“Pretty majestical, hey?”
My two bike riding companions, Craig and Anthony, glance across. Their quizzical looks tell me one of two things: either they’re unsure they’ve heard me correctly or they’re trying to work out if I’m deliberately butchering the English language.
A butcher, I most certainly am… the word should be majestic. But as Sam Neill’s illiterate character Hec remarked in the criminally underrated movie, Hunt for the Wilderpeople – filmed not far from here, in the backwoods of New Zealand’s North Island – majestic doesn’t sound special enough to describe the country we’ve been riding through. Majestical’s way better.
Up until this point, we’ve been pedalling through virgin podocarp forests saved from logging in the early 1980s after activists mounted a three-year campaign to preserve what little remained. Our mountain bike route follows the 85-kilometre-long Timber Trail, one of 23 Ngā Haerenga Great Rides of New Zealand that range from the Roxburgh Gorge Trail near Queenstown, which can be completed in five or six hours, to the five-day Alps 2 Ocean Cycle Trail from Mt Cook to Ōamaru.
Following purpose-built trails and old logging tramways, this one’s a two-day ride, overnighting in the community-owned Timber Trail Lodge. A trail marker indicates we’ve cycled 68 kilometres since we set off from the former timber town of Pureora yesterday morning. Since then, we’ve summited Mt Pureora and glimpsed views of Lake Taupō. New Zealand’s longest suspension bridge passed beneath our tyres and we’ve ridden through emerald-coloured rainforests ringing with birdsong. Up ahead, before we reach the finish line at the former timber town of Ongarue, we’ll tunnel through the world’s only rideable railway spiral.
What has set us apart from most others on this trail is that we’ve done it under our own steam, shunning the electric mountain bikes assisting the majority of riders up and down 900 vertical metres of undulating grandeur in favour of dual suspension analogue versions that make the craft beers we’ve tracked down taste so much sweeter at the end of each day.
From the mountains to the sea
I’d been riding downhill and cross-country mountain bike trails in Australia for years before those across the ditch began to attract my attention. The downhill trails in Rotorua first caught my eye. Then I learned about other backcountry trails further west. Soon enough, a week-long itinerary began to take shape.
My wife and son were initially going to join me. Then my son’s sporting commitments ruled them out. Unwilling to abandon the idea, I instead invited my brother-in-law, Anthony, and Craig, a mate whose wife attended university with me. Both were keen road cyclists, so they’d have the fitness and riding skills, but neither had much mountain biking experience. The little they’d done was usually with me.
We flew into Auckland with the ambitious goal of completing seven rides in seven days. After collecting our hire car at the airport we hit the highway, driving south for four hours until we were parked out the front of the Alexander Motel in Taumarunui. By early next morning, we were headed north out of town to Ongarue, the start and finish point for the Timber Trail – our first Great Ride.
The economic boost provided to towns along the Otago Central Rail Trail – New Zealand’s first major off-road cycle touring route, east of Queenstown – served as the inspiration for more trails around the country to open. Federal and council governments committed significant funding, and the Department of Conservation was brought in to help with planning. Existing trails were incorporated into the Great Rides network. But the first new section of trail to open was the Ohakune Old Coach Road in 2012. It’s this we tackle next.
From our base in Ohakune, a winter ski town where a carrot-themed park takes top billing on its list of attractions, we’re driven out to the trail’s starting point in Horopito by Kune Shuttles’ Max Carling. Sharing the minibus is a group of eight retirees who have come to Ohakune from the east coast city of Napier. Their plans mirror ours: riding a bunch of trails over a seven-day period. All are equipped with electric bikes – some for the first time.
Leading them is a sprightly septuagenarian whose name I don’t catch. She issues orders to her friends while passing on scraps of information to us during the bus ride out. “I tell my friends to put the motor in turbo mode when taking off,” she says, hinting that we should, too.
Before setting off, Max gathers us all together for a pre-ride briefing at the trailhead. “You’ve got the wind behind you, so I expect Strava records today,” he says, perhaps overestimating his elderly audience. Turbo Granny quickly disappears around a bend.
“Follow me,” she calls over her shoulder. As she melts into the scrubby fringes of Tongariro National Park, I picture her carting wheelies while her inexperienced companions lose control, accelerating into rocks and trees.
