A lot has happened since my last blog. We finished riding the North Island, visited our niece, who lives in New Zealand, spent an amazing 3 days kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park, survived a West Coast epic storm and experienced bedbugs… Yep, that happened! I know you’re dying to hear about bedbugs but let me back track a little to where the last blog left off.
I think we had just ridden the Timber Trail and continuing down the center of the North Island. Following the Timber Trail we decided to treat ourselves to a room and found the perfect “splurge” at the Inn at the Convent in Tamaranui. Once a nunnery, our hosts June and Jeff turned this historic building into a lovely bed and breakfast. After spending most nights camping, we really enjoyed the luxurious bed and cosy room with our own bathroom! The next day we did some bike maintenance and enjoyed a great home cooked meal and great conversation. June entertained us with stories of her former life as a women’s high fashion shoe designer and Jeff kept us in stitches with his frank and unfiltered comments. After a rest, it looked like the weather would cooperate and we headed off to ride to Whakahoro station and a remote Kaiwhakauka and Mangapurua tracks to the Bridge to Nowhere along the Whanganui river. Camping in the Department of Conservation sites at both Whakahoro and Hellawells, we split the ride into 2 days, ending with a jet boat ride down the river to Pipiriki. A bit of hike and bike on some sketchy sections but a great ride where we saw only a few folks over our two days in the forest and had the campgrounds pretty much to ourselves (oh and the wasps)!
From Pipiriki the next day we had a fun ride through rolling countryside with one big climb before riding Whanganui to meet our niece Roseanne who lives in New Plymouth.
Had a great time catching up with her and exploring Whanganui. After leaving Whanganui we were on the homestretch, headed to Wellington. Highlights included arriving at Apiti soaked and cold from the rain to find a warm fire blazing in the Apiti Tavern as well as free camping on the lawn behind the Tavern, nice cycle trails into North Palmerston, arriving early and chilling on the pub patio in lovely Martinborough while waiting for our Warm Showers host and finally the epic ride over the Rimutaka Pass into Wellington.
We spent two days in Wellington enjoying the Te Papa museum, cable car and botanical gardens as well as 2 days of great food and craft beer. On our way back from dinner we passed through City Park and walked by a small flying fox (zip line) in the children’s playground. I convinced Rob to join me for a zip and after climbing the wooden ramp, I sat down, pushed off and hooked my foot on the ramp, wrenching my right knee badly. Safe for 5 year olds but not 50 year olds apparently! I managed the morning ride to the ferry and we crossed Cook Straight to Picton, officially ending our time on the North Island.
We decided to bus to Nelson give my knee a rest and book a kayak trip into Abel Tasman National Park. Our 3 day trip with Abel Tasman Kayaks was truly special. Group tours are always a gamble but occasionally you get a winner. We had a blast with the other guests, Megan and Lee (a vet from Colorado – go figure), Alessandra from Italy, Pete and Amy from Toronto and Christine from Atlanta. Our guides were fun and relaxed and we were sad to say goodbye after 2 fun days.
Nelson is a great little city to hang out and we decided to treat ourselves to some craft beer (who am I kidding, we’ve been drinking beer since stepping off the plane, no wait, since getting on the plane!) and a real bed.
Leaving Nelson we headed south towards Tapawera and Murchison. It was about this time… 24 hours later, that we started to itch. Que the creepy music.. our one night at the hostel left us covered in bites! I reacted dramatically with easily 100 bites covering upper back arms, belly and legs. Given we had not stayed anywhere except our tent we were pretty sure where we got them, the appropriately named Bug backpackers! A day out from riding ensued to run everything we owned including tent, panniers and dry bags through the dryer! Big creepy YUCK!
Not everyday is a good day but everyday is an adventure. More to come on wet West Coast weather disasters and our new EA route (thanks two kiwi cyclists, Eileen and Andy, who gave us a new “blue line” to follow in Pocket Earth). Til then drink beer and peddle on!
