We're a crew of four heading from Papamoa to the Redwoods. My usual partner in crime Clare; Sally who we've been doing mad things with for a number of years; and Cat, out for her first MTB. She's a triathlete and a bit of a roadie, and we're trying not to hold that against her. Secretly one of my favourite stories is how Cat, a runner, decided to do a triathlon even though she had little bike experience and swimming wasn't exactly a strength. So she did a bit of training and completed Tinman in December for her first ever triathlon, followed by Half Ironman in January and IRONMAN in March. I think she needs to work on her February output.
Anyway, Sal and I must be back in Papamoa by 2.30 for school pickups, especially as my slightly precious 5 year old will crumple if she doesn't see me within 2.5 seconds of walking out her classroom door. Today, I'm going to be a bit of a Nigel No Mates, heading off to get the trigs while the others take Cat for a gentle roll on some friendly trails. They start off up the first hill with me, but when we realise my first trail is walkers only, they head back down with no regrets. Quietly, I thought Cat should have come with me to tow me up the big hills, but no one picked up on that thought process so I'm on my own.
Today, I've got my Garmin all prepared with GPS coordinates of the trigs. I'm very excited to see just how cool it is as a nav tool, seeing as recently Tom said it was the most expensive stopwatch in the world. I'm pretty confident with my maps and general sense of direction to the first trig, which I've seen in the last year or so, and generally quite puzzled as to why the Garmin is pointing in completely the wrong direction. I rock up to Pohatuoa walking track, practising my confused "I'm so lost, is this a MTB track?" expression in case I come across any walkers. A little while up, a fiddle with my Garmin and I realise I've selected the wrong trig, and it's navigating for the 2nd trig instead of Pohaturoa.
Biking up a really steep hill, with no warm up, slowly watching the Garmin saying "545m to destination...... 543m to destination........ 542m to destination... is quite painful. But eventually, I spot the trig, race over to it and just as I dismount the Garmin buzzes "destination reached". That's pretty clever for a stopwatch!
A little victory dance, photos, and I head off to try and catch the other ladies. I head along the road near Creek Track, and eventually hear a cacophony of voices.
Cacophony - A harsh, discordant mixture of sounds.
Actually, that's not the right word, but it's from one of my favourite Hairy Maclary books and Ive always wanted to use it. Personally, I thought the mingle of Scots, Irish and English accents was very melodic. After chasing the sound through the windy tracks, I see a flash of colour as they race by in the opposite direction on a nearby loop. Bike on shoulder, I hop through the undergrowth to get on their tail and catch them shortly. We grind up Red Tank Road together, and as per usual, positive thinking is not enough to get me in front of Sal up the hill. I know it's not a race, but it would be nice at least to be able to sit on her wheel. Again, no one offers to be my wing man and sweat up Moerangi Road rather than coasting down Dragon Tail, and after a quick photo, I break off to Trig #2.
A little maths and I realise I'm well short of time, the hill is ALWAYS bigger than I remember, endless, such a grind.......I must check the elevation, as it's just not fun. I arrive at the intersection mentioned in the trig notes, and figure I've got less than 20 mins to get the trig and get back to my bike, or I'll rendezvous late and CYFS will have the kids by the time I get back to Papamoa. The Garmin says it's only 300m to the trig, THAT way. But I can't find the supposed walking track, so I hide my bike in the bushes, dither about my helmet but decide to leave it on.
The next 30 minutes is both the best and the worst part of trig hunting. With deadlines in place, I approach this section with as much intensity as I'd take to a race. I'm in an area of bush, with absolutely no sign that anyone has stepped foot in here for years. The leaf litter is really thick and slippery, and I pretty much follow my nose (and the Garmin) to the top. Big logs that I stand on completely disintegrate under my feet. In other parts I have to squeeze under a fallen tree, or clamber up a bank. My helmet comes in handy as I whack my head on braches a number of times. I reach what looks like the top, feels like the top.... but no sign of a trig....??? Garmin says 15m NW so off I sprint. Garmin says 10mE so off I run, Garmin says 5m NE... it must be close, and I go step-by-step scanning... surely a 3m beacon can't be THAT hard to see? It's a dense forest, but not that dense. 20m SW, 15m N, 12m NNE, I spend a good ten minutes running around in circles like a jackrabbit. Value for money, I didn't even pay an entry fee and yet adrenaline is high as I frantically race around. I think the forest is just too thick for the Garmin to grab enough satellites. I find a suspiciously sized hole. Hmmmmm.
This is what my searching looks like from the Garmin satellite, from the place where I drop my bike and start bush bashing.
Defeat is hard to swallow. But I can't, just can't be late for school. Mad dash straight down the hill. Forgot about that bank, but it turn out it was easier to fall headfirst down it, than it was to climb elegantly up it. NO time for the berms of Split Enz, instead I blast down Hill Road, managing to hit 46km hr. A quick stop to text the girls and they drive to pick me up at the shuttle car park instead of the designated spot. I'm frustrated, but mostly I have to smile, the adrenaline rush of being pushed, under pressure, decision making, and navigating with real consequences. Maybe that's the real purpose of Trig hunting???
Nearly 22km, with 585m of climbing, hitting one minute ks on the downhill. The little flat bit on the hill is running back and forward hunting for a ghost trig!!
