The Big Coast: One Eye on the Trail, One Eye on the Wind

Wearing:

Bottoms: Taniwha Bib Tights (great as many pockets)

Top: Pollyanna Men's Base Layer

Top: AllSort - Men's Winter Cycle Jersey

Socks: Lion Premium Cycle Socks 

Taking on Wellington’s legendary Big Coast ride is less a bike ride and more a weather negotiation. Long-distance cyclists are a lot like fishermen. We spend half our lives refreshing weather apps, staring at wind maps, and convincing ourselves that "25km/h northerly" sounds totally reasonable.

When you're planning to spend 7½ hours in the saddle and cover more than 160km, conditions matter. Living in Wellington during spring means threading the needle between gale-force winds, sideways rain, and the small inconvenience of having a job. One random Wednesday looked promising. Or at least promising enough.

I rolled out of home loaded like a packhorse. Three litres of water, lunch, enough tools and spares to open a small bike shop, and a healthy dose of optimism.

The Big Coast is a loop, so you've got two choices. Head out through Upper Hutt and over the Remutakas first, or tackle the South Coast before climbing home via the Remutakas. Around here, the wind usually makes that decision for you. With a 25-30km/h northerly forecast, I figured I'd get the headwind over and done with early and pointed the bike towards Upper Hutt.

The ride out is a nice mix of cycleways, gravel paths and flat terrain. Progress was slowed by a persistent headwind, but nothing too offensive. Then came the Remutaka Rail Trail. Eighteen kilometres of gentle climbing that somehow never feels like climbing. It's one of those rare stretches where you're constantly gaining elevation but still feeling like a hero.

Dropping into the Wairarapa on a sunny weekday is magic. Hardly a soul around, smooth flowing descents, and enough visibility to let the brakes have a day off. About 70km into the ride, everything was going suspiciously well.

Then came the road section.

About 30km of wide-open Wairarapa roads with a strengthening northerly pushing from behind. It's fast, it's fun, and it's also sneaky. You feel great right up until the moment you realise you've been riding for four hours, barely eaten, and are suddenly wondering why your legs are negotiating a ceasefire.

Lunch on the coast couldn't come soon enough.

Thankfully, calories are useful things because the next section always dishes out some punishment. The South Coast trail in spring is a lottery of sand, wind and whatever the last storm decided to leave behind. Deep sand means plenty of walking. Slips and rockfall keep things interesting. The wind swirls around so much you're never completely sure which direction it's coming from.

Still, it's magnificent. Rugged, wild, remote country that feels a long way from downtown Wellington.

The real character-building started after Baring Head.

The 25km stretch to Eastbourne served up a proper Wellington welcome. A vicious northerly headwind, sand blasting into my eyes, empty drink bottles, and around 140km already in the legs. At that point, cycling becomes less about fitness and more about emotional resilience.

The dream of an ice-cold Coke and a Powerade from the Eastbourne dairy became the only thing keeping the pedals turning.

Thankfully, like most good missions, the ending made it all worthwhile.

Once I turned for home, the northerly that had spent the day trying to ruin my life suddenly became my best mate. Flying back into Wellington with a tailwind felt glorious. By the time I rolled into the driveway, the numbers read 163km and 7½ hours in the saddle.

Tired, dusty, slightly dehydrated, and already checking the weather forecast for the next one. That's Wellington cycling for you. You swear you'll never do it again right up until the moment you start planning the next ride.