I believe it is better not knowing what lies ahead. For one thing, knowing takes away the fun and makes the journey a long, predictable slog to the finish line. For another, if we knew how hard something was going to be our instinct for preservation would likely kick in, causing us to steer clear of anything to difficult or painful. Marriage, parenthood, building a small business are all examples from my own life of things I thought I understood until reality stepped up and slapped me in the face. Life is hard, let’s be honest. Life is effort and work but once you accept this, quit complaining about it and just get on with it, it suddenly becomes a little less hard.
So, while I am feeling philosophical about the struggle called living, let me just say this. What the flying f@#k was I thinking when I decided to it would be “fun” to bicycle the length of New Zealand. 3000km from the top of the North Island to the bottom of the South Island plus additional side trips along the way. This land is not flat people! After grunting my way up one hill, I find another waiting to be scaled. I’ve been eating my way through the Caribbean, Christmas holidays and Mexico (oh Mexico, how I love all your delicious foods, especially your churros) for the last 3 months and am woefully out of shape. This is gonna be hard. But here I am, about 400km in and too stubborn to turn back. When I question whether I can do this, my patient husband reminds me to focus on today and then reassures me, we will get stronger. It is fun to have an adventure, it is rewarding to propel myself forward by my own power and it feels good to know I will survive and be (hopefully) more fit by the end. Come to think of it, that pretty much sums up my philosophy on life. Don’t be afraid to try something new (have an adventure), how you choose to live and the life you build is up to you (you have to be the one to propel yourself forward) andwe need struggle to develop resiliency (you will survive and be stronger for it).
Back to the bicycle journey. We have always wanted to visit New Zealand but the long distance from Canada and limited holiday times in years past, made it a trip we kept putting off. Having enjoyed cycle touring in Cuba and Montenegro we started researching cycling in New Zealand. A trip into the google-o-sphere led us to so many great websites on bikepacking (essentially a combination of mountain biking, cycle touring and camping) in general and in New Zealand in particular. Check out bikepacking.com and bikepackingnewzealand.com. During this research we also came across the Tour Aotearoa (TA), one of the worlds great bikepacking trips stretching the entire length of both islands and linking together cycle trails, paths and lanes connected by the most enjoyable back roads availabe/ Jonathan Kennett, a cycle guidebook writer in New Zealand, originally organized the ride as a Brevet event in 2016. As the popularity of bikepacking grows within the cycle community, so does the popularity of this ride which continues to run as an organized event every 2 years in February/March. 2019 is an “off” year however like us, many people are riding the TA simply to experience New Zealand from the seat of a bicycle.
Arriving in Auckland January 27, 2019, we spent the first few days with a wonderful Warm Showers host building our bicycles, replacing a damaged rear derailleur and warming up our legs with a 40km ride around the city.
Having discovered the joys of mooching off complete strangers, we then hopped an Intercity bus north to Whangerei to stay with Mac and Jennifer Lawrence, the sister and brother-in-law of our good friends Mick and Michelle Skuce. After 2 days exploring the area with our wonderful hosts we remembered that “guests, like fish, start to smell after 3 days” and decided to start our journey North. Jennifer and Marc were kind enough to transport us to our starting point so we could avoid the busy SH1 and ride towards the Bay of Islands on quiet back roads. We wound our way along the East coast to arrive in Russel 2 days later.
Warm rain followed us from Russel, across the passenger ferry and most of the way to Kaikohe as we started our 3 day loop to Horeke and back to Kerikeri on the Twin Coast Cycle Trail, one of the so called “Great Rides” of New Zealand.
After an amazing meal at the Mint, a restaurant in an old Bank in Kaikohe we set up camp first for our first night at the Cow Shed Campground. Pretty much an old Dairy farm outside Kaikohe which has converted a cow shed into a basic kitchen, toilet and makeshift lounge area. It was a peaceful spot with a level grassy field to pitch a tent.
