Climie

A view over the Rimutakas and Wairarapa from the summit of Mt Climie

Mt Climie sits back from Upper Hutt city like a lion. It sits there quietly and deceptively, the only indication of its height being the aerials that pop up from its bush clad summit.

It is almost reminiscent of the Ventoux. The giant of the Tour de France. But lacks its deforested, blistered scrotum aspect.

Ramash wanted to make the most of his annual leave, so we were out there, parking up at tunnel gully. A pleasant picnic area most infamous as the site of kidnap plot where the victim was planned to be kept in a hole. Dirty Harryesque. From the carpark the 4wd track rises consistently to the top shrouded often by mist forest. Near the top there is a narrow band of subalpine vegetation, probably the legacy of past fires and storms, we recovered briefly then shot back down. Bikes are fast downhill. Good times capped off by a long coffee in the Pauatahanui Cafe.

A Cheese Toastie of Moments

I was thinking selection, or snippets, or maybe slices. A few paragraphs of travel writing like slices of bread. But then it hit me, cheese toasties.

I hugged the tree. Especially soppy. But I can explain it, it was a mountain cabbage. I had been grumpy that morning. A grumpy bastard. The others were long gone when I was wiggling my pants on trying to avoid the condensation on the roof of the tent. They had left the shelter a mess, as you do when the water is frozen. Ever tried wiping a frozen bench with a frozen cloth? And the camera was gone. Disaster. I had cursed then contemplated boredom, the empty campsite surrounded by bush in the lonely valley. It was mahi that settled the soul. Litter duty eased my troubles. I cached the gear, left a note and strode towards the mountain. My heart lifts with exercise and the mountain cabbage with its spiky hairdo lets down its defences in layers of old fronds.

They have found the missing link. It scythes across the valley side like a water race. Seemingly blasted from rock. Standing above precipices. It splashes through the river then twists up to the pylon on the other side. The trees grow now over the gorse. Mountain biking ecology. Plant natives around the tracks and help them last forever.

It is a place where couples hang-out. Wellingtons favourite romantic slightly adventurous sunset. We have been here many times before, and sat on the old gun emplacements. This time we walked further south towards the bay and sunk in the enormity of the windmills. They emphasise how poked things are. These stripped coastal hills struggle to regenerate. But they will. In 50 years time this land will be bush and we will take down some of these windmills. Those that intrude on our less garish aspects. And we will move on.

MTB at Whirinaki

Penny decided it was a time for a bike adventure so we cruised over to Whirinaki, meeting Brent on the way in Murupara. This has to be the remotest specially made mtb track in NZ...and one of the best. It was awesome. Primo singletrack riding in big native forest. We then headed over to Rotorua via the unique Minginui, which needs a few coats of paint and some dog kennels. We stayed with Brent and it was great to catch up with what went down at the Adventure Racing Worlds this year, his team finished 3rd which is awesome. Sunday we went for a kayak from the stream beside Brents place down into Lake Rotorua. Really cool perspective of the old buildings and tourist attractions that line the lakes edge, lots of thermal features, which gave Penny the heebie jeebies a bit in the kayak and masses of birds...really nice After a bit of sifting round town we took off home via the eastern okataina walkway, which is really nice, rolling singletrack through native forest.