Tag: life on a bike

Land Down Under

Posted on by Ryan

Arriving in Brisbane we were welcomed not only by warmer temperatures but some more wonderful warmshower hosts John and Carolyn, thanks guys, especially for the incredible mangos! It would be a short-lived stay in Brisbane. Amid riding up Mount Coot-tha, meeting up with Terry from the transam ride and what seemed a never-ending uncertainty over job positions, I was finally offered a place in Brisbane but also offered a job in Perth. A fantastic opportunity given that cousin Glen along with school buddies Will and Pete have all recently moved there, no brainer. By then Eal had made the decision it was time for him to return home, just in time for Christmas. It was very strange saying goodbye as I set off to fly across Australia from QLD to WA. I was completely cut up in the taxi to the airport, the trip had ended and despite being super excited to start working again I was incredibly sad. We’ve had such a good run and lived out of one another’s pockets for 6+ months and now I probably wont see Eal for at least 6 more months.

So I have started a fresh in Perth, WA. Made all the easier with close friends helping me out just as all the road angels have done since last May. Here come the thank you’s, warmest wishes to Wim, Javier, Norma & Bob, John Lynch, Deb Franke, Jeffrey Odolski, Kyler, Joe Meyer, Bill & Kate Morris, Terry Strout, Elsie Hanning, Donn Olson, Bob Bergren, Greg Siple – Adventure Cycling, Emily B, Flavia, Julianna & Ivan, John & Jessi, Kevin & Jenny, John & Carolyn, The Detour Bar – Petersburg Iowa, Hellgate Cyclery, Larry Buzzard – Spokesmen Cycling. All of those people and many more make bicycle touring more enjoyable and worthwhile.

I don’t know how long I will be in Oz, if it will be over a year I plan on visiting home around Easter, right now I am just enjoying the chance to live and work in such an amazing place. The following images may be true but are still intended as a joke. If you can’t have a sense of humour about being from Middlesbrough, you’re struggling…

Old town.
Old commute along Portrack lane.
New town.

This post will conclude the blog, but I am not particularly comfortable with complete closure. I have always gotten very attached to experiences/memories/trips. I daydream way to much and like nothing more than reminiscing. Its hard to relate bike touring to somebody who has never done it. Its not an elite club, anyone can do it! But not many do. Bicycle touring has allowed me to get closer to the person I want to be and its allowed me to get very close to new friends in a short space of time. It has shown me a level of simplicity and happiness that many people long for and given me an appreciation for the smallest things in life. Smile, be kind, wave to a stranger, do a good deed for a neighbour and see the warmth it will give you. There is no remedy for love but to love more. Now go ride a bicycle like you’re 10 years old!

Almost Dunedin

Posted on by Ryan

Waking to freshly powdered mountain tops surrounding Queenstown I was eager to get out and explore. First things first, laundry,  restocking inventory etc. I met a couple of other bike tourers from Germany finishing up breakfast. They had spent a rest day here yesterday but were hitting the road once again. Chores done, me, Eal and our hostel roomie, Adrian from Adelaide decided to hike up Ben Lomond lookout. We quizzed Adrian with Australia questions during the steep 1 hour hike as adrenalin fuelled mountain bikers rattled fearlessly downhill past us. The view of QT and The Remarkables mountain range was stunning. Grey clouds began to sprinkle us with light snow, just after I had been exclaiming how my upcoming birthday would be the first spent in warm climes. These mountains don’t respect my seasons, but I forgive them as they are majestic as they are immovable.

Eal finally had a shave, the first since Boston I think, but left the ‘tash for the night out we were going to have with a bunch of people we friended over pool in the hostel. Entering a bar/club packed to the rafters with music blaring felt very alien, I wasn’t digging the people or their elbow bashing. I’m not anti-social, far from, it was just a situation that I didn’t feel comfortable in somehow. Spending so long out on the road seemed to make the whole situation all the harder to engage with. Me and eal had two drinks before retiring to a quieter place in search of gown, slipper and pipes. A place we had agreed to visit as our old technical directors brother was the bar manager. He treat us to a free nightcap, fun conversation and the first half of the Man Utd – Arsenal game, lunchtime KOs are midnight in NZ.

The second Queenstown rest day, Eal wasn’t feeling to great, possibly coming down with man-flu, so I wandered the town and lake generally feeling a little aimless. With the trip drawing to a close there is so much to organize and prepare for the Australia chapter that I was slightly overwhelmed by it all. Wanting to do everything but failing to do anything I just stared at the mountains and watched the ducks whilst thinking about jobs, locations, accommodation, bank accounts, visas. Today was the first day I shifted from thinking about upcoming riding to accepting it was coming to an end with the reality of pressure I’d submerged myself in, by leaving my comfortable UK life, weighed heavy on my mind. Pick-me-up and or hug needed. Knowing that I have people wishing positive thoughts for me around the world always helps me believe in myself.

Leaving QT we had some backtracking the same way we had came into town before diverting east towards Alexandra. Eal was still feeling pretty lousy with slight fever and general fatigue. We made hard work of a relatively short flat days ride but thankfully had delightful warmshowers hosts waiting at the end of the day for us. Our first in NZ and their first guests of what becomes a busy season with their house situated bang on the central Otago rail trail.

There would be steep climbing to follow that morning, with short, sharp hills reminiscent of riding in the Pennines, tough work. I knew immediately Eal had now gone from feeling under the weather to being down right sick. After the first flurry of climbs I paused to wait for him, he was really struggling and in need of a bed, sleep and lemsip. Unfortunately we didn’t have many options other than Lawrence. The mileage wasn’t too bad but at current speed would take considerable time. He simply had no energy and had to ride in low chain-rings throughout.

