The Pakihi Track: remote cycling in Tairāwhiti

It’s a stretch to call Motu a ‘town.’ These days it’s the whisper of one, a shadow. But a shadow with a remarkable history.

“There used to be seven banks and a 100-room hotel here,” says Ron, one of the locals involved in Motu Community House, a former post office now excellent village-run accommodation. We’re basing ourselves here to cycle the Pakihi Track, a 20-kilometre downhill slalom through emerald green forests and alongside steep river drop-offs.

After almost a year out of action in 2023, the track has been resurrected thanks to an army of local volunteers who have cleared slips, lugged rocks and chain-sawed fallen trees. It is back on the map as part of the Motu Trails on the Great Rides of New Zealand.

But the Pakihi Track almost never existed at all. Long before the Motu Road or the gorge road were built, it was the proposed route from the Bay of Plenty to Poverty Bay to avoid the long haul around the coast. The plan was hatched around 1900 and a cutting put through. Given the diabolically steep terrain and vulnerability to thundering floods, it seems the product of a fever dream rather than sane planning. 

The landscape was notoriously tough. Take this report from the Poverty Bay Herald in 1911: ‘The impression exists that persons can get to Motu from Ōpōtiki by following the uncompleted Pakihi track. This is not so. On four occasions men unacquainted with the nature of the country have attempted it […] one party became bushed and only regained their starting point after great privation. Another started and did not return – he either got through or died. Last week one more started, got bushed and returned with his mental equilibrium decidedly upset.’

On a morning that swung indecisively between mountain drizzle and bursts of sunshine, we make the long, leg-draining 17km ascent from Motu to the start of the track. Of our eclectic group of six riders – two architects, two writers, a heritage furniture restorer and a psychotherapist (much-needed for mental equilibrium) – only one is going electric. The rest of us puff up the hill with pedal power.

We get to the trailhead and the Pakihi soon shows it has the thrills of a fairground attraction and none of the artifice: we plunge headlong into nature, down through a forest of kamahi, tōtara and rimu, the pathway steep and narrow.

For some, the switchbacks and tight turns encourage a more leisurely pace, though the adrenaline rushes are there if you want them. After 11km and a 400m descent, just as the nīkau palms are starting to replace the kamahi and rimu, we arrive at the track’s lone DOC hut. This is a goodie: old-school tin, rugged bunks and not a charging point in sight. Just a fat-bellied wood burner for when the cold closes in. 

We move on. The track gets more intimate with the Pakihi stream and as the afternoon drifts on, we roll over a suspension bridge and follow the river’s edge.

Giant boulders in the water and the odd section of track crushed by stone falls are a reminder that nature is in charge here. This is proper, tough back country. That said, some of the residents are from the more delicate end of the spectrum: a sign tells us this is home to the tiny, rare and endangered Hochstetter's frog.

We portage our bikes here and there – the heavy electric one takes two to lump it – and slip along the narrow, rock-faced ‘balcony’ pathway. The big drop-offs to the river add excitement; little signs saying ‘stay focused!’ are well-meaning, if ironically distracting.

As our legs start to tire, we finally pop out the end of the ride – a DOC rest area at the confluence of Pakihi and Orukutia waterways. Someone mentions this is where famed bushman and author Barry Crump lived for about 10 years, and where he wrote the book that the Hunt for the Wilderpeople film is based on.

After re-hydrating, we attack the 9km stretch of gravel road to our meeting point with the shuttle, and the drive back to Motu.

The next day we move on for a couple of recuperative nights at a remote hill country retreat south of Matawai, towards Tairāwhiti Gisborne.

On this side of the gorge the trees have been long cleared into vast farm tracts, yet there are oases of green and one of them is a place called Haurata. 

Run by Jane and Warwick Tombleson, Haurata farm retreat is set up for both relaxing and exploring. We’re welcomed at the converted woolshed with glasses of red wine and lunch; dogs slumber in front of a roaring wood fire.

Jane and Warwick are perfect back country hosts. They love to share the place and to tell stories, helped by the fact the area around Haurata is spiked with history.

One of the many carefully curated walks takes you to the pā site on Ngātapa mountain, 2,000m above sea level. Here a grim chapter in New Zealand history played out when Government forces brutally killed supporters of church leader Te Kooti, in revenge for a massacre at Matawhero. Te Kooti escaped the pā, less a middle finger shot off, down a sheer drop and into folklore.

Besides walking itineraries, there are the large gardens to wander through, with fruit trees, an odd henge of spherical boulders and a tī kōuka cabbage tree-dotted labyrinth. Even better, there’s a hot tub.

On a pristine, windless morning we pile into an old ute and Jane drives us to a nearby highpoint – you can tell it’s high because of the phone and relay masts everywhere – and lets us take in the breathtaking magnificence of the views.

‘Sweeping’ doesn’t capture it: from Old Nick’s Head in the south, up through the Bay of Plenty and over to Te Urewera, it is 360 degrees of folded green hills. Its history, hard years and good years, are writ large on the landscape.