Day 2. 147km 2336m, 9:14hrs.

After a chilly tin of creamed rice and over an hour of faff, we set off into the Heaphy, only to stop metres in, to remove our lights that we’d just fitted as the sun was up, smashing our intention to be on the trail pre-dawn. The Heaphy is an underrated backcountry trail featuring some great sections of fast-flowing trail. Unweighting the bike to dodge sharp rocks was a challenge thanks to the added weight of loaded bike bags. Today was James Rennie’s turn for an issue. As the clock struck noon, James slashed his tyre, dumping all its air and most of its sealant onto the greasy rocks. Tyre plugs were ineffective, so a makeshift tyre boot was fitted, and James completed his fix with multiple wraps of duct tape around the wheel and tyre. Sure, it was unorthodox, but it held for the remainder of the trip!

The diversity of terrain through the Heaphy is unreal, from trees hung heavy with moss to stunted alpine growth and, finally, we were spat out on a Nikau palm-lined beach on the West Coast. Riding the road for a solid stretch down the coast, our only solace from the headwind was hiding behind Sam, who by some margin was the tallest and strongest of our group. The sun was slowly starting to dip as we came to our next resupply, the Karamea Four Square.

Now fully loaded with food, speculation was rife as to how many climbs—and how far—it was to our next destination and a lay down. Whatever our guesses were, we were all wrong, especially those of us who ended up riding through to Seddonville, overshooting our destination of Mohikinui, where Sam had ridden ahead to ensure the pub was open and order our dinner. With an extra 10 kilometres under our belt after the Seddonville detour, we arrived at the pub in Mohikinui to meet a somewhat concerned Sam, two beers deep, wondering where we were. All was forgotten after a deep sleep in a campground cabin’s saggy bed.

Day 3. 121.62km, 2656m, 9:16hrs.

After the debacle of day two’s extended morning faff, we rose earlier on day three, riding into the rain at 5:45 am. It’s fair to say we were all somewhat dubious about what was to come, not only with the weather but also how tough this day could be, as we would essentially ride the Old Ghost Road in the reverse of how it’s generally ridden.

Climbing from the get-go, we slogged up technical pinches and meandered through dense bush, the last couple of days riding making themself known as the trail began to get steeper as we climbed away from the river.

Skyline Ridge was an absolute highlight of the day. Even on a bike that wasn’t loaded with gear, this would be a tough climb, but add on all the gear, and it was an absolute beast. Steep, rugged switchbacks made picking a line difficult, and traction was a challenge; my legs could only take so much. I was stoked to make it much further than I expected to before detonating, resorting to walking a couple of sections. Arriving at Ghost Lake Hut for lunch, we marvelled at the view and huriedly downed whatever can of energy drink we’d brought with us, washing down yet another muesli bar. A quick top-up of our water supplies and we were climbing once again. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we were on the main descent, which would take us all the way down to almost sea level. Partway down this descent, we realised the error of our ways. Built to be climbed, this mellow, non-technical descent seemed unending. The only real obstacles to avoid were groups of people slogging their way up towards the hut for the night.

Not far from the bottom, we came across a keen gent who’d been climbing with one of the groups we’d passed earlier. He was descending back to his car at the trailhead, with a completely snapped seat post. Turns out, loading a massive bag with what appeared to be 20kg’s worth of gear, and hanging it from your saddle is a bad idea. Fortunately, it was all coasting back to his vehicle, not a single pedal stroke needed.

Crossing the 21st, and final, bridge of the day, we were done. As the sun dipped behind the hills and we headed into the final stretch of the day, I discovered I’d punctured in the final metres of the trail. A classic pinch flat with air coming out of the tyre bead and further up the sidewall. Mint. A couple of plugs and it was game on for 30k’s of road into Murchison for another FourSquare resupply, a hot roast meal at the pub and a couple of night-caps before passing out in an ice-box of a campground cabin—although no saggy bed this time!

Day 4. 168.45km, 1696m, 8:06hrs

Breakfast was varied. To each their own, as some would say. A tall can of ‘V’ and Cup of Noodles; a Monster and a chocolate milk with a One Square Meal bar; creamed rice, protein milk and muesli bars; our final morning meant all the nutritional rules were out the window. We ate what we had and didn’t complain. On the road pre-dawn once again, this time to the head of Lake Rotoroa and onto the Porika Road climb. To say this climb is horrid is an understatement: 3.2 km long, gaining 454m and an average of 14% with some seriously steep stretches. My average speed was just 4.5kmph! Sam rode the entirety of it with one small dab, and the rest of us slowly dragged our carcasses to the top with a mix of knee- breakingly slow cadence and calf-destroying walking. The beauty of walking parts, though, was that we had a chance to breathe in the cracker views down the lake. Truth be told, once uploaded to Strava, we discovered we actually made good time to the top, compared to many. We’d eked out any remaining energy we had, so after Red Bull, packs of gummy snakes, yet more muesli bars, and some hearty banter, we descended for literally kilometres… right to the door of the Tapawera Four Square for pies, coffee, and lots of food my cardiologist would frown upon.

Following the Great Taste trail towards Nelson, our patience for mellow bike paths had waned, and we cracked on, swapping turns on the front. Needless to say, Sam’s pulls were the longest. Arriving back in Nelson, it was a tough decision between going directly to the pub for a huge meal or doing the responsible thing and packing our bags ready for the next morning’s flight home. Responsibility won, and dinner waited until we’d done our chores. The meal was spent reliving the previous few days, amazed at how much we packed into them and how epic the Heaphy and Old Ghost Road trails are, and all the better when linked together.

My takeaways from the trip were many, but here are a few: Big solo days in the saddle pushing hard are great, but they’re best shared with mates. Going hard and fast is fun, but it’s just as fun to chill in a camp cabin and sip whiskey while whinging about all the climbing you’d just done. It’s all good until it isn’t; being prepared is key to making big days successful and not needing to walk back to somewhere with a broken seat post. The Heaphy is underrated; it’s a fantastic ride, and although the Old Ghost sure gets more limelight, the Heaphy is equally worthy. Always remember earplugs, an eye mask, and a water filter; forgetting these can make or break a trip into the unknown.