Bluffing It!: Oversized carrots

Day 23. People in the woods.

Ohakune to Johnson's Campground
Daily total: 79.53km Running total: 1395.28km

I'll just jump right in with a photo as this was my early morning view from the campsite in Ohakune.

Ohakune town center.

My first task (well after packing everything up) was to search for the fabled giant carrot of Ohakune. The town is known for growing carrots I guess or they want to attract rabbits and other carrot animals. Finding a giant carrot in a small town is a good not too taxing task for first thing in the morning. Upon feasting my eyes upon the giant splendor of the giant carrot, my heart fills with regret. I got a photo of myself in front of the giant L&P bottle but why didn't I get a photo of myself in front of the giant Kumera (Sweet Potatoe) just outside of Dargaville?

The fabled giant carrot of Ohakune.

The original plan for Ohakune was to go east towards Napier. A choice as chosen by you guys. So I feel a full on heart felt apology is required at this point. I am sorry. I ignored your requests as I decided to keep following the whims (and recommendation from Mariusz, a fellow cyclist from Poland I met the day before) and go on the Mountain to the Coast Cycle Trail, which is West. I am terrible person but Powerboats! Sorry but part of the route requires a trip on a Powerboat down the Whanganui River! That swayed my decision and dented the wallet.

A strong wind was brewing, the sky was gray. My early start as always never transpired. It will be 70km to the camp ground along unsealed roads and my legs were aching from all the mountain escapades. Rest at this point was for the weak. Forward, forward, forward. The mountain had given me some magical energy. It is the only explanation to why I could cycle still.

The first 25km of the route turned out to be sealed with some amazing downhill sections and the clouds parted to reveal a beautiful summers day. I got stuck behind a farmer herding some sheep which for some reason proved impossible to get a photo of.

Some 34km in is the start of the 'off road' part of the trail and off road it was. Only walkers, cyclists and quad bikes could access the unsealed rutted track. For kilometer after kilometer I saw scarce traces of civilization. There was no one around for miles. Just me, the bike (the reminds me, the bike needs a name) and nature. The route winds round valleys and over gullies and the hill was relentless in the blistering sun. 10km relentless. I walked the majority of it. I was in no hurry. My pick up was not until 1pm the next day. At the summit, the full extent of the remotness of the area became apparent. The countryside just stretched on for miles and miles with no traces of human intervention, except for the trail and picnic table I was stood on.

The trail leads to the Bridge to Nowhere. After WWI, Kiwi veterans were given land to settle on and cultivate. The bridge was built as part of a proposed highway but never transpired due to a number of reasons.

Just some of the sights from the trail.

View of Tongario National Park. I scaled the one in the middle a few days back.

This went on as far as the eye could see.

I did not see anyone until I hit Johnson Campsite where I met some hunters and a woodsman type person called Tom who sort of lived in the area during the summers and heads back to town (only 78km away and only 25km to something that resembles a road!). Tom's farther was one of the last settlers to leave the area, so Tom was very knowledgeable about the area. A good person to camp by and bit of a local celebrity. He had a full on camp going on, with a wood fueled oven, kitchen sink, cooking area, the works with a transistor radio tuned to New Zealand's equivalent of BBC Radio 4. He had been a sheep shearer in the past and general outdoor farming type. The news was covering the events in Paris. Tom wondered how much did Charlie Hebdo rip the piss out of other religions. Good point and out of the blue. A good place to camp. Tom provided cups of tea and even some meat to go with my can of baked beans which he heated up in the oven. After chatting for hours, I emerged from his shelter to be taken back by a sea of stars.

He was not sad that his family had to leave the area. Just saw it as the next challenge and potential new opportunities. I got the impression that he was trying to keep the family connection to the land, not in an ownership sort of way but as a way to retain the history of the area. To stop it fading away like the timber houses that once dotted the area.