Speed wobbles

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Rolling out of the gate.

Pumped up.

A morning of CBD scooter servicing has given me an Italian tune-up and I'm raring to go.

It's great to have so much energy after the anxieties of Autumn.

At 6:30pm I'm out of the gate and heading through the Seatoun tunnel.

However in my haste to get moving I sheepishly realise that my phone is only 47% charged - and that I've forgotten my charger!

With no time to test ride the Troll I've also discovered that the bike is really wobbly. I wonder whether this is a side-effect of changing out my ageing and uncomfortable Jones H-Bar for a more subtle riser.

Impatient to get to the trails I decide to wing it. Thankfully pumping up my tyres at the Rongotai subway makes the handling 100% better.

Wellington to Petone

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A sneaky pee away from peeping passengers.

The cycleway goes underground.

The traffic is subdued on the road to Petone.

I take a toilet break behind a disused weigh station, the cold black air providing privacy from peeping passengers.

Slipping onto the stylish cycleway between Petone and Lower Hutt, the path ducks underground, stylish wall designs recalling cool nights cocooned in clubs.

Petone to Belmont

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Cycleway construction complete.

Map check in MapOut.

At Alicetown I pass under the bridge to Normandale and am surprised to see that the construction chaos of 6 weeks prior is no more.

The cycle path crosses the road and connects with the adjacent park, followed by another crossing to the river. Lighting and clear signage ushers me through the traverse.

It's a sharp contrast to my experience twenty minutes later at Belmont School. There, the cycle path is bereft of signage, or at least signage that I can see in the dark. It seems to gravitate towards a subway leading to the hillside part of Belmont and it's unclear how I'm supposed to get back to the river. MapOut reveals that I should have turned off at a preceding junction and ridden under the Fairway Drive bridge instead. If you don't know, now you know.

Belmont to Manor Park

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The muscling mound.

Craigʼs Crossing.

Rider protection.

Sweet singletrack.

Limited visibility.

Mist is a regular feature now, tainted with an acrid stench of burning coal or rubber.

Twenty minutes up the road I spot a weird mound muscling its way out of the gloom. It doesn't seem to be connected to anything else and I wonder if it's manmade, or just the mist playing tricks.

Then I'm heading towards the other side of the river and soon come across a bridge. Too short to cross the entirety of the Hutt River, Craig's Crossing appears to cross a small tributary. Nevertheless, it's a fun diversion from the cold monotony of the riverside trail.

Fifteen minutes later I'm at Manor Park Golf Course Sanctuary, where a new cycle path skirts the perimeter fence, whose height increases to protect riders from dimpled projectiles.

Then the path heads into a wooded area and a sweet singletrack experience.

Emerging into the open, trail tunnel vision is replaced by the encroaching mist. There's around ten metres of visibility and the adjacent traffic creeps along at a canter.

Manor Park to Poets Park

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Notella.

Refilling my thermos.

New signage.

At just after ten I reach Poets Park on the outskirts of Upper Hutt.

It's cold and I'm seriously hitting the wall. I retrieve a small jar of Fix & Fogg from the bowels of my frame bag. Masquerading as Nutella (I wish!) the crunchy peanut butter delivers a solid energy boost, without the side effects of sugar. Then I remove the 2L Camelbak thermos strapped to the bottom of my downtube and fill up the smaller HydroFlask thermos in my feedbag. The hot ginger lemon tea is a great morale booster, without the side effects of caffeine.

But the nourishment doesn't do anything for my poor feet. Rain was forecast so I foolishly wore waterproof socks and now my sweat is trapped inside them. Supercooled by the cool mist and constant rest on my platform pedals, the result is frozen feet. Walking up and down the carpark doesn't help. I make a mental note to wear breathable merino next time rather than the damned Sealskinz.

The following section of trail has new signage and I wonder what other improvements lie beyond my limited lighting.

Poets Park to Maymorn

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My favourite bridge.

Cosy toilet.

Te Marua Store.

Approaching Harcourt park, I stay on the eastern side of the river, resisting the urge to cross my favourite bridge.

More map checks leads me to Birchville and the cosy toilet stop at Birchville Picnic Area.

Twenty three minutes later I reach the Te Marua Store and the turn-off to Maymorn.

For years I ignored the turn-off and went straight ahead up the Remutaka Hill, enduring accelerating traffic and an at times non-existent shoulder to reach the trailhead. At some point access through Maymorn and Tunnel Gully became a thing and when I finally adopted the new route the ride up to the trailhead became longer - but much more relaxing.

Maymorn to Trailhead

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Maymorn entrance to Pākuratahi Forest.

No light at the end of Mangaroa Tunnel.

Gingernuts hit the spot.

Cars mark their territory.

I reach the Maymorn entrance to Pākuratahi Forest and Tunnel Gully just before midnight.

And I'm hitting the wall again.

Three Gingernuts hit the spot, but once you pop you can't stop and I have to keep returning to the pack to stave off the ensuing sugar crash.

Emerging back on to the road, I'm greeted by rubber donuts, a reminder that cars reign supreme in the green cities north of Wellington.

Trailhead to Ladle Bend

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The trailhead at 1am.

Last time it was hotter.

Another Bend.

I reach the start of the Remutaka Incline track just before 1am. Only 7km to go!!

Passing by a bench and a picnic table, I remember the last time I was here. It was stinking hot and I got even hotter after I stopped. Stopping today would probably result in hypothermia!

Then there's another picnic table. This is not Ladle Bend but I always think it is because it also has a river and is on a bend.

Ladle Bend

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Turnoff to Ladle Bend.

The Troll takes a load off.

Nachos and beer.

I finally make it to the real Ladle Bend just before 1:30am, a grand total of 7 hours for the ride up.

After setting up camp I lie back and prepare the fruits of my labour: a very late dinner of nachos paired with several gratuitous cans of dark beer.

As I tuck into the irresistably crunchy chips, hot beans and rice bubble away on the gas stove. It's my 9 year old Primus Omnifuel, back from the dead thanks to a new brass burner head and service kit, both supplied for FREE by Primus Sweden. It's rare that a gear company really 'gets it', embracing rough use as more than a marketing slogan, exhibiting honest empathy for their customers, and backing both up with easy repairability.

I've also been embracing repair culture by replacing the zip on my equally old puffer jacket and impregnating my pannier bags in silicon to strengthen and waterproof them.

Some things are new though, including my virgin green Exped Venus II Extreme. It is ridiculously large compared to all the shelters I've owned since owning an orange Venus II, but I love being able to quickly unload onto the empty tent floor around my sleeping mat.

It means I can get to cooking sooner, and then sleeping.