Day two found us enjoying our first of many New Zealand pies for breakfast at Len’s Pies and cycling on towards Horeke. A little research over our breakfast pie suggested there were few camping options near Horeke so we called the Rail Stay, a B&B outside Okaihau to see if they might have a tent spot available that night. We were in luck and despite the owner being away in Auckland, she said she would return that afternoon.We were welcome to drop our bags and continue out to Horeke and back without our gear, lightening our bikes significantly and increasing our enjoyment of this more hilly portion of the trail ten-fold!
Following our return ride to the east coast we stayed in Waipapa just outside Kerikeri with another wonderful Warm Showers host before heading North to Kaitaia and finally on to start our ride from Cape Reinga. We were feeling anxious to get started on the TA route but were forced to determine our start date based on when we could get a transfer across Kaipara Harbour as well as the tide table for our ride down 90 mile beach.On February 8 we took a shuttle to Cape Reinga and after walking to the lighthouse decided to head to 90 mile beach and start that afternoon.
There is approximately a 6 hour window starting 3 hours before until 3 hours after low tide, where the sand is hard enough for easy cycling.Easy, however, is a relative term. Yes the beach is flat but…it is flat! No challenging climbs but no zippy downhills to rest our tired legs or butts. I am now intimately acquainted with Butt Butter (and in case you are wondering slathering your bottom in a greasy lube to prevent chaffing of your tender bits, isn’t as sexy as it might sound). Last year, on our ride around Cuba’s Orient, we would set off each morning into a headwind and so it felt like deja vu when we hit 90 mile beach beach and were buffeted by strong winds from the south east at 30 to 50km/hour. The wind slowed our already slow pace to a crawl, taking 2.5 days to ride the 103 km instead of our anticipated 1.5 days.
After our second night camping along the beach and fighting the wind, it was a relief to spot Aihapara in the distance.
After a big breakfast we headed off towards Broadwood and a camping area on our map.Beautiful rolling countryside, big climbs with long fun downhill rewards was a welcome change from the beach.
We arrived at our destination mid afternoon to discover everything in town closed due to it being Sunday. We decided to push on to Rawene and look for a camp spot there. Big hills, bigger hills and amazing landscapes kept us entertained as we worked our way deeper into Hokianga district, arriving at an amazing little hostel, The Treehouse.
Tomorrow it is off to the Waipou Forest and then Dargaville… to be continued.
Just read through this and realized it is quite a boring read. Apologies! To liven it up a bit, here are a few things I’ve learned about New Zealand:
-A cooler is a chilly bag.
-Your swim suit and towel is your togs.
-Sweet as means, ok good, cool.
-A Bach is a holiday house.
-A gravel road is a metal road.
-When I get bored riding the metal, I entertain myself counting the number of dead possums and hedgehogs I cycle by.
-A Dave is a dick.
-Kumara is a sweet potato and they make them into yummy fries.
-Motorists call cyclists Hoha’s (which I discovered pretty much means pain in the ass).
-Tramping is hiking.
-Kiwis (the birds) are little weirdos but pretty cool birds (no I have not seen one yet)! Kiwis lay one (or occasionally two) huge eggs compared to the size of the bird. When they hatch baby kiwis come out fully feathered and by 5 days are venturing out of the burrow and in some varieties leaving home by 6 weeks of age. This makes them very susceptible to predators. The Department of conservation (DOC) is working to reduce predators and will collect young kiwi and relocate them to predator free islands until they reach maturity at 4 or 5 years after which they are returned to the mainland.
-Kiwis (the humans) are generally fun loving, humble and kind. One host compared Canadians and Kiwis as being similar. Saying that having a big, brash brother living next door (Australia and America) has made us try harder to be friendly, polite and kind to make up for our brother’s behaviour.No offence to all my amazing American or Australian friends. I didn’t say it, just repeated it here …. but I will admit it made me smile and kinda made sense.
My blistered hands grip the kayak paddle as I point “red boat” towards the point of land 2 km away and across an open channel. The wind is hitting us from an angle and splashing over my spray skirt on every 6th or 7th wave. I brace my feet and legs and tell myself, “you’ve got this”, then I realize I am holding my breath. Yes, I am scared. Maybe we are in over our heads?As the sun is setting we are making a final attempt to find a beach where we can land the kayaks and camp for the night. It is our second day out on a self-guided kayak trip near the city of Split, off the coastline of Croatia and we have been fighting the wind all day.
“The weather is unsettled this week”, the rental company warned us. “Keep an eye on Aladdin (a great weather app) and we will message you if conditions are too severe”.
Our proposed campsite for the night lay around an exposed point, off the island of Drvenik Veli. We attempted to pass around the point in the early afternoon and were forced back by high waves, winds and scary cross currents.Perched on a small and rocky beach, with no place to pitch a tent or safely stow our boats for the night, we spent the afternoon waiting. Waiting for the winds to die down, as they usually do when evening approaches, so we could make another attempt. From our perch, conditions seemed to be improving, time to try again. As we approach the point, we are once again forced back and end up making the “safer” decision to head across the channel to Drvenik Mali, and a less conveniently located camp. It would mean we will have extra miles to cover tomorrow, but at this point it beats perching on the rocks overnight or risking serious consequences if we stick to plan A.As I breathe through each paddle stroke, bringing me closer to our tent and a safe bed, I think to myself “how did I end up here again?”.
“Hey Rob, while we are in the Balkans we should look for a kayak tour off the coast of Croatia”, she said.
“Sounds great!”, he said.
“Oooh, looks like there are a few companies we could go with, out of Dubrovnik”, she said.
“Make it so Captain”, he said.
A few days later…. “Yikes it is crazy expensive”, she said.
“Oh well, maybe we can do some hiking or something instead”, he said.
“Yeah, maybe”, she said dejectedly.
Time passes, they do this super cool self-guided hut to hut cycling trip in Montenegro (see Cabbage Rolls and Coffee) but it is hot and the idea of being on the water is so enticing. She heads to google again.
“Hey Rob, there is a company in Split called RED Adventures” (cool coincidence given we ski live next to and ski at RED mountain BC).
“They rent kayak and camping gear, provide a route and phone support and help paddlers do a self-guided trip”, she said.
“That sounds perfect, let’s do it!”, he said.
And so here we are.Obviously, we survived because I am writing this blog! And in reality, many hard ass paddlers would think we are pretty “lame” to even be afraid in these conditions, but here is the thing. If you love the outdoors and are into adventure sports, pushing your boundaries and finding the “edge” of your comfort zone is how you improve your fitness level and your skills. The tricky part is learning where your personal boundary or edge is and making decisions to manage the risks while still pushing yourself to new levels.
We continued to battle the wind for the remaining 5 days of our tour.Rising most mornings at 4:30 am to pack up camp and be on the water for a few hours of lighter winds. Stopping by early afternoon and waiting for the winds to die down in the evening and then pushing ourselves to try to make it to our next camp so we were not paddling in the dark. The islands off the coast of Croatia are beautiful, but safe spots to land your kayak as well as wild camping sites are limited, meaning high mileage some days and becoming adept at surf landings!It also meant doing some “stealth camping” on private beaches and trying to sneak away at first light.All in all, it made for a more anxiety inducing trip but it also added to the adventure factor.
Looking back, despite the stress of paddling in unfamiliar waters, with difficult crossings and long distances between good campsites, I am so glad we did it. At the time, it felt as if we were missing out on enjoying the Dalmatian coast experience. When planning a trip, you start to daydream and develop an expectation for your adventure. I imagined paddling in warm Mediterranean weather with time to enjoy a beer at a little beach bar and swim in the crystal blue waters of the Adriatic. As is often the case when you have preconceived ideas, the reality is different than what you imagined. In my case, the trip was much more difficult than I anticipated, but I feel stronger and more accomplished for the experience.Plus there were some really cool moments.For example, discovering huge caves created by President Tito and the former Yugoslav army after World War 2. These massive caves, carved out of the limestone cliffs on islands off the coast of Croatia are invisible to passing boats and planes. Created during the cold war era, and now abandoned, they are large enough to hide an entire battleship or submarine. Paddling into one of these empty, dark tunnels is akin to being in a James Bond movie. With Rob in the lead, our kayaks slipped into the silent darkness. As I approached the end of the tunnel I felt a little creeped out until an eerie voice came out of the darkness ahead of me, “Well Bond, I see you have found my secret lair”, breaking the mood and cracking me up.
