I’m laying in bed not needing to get up and ride. Well I do actually, but just a single digit number of kilometres to the airport. The reality of riding the length of the North and South Island is still somewhat of a fanciful notion outside the reach of someone like me. It has been a grand adventure on a scale I’ve never attempted and was born out of watching Mark Beaumont, Juliana Buhring, Lael Wilcox and Sean Conway take on adventures so big they need the entire planet.

Pictures don’t capture the smells, let you feel the sweat attempting to cool you, or hear the silence of a million stars illuminating your tiny camp spot. They don’t allow you to feel miniscule in a landscape even the head must turn to allow the eyes to absorb.

This country is too big for just one ride. To varied for only one adventure. Too much for just one life.

The sun is trying to shine and burn off the early morning mist. I’m trying to move past the planning and pedaling and process what I’ll feel in less than 70km. We’re rolling in silence and a meditative cadence of our pedaling wading through our thoughts as the end of now visible. It has been a personal quest beyond the knowledge of my capabilities and not some Hollywood, end of the human race blockbuster. Equally as epic in my mind just a lower budget and zero special effects.

I’m not sure what I’m thinking as I know I’ll be at the end before starting lunch. This ride began so long ago with it obviously planned for 2018 then delayed due to a change of job. Everything was going well when I did start in late February 2020 until the COVID lockdown sent me home just 2 days into the South Island. This time I ride further in the first 2 days than when in the South Island last time. Now I’m just a couple of hours away from completing this journey.

We bypass Invercargill using a cycle path that keeps us out of town and off the road which is great. At times the path seems to wind needlessly not cutting a direct path forward. I guess many would say that is a metaphor for this ride, a needless winding bike ride through a country with good roads linking the North to South and East to West. Yet here I am wondering why like so many other stops on the way, Bluff arrives slowly with Sterling Point – the actual stopping place – even slower.

I’ve ridden 3000km in 26 days, albeit with an 8 month COVID enforced break after 16 of those days. I’ve slept in cabins, hotels, tent sites and roadsides as I rode over roads, highways beaches, gravel, dirt, and cycle paths. I had no navigational problems, no mechanical issues and just one flat tyre. I’ve ridden over, around and through mountains, for crossed rivers and streams, drunk water from waterfalls, creeks and lakes while eating three times more food than normal. Yet with everything I’ve seen I still want to see more. This country isn’t small enough for just one ride.

The day starts quietly with us weaving a soft line on a gentle incline with the long grass lightly bending and a cool breeze at our backs. We’re winding through kind hills that are protecting us from mountains that are leaping up surrounding us. Our only retreat would be to the lake or to continue to follow the gravel that is chattering under our tyres.

Protected from the climbs we continue following the gravel line in front of us. There isn’t really any other option but we keep the guidebook in front of us following it like a mouse chases the sniff of cheese through a maze. There is scant signs of humanity out here much like punctuation in a 5 year olds writing. Rarely is there any thing indicating humanity other than the gravel and occasional building. No people cross our path or are or out with the sheep and cows. Even the small plane crop dusting stays clear as if the place is supposed to be deserted. It’s like I’m trespassing in a postcard from Lord of the Rings.

We pause before the big climb of the day. It is neither particularly steep or long, but it is the final climb of the TA. As we prepare to set off someone says, “that hill won’t climb itself.” I don’t respond but think, it will so! It is already waiting on the other side for me and also watching from the top to spectate. The hill stays with me the whole way up and we begin what in our heads is the 210km downhill to Bluff. Of course there are bumps in the road on the way, but nothing like what we’ve come through.

The wind is now swirling like the track we’re following. It curls around left and right reminding me of a soft serve ice cream. That would be nice right now as the day is hot, the ground is parched, the the air dusty. I too am hot, parched, and dusty. I’m running low on water so stop to fill up my bottles from the river we’ve begun riding beside. I want to scoop away from edge so simply walk out in my shoes to cool off a little.

Pulling into Mossburn I head straight to a cafe for food and fluids. The plan was to stop here leaving a 140km day to the end tomorrow. But it is only 3pm so we discuss ideas. There aren’t many options before Winton (70km away) so we look for the store in town but quickly learn it burned down last year and hasn’t been replaced. The cafe is closing so gives us the last of their hot food free as we hide in the shade literally cooling our heels. The only real option is too close given the time but Winton seems too far. A phone call is made, accommodation arranged then we push off for Winton into a headwind.

Before pedaling out from Wanaka we doing ahead to see if we can get bikes in the Earnslaw. We can, but need to be there at 3:30 which seems like a big ask. This gets more difficult when it is 8:30 when we finally leave town (pharmacy stop for one of the riders). We know we’re going to be climbing today, climbing to the highest point on the TA route and also the highest sealed road in New Zealand at 1076m. This happens over 39km and the first 30 are pretty gentle and easy going. We stop at the Cardrona Hotel for a coffee and scone before pressing on.

