After waking up god knows how many times during the night just to check that I hadn’t set the (wooden) bathroom on fire with the flimsy electric heater on full blast trying to dry out our kit, it was time to get up.

Double porridge and coffee to get us going, whilst it was still dark outside (up before the sun for the first time this entire trip!)

We (James) had decided that we were going to do the trail in reverse, starting in Punakaiki and ending in Blackball. It meant a longer, but less severe climb, then a short steep descent.

With bags packed, it was time to wheel down the hill and to the start of the Paparoa trail.

A short gravel track, and we were at the start of the trail. It was so peaceful, and only us around in the carpark as we wrapped up because it was freezing cold without the sun reaching the valley yet. Only us, until a lady randomly appeared out of the bathroom and shuffled along to the start of the track.

We caught up to her, and she was checking the pest boxes, all made a bit more sense!

Without wasting too much time, we cracked on. The trail started with a punchy climb, at which point I thought, oh my days, what have I signed up for.

Thankfully after the first couple of climbs, it flattened out a bit and whilst climbing it wasn’t as intense and had a bit more flow to it. We crossed over several swing bridges, and if you know me, you know I love a swing bridge.

As with Old Ghost, we were joined by some friendly little birds whilst heading up. At one point I had jumped off to catch my breath and a little piwakawaka jumped onto my bike to say hi

Things started to get more and more rocky. After all of the rain yesterday, the track was really washed out, and rutty – not so fun to ride, especially with a bike full of gear.

We made it to the first hut, te whare pororari (whare far-eh translating to home) which being perched on the side of the hillside, had a beautiful view out across the west coast. As we arrived, we bumped into a guy who was walking the trail. He features again later. We stopped for a very quick photo shoot with a weka, and a sandwich.

Back on the bikes to climb some more. It was super tough going and the fun was not being had. Not even the bag of snacks could stop me from being overly grumpy. We eventually caught up to ole mate walking, who had covered a significant amount of ground.

The climb was steep, and because of the trail being washed away, there were lots of rocks to ‘pop’ up, fine if there’s just one but it was constant so I got off and walked. Jumping back on again where it was a bit smoother to try and keep the KMs ticking over. Ole mate walking then caught up to me, and overtook me. Demoralising.

After falling off twice, once whilst riding, and once whilst walking, I was not having fun. We made it to the emergency hut, which was half way between the hut we had visited and the next hut. As James was purifying some water for our bottles from the rain tank, a tramper came out to talk to us and tell us about how rocky the trail we have to come is. Cool. Thanks bro.

We cracked on, and the views of mountains turned to cloud, and you could barely see 20m in front of you at one point. We made it to the second hut, which is where I had mistakenly understood we started to descend from. No no, we still had another 9.4km to get to the third hut before we started to descend.

We carried on, through the thick cloud, climbing up again. Thankfully we had managed to ditch ole mate walking, so I didn’t have to contend with him walking past me to make me feel even slower.

The trail took us through the magical woodland, where all the trees and rocks were covered in moss. The bank to one side was also covered in moss, and after falling into it on one particularly tricky climb, I can confirm it was not as comfortable as it looked to fall into.

We started to descend, and it was rocky. Really big, janky rocks that by this point I couldn’t give a shit if I got a puncture on, I just wanted to get down.

Passing by two trampers going the opposite direction, who we had passed in Punakaiki the day prior (I remember them as one of them has a checkered pattern bleached into their hair!) who still had a very long way to go to get to the next hut. But finally, we made it to the final hut of the day, after a quick snack and bathroom break it was on for the final descent down.

With necks, shoulders and arms burning because of the janky-ness of the trail, it was hard work descending. There was no smooth flow, but rough bouncing, popping, and crashing down. At one point we caught up to an older lady who was trotting down, and as with all walkers, you call out and ask to pass, nah, not this ole dear, she just carried on in the middle of the trail. She was dressed in black shorts and a green and red striped merino top, so we joked that we would have to call Father Christmas and tell him one of his elves had escaped.

As if the rocks weren’t bad enough, then came the water gully’s, that ran perpendicular across the trail, but at a super steep angle so you either had to crash into the bottom of the ‘V’ and pop back out, or just smash your way through the whole thing.

Eventually, we reached the river, great, we must nearly be there. Nah jokes, we had about 5 single width swing bridges to cross. Lifting your bike up the 4 or so steps to get onto the bridge with weary arms was enough to make me question what even was the point in my arms anymore.

We knew there was a final climb before the end, and we both ended up pushing our bikes up it, because we were done.

6 and a half hours riding, 9 hours elapsed time we had made it to the end.

The end of the trail has a waharoa, for the traditional ‘end of trail photoshoot’. First one with the bikes, then with us.

We were so tired, we sat on the floor to take it, not even giving a shit about the sandflies mauling my legs.

A short 6km along a gravel road down to Blackball and we were in the historic mining town.

We saw an open dairy, so James ran in for a pie and a fizzy. Sadly, they had no pies so a fizzy would have to do. Whilst he was in the dairy, I noticed a sign for ‘Blackball Salami Company’. Back in Wellington, we buy Blackball sausages, the shop was shut but we made note to come back tomorrow.

Back on the bikes, 150m down the road we arrive at ‘Formally the Blackball Hilton’ the birthplace of the Labour political movement back in the day, when a group of miners had had enough and decided to start the socialist revolution.

James went into the pub to sort out our room for the evening and shortly after he came out, with a dead serious face. “They don’t have a room for us” I nearly killed him. He’d done this before where he had booked a room for the night, but got the wrong month. Thankfully, he very quickly realised I was naaat in the mood for having a joke and said “nah joking, we can leave the bikes around the back and dinner is sorted for 7pm”

Wheeling the bikes around the back of the pub, we left them in an old shed, with no door. I would assume if you were stupid enough to steal something from these parts, someone would know someone and you wouldn’t be doing that again.

The hotel was old, and I’m pretty sure the carpet was still from 1908 when the miners were striking! And if it wasn’t, the little cut out of the current carpet showing the carpet prior would have been that old!

After a quick shower, we made it downstairs for dinner.

Although fairly tired, it was a lovely little place to stay, with so much history in the building. Downstairs the pub was like a museum with all sorts of artefacts adoring the walls. From remembrance poppys from over the years, to a 1.5m drill bit from the mines, to original town plans from the Blackball township.

Just as we sat down, the host took a delicious looking plate of fish and chips to another table, and with that, I was sold. Two fish and chips please.

With a chocolate brownie on the menu, James wasn’t leaving without that, and I tried the homemade pistachio ice cream. Then, by 8pm we were done, and it was time for bed!

Day 9 complete.

(I think) it’s good to be adventuring again!