A single track negotiated (usually closed in winter) had us walking a heap of it.  Mud clung to the bike tyres like blue tack to a wall.

One hoped it wasn’t like this the whole way as there was a jet boat to catch.  Perseverance resulted to arrive at a  four wheel drive track that had the beads of sweat rolling down the brough as we climbed up to a Māori Po (carving).

A right turn and it wasn’t long before the memorial appeared dedicated to those soldiers who fought in the great war.  They were given land by the government of the day as compensation for serving.  Except it was so unrealistic to propogate due to it’s inhabitability and most walked off it.

And was the reason for the bridge construction to help with provisions up or stock transportation down.

Now it’s a bridge to nowhere.

Except for those outdoorsy people who cycle or walk the route we took that ended with being jet boated 32.5kms down the Whanganui River.

An awesome reward having enjoyed the national park and a massive wash, both bikes and bodies before a night under canvas at Pipiriki.

Moreporks (owls) made themselves known when shadows turned to night.

Not this one.

I was out for the count in noddy land after the first Ru-ru was echoed from the surrounding forest.