that it's limited to 40 second of video at a time. What up with that?

It had obviously been raining some. I was going to get wet. I swallowed my now customary butterflies and zipped past a couple of cyclists who were peering up the understated entrance to the trail. Feeling cool, but not so brave, I promptly failed to commit to a feeble 12 inch bump in a relatively gentle 20 degree climb. Stalled the bike, failed to find footing, flat on my ass. Ouch. Thankfully, I'd rounded a couple of bends already, so no-one saw. Took a picture, though. The DR's number plate and right indicator took the brunt, but nothing broken. I got some neat bruises, though. Got back up and kept on climbing. After some vaguely tricky stuff at the start, the road opens out to easy gravel trail, and climbing brings better and better views.

Up onto the top and the views are fantastic. Trail alternates between easy open gravel and hard-packed dirt with water-runoff gouges carved two feet deep into it. Sun-dappled trail is hard to negotiate, just because it's hard to see, but the riding is easy for a while. On the saddle, a series of puddles lord knows how deep. Well, about 18 inches I guessed, and rode without a problem. I got a closer look on the way back, though, when an unseen obstacle took the front wheel out from under me and dumped me in the drink. For the rest of the day I'll be plagued by a smell of wet dog. Bike was fine, though. At the top, I found three parked 4x4s, hunters no doubt. On the way down the other side, washed out sections of road challenge my humble skills, and I stop to walk a few of them through before actually riding. The worst part is getting back onto the bike "cold" and having to tackle them immediately. That and the thought that I'm likely going to have to come back this way. It's easier going up than down, though. I realise that those hunters must have come up the way I did, because this just can't be driven in anything bigger than an Argo.

Finally, the road turns into looser gravel than I like, strewn with larger and sharper rocks than I'd want, and more downhill than I fancy. And I've been doing some subconscious obstacle arithmetic, no doubt, that tells me that it's going to be hard enough making my way back out over what I've crossed already. So I submit, and stop for a breather, some frosty water, a couple of Oreos and an apple. Then, back out the way I came.

The ride out is easier,as always. I know I can ride everything I'm going to see, and that I've seen everything that's coming my way. I stop twice for photos, but thoroughly enjoy the ride out, pushing myself a bit harder as I go along. Even after dumping my butt in that pool, I'm still having fun, and I can't figure out what was so daunting on the way in. Must try harder. Back on the blacktop, the DR shows me once again why I should love it, and pushes through the twisties with as much aplomb as it showed scrambling around on rocks and gravel. Onto SH1, stop for air and then south. A quick detour in Paraparaumu to see if I can get up to that 10 metre tall blessed virgin they have on the hill. I can't. Well, I could walk, but I'm regretting drinking so much frosty water on the trail, if you see what I mean, and renouncing my faith still doesn't mean I can pee just anywhere.

Home to sweet relief, then lunch. Where's that wet dog smell coming from. Oh, it's me.