Week One
I’m sat in a cafe in Whanganui, on a rest day after seven days of riding. There is so much I could write about my first week, but we’d both be here for significantly more time than we both care to dedicate to these posts.
So, what do I write about? I could give you a day-to-day account, hour by hour maybe? I could ‘just’ write down the significant events, but they all feel significant to me right now. I think I’m just going to start writing, skip the editing, and post whatever words I end up throwing onto this word document.
I couldn’t have imagined my first week to have gone so well. The landscape, the trail, the weather, and the people have been so far beyond what I could have ever expected. I think what stands out to me the most is how nervous I was that I would be lonely on the roads. I haven’t spent half a day alone yet. In the first half of day one alone, I’d bumped into two solo TA’ers. In the second half, a group of four elderly Kiwis who had passed me four times in their car insisted on buying me an ice cream.
My first night camping, I turned up after the camp office was closed and had to call the number plastered onto a window. Out came a woman, beaming: “are you doing the TA?”. She pointed me towards the patch of campground she’d sent other cyclists (“more cyclists?!” I thought) and off I went to pitch my tent for the first time, feeling pretty elated after an incredible first ride.
That night I met Kirsten, a novice cyclist from Manchester, undertaking the trail as her first real taste of cycling- I couldn’t believe it, what a way to introduce yourself to cycling! Later that night, Sara from Colorado rolled in. The next day was spent bunny hopping each other through various towns, and unplanned, we all ended up in the same cafe for lunch, and spent it raving about the gravel track and the weather we were experiencing. Sara and I had our eyes set on the same campsite, just next to Hobbiton, and Kirsten was convinced to join- so we set off with our eyes set on a New World supermarket in Matamata. Stocked up with coffee bags, pasta, and enough biscuits to feed the 5000, we rode the last ten miles to our campsite together. The TA trio was born.
The first two days of cycling weren’t physically too demanding, 210 km mostly on roads and old railway tracks turned into gravel cycle paths. The weather had been perfect, a little too perfect for how lacklustre my sun cream application had been, oops.
Day 3 was a little harder, I was fighting a lack of energy and forcing fuel in, I haven’t ridden my bike much in the past few months. My appetite isn’t what it has been in the past, and so consuming food in quantity wasn’t sitting well. It was also the first day of wearing the other pair of shorts I’d brought, and it’s safe to say they’re being left in Wellington.
Ouch.
I decided to start breaking the ride down into chunks, every ten kilometres I could have a stop. Then the climbing started, my legs felt empty, the sun was beating down on my back and big logging trucks were whizzing past, snaking up the climb carved out of the rock face. A stop every ten kilometres became a stop every ten minutes, the hills were steep, and a mix of sun cream and sweat was dripping into my eyes- I was looking forward to getting to the freedom camp spot in Mangakino and throwing myself into the lake.
On my final rest, I was contemplating how much further I had to go when I heard from behind me, “hey girl!” exclaimed in a thick Mancunian accent. I turned around to see Kirsten grinning, she’d pedalled past me a couple of hours ago when I was taking one of my stops, where on earth I passed her, I do not know. We descended into Mangakino, ate a recovery pie, and got chatting to a fellow TA’er about the next section and then headed to camp. I was glad that ride was over.
I’d spent time discussing the next couple of days with every cyclist I’d come across, it turns out, most Kiwi’s on bikes seemed to have done the Timber Trail. They would take one look at my bike, and state confidently “oh you’ll be fine”. I knew the trail, and the path up to the trail would be tough, but how can you ignore the confidence of so many others who have done it before?!
Mangakino’s tiny Foursquare (the co-op of NZ) was the last supply stop before the trail. I headed out of camp at 0720, and headed there to pick up some quick and high calorie food, and then I was off. The lake seemed to have its own weather system and I was riding through thick fog, dew was sticking to my arm hair and it was pretty chilly; I was hoping it wasn’t pathetic fallacy playing out in real life.