It is hot going up the road and the higher the road goes the higher the temperature gets. The tar is sticky and I end up with dozens of pieces of gravel stuck to my tyres. This makes my bike sound like an old typewriter. Occasionally I ring my bell just to amuse myself. The final 9km kick upwards and I’m in first gear watching for the summit. It doesn’t disappoint and I rest enjoying the breeze that brings my temperature slowly down.

The down is fast and we own the lane knowing traffic won’t catch us. Halfway down we turn onto gravel which has been scorched dry by the sun and offers no shade. A 4WD track cross us down to Arrowtown and has the occasional tree offering shade that I snatch. It is possibly the hottest day since Picton and certainly the hottest I’ve been on the road.

The clock is ticking so we can’t take long for lunch simply eating, refilling our drink bottles and riding off. We need to restock our food before Queenstown as we’re camping at Walter Peak tonight. A supermarket is on the way so we keep moving conscious we’ll only have 10 minutes to grab what we need. Then I get a flat tyre. The others ride on with my supermarket order while I frantically change my tyre. It is possibly the fastest tyre change I’ve ever made and certainly would be the fastest I’ve done trackside. Tyre pumped up I leap back on and pedal off aiming for 28km an hour instead of the 22km we had been doing. The Queenstown Trail is lovely but the signs aren’t the best when trying to navigate at speed. I come out at Frankton looking for the supermarket and find the others. They had made a wrong turn and together we do a dash around New World. It isn’t the supermarket we were looking for but it is close so we use it and just look like done dirty crazy grocery grab contestants. Outside the bikes bags swallow the food as quickly as we will later in the day and we’re off again. I keep the pace the same and year all the way around the Queenstown Trail to the waterfront. With people everywherei have to slow right down as a weave around mindless holidaymakers enjoying the beautiful weather half of them with eyes on their ice creams. With a minute to spare I get my ticket, 2 cans of drink and prepare to board. Someone asks how the ride is going so I turn to be polite but really need to get things sorted. Turns out it is a friend and his family. It is a great surprise and we quickly share travel stories before the Earnslaw launches to cross Whakatipu. Next stop Walter Peak campsite then just 2 days to Bluff.

The morning is still and the only sounds are the birds and riding of water in the distance. The volume of the birds increases as daylight gradually extinguishes the darkness and fills the sky.. Overnight the stars had a canvas of blackness to perform on and now as I look up I wonder why they’re now hiding. The marvelousness of the galaxy we live in surely can not be a result of anything but intention. Slowly the sun creeps down from the top of the mountains as if playing a game of what’s the time Mr Wolf? I never see the movement but when I turn my head he is closer to pouncing on me and devouring any remaining coldness the night surrounded me with.

We go up steadily and quickly (the rise is quick not our pace). While it is beautiful and we pass what seems like a thousand waterfalls. It would seem this trip and the last couple of days has left me a little indifferent to how incredible this country is. I guess it is a really of being completely immersed in the scenery. Smelling everything, the gentle hint of water wafting in the breeze before you see it beside you and the punch in the nose that is week old road kill roasting in the sun. Whatever it is the change is sudden after crossing from the West Coast into Otago.

After a rocketing (74km an hour) the the mountains are suddenly closer, bigger, and more intimidating. They’re not covered in rain forest with foothills protecting me. Rather they stand over and demand more from my legs already weary from 1000km and plenty of non-Otago mountains. Tomorrow we ride over the Crown Ranges and hit the highest point on the Tour Aotearoa route at just over 1000m. I’m glad as we round and bend and found some open paddocks between me and those mountains. The long grass waves as if farewelling me while the cattle simply stand and stare. Perhaps they’re wondering what we’re doing, or maybe they not what is coming and stare wondering why we would do this!

It isn’t long before we start riding around Lake Wanaka. Then we climb up and crossover to Lake Hawea. We aren’t finished with Wanaka, we just set it aside for the next few hours. As we get close to crossing between the lakes a goat watches from a rock above us. Nonplussed he seems far too casual to be in such a grand location. There are a few climbs into town and heading up one there is a herd of sheep going completely mad. They’re all bleating at each other for some reason and I’ve never heard so many talk so loudly or for so long. Momentarily I wonder if they know my top is merino and are checking to see if it is a relative. The fence means I don’t catch the end of their conversation but it is getting hot, so hot after arriving for a late lunch in Lake Hawea I’m straight down to the lake to swim.

Finally we’re off the road as we leave Lake Hawea and roll into the gravel of the river trail that connects through to Wanaka. After tarmac since Ross (3 days ago) it is brilliant to be on dirt. Of course it is probably 30° in the afternoon so it is dusty and dry, but more enjoyable than the road. We only have 3 days of riding left before we supposed to arrive in Bluff and tomorrow isn’t going to be particularly long but will need to be timed for us all to get a boat across Lake Whakatipu upon arrival. I can almost feel the embrace of Nikki as I drift off to sleep.

