DOES IT GET ANY BETTER?
The Kuratau Trail Ride has become one of NZ’s iconic fundraising trail rides. Held in the centre of the North Island under the shadow of the Tongariro National Park mountains, this two day ride draws many hundreds of entrants and raises significant funds for this small rural school and its community. The Kuratau Trail Ride is also in my view one of the finest trail rides on the planet.
During the week running up to this Kuratau Trail ride a succession of savage lows had dumped record rain and snow on the Central North Island, more roads in the region were closed than open. Prospects for the ride weren’t looking that hot.
However, late in the week the weather map showed a massive high building in the Tasman, here was the break we wanted, we were off to Taupo and on to Kuratau, on the southwestern corner of Lake Taupo.
Kuratau School puts on a long trail ride. Two days, two loops and with around 100km of track, most riders only manage one lap of the entire course per day. But what a course it is. Kuratau has a bit of just about everything you would want in a trail ride: long stretches of lush golf-course smooth hill paddocks, farm tracks twisting through hill country, sloppy 4x4 tracks diving through native bush, some wicked single track and even some tough experts-only hills. If you think all that sounds good, add in friendly and efficient organization, the best food you will find at any trail ride, and a bargain price tag.
During the week running up to this Kuratau Trail ride a succession of savage lows had dumped record rain and snow on the Central North Island, more roads in the region were closed than open. Prospects for the ride weren’t looking that hot.
However, late in the week the weather map showed a massive high building in the Tasman, here was the break we wanted, we were off to Taupo and on to Kuratau, on the southwestern corner of Lake Taupo.
Kuratau School puts on a long trail ride. Two days, two loops and with around 100km of track, most riders only manage one lap of the entire course per day. But what a course it is. Kuratau has a bit of just about everything you would want in a trail ride: long stretches of lush golf-course smooth hill paddocks, farm tracks twisting through hill country, sloppy 4x4 tracks diving through native bush, some wicked single track and even some tough experts-only hills. If you think all that sounds good, add in friendly and efficient organization, the best food you will find at any trail ride, and a bargain price tag.
The day dawned fine and frosty.
As usual we had a mix of bikes: Peter and I on Yamaha WR 250Fs, and Duncan with his faithful KTM 400. The previous day’s snow, it turned out, had mostly fallen south of Kuratau, and it only took as far as the first hill top to see the triple peaks of Ngarahoe, Tongariro and Ruapehu, completely blanketed in white, barely 10km away, while to the east the Kaimanawa Ranges formed a jagged white wall ranging well north past the Napier-Taupo Road.
It was one of those perfect winter trail riding days. Not too cold, totally windless, so that temperatures were ideal for a bit of exertion. The rain of the previous week was drying already, thanks to the free-draining pumice soils.
I was keeping a watch on the shady patches as I had already spotted ice on some sheltered puddles. Sure enough, cresting a rise under some native trees up ahead a rider on an RMZ 450 hit the deck like a sack of spuds. He’s OK, but we all give the spot extra attention.
Soon enough the track heads into the bush-covered Huahangaroa Ranges, the geographical feature that divides Kuratau and the lake from the Ongarue Valley to the West. I feel that thrill you get when the terrain ahead looks like it might throw up a challenge. We aren’t disappointed, almost immediately the sign for an expert deviation pops up. No need for a discussion, this is the sort of challenge we like. I sense the pace is going to hot up, I hear Duncan’s KTM closer behind and Peter, cunning as ever, dodging the roost and waiting for one, or both of us, to stuff up.
It was one of those perfect winter trail riding days. Not too cold, totally windless, so that temperatures were ideal for a bit of exertion. The rain of the previous week was drying already, thanks to the free-draining pumice soils.
I was keeping a watch on the shady patches as I had already spotted ice on some sheltered puddles. Sure enough, cresting a rise under some native trees up ahead a rider on an RMZ 450 hit the deck like a sack of spuds. He’s OK, but we all give the spot extra attention.
Soon enough the track heads into the bush-covered Huahangaroa Ranges, the geographical feature that divides Kuratau and the lake from the Ongarue Valley to the West. I feel that thrill you get when the terrain ahead looks like it might throw up a challenge. We aren’t disappointed, almost immediately the sign for an expert deviation pops up. No need for a discussion, this is the sort of challenge we like. I sense the pace is going to hot up, I hear Duncan’s KTM closer behind and Peter, cunning as ever, dodging the roost and waiting for one, or both of us, to stuff up.