The first climb of the day brought me out through the fog and I stopped at the top to see a dense cloud below me, sitting directly on top of the lake. I was out into bright sunshine and could see the forest I was headed towards, the ridgeline looked like a very tempting walk.
I hit the infamous Arataki Bridge and had to remove my bags to cross it, something I was avoiding doing when I was at camp to minimise faff. Then I was really in the thick of it, I had to push my bike up the first lump because I hit the bridge in my highest gear and no way could I shift down to spin up it. The trail was, for my standards, quite technical, it was under tree cover, with leaves scattered on the ground, covering deep crevices, tree roots, and boulders. The start was one. large. climb.
My Wahoo beeped at me and I looked down, 15 km climb coming up! At this rate, that would take me two hours. I was feeling a little defeated. It was an odd feeling, simultaneously feeling excited with the adventure ahead, and frustrated with the adventure at present. That bit was definitely type two fun.
I continued up, and quickly realised I must’ve been the first rider through of the day, because I was riding through all the unbroken spiderwebs. I’d go to rid my face of the crawling feeling, wiping my cheeks on my sleeves, swerve into thick vegetation and have to unclip. I was growing impatient with the terrain and slow going, it was getting warm and I was constantly calculating how long it would take me to get to camp at this pace- 12 hours?
I was struggling to look down at my bike computer, having to put 110% focus onto where my front tyre was headed, but got a brief glimpse of a 90-degree left-hander coming up- weird for this kind of wild trail?
Suddenly, I appeared in an opening of the vegetation- I was on a logging track! I could’ve kissed the ground, I was so exuberant that I was done with the single track. I sat myself directly in the middle of the gravel and ate my first banana of the day and multiple biscoff biscuits. I knew the rest of the day wasn’t going to be a breeze, but surely it couldn’t be as bad as that.
A couple of hours of climbing on these gravel logging roads, attempting to avoid the potholes that could’ve fit my bike in, I was at the start of the Timber Trail. The start was remarkably uncelebrated, I was hoping for a car park with a toilet in or some signage, but I rode straight past the opening in the forest and had to do a U-turn.
I pulled a right hand turn and I had begun, the track felt novel at first, I’ve not done much mtb riding but it’s really cool people put so much time into carving these flowing paths into the terrain. I was about 5.5 hours into my day, I hadn’t seen another soul, and was wondering how Kirsten and Sara were doing.
Kirsten had developed a habit of falling off her bike and I was curious as to how many times the trail would’ve claimed that habit.
I found a tree stump to have lunch on and started munching on my hummus and bread.
I’d been conscious of noises all day so far, listening out for signs of life/ other riders. The birds had fooled me a couple of times, but sat on my tree stump, I’m pretty sure I heard a cough come from back into the forest.
I waited a few seconds, “hello?”.
“Hello!”.
It was Kirsten again! She quickly let me know she’d cycled past a sign saying the Arataki Bridge was closed and so she backtracked and had taken the road to the start of the Timber Trail.
My initial thought was along the lines of ‘you mean I could’ve had a legitimate excuse not to have come the way I had?’ but was quickly replaced with gratitude that I had missed that sign and had completed the trail up to that point. It was tough, and I had proved to myself I was capable. She informed me Sara was with the group of mountain bikers we’d met yesterday eating our pie, and they’d gone on to see if the bridge really was closed or not. I was glad Sara had company for that section.
I packed up lunch, and spent the rest of the climb bumping into Kirsten as we stopped to take breathers- it was tough going with fully loaded gravel bikes. And finally! We were at the top.
“How was that?”
“Would I do it again today? Probably not.”
I took a photo of the sign and was keen to get descending. I said to Kirsten “I’ll probably descend slower than I ascended, shout when you want to pass” and pushed off. She later told me she had screamed my name because she punctured then and there, but I didn’t hear her. Oops.