This trip gave me new respect for mother nature. On our final day of paddling, we had to cross the 5km channel between the island of Brac to the island of Hvar, where we would stay in a guesthouse and catch the ferry at Stari Grad back to Split. Once again the forecast was for strong winds in the morning. We set the alarm for 4:30am and were up, enjoyed our coffee and museli (literally we mix the instant coffee with the museli and add milk – a fast, easy way to get your coffee and breakfast with only one bowl to wash!) and packed by 6am. Just as we put on our spray skirts the wind picked up and the sky turned black. I saw a flash of lightning across the channel and started to count as I waited for the boom of thunder.
“One, one thousand, two one thousand… that was about 5km away”, I said to Rob.
Before I even finished the first count, at least 3 more lightning flashes filled the sky, with the final flash being amazingly bright and the corresponding thunder happening seconds after I saw the flash!Yikes, we wisely moved from the tall tree under which we were sheltering to an area of lower bushes just down the beach from our boats. As the sky opened up, we realized our raincoats were packed away and, soaked to the skin, we ran for a small stone shrine to wait out the storm. Finally, the wind died down and the storm moved on, prompting us to attempt our crossing.As we paddled out of our sheltered bay, a local sailer clambered onto his boat’s deck and begged us to stay put.
“After a storm, the winds will be very strong. Please. BE SAFE. You should not cross”.
We nosed out of the bay to be hit by wind and high waves prompting a retreat back to the beach and unpacking of the boats. Immediately after setting up our tent, the team at Red Adventures messaged us.They advised that the best time to cross would be in 1 hour as there was a 3 hour window where winds would drop and we should be able to make it. We mulled over this information and decided to go for it. By now we were good at taking down camp and loading our boats quickly. Within an hour, we were ready to try again and indeed, the weather in our sheltered bay did seem to be improving. As we paddled by the sailboat once again, it was a moment of deja vu as our friend gravely advised us.
“Stay safe. Please be careful, the winds are very unpredictable today. You must be safe!”
The lure of a shower and a real mattress (instead of a sticky pool floaty from the dollar store) pushed us out of the sheltered bay. The locals call white caps on the ocean “little sheep”. As we paddled into the channel we discovered some “big ass sheep” and once again carefully turned our boats back to the safety of the beach, accepting defeat to mother nature and providing some good entertainment for our sailor friend, I’m sure! Rounding the corner into the sheltered bay, we saw a small fire had been started by a lightning strike on the bank just above the shrine that sheltered us. Good golly Molly!
Down to instant coffee, some museli, a cup of pasta, a bit of cabbage, a carrot and a few tablespoons of mayo we mulled over what creative meal we could create with these ingredients and decided to hike to Blaca monastery, located 2 km inland from our beach. Maybe the monks will have food! The monastery, now a museum was very interesting and well worth the few dollars for a tour. The last monk to live in this isolated hermitage, a descendant of the Milicevic family, died in the 1960s. It was surprising to see a world-class observatory and a baby grand piano in this beautiful but extremely remote location.In fact, the last priest to live here, Nikola Milicevic, was an internationally recognized astronomer. But best of all, they had local prosciutto, sheep cheese, bread, and beer. Jackpot!
So what is the moral of this tale? Don’t be afraid to have an adventure? Don’t let your expectations of an experience prevent you from enjoying it when the reality is different from what you had imagined? Boundaries keep us safe but it is only by pushing against them that we are able to progress and reach new heights? Or maybe it should be, always listen to the locals. You decide and then choose your own adventure. Remember sometimes the retelling of the tale is the most fun of all.