The track is now twisting, undulating through bush, but the turns are abrupt, there are some big ruts forming in the recently bladed dark loam.
I haven’t adapted my style and rhythm from the grassland and I feel my forearms start to burn with the dreaded arm pump. Overshooting slightly, my bush bar clips a small tree, twisting the bars savagely, but I glance off, adrenalin hammering in my helmet - nearly lost it then. Now Duncan’s front wheel is coming up on the inside, no you don’t matey. Banging the WR down into second, I’m laughing and shouting into my Arai, dirt flying, branches clipping my helmet peak, giving it everything.
Time to concentrate, dig into the cupboard of old enduro tricks, you can’t keep this up for long you silly old bugger. Recall the race mantra: settle your breathing, body position centred on the pegs, boots gripping the frame, back bent, elbows up, relax your hands and forearms, think smooth flowing lines, and look ahead, don’t obsess on that rut, look ahead!
Soon we find that rhythm, that dream-like state in which the trail flows towards you, not you towards it: don’t think, react. Cresting a rise the track drops away to the left, long conditioned reflexes make me lean me forward, weighting the outside peg, pushing the bars down. The rear slides, turning then weightless, as I drop turning into the dip. Now a massive mud hole, the track is turning to the right. Instinct takes over, slide to the outside, defy gravity, a wall of death around the rim of the glutinous pit. A split second image: two riders bogged in the hole, cursing, wheels spinning, eyes staring at us through mud-spattered goggles. Our trio pushes on as if our lives depend on it.
Time to concentrate, dig into the cupboard of old enduro tricks, you can’t keep this up for long you silly old bugger. Recall the race mantra: settle your breathing, body position centred on the pegs, boots gripping the frame, back bent, elbows up, relax your hands and forearms, think smooth flowing lines, and look ahead, don’t obsess on that rut, look ahead!
Soon we find that rhythm, that dream-like state in which the trail flows towards you, not you towards it: don’t think, react. Cresting a rise the track drops away to the left, long conditioned reflexes make me lean me forward, weighting the outside peg, pushing the bars down. The rear slides, turning then weightless, as I drop turning into the dip. Now a massive mud hole, the track is turning to the right. Instinct takes over, slide to the outside, defy gravity, a wall of death around the rim of the glutinous pit. A split second image: two riders bogged in the hole, cursing, wheels spinning, eyes staring at us through mud-spattered goggles. Our trio pushes on as if our lives depend on it.
Reality check - our lives don’t depend on it, more likely our mortgages depend us getting safely home on Sunday night.
Once were warriors maybe, but we are all over 50, one of us well so, and what’s to prove. We’ve gone bar to bar for 15 minutes, I’m tiring for sure and I sense the others are too. I relax my pace, down to that comfortable all-day veteran enduro rider’s trail speed I know we can maintain all day. We have been riding together for a years, we all know the score, no more wheels up the inside, we are all up for a break. As we climb to another high point the trail breaks the trees, perfect time for a breather.
We park up and gather round, laughing and steaming gently in the still air while we share raisins, nuts and muesli bars. As the adrenalin subsides we finally cop the view. It’s stupendous, the bush, farmland, Lake Taupo and the mountains ranged around. Peter’s a recent import from Australia, and every new ride he says the same thing. “How good is this? Kiwis have the best trail riding on the planet, my mates in Aussie will be sick when I show them the photos.” We all stand there grinning, Malcom Smith-like legendary ear to ear trail riding grins. Duncan’s a man of few words, but usually good ones. “You know it’s only ten o clock, there’s 75 kays more of this and lunch is venison, so let’s get into it.”
We park up and gather round, laughing and steaming gently in the still air while we share raisins, nuts and muesli bars. As the adrenalin subsides we finally cop the view. It’s stupendous, the bush, farmland, Lake Taupo and the mountains ranged around. Peter’s a recent import from Australia, and every new ride he says the same thing. “How good is this? Kiwis have the best trail riding on the planet, my mates in Aussie will be sick when I show them the photos.” We all stand there grinning, Malcom Smith-like legendary ear to ear trail riding grins. Duncan’s a man of few words, but usually good ones. “You know it’s only ten o clock, there’s 75 kays more of this and lunch is venison, so let’s get into it.”
