Muddy Mayhem in the Mangatuks: A Tale of Leaks, Losses, and Lucky Escapes

Well, it's been over a week since the ride so it must be time to write the blog...

But maybe I'll cheat again and try the AI thing:

(Title was the AI as well)

I headed down to Kapiti to join forces with Colin and Geoff for an off-road adventure in the rugged Mangatuks. My trusty Suzuki dirt bike, the "Yella Terra," was raring to go, and I was eager to put its capabilities to the test alongside the guys on their quads.

The day began with a bang – or rather, a leak. As we set off from the carpark, my camelbak's bladder decided to unleash its entire 2-liter contents down my back, soaking me to the bone before I'd even crossed a puddle. I looked like I'd taken an impromptu swim in the nearby stream. The guys couldn't help but chuckle at my misfortune.

As I waited for Colin and Geoff to catch up, I reached for my camera to capture their arrival. But, disaster struck again! My camera was MIA. Panic set in – had I lost it in the great outdoors? A sweep of my gear revealed nothing, and the guys hadn't seen it either. We pressed on, hoping it would turn up later.

We dove into the pine forest, navigating treacherous tracks filled with deep ruts and puddles. The quads handled the challenging terrain with ease, while I carefully picked my way through on the Yella Terra. The bike performed flawlessly, and I managed to stay upright – until I had to bypass a monstrous puddle via a narrow, tree-lined track. It was a heart-in-mouth moment, requiring precision and a steady hand to avoid plummeting down the steep bank or into the drink.

Meanwhile, Geoff had a spirited battle with the puddle, requiring multiple tow-outs and attempts to conquer it. Colin finally showed him the way, and after several valiant efforts, Geoff nailed it. His determination paid off, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

After surviving the tough stuff, we stopped at the Orange Hut for a well-deserved break. 

Colin bid us farewell, and Geoff took me on a scenic tour of the high points. We even tried to contact his ham radio buddies – but they were eerily silent. The views from the top were stunning, making the challenging ride well worth it.

As we rode, Geoff graciously let me sprint ahead, waiting at intersections to ensure I didn't get lost forever. Little did he know, I had a close call, slipping into a rut and almost becoming intimate with a bank. The Yella Terra and I remained upright, but some unfortunate undergrowth attached itself to my handlebars.

Later, we encountered a washed-out bridge, requiring a creek crossing and boulder-hopping extravaganza. The quad cruised through, and I carefully broke up the crossing into smaller stages to navigate the Yella Terra through the obstacles. A group of young riders on older bikes watched us cross, then gave it a go themselves. We never saw them again, so hopefully they made it out unscathed.

Back at the carpark, I breathed a sigh of relief – and found my camera safely stowed in the ute. I snapped my sole photo of the day – Geoff loading his quad onto the trailer. Not exactly the most thrilling action shot, but a beauty nonetheless.

The Yella Terra and I survived the Mangatuks, but my camelbak and camera had other plans. Time for a new chain and sprocket set – and perhaps a waterproof bladder.

Lesson learned: Always check your gear before heading into the wilderness, and never underestimate the entertainment value of a leaky camelbak.

Actually, that took nearly as much work as typing it and I got it to change a few things here and there.  Then I wasted more time trying to create some of the photos I would have taken...

The most accurate one?

And then these one's definitely captured my skill at tricky water crossings: