Marokopa gravel adventure

The Trip

Three men, three bikes, three tents, and one fairly epic bike packing adventure. Two more experienced than me. Beginning on Saturday, the trio, bikes laden with all sorts of perceived essentials, headed out from Otorongoha with the destination of Marokopa in mind. The trip was planned as a two day loop taken from Bike packing Aotearoa written by the Kennett Brothers. We decided to ride the suggested route in reverse, heading South through Waitomo on day one, camp at Marokopa then head North through Kawhia Harbour and link back into Otorohonga. Around 175km all together. 

DAY One

Four kilometres in, on the main road heading to Waitomo, the first barrier to success presented itself. One of the boys punctured. It was raining, the traffic was busy,  and it was cold. Not the greatest start to the ride, but not the worst either. In a jiffy the punctured tube was replaced by a new one, a hand pump used to increase tire pressure and we were back on the road single file. 

Onwards through Waitomo on some pretty gentle inclines. The higher we climbed, the worse the weather got, sold and wet, drizzly might be the word. Familiar territory to us as we had all spent time rock climbing in this area. Today was about bikes though. No rock climbing for us. A left hand turn changed the gentle tarmac to the first experience of gravel for the ride. This was fun and extremely light, a great warm-up to the big climb that was on its way.

Up and over the big hill and what a hill it was. 300 metres of continuous climbing. the rain was fierce and cold, whipping the body relentlessly. Each corner offered hope of the top only to be squashed repeatedly with the sighting of more incline. climbing was reduced to a slow trudge, contrasted by the high cadence of the gear choice. Spinning fast and going no where, that was the theme of the climb. Out of the saddle proved fruitless, the back wheel loosing any and all traction. Speed was reduced further, cadence the same, the climb continued. 

Eventually, the top was reached. There was no sign, no congratulations, it was purely met with more rain and cold. I'm sure the view would have been wonderful, had it not been so dismally grey. Ride down or stay on top and wait for the others. This was a tough choice. As mentioned, no idea of the path, however, here is what I did know. No shelter on top, and potentially shelter down below. Below it is. Onwards down the hill, more rain, more wind, more wild animals. This time it wasn't so much goats, but wild pig. This game of animal bingo was going swimmingly. The descent was fast and wild, no pedaling required. On the flip side no pedaling meant the body was doing no work and the body cold. So very cold. At blistering pace, the bottom was reached. It wasn't Marokopa just more middle of nowhere. The best possible option, wait so I don't make a wrong turn or get lost. Big problem. I sought shelter and found a little bit under a tree. Digging out my cycling jacket, I layered up and huddled, descending into a egg shape for warmth. remembering the words of Liam Neeson from Batman Begins (even though he played the villain), "protect the heart, the arms will take care of themselves".  Eventually, after eating and repeatedly swapping egg position and standing to see down the road, the other two appeared. That's it too cold, cant stop. Putting the hood up at the advice from one of the boys proved an absolute game changer of warmth though. Incredible. 

Post near hypothermic experience, we eventually arrived at Marokopa. I'm sure it is a lovely place, however with all the wind, rain and general dreariness, it really wasn't too much. It was enough though. The Marokopa campground was a welcome site with some truly basic facilities that proved exactly what was required. The first was a small laundry room, complete with electricity and space for a washing line as well as a large industrial washing machine that proved useful as both a table top and seat. Not actually as a washing machine. Oh well. Secondly, was the shower. Two dollars for five whole minutes. And it was hot, pressure was great, just absolutely fantastic. 

DAY Two 

Three men, three bikes, three very wet tents, one more journey to make, back to Otorohonga. Sodden and wet gear aside, the day started slow. Packing was an arduous task and completed carefully in a manner that demonstrated zero attitude towards timeliness. Fair enough though, we were out bike-packing and with little else to do except make it to Otorohonga, the taking of sweet sweet time is fine. We began riding with sunshine and a crisp westerly wind that had settled down somewhat from the previous days gale. Through and around Kawhia Harbour, we made the most of the picnic table at Paparoa point. A place where the sun truly appeared and our complaints of bitterly cold winds turned into moaning about excessive sunshine and the potential need to fish out the sunscreen from the bottom of some bag.

Some time after lunch, what we all knew was coming and what we had all done our best to prepare ourselves mentally for started. Sometimes, I wish there was more signage for such things. Something along the lines of 'massive hill ahead, drink water now' and with various signs throughout like, 'almost there, keep the effort up because it will be over soon'. This is not really the case and the inevitable game of guess whether this is the last bend ensued. After climbing the 362 metres of gravel, the descent came into view, an actual descent too, not the trick false descent a few hundred metres prior. Down Kaimango road to the intersection with Honikiwi, only to find the road was closed. 

Waiting for the other two, who again, climb slow (because of their heavier bikes), I wasn't certain if Honikiwi Road was the one we were meant to follow, but Murphy's law would of course make it so it was. After contemplating for all of two seconds, we ventured down the closed road of Honikiwi as the alternative would have added on like 30 extra kilometers of riding and we weren't really keen on that. Thankfully, the closure was not completely serious. Yes, the road had fallen away completely, but we were on gravel bikes and that meant we could ride on the grassy verge that wasn't even part of the road. It turned into gravel again and zoomed. Winding down in the direction of Otorohonga and the beer we all decided was both needed and well deserved.... Puncture time. The tubeless system that came stock standard on my Trek Checkpoint decided to fail. No worries I exclaimed while desperately waving the wheel around so that the sealant inside would do its job and seal the hole. 

"All fixed" Quick squeeze test and not fixed. Time for the trusty inner tube. There's a lot of people out there who rave about tubeless and you know what, they're probably all validated raves and perhaps the wheel has punctured loads and the sealant has patched them all, but not this time. Not on the time when the bike is fully laden, on a closed road without reception, in the middle of nowhere. Typical. Thank goodness for the innertube which proved exceedingly difficult to put in mainly because the thru axle proved tedious, or so I was told by the other two with more experience with Thru-axles. I personally have only ever ridden rim brake quick release, a story for another time. Long story short, because it did take a while, the tube made it in, the tire made it on, and the thru-axle was managed with. 

Five km of descent later and the tube punctured. Devastating. We were 15km from our destination. Thankfully, slightly smarter and more accustomed to dealing with such things, second tube out, in and a quick pray that it wouldn't happen again. 

We rolled into Otorohonga tired and hungry and happy. 

POST Ride

Gravel riding is a great adventure, slow and steady. Even though it is rather slow-going it is really quite extraordinary how much distance can be travelled and what can be seen. If you have any gravel riding tips, because my set up was rather hogwash, then leave a comment or suggest a ride.