Measuring just 15km, the Ohakune Old Coach Road is part of the extensive Mountains to Sea-Ngā Ara Tūhono route, which starts on the slopes of a live volcano and cuts through two national parks, ending beside the Tasman Sea. We’ll be riding other sections in coming days.
Following a quick detour to a motor vehicle wrecking yard – borrowed as a cinematic backdrop in Hunt for the Wilderpeople – we set off in pursuit of Turbo Granny and her silver-haired crew. After jolting over cobblestone roads once used by horse-drawn traffic, we manage to catch up beside the heritage-listed Hāpuawhenua Viaduct. I’m relieved to see them in one piece.
Seventy-five-year-old Colin Loveridge soon ambles over for a chat. When I mention our plans to ride the Bridge to Nowhere the following day, culminating with a jetboat ride down the Whanganui River to Pipiriki, he warns us about the rain that’s forecast. “You want to be careful there,” he says. “There’s this grey clay on the trail called papa. It’s as slippery as a butcher’s prick.”
Almost immediately, the heavens open. There’s little point in dawdling. Whereas we’ve taken our time until now, stopping to photograph bridges and read signs sharing stories of the trail’s history, the three of us hightail it back to Ohakune, leaving the old folks behind. And vulnerable to the whims of Turbo Granny.
The bike equals dollars and sense
When the first 13km stage of the Te Ara Mangawhero opened last December, it became the newest section of trail in the Great Ride network. Also forming part of the Mountains to Sea-Ngā Ara Tūhono, it follows parts of the Bennett and Punch tramway that transported timber from the dense forests surrounding Ohakune early last century. Glimpses of that era remain in the form of pharmaceutical bottles and cooking utensils that lay partially buried in the soil beside the track.
“We decided not to remove them as they’re part of the history around here,” explains Lynley Twyman, Visit Ruapehu’s ‘Trail Champion’, who oversees the development and maintenance of the regional tourism body’s broad trail network.
The trail starts with a steep climb through a long, narrow slither of rainforest bordered by farmlands. Tree roots creep across a dirt trail that’s nicely compacted until we’re eventually spat out beside a sparkling new bridge. From there, we continue uphill through open grasslands where Mt Ruapehu, the North Island’s highest peak, would ordinarily – on a clear day – fill our northern horizon.
“We spent about $2 million on this section of trail,” says Lynley, as we reach the end of Stage One, where it will ultimately link up with the Turoa ski fields sometime during 2027.
“Another $6.5 million has been allocated towards the remaining two sections,” she continues. “By the second or third year, after it has opened, we expect to generate $10 to $12 million in extra revenue through the visitor economy. The return on investment is way better than that generated by snow machines and other public infrastructure that aren’t climate resilient.”
When things get wild
It’s been raining solidly for an hour when we meet Lynley and riding companion Megan Whitehead outside Ohakune’s Visitor Information Centre, conveniently located opposite our accommodation at Rata Boutique Apartments. “Any chance of seeing those volcanoes this afternoon?” I ask.
“Well, the rain is meant to ease up a bit later. But I tend to be optimistic,” replies Lynley, scanning the skies for cloud breaks.
“Though we have a saying here in New Zealand,” adds Megan. “If it’s not raining, it soon will be.”
I’ve heard the same about Ireland, while in Norway they truly believe there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. But of all the sayings I’ve heard around the world about shoddy weather, it’s the Alaskans who take the cake when they insist that it’s never cold enough to complain unless you can lean on your own urine.
With Megan driving, we pass by crops of carrots and turnips on the way north to the recently rebranded village of Waimarino. “I still prefer to call it National Park,” says Megan.
As its old name suggests, the village acts as a gateway to the Tongariro National Park, where the volcanic trio of Ngauruhoe, Tongariro and Ruapehu should be our dramatic backdrop while riding the Marton Sash and Door trail. “It was named after a logging company that operated in the area,” explains Lynley.
“You sure?” asks Craig. “It sounds more like a city law firm.”
The 18km track is a nice-enough ride that’s made miserable by the weather. Views of the three volcanoes are obscured behind pesky rain clouds and while they’re admittedly a novelty, the partially exposed timber railway sleepers from the original bush tramway are just bumpy hindrances when ridden over.
