Deflationary times and Wellington in our sights

At the end of my last ramblings recorded at Te Araroa, I had a sneaky suspicion that a perfect storm of RA-unfriendly elements for our long pedal to Tokomaru Bay would surely seal my fate—talk about a dramatic exit! Lo and behold, everything I predicted came true, and just to spice things up, a few hundred extra metres of climbing were thrown in—because who doesn’t love an unexpected workout? The ride turned out to be a brutal affair, featuring a generous buffet of steep hills and a chilly southerly wind that felt like a frozen slap to the face, with an occasional shower of icy rain for that refreshing touch. Cafes? Forget about it! The only warm beverage we got was from the rising steam of our disappointment. But still, our fearless RA soldiered on, channeling her inner superhero. Later, when she defrosted and reflected on our team’s earlier pep talk, she had a few choice words about the GOTF’s “pathetically optimistic portrayal of both the terrain and the predicted weather”—I mean, thanks for the false hope! Now she’s buried in weather forecasts and route maps, constantly reminding me that “this is not the top” every time we make a valiant progress up another hill.

As we continued our pedal down the coast to Gisborne, we were greeted by our very first puncture at Tolaga Bay! After leisurely biking into the village from our farm stay, a mere 3km away, we stumbled upon an interesting little eatery to recharge our personal batteries with food and coffee. But just as we were about to pedal back to the farm, the RA hollered out, “Angel Tandem, we have a problem!” Sure enough, our rear tyre was as flat as a pancake — upon inspection, we discovered a pesky tack had decided to make itself at home. Enter the GOTF, who sprang into action like a caffeinated ninja, wrestling with the tyre like it was a stubborn octopus. Victory was claimed, but just like that, our efforts went poof as the tyre deflated faster than a birthday balloon. After a wild workout with our tiny hand pump that could barely inflate a hamster, it was clear we had a deflation crisis on our hands — something that central bankers and cyclists have nightmares about! Our hero, the GOTF, had to redo the entire ordeal, only to find that the second round ended the same way — flat as a board! With no further hole-less tubes in hand, we limped our way back, furiously pumping and pedalling like madmen, rinse and repeat three times over. The afternoon turned into a comedic patching party, with the RA playing detective by finding holes and the GOTF applying patches like an overzealous wallpaperer.

Our patched tyre valiantly carried us to Gizzy (that’s Gisborne for those blissfully unaware) where we crashed with Sue and Jamie for a delightful two nights. Unfortunately, we accidentally passed the bad luck virus to Jamie, who promptly decided it’d be a great idea to rupture his Achilles – and wouldn’t you know it, our newly honed patch and pump skills were absolutely useless in this emergency. Off to the hospital he went for a plaster cast! Meanwhile, we were living the high life at lovely Wainui beach, and as a result, the GOTF had to practically drag the RA away, especially after she immersed herself in topographic studies for our next ride to Tiniroto. The GOTF had to promote Bob from Head of S ecurity to Chief of Internal Security—just in case the RA got any harebrained ideas about taking a stab at our tyres. During ‘puncture-gate’ at Tolaga Bay, the GOTF couldn’t help but notice the mischievous glint in the RA’s eye when the third tube decided it was time to deflate.

The ride to Tiniroto kicked off with high hopes—our dodgy tyre tube, bless its resilient soul, held strong, and initially the terrain was as flat as our tyre had been some days earlier. But alas, that just meant we rocketed towards the steep bits faster. As we approached the summit of the inappropriately named ‘Gentle Annie,’ I glanced in my rearview mirror and could have sworn the RA was wearing an oxygen mask like some kind of theatrical diva making a grand statement. Turns out she was just furiously mouthing something about giving it more power. Anyway, the only thing that saved me from another pep talk was the appearance of a charming little farm cottage perched above a stunning lake, “that’s where we’re staying I triumphantly announced”. As we bounced along the narrow, dusty road towards our well earned sanctuary, the effort of the 75km ride seemed worth it. And the cherry on top? Once we stepped inside, there was cold beer in the fridge and a washing machine that felt like a luxury spa for our grimy clothes! The next day we continued along Tiniroto Road to Wairoa.

All of the rides down the coast have been along very fragile roads. Nearly two years after cyclone Gabriel and there is still a lot of reconstruction required. In many places it was tough going as we picked away through the repair work or along the poor surfaces. Fortunately we avoided any major problems.

From Tolaga Bay south, our constant companions have been the logging trucks. Our earlier ride in the Far North prepared us for these and our tactic of stop, brace and wave has worked well. The drivers appreciate all three of our actions and usually thank us with a toot, wave or a flash of their hazard lights when they have passed.

Wairoa was a surprise package. We were greeted by a sudden burst of summer temperatures, friendly people and a couple of excellent cafes. We couldn’t help but reflect that the two towns (Ōpōtiki & Wairoa) that caused some raised eyebrows when we mentioned staying there, seem to have reputations that they don’t deserve.