The descent was also hard work. I think my hands got more of a beating than my legs did that day, gripping my brakes like my life depended on it- I could’ve fried an egg on those rotors by the end. I stopped after riding over the second suspension bridge of the day- wanting to share that moment with someone, but Kirsten was nowhere to be seen. I started imagining the worst, her and her bike plummeting off the side, head over handlebars, etc etc, wondering at what point I should climb back up to make sure she’s still alive, when four retirees on e-mountain bikes rode over the bridge.
I asked if they’d seen a girl on the descent and if she was still alive and as it turns out, they’d helped her fix her puncture and she wasn’t far behind. Good enough for me, I got back on my bike and got going again- minutes later, descending at pace, my back wheel started to skid out and I lost control of my bike; it was terrifying with the tree routes already making my line so impromptu.
I managed to come to a stop and got off to see what happened- ah, the bolt securing my pannier mount to my frame had rattled out, and the mount and a bag were rubbing against my tyre. Thankfully, my bike has two mounting points so I unloaded my bike bags, reattached the mount and apprehensively started again, wondering what I’d do if it happened again. It would be a long walk to the end of the trail carrying my bags.
I carried on to Pureora, the middle of the Timber Trail, and camp for the night. As I’d grown to expect, there was a brigade of cyclists already settled in for the night, one of whom came up to me and asked if I’d seen his friends.
I realised they were the group Sara must be riding with and we felt a little more at ease knowing they had safety in numbers. A couple of hours later, the five of them arrived and we all laughed at the mishaps we’d experienced and the craziness of doing the trail on fully loaded gravel bikes.
The next night, once we’d completed day two of the Timber Trail, the three of us treated ourselves to an Airbnb in Taumarunui, refuelled, aired out our kit, and got a good night’s sleep in a bed- it felt like luxury.
We laughed at the fact we never imagined we’d be sitting eating pizza/ ice cream/ pies watching ‘The Great Kiwi Bake Off’ with strangers when we set off a few days ago, but that it was a pretty great reality.
The next two days to where I currently am were less eventful but so serene and gratifying.
I’ve fallen into a great rhythm with cycling, I’m really happy with my setup. I’m getting more efficient at taking down camp in the morning, and everything is finding its place in my bags.
My legs feel surprisingly good. My head feels clear, and I’m overwhelmed with appreciation that I can be doing what I’m doing.
I’m loving the conversations I have with strangers who approach to ask what I’m doing, I’ve met TA walkers, tens of TA cyclists and have had the most fulfilling interactions with everyone in between. I can’t believe how friendly Kiwis are.
I did say I’d be as honest as possible, and as successful as my first week has been, of course there have been some lower moments:
– My wrists have taken a beating and are really sore. I think I’ll invest in some aero bars in Wellington to give them another position to rest in, and maybe some gloves.
– I came off on some sand whilst descending and my weight and my bike’s weight went through my knee. It’s pretty bruised and sore which meant I decided to skip the Kaiwhakauka River trail, (another *harder* mountain bike trail) a highlight of the trail, to protect my knee.
– On my sixth day, after our Airbnb rest, I woke up feeling a little more ‘in my head’ than I had the previous five days. That morning, I had 48 kms of climbing before lunch and spent many of them fixated on figuring out how I felt in my head, and why.
I was thinking about my mum, specifically the time around when she passed away. I was wishing I could call her and tell her what I’m doing. I haven’t been particularly ‘griefy’ recently and so was trying to figure out where it was coming from. At one point, tears fell, and I laughed because it was completely unconscious and I was descending and couldn’t see a thing. I got to lunch and turned my data on; a message from my friend Jack came through, telling me to enjoy the highs and the lows, because the lows make the highs that much better. It came at a great time, both metaphorically and physically because all I had left to do was descend that day, and it absolutely made the climbing worth it.
I feel really lucky to be doing this. I’m so grateful for everyone I’ve met, the kilometres I’ve ridden, and all the experiences I’ve had so far.
I’ve caught up to another bubble of TA riders; I came across them at a cafe yesterday, they were stroking a micro pig. Life is weird and wonderful here.
I can’t wait to see what my second week of riding entails.
Thanks for reading 🙂