Taking kids along for the ride may actually improve your experience.
Words & Photography Tony Hutcheson
For me, being a mountain bike dad has always been rather easy. You see, I’m not very good at stuff. I can’t wheelie, I’m not always searching for the new gnarly line and my jumping days (brief though they were) are well behind me. Add to this my mediocre skills with a map, inability to keep up with current mountain bike vernacular and the right side of my body being almost entirely metallic and you might say I have little to offer the next generation of keen mountain bikers, save for advice on injury rehabilitation.
However, I would argue that it is exactly my lack of general skills that makes being an mountain bike dad so easy. No pressure to impress you see. My role is that of an enthusiastic facilitator. I make plans and execute them, then leave the ‘teaching of cool stuff’ to my friends (principally my good friend Richie).
The champions of fun
I have long held the view that I possess an innate ability to impart to kids the knowledge of how to enjoy themselves on bikes in the bush (or forest depending on where you call home). That was until my own daughter, Olive, helped me realise that, in fact, it is me who is learning and the kids are the teachers. That sounds a bit Yoda, but is also very true. Hurry up! Come on, let’s go! Pick up the pace! Enough playing in the river, time to get moving! I don’t know if you should be climbing those rocks, it looks a bit dangerous! These are all phrases I’ve used and, ultimately, learned are pointless during pretty much every kid-centric activity.
Kids are the undisputed heavyweight champions of extracting fun from everything. They just are! The sooner you realise this, the better off everyone spinning in your particular vortex will be. My initial naivety led to frustration, but once I’d embraced this concept the act of riding bikes in the wilderness with my daughter and her friends became a happier experience for all.
Olive is now ten years old. She has been joining us on backcountry rides under her own propulsion since she was five. A few hours at first, then full day missions before moving on to overnight adventures and multi-day rides. She has been ‘fortunate’ (my words, not hers) to grow up in a family where this type of activity is mandatory until reaching voting age, when one can decide for oneself. She has been equally, if not more, fortunate to have a large gaggle of friends from households with similar policies.
At the risk of preaching to the converted, let me impart some unsolicited advice on kids’ bikes. Get them a good one. If you expect them to ride trails that you consider awesome you’ll need to provide them with tools commensurate with the task. Yep, it’s going to cost more and they’ll grow out of them PDQ, but consider that the second-hand market for quality kids bikes is strong and this will lessen the financial blow of future upgrades. Pay attention to the saddle. It’s near impossible to motivate a child with a sore bum to push on through multiple days in the backcountry. Talk to your kids about the bike. Be excited (like that’s difficult). Explain why and how stuff works. Get them engaged. It’s not just the colour and how many stickers they can coat it with that matters to them.
Old ghosts, old hands
This story is heavily influenced by, but is not about the Old Ghost Road. Look back in the dusty cobwebbed archives of this esteemed publication for coverage of that awesome trail penned by your very own Chipps Chippendale (Issue 97). In 2019, my girlfriend Sonja (now wife and outdoor culinary consultant), along with Olive and I, teamed up with another couple of families and tackled the Old Ghost Road trail over five days. Olive was seven-going-on-eight and her friends Loïc and Rohan were both six at the time. This was a significant chunk of adventure for the wee kids. The Old Ghost Road is without question one of, if not the best multi-day backcountry rides in New Zealand. Many people smash out its 85km and 2,300m in one day, most will do it in two. I am among those who have indulged in the latter. but the revelation of five days on the Old Ghost Road with the kids has convinced me that anything quicker is a grave error of judgement. Five is the correct number of days to be ‘lost’ in that magical part of the world.
For that trip we were in the backcountry for Christmas and keeping kids motivated for the entire expedition was oft raised as a concern, by me, during planning. As is always the case, the kids dished up their particular flavour of awesome and all the ‘grown-ups’ could do was look on and be humbled. Much was learned from that trip and Sonja and I would apply those learnings to our recent three-day adventure through the Paparoa Track, New Zealand’s newest multi-day backcountry ride that connects Blackball with Punakaiki on the West Coast.
Perfect day
On 19 November 2010, 29 men perished in an underground explosion at the Pike River Mine on the West Coast of New Zealand’s South Island. The Paparoa and Pike29 Memorial tracks were created as a memorial to the men and a ‘thank you’ to New Zealanders for their support of the Pike River families. The building of the track was a mighty undertaking. One of the build teams made a pretty sweet film called ‘Building the Pike 29 Track’. Check it out, it’s well worth a look.
Unlike our Old Ghost Road trip, we decided not to stay in every hut on the Paparoa Track. This meant that Olive would be subjected to a lengthy first day, but rewarded with two significantly easier days thereafter. All the kids displayed determination, stamina and fantastic bike skills during the Old Ghost Road trip, but they had each other to bounce off and encourage. For Paparoa, Olive would be on her own, so to speak, and I was mildly concerned that three days of ejecting toys lay ahead of us.
I’m getting pretty good at misreading situations and Olive proved my concerns to be comprehensively unfounded. The 20km and 1,000m of rough climbing on Day 1 didn’t seem to faze her much at all. A plentiful supply of sour gummy bears and technical uphill challenge sections kept us all entertained and motivated, although I was careful to avoid the word ‘halfway’ when we stopped just above the tree line at Ces Clark Hut for lunch. The mighty West Coast can be a little unforgiving when it comes to weather. The Paparoa Range has annual rainfall of around 6,500mm (yep, that’s 6.5 metres or around 256 inches), but we had light winds, sunshine and – amazeballs – uninterrupted views of the coast and ranges for our glorious day along the tops which marks the beginning of the new track.