We were not looking forward to the hilly 116km between Wairoa & Napier. We expected SH2 to be busy and had planned the ride to take place over the weekend to reduce the volume of trucks. That part of the plan seemed to work but with the promise of temperatures nudging 30c we decided to implement our hot weather plan. Leave early! That also helped by giving us a couple of hours start on the traffic. However, it was the state of the road that was more of an issue than the traffic.

Giles and Caroline who had generously hosted us for two nights while in Napier, pedalled out to Bay View to meet us for coffee and to ride with us back to the city. Both also tried out the Angel Tandem seat which meant jumping in the deep end as we plunged down the steep inclines on Bluff hill followed by a circuit around the hill then a taster of how pedal assist can help on the grind back up. The GOTF decided that the tyre wrestling in Tolaga Bay had left his ‘maintenance confidence’ in tatters and decided that the best way to deal with it was ‘get back on that horse asap’. And so we embarked on an exercise of swapping the front and rear tyres to keep the wear even. Things didn’t look promising for a while but then the GOTF ‘cracked the code’ and figured out how to get the tyres back on without nearly breaking all of his fingers.

Giles had suggested a route adjustment to make our ride to Waipawa more interesting. I checked it out and noted that it was going to add 8km to what was already a long ride. Fortunately it included a cafe stop and riding through country neither of us had been to before. The RA asked how far the ride would be? I experienced a severe coughing fit as I attempted to mumble 86km. It probably sounded like 8 or 6 but the deal was clinched by Giles really talking up the route.

So early on Tuesday we set off along the impressive shared path network that Hawke’s Bay is so so lucky to have (note a lot of envy from the AT team – even Bob grizzled about why we don’t have these at home). All went swimmingly well until we got to Clive. We had to remove one pannier as we exited Clive through a very strange ‘gate’. After about 3km we came to an even more challenging gate, this time it was impassable for our tandem. The GOTF had a rush of blood to the head and decided that if we unpacked the bike he could flip it onto its rear wheel and push it through. Just as he was about to be crushed under the collapsing and heavy tandem a group of bemused cyclists arrived. Many hands get bike over obstacle. We interrogated these locals on the shape and number of gates on the rest of the path and concluded that we needed to replan the route. Alas, our replan added another couple or so km to the trip which was now getting dangerously close to the three digits that would result the one with all the gold braid really reading the riot act. She was not happy. My “the cafe is just along the road” quip really didn’t help to mollify her much.

A certain part of our anatomy was complaining (or paining) by the time we dragged ourselves into Waipawa. The camp commandant cheered us a little when he said the camp had been freshened up after taking a beating from Cyclone Gabrielle. Everything was new and shiny, not something we have encountered in the other camps that we have stayed in. There was even a new 4Square in town but alas not quite open. The old version had a dearth of biker friendly food so we ended up having baked beans and crackers for dinner.

We went off grid at Wimbledon, our next stop. No we didn’t get lost and ride to London, this is Wimbledon NZ. In the Tararua District. In fact my grandmother was born there. We had arranged to stay in the ‘cosy cottage’ behind the tavern and planned on a pub meal that night. When we rolled into the village the pub signage indicated that it was closed on a Wednesday. Yikes! We didn’t even have any baked beans as a back up. Fortunately, the publican liked to keep the locals guessing and did ‘kind of’ open. We got our meal. However, in this narrow valley that has very steep hills on either side, we discovered the dumb and dumber of the dog world. In a house not far from our ‘cosy cottage’ were a pack of dogs that started barking. The problem was that when they barked they would get an echo of their own barking that would set them off again. This barking mayhem went on for about an hour until the publican leant out the window and hollered ‘SHADUP’. Two people yelling that in rapid succession did the trick. Then the rooster decided that it was his turn. The joys of the countryside.

We have made it to Tiraumea (about 70km south of Wimbledon). Staying on a sheep and cattle farm called Opatawa Station. We had booked into their backpackers lodge but the hostess came through and advised that they had a lot of rough forestry workers staying and decided that maybe we shouldn’t stay at the backpackers. So we got and upgrade to their Farmstay house.

On our way to Tiraumea we visited Martin and Penny who had been very generous hosts to us during our last insane ride down this way on our folding bikes. We enjoyed a hot drink and a chat and found out that they knew about Bald Angels from earlier times. They were also well aware of the situation with vulnerable children in Te tai Tokerau having lived in Kaikohe when their own children were young.

It is hard to believe that we have been on the road for nearly five weeks. Tomorrow we clock up 2,000km since leaving Kerikeri and next week start the eastern leg of our Te Wai Pounamu / South Island pedal. Our ride to the ferry coincides with the arrival of the Hikoi in Wellington so not sure how we will manage getting to the ferry on time. If you see a bright blue tandem getting swept up Parliaments steps you can assume that it did not go well.

If you think we are doing it hard eating baked beans and crackers for dinner remember that some kids don’t even get that. If you would like to donate to The Bald Angels please visit the give-a-little page