The morning is cold and decides to stay until after our first stop for coffee and a scone. Only there, inside with the sun shining on us through a window do I really warm up although that could be the coffee. Anywhere else around the planet this would be a world class ride (on the road) but after what we’ve been through it feels a little underwhelming. There are incredible rivers that are as clear as daylight itself or with that incredible blue hue like a clear summer sky. Then there is the rain forest that is surrounding us. Actually it is encroaching on us as it is on the edge of the road we ride, standing like a kid on the edge of a diving board ready to leap.

Riding is interrupted by eating and stopping at shops for more food. Sometimes the options are great, other times you take what you can carry knowing when the time comes out will look appealing. As we approach Haast the forest stops and we have native bush on our left. It is leaning towards the mountains as if it wants to get away from the ocean. On the right paddocks spread out on front of us like a large dining room table. The metaphor is apt as I’m wondering about what I’ll eat and what supplies I’ll buy. This is the normal thoughts I have approaching a town so it turns out my mother was right, I do think with stomach!

As we leave Haast the wind is at our backs. I can’t decide if it is merely helping us on our way or if it is a pat on the back as of saying, well done. Whatever the case it is a welcome change and we are moving faster than usual and gradually climbing too! We’re on our way to Haast Pass and the mountains begin to swallow us. While we’re following the river they are all around us and threatening just by their size. Mercifully we’re winding a track between them currently and have decided to stop before starting the actual climb. We camp at Pleasant Flats, a descriptive and accurate name at a DOC site.

Before even laying my bike down properly I’m on my way to the Haast River. She offers to cover me in her cloak that is cool and cleansing. I let her cover me completely and the grit and grime of 133km is taken from me and back down towards Haast where I picked it up.

Tomorrow will be Wanaka, then Queenstown (well Walter Peak across lake Whakatipu). Bluff is closer now than when we started and yet it still feels too far too reach. It is still a destination several pages ahead of where I am in the guidebook. It is still just a dot on the map beyond me for another few days.

We’ve ridden over 130km and fatigue was setting in as we came downhill beside a lake with a boat pulling a water skier through the calmness with the sun low but still with a couple of hours light left. We had passed some stunning rivers on the ride today so only momentarily paused to observe this one before pedaling on. Then we followed the West Coast Wilderness Trail around a turn and all came to life as the tiredness and aches of the day melted away in a glorious, flowing descent crafted beside a water race in incredible native trees and plants. As the track ends our energy pretty much does too and the tarmac stretch on the road to town, food, and camping has less energy, less dopamine, and less speed.

The morning had started easy with a flat roll and shirt stop at the Pike River memorial before a climb up to Blackball. It was farmland surrounded by native bush that formed a long and tall line running along the boundary. It was almost like a large wave rising up above the shore preparing to break onto the shore. As the climb arrived there was a Mexican wave of clacking from our gears as we all sort for something easier and one that allowed our legs to spin freely without any more effort than absolutely necessary. Depending on the speed we had been riding and the steepness of the incline this Mexican wave might have 10 or more clacks at the beginning of the climb. It repeats at the top as gravity pulls us downwards and our speed upwards.

The weather is a little undecided on what it will do today and as we continue to Greymouth it is like what I imagine trench warfare from WW1 to be like. Heavy clouds filled with rain threaten us while the sun launches a defensive move. We’re attacked my some light misty drizzle but only momentarily as the sun launches a counter strike and drives the rain back. This continues through the Greymouth with the sun beating the rain South and we move forward to our resupply point in Greymouth and consult the guidebook for what our next manoeuvre should be.

From the middle of town we start the West Coast Wilderness Trail which runs for 130km with almost no time on the road. Initially it is fairly tame and bland with a flat gradient. This disinterest continues for many kilometres until we get to some reservoirs and begin the gentle climb upwards. Here the beauty of New Zealand returns with us flanked by hills violently jumping up around us. They have a heavy grey cloak hiding their heads which they hold close and we stay dry.

It is a little early to want to stop riding just yet, but the options ahead for us are few. A place called Trappers Rest which isn’t highly rated by someone we meet on the track, “I wouldn’t stay there” are his exact words. Cowboy Paradise which is allegedly quite expensive, or a DOC campsite off our path by a kilometre or so. The only agreement is that a shower would be brilliant so we keep on pedaling. Another jaw dropping descent reveals another gorgeous river below and the talk turns to wild camping. It is just such a perfect location. We drop near to the river and potential camping spot there is a sign that makes our thoughts and directs them towards Hokitika. It doesn’t say, “no camping,” rather it is the name of the spot; Cesspool. And so it is we continue to Hokitika, a campsite, and a curry before a rest and an intended later start.