Timber Trail ~ Nov 30-Dec 1, #9

Over night rain turned into early morning mist, then showers, just as soon as Nivaun had sponged the tent dry for the second time. It was no matter - this time. We were packing up our gear to ride a mere 500 meters to the Timber Trail parking lot where a shuttle van would take our gear, along with that of the Te Araora backpackers, to the mid-way point and then the next day to the end of the trail. At this point on the Te Araora, backpackers have the option to hire a bike rather than walk.

Day 1 ~ Overwhelm

By the time we loaded our gear in the van, the soaking mist turned to barely a drizzle. Perfect conditions to experience for the first time, the New Zealand forest laced with dew. Very fittingly, the entrance looked to be a hobbit hole waiting to transport us into another realm.

In just a few pedal strokes, I felt myself trying to catch my breath, not from exertion, simply from my senses trying to process all the beauty that surrounded us. This was unlike any rainforest I had ever seen. As we rode the link trail through the forest the day before, I wondered how the forest along the Timber trail would be any different. I was simply blown away for the next 84 kilometers.

It was a fairy land of grand proportions, or on another level, a plant orgy beyond imagination. Plants were sprouting not just from the ground but from the trees, the trunks, the branches, even ferns were so prolific they were growing fronds on the leaves of fronds. The variety of ferns made the forest look like the most amazing doodle page ever created, in every shade of green imaginable. Never-ending combinations of trees, bushes, ferns and mosses created a new mosaic to behold at every turn. It was simply stunning.

I quickly regretted that we were even moving at a cycling pace. I wanted to walk all 84 kilometers and that could have easily taken weeks. The parking lot that morning had been a buzz with shuttle vans, bike trailers, backpackers, mountain bikers and tourists of all ages, most of which were hopping on e-bikes. The cyclists we met the day before were traveling much lighter than us and were riding the trail with all their gear. Yet, we watched every single one of them pass us by, moving at a pace that we couldn’t comprehend. Each time we passed a potential campsite along the way, we were reminded of another missed opportunity to linger even longer.

Night 1 - Assault of the Senses

Amazingly, and mostly due to a decent stretch of steep downhills, we did arrive at Piropiro campground before dark and in time to collect our gear from the shuttle company at the nearby glamping camp. The free campground was an expanse of open grass just off the main gravel road surrounded by the hills we had just traversed. We setup our tent on the rise, next to the other backpackers and cyclists riding the trail, about 10 of us in total.

Directly below all of us, were a group of pig hunters in full camo gear with quads, dogs, and a stack of wood commensurate to their beer stash, and a chainsaw to fuel their oversized fire. Across from them, were two caravans and one further down the gravel road, all of which were clearly here on the weekend to party, oblivious to any of us in tents, or their idyllic surroundings. We watched as one quad pulled, more than once, a full-sized man on a metal sled back and forth, tearing up the grass and scraping across the gravel road, the audio composition of which was beyond what any sober individual could appreciate. The pig hunters, not so easily amused, tested their alcohol levels by attempting to shoot cans out of a nearby (living) tree with pellet guns.

As evening closed in, they were far from done. It was now time for dueling fires and an impromptu round of pig calling between camps, plus a dance party with flashing lights, followed by of course, fireworks around 10pm and one more ear-piercing rocket after midnight, apparently misplaced during the earlier festivities. Oh, and in between, a round of “night” sledding.

Needless to say, it was not exactly how we expected to end a day spent communing with nature. Something we will be wise to as the holidays approach, realizing a “free” campground, even if remote, may still come at a price.

Day 2 - Learning to translate “all” Downhill

After maybe 5 hours of sleep, thanks to an answered prayer for a rain shower to drown out the early morning raucous, we packed up our gear, dropped it back at the glamping camp and took off down the gravel road, following the trail signs to our next exit back into a land of wonder - far away from any gas-powered, beer-fueled week-enders.

Today we were even more determined to slow down and take in whatever caught our eye because, according to all the trail descriptions and our elevation chart, after a steep climb off the start, it was “all” downhill.

The first day we crossed more than one suspension bridge over amazing gaps and today we were to cross the longest of all the bridges and then a couple more after that one. What I loved even more than the expansive views down the valleys was being able to look down on the tree canopy from a birds-eye view. If I thought this was paradise, I cant even imagine what it must feel like for the birds living here.

We stopped for a lunch break early afternoon, after barely stopping for a snack the day before, anticipating we would have a downhill soon after to make up some time. But several stops later, we had yet to find the downhill.

By then it was mid-afternoon and we were still on a 2% grade in the thick of the forest. Having seen no one else on the trail going our direction, we begrudgingly committed to picking up our pace, or risk possibly arriving too late to pickup our gear. We made a quick stop at the only viewpoint on the trail with cell service and sent an email to the shuttle company to let them know we would arrive to collect our gear around 5pm. For some reason, we didn’t think about letting them know we travel at a photographer’s pace when we dropped off our gear that morning, even after we were told our gear would arrive at the end of the trail around noon.

Mangatukutuku Bridge - 3rd largest in New Zealand and longest (141m) and highest (53m) on the Timber Trail

After passing through the Ongarue Spiral and tunnel, we finally reached the proper downhill after 20km. As our pace quickened, the trail skirted the edges of a steep hillside, leading to flashes of reality - that keeping our eye on the trail was the difference between arriving safely or careening off into the dense bush, leaving no evidence behind that we had left the trail at all.

Ongarue Spiral & Tunnel

We arrived at the valley floor about 4pm, only to then traverse the rolling countryside for another 8km, along a fence line on a track no wider than a footprint through thigh-high grasses and blackberries to the end of the trail. To our relief, we rolled into the trailhead parking lot to find the cyclists we met along the way and a few of the backpackers camped out and our gear tucked into the community kitchen under their watch.

After months of riding through Australia, not seeing any other cyclists, New Zealand was treating us to a free-flowing stream of outdoor enthusiasts from all over the world enriching our experience even more. We met a long distance hiker from Seattle, another from New Zealand and a cyclist from the UK now living in Wellington on her way to ride the Timber Trail with her parents cycle touring the Islands.