Imperfect night
In New Zealand the Department of Conservation (DOC) manages a network of just under 1,000 backcountry huts with a range of amenities from very basic to rather plush. When Kiwis talk about staying in huts this is usually what they are referring to, although there are many more private huts owned or managed by various clubs and interest groups.
Moonlight Tops Hut was our first scheduled stopover. Built as part of the Paparoa track project, it’s pretty modern and comfy with full insulation, double glazing and gas cookers. Many huts in New Zealand offer spectacular views and Moonlight Tops is one for the books. The views north to the Pike Stream escarpment are completely bonkers. On your first visit, it’s hard to think how the track can possibly meander along the top of that thin strip of limestone, but it does and it seems safe enough while you’re on it, especially when the cloud comes in obscuring your view of the precipitous drop.
In preparation for the Old Ghost Road trip Sonja had become a dab hand at dehydrating delicious food that, once rehydrated and consumed after a long day on a bike, seemed almost tastier than when first cooked. This new skill was successfully applied to our Paparoa trip, much to the envy of other hut users. Dhal, pesto pasta and even cheesecake were on the menu and received with eager enthusiasm by Olive and me.
On the subject of other hut users, backcountry huts are obviously a shared facility and many a night has been enjoyed regaling amusing anecdotes and imbibing whisky with strangers over the years.
Sharing a slightly too small bunk room with a bunch of eager explorers who have been exercising all day to reach the hut does have its drawbacks, although I probably offer others more to be afraid of than I should fear myself. Then there is the ever-present risk of snorers, although the liberal application of ear plugs despatches this problem to the realm of non-issue.
One thing I can’t tolerate though is being stiflingly hot in my sleeping bag. Anyone who has stayed in a DOC hut will know all too well the mattresses are hard-wearing and unforgiving of direct contact with the skin, being too sticky, too slippery, too cold or too hot, but never the much revered just right Goldilocks level. Anyway, twelve folk in a small bunk room with doors and windows shut tight meant I didn’t sleep well. The chap in the controlling position for the only window was unwilling to give an inch, so I spent most of the night listening to the kiwi outside (birds, not people) and plotting my revenge.
Early worm catches the storm
The final day of the Old Ghost Road trip fell on Olive’s eighth birthday. Day 2 of our Paparoa trip found Sonja celebrating a birthday and what a gift it was… 19km, and seemingly all downhill (that’s what I told Olive) on an amazing track in some of the most mythical forest imaginable. The sidle along the escarpment was for sure a highlight even without the perfect weather afforded us the day before. There is little that can be said to adequately describe the lush ancient bush that can be experienced as the trail meanders down to Pororari Hut. Seeing the end result of the work that went into building this trail doesn’t begin to do justice to the effort that went into it, but the trail building film does a pretty good job of that so do take a look.
Pororai Hut appeared to be an exact facsimile of Moonlight Tops hut and, as such, control of the bunk room window was up for grabs for the worm seeking early birds. Fortunately there were no other mountain bikers staying the night at Moonlight Tops which left only walkers to contest for said early bird worms at Pororari. Even leaving Moonlight Tops long after everyone else combined with many many stops for photos, sour gummy bears, rock climbing and miscellaneous exploring, we managed to arrive at Pororai ahead of the others and only shortly after lunch o’clock. This facilitated much time for exploration, board games and claiming the much-coveted window controlling position in the bunk room.
The weather forecast for our entire trip had been questionable at best and, thus far, incorrect, although there was now a wind and rain warning in place for the following day that seemed almost certain. The storm, however, decided to arrive early and by bedtime a howling gale had rain coming in sideways through the window that I’d insisted should stay open. Olive had claimed the window bunk position, then Sonja, then me. Three bunks in I was still getting wet from the rain. But so determined was I to reap my horrid revenge and have a comfortable night I opted for cold rain rather than another hot sticky night. I’m not sure everyone agreed with that stance. The storm was kind enough to pass overnight, leaving near perfect conditions for riding out to a hot sunny day on the coast.
A sting in the tail
Our last day on the Paparoa Track was a casual affair with 16km and 635m of flowing wondrous downhill through yet more superb rainforest and the stunning Pororari River valley. The river valley route was originally formed circa 1912 to open up the valley for farming and establish a settlement. Seeing this route that has, in parts, been hewn from the sheer rocky cliffs beggars belief and leaves you in awe of the hardy frontier spirit of the early settlers. The original track has now been painstakingly restored, utilising the original paving stones in as many sections as possible.
This stretch of the Paparoa Track also presents one of the greatest hazards in New Zealand: ongaonga, the New Zealand native stinging nettle. Just one touch can make you, well, itchy. Yep, if you don’t fall off your bike or wander off the track and get lost and succumb to hypothermia, the worst that can happen is a stinging nettle. But not to worry, the two sections where this sneaky stinger hides (in plain sight) are clearly signposted. So, if you did wander off the track like a duffus, get lost and cause an expensive search and rescue call-out, at least you would sting only your pride and bank account.
The Paparoa Track, much like the Old Ghost Road, is pure gold for both walkers and bikers. Sure, you can pedal through in a day quite comfortably, but why would you when you could spend a few days taking in the sights, sounds and itches of this serene native bush? If you are afflicted with a competitive bent and feel the need to out-Strava your mates, just take some kids along for the ride, give yourself a reason to chill and see the forest through their eyes. I guarantee that what they see is vastly more fun and wondrous than your high speed tunnel vision.