In time, the Te Hangāruru trail that’s under construction during our visit in March (the first nine kilometres is expected to open in June) will connect the Marton Sash and Door trail with the Ohakune Old Coach Road, thus linking them with the remainder of the Mountains to Sea network.
We’re lucky the rains pass in time for us to ride the Mangapurua trail to the Bridge to Nowhere on our sixth day away. But while the sun manages to shine brightly all day, it’s still not enough to dry the track. Puddles plague the trail and every so often, each of us is forced to scour the ground for twigs to scrape the mud from our tyres and chains.
At its peak, the families of 30 returned WWI soldiers farmed the Mangapurua Valley, but many had already abandoned their homes by the time the Bridge to Nowhere was completed in 1936. Ironically, the bridge is now used more by mountain bikers, hikers and canoeists than when it was first built.
Conditions improve significantly once we cross Bartrum’s Swingbridge and leave the rutted quadbike tracks behind, passing through a succession of sheer ravines traversed by one long singletrack. The only time we come across anyone else is when two recreational hunters pass on a quadbike early in our ride. But when we reach the Bridge to Nowhere, teenage schoolkids who are midway through a four-day paddle along the Whanganui River are crammed onto the Mangapurua River crossing, talking excitedly. One high-fives me when I wheel my bike past him.
Circling back on the bike
The 33km Whakarewarewa Forest Loop opened just outside Rotorua in 2021. The cross-country trail is graded intermediate level, though anyone could ride it. It incorporates geothermal landmarks, lakeside viewpoints, redwood forests and Māori culture, adding to 160 kilometres of continually evolving downhill trails in the Whakarewarewa Mountain Bike Park.
This time electrically assisted bikes are waiting for us at Mountain Bike Rotorua’s Waipa trailhead workshop. As novice e-bike riders, Craig and Anthony first do a few laps of the carpark, trying to familiarise themselves with the bike’s four power modes. It’s practise they both need.
The trail is well signposted so there’s no need for us to study our maps as we zig-zag up switchbacks and weave between towering California redwoods. But at our first straight downhill section, barely two kilometres into our ride, disaster strikes when Craig goes flying over his handlebars.
Anthony and I turn back to find him sitting in a daze beside the trail, with blood trickling down his cheek. His bike is nowhere near him.
“Everything okay?” asks another rider, pedalling up behind us.
“We think he’s concussed,” I reply.
“Well, my name’s Toby. I’m a medic here; I just happen to be on my day off. Let’s see if we can do a quick test.”
He turns to Craig. “I want you to remember this later, okay? The phrase is ‘eleven blue monkeys’. Got it?”
“Got it,” says Craig. “Eleven blue monkeys.”
While we try to piece together what happened (could it have been Turbo Granny’s misguided advice?), Toby feels around for broken bones.
“Now, do remember what you had to recall?” he asks Craig.
“Ah… no.” His mind is blank.
“You remember you offered to buy us dinner, don’t you?” says Anthony.
We deliver Craig to a hospital, where a doctor advises him to stay off the bike until we get home. Anthony volunteers to keep him company for the remainder of the day while I return to complete the loop – selfishly, I know – on my own.
It’s a shame they can’t join me as it’s a beautiful ride. My favourite section is when I ride among statuesque redwoods and overhanging man ferns above the western shores of Green Lake. I’m happy I returned.
My decision to continue riding is reinforced on our last day. While Craig is content to linger back at the Millennium Hotel and potter around town, Anthony and I enjoy a day that’s packed with adrenalin-pumping downhill thrills. Our highlight is undoubtedly when we meet a mountain biking junkie who suggests we “open it up” on a run called Te Poaka.
“What did you think?” I ask Anthony, after we meet at the bottom.
“Majestical,” he says. My thoughts, exactly.
The writer was a guest of Tourism New Zealand, Visit Ruapehu and RotoruaNZ.
Fact file
Getting there: Direct flights connect Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane with Auckland. Drive times from Auckland – Rotorua (3 hours), Ongarue (3.5) and Ohakune (4.5).
More info: Tourism New Zealand, Visit Ruapehu, RotoruaNZ
