Evie: Mk II

When we were looking to replace my stolen bike in 2020 Neil mentioned doing so with an e-bike. I was aghast – did he think I could no longer pedal a ‘proper’ bike? Probably he was just fed up of having to wait for me at the top of even the slightest incline, let alone walking back down to help me push my bike up steeper hills. But I felt like a failure even considering it, so I declined his offer. Now I’ve jumped the fence into my seventh decade (cue shivers as I type that) I can accept that I’ll never be fit or strong enough to ride a manual bike on some of the trails I want to ride so I casually dropped into conversation that my thinking had changed. Neil needs little encouragement to spend money, then he found the e version of my current bike on sale at 40% off – a sign from the cycling gods if ever there was one – so I’m now the proud owner of battery-assisted two-wheel transport. I’ve named her Evie in homage to the current mountain bike world champion, Evie Richards, with the idea of appeasing the cycling gods, a vain hope that it will make them look kindly on me and not take any opportunity to throw me off.

I’d like to make it clear that I’m not just chucking the motor onto warp speed and cruising around. Most of the time I ride it on the eco mode, which carries the extra weight of the bike and gives me a tiny bit of assistance when I need it. I still get out of breath, still wonder sometimes what has happened to my legs, but it means I don’t have to stop, I can keep momentum and keep going. On steeper or longer inclines I admit to getting extra help and flicking it up a level. I’ll even admit to using level three to get up the wall that is the entrance to our Wellington street, which is no surprise as I struggle to even walk up that without demanding crampons and oxygen. But so far I’ve never used the two highest levels – apart from when I was checking they worked, when the speed they tried to get me to scared the crap out of me so much I think they’ll be emergency use only.

The result of my purchase is that I’ve almost been on my bike more than I normally would. I say ‘almost’ as the weather wasn’t my friend (nor anyone else’s for that matter) earlier this year, unseasonable cold meaning I often looked out of the window and decided to build a snowman instead. But I’m more willing to get out if I know my ride won’t include a bike-pushing walk whenever I get anywhere near a hill.

My purchase coincided with a new cycle trail on the lower slopes of the mountain, Te Ara Mangawhero, which will eventually reach the ski base area. These things are as rare as wings on a pig, almost the entire mountain being part of the dual World Heritage Tongariro National Park and therefore under strict rules and conditions about what can and cannot happen on it. A friend in England once mused that, living in the Lake District National Park, she practically needs permission to change my curtains. Similar here. So Te Ara Mangawhero opened to great fanfare and it’s seen some serious use since, helped somewhat by the Christmas break when many families were in town for a couple of weeks at least.

The Mangawhero is the river that runs through Ohakune, rising high on the mountain and burbling its way to the sea until it joins the mighty Whanganui for the final few kms. Te Ara means The Way [of], so in riding the trail we follow the route of the river. Well, not exactly. Water doesn’t care if its way takes it to a steep drop or over big boulders and through narrow gaps and, whilst I appreciate there are cyclists who like to careen down rocky slopes at risk to life and limb (I refer you to the aforementioned Evie, the human one), many of us don’t. This trail is aimed at those who want a casual ride or want to take the family along, so it veers away from the river and back, crossing it often on shiny new bridges. It twists through trees at a gradual incline and passes through cuttings dug over a century ago for tramlines to facilitate dragging huge logs out of the forest, before breaking out at a bridge where a glance to the right gets you a stunning view of the mountain. It also gets you jet-washed from the left if wind-assisted rain has come in whilst you were in the trees, which is what happened when we took out-of-town friends on it. (We’re riding the Alps to Ocean trail with the same friends next month and hoping for better weather. Battery-assisted or not, travelling on two wheels isn’t much fun if you’re soaked to the skin.)

My new bike allows me to keep going on steeper inclines rather than having to stop to catch my breath and wonder where I left my legs. (I can even get up the Mur de Miro on it!) I still get out of breath, still arrive at the top panting like a proper cyclist who has just ridden up Alpe d’Huez (at a speed I can rarely achieve on the flat, I might add); I still ‘feel the burn’ in my legs, but the battery allows me to feel that and keep pedalling, rather than running out of steam. It also allows me to keep up with Neil. He called it the Equaliser until I overtook him a couple of times. Now he calls it the #*$#*.

I gave my old bike to Superwoman Jenny, who’s been dragging her trusty old hard-tail steed around for some years now and is amazed at how light and comfortable her ‘new’, full-suspension, bike is. I suspect it means she will keep up with my battery-assisted legs on it.