Given Eal’s sickness, sleeping bag thermal range and the cold night forecast, camping was off the cards. I scored a small cabin room which is offered at almost every NZ campground. Basic but warm, with beds. Eal pretty much collapsed and tucked himself in the sheets. I rode out to find us food, fish and chips! The smell alone picked Eals spirits up and he managed to eat a fair bit before going to sleep. It was still early, around 8pm but I rolled over and went to sleep myself, exhausted. Both having accepted we are ready to be over with riding and living out of panniers, 6 months is a long time to be without the consistency of house keys, familiar walls, regular showers and a reliably stocked fridge. As with all aspects of bicycle touring, its easily as much mentally demanding as it is physical, which cannot be underestimated.

A glorious spring morning reminded me to cherish this last week in New Zealand. I flew out of the traps to the first town half way through the ride. I sat out an ate food picked up from the market waiting for Eal who was still taking it easy. By the time he caught up he had taken a turn for the worse, throwing up by the roadside and in no fit state to pedal another stroke. We had to get to Dunedin today, it was only another 20 miles but there was little to no public transport. At the information centre the old volunteer lady, Nancy called the only operating bus company that passes through. The one and only service for the day had just passed through but they agreed to turn around and pick us up! I sprinted down to the park bench Eal was resting by to tell him and get to the stop ready. We arrived in Dunedin, located the hostel we had booked and tucked Eal up straight in bed with some medication.

Eal felt better the following day, albeit still pretty weak having not eaten properly for several days. I went for a ride out to the peninsula in hope of seeing a yellow-eyed penguin that our Alexandra warmshowers host informed us about. It was tough riding even with the unloaded bike, followed by a long hike across the sand, sidestepping sleeping sea lions (worth the sweat alone) to reach the wooden hideout situated by nesting areas. Having been warned to be patient I waited for around an hour as I began to lose hope of seeing a penguin.

Finally a little pingu slid ashore to my delight and waddled its way towards the rocks, hopping 2 feet at a time between gaps, very agile! So happy with the experience I had a smile wider than Stockton high street for the rest of the evening. Special little pengbird, thanks. Dunedin is a very scottish town, bagpipes can be heard all round the city. NZ’s architectural captial, it felt very much like a typical British city. This would be the final rest time until we finish for good in Christchurch on my birthday in a few days time!

You Can Only Get Wet Once

Posted on by Ryan

Most hostels have a free food shelf in the fridges for items people are leaving behind. Last night I had eyed up 4 eggs in a carton that I was going to have for breakfast this morning. I went through at 6am to boil some dippies only to find they had been eaten already! Dang nabbit’.

I set out into a drizzly morning with just 15 miles of riding to catch up Eal in Franz Josef. This would still include 3 reasonably steep but short passes that got me warmed up nicely. I arrived by 9am to find Eal having cofffee, he had spent the past few days thinking I was ahead of him rather than behind. So had been racing ahead each day trying to catch me up. We would be spending the afternoon on a guided hike up Fox Glacier. Preparing for the hike we added a few more bicycle layers, the company provides trousers, jacket, boots, cramp-ons. It was a clear, sunny day though so the gear stayed in my pack the entire time.

We had a short 15 minute walk through the valley to get to the terminus of the Glacier. It was an incredible experience stepping onto the ice pack, we hiked up further checking out all its glorious features up close. The few hours we spent whizzed by, I didn’t want to leave. Phenomenal place.

Leaving Fox Glacier the next day conditions were still bright but it wouldn’t last. When the rain came it was cold, heavy and relentless. There is nothing nada, zilch for the 75 mile ride between Fox and Haast. Snack stops were made stood in the pouring rain, water trickling from the front of my helmet. The only restbite from the torrential rain came in a small shelter on a lookout. I spent a few minutes reading the information boards on local sea birds and ate the rest of my cookie pack. Not a good idea to hang around too long whilst cold and wet. I got going sharpish to keep my body temp up.

I kept my body as rigid as possible so not to feel my wet crinkly coat and sopping lyrca pants against my skin more than I had to. On downhills the rain felt like I was staring at a cold shower jet, with no way of dry wiping my face, I just blinked endlessly. Finally making it to Haast at our accommodation for the evening which is best described as a converted community centre. Good stock of fire wood though, all socks, shoes and cyclewear laid out to dry. I was just relieved the 8 hours riding in rain was over. Definitely taken to a new place mentally today, I wouldn’t call it real adversity but I know I can cope spending all day in those conditions. Although we aren’t even attempting to camp with the current condition of our tents and clothes. Good job New Zealand is geared towards backpackers.

Apparently the weather hadn’t read my script for this morning. The rain from yesterday was still coming down, puddles were now lakes. Determined to keep dry feet today I employed a shopping bag technique over my socks. It was quite funny knowing we had spent all evening dry out our things only for them to get soaking wet within seconds of riding again.

There would be absolutely nothing again today between start and end point. The initial riding was traversing up river but nothing too taxing. There was one small shelter before we crossed the river at the scarily named ‘Gates of Haast’ where I ducked out the rain for a few seconds to devour a few bananas. From here the climbing began, it was super steep and winding. Rarely on this trip have I had to stand up for entire climbs. Thankfully it levelled out nicely towards the top of the pass and in total wasn’t too long. I stopped briefly to talk with some trampers about bicycle touring. Wary of the fact I was wet and cold with a downhill to follow I got going again.

The rain had finally stopped for the last 10 miles to Makarora which consists of a few farms and a small holiday village where we would be staying. The buildings were all triangular and quirky. I scored a bed in one of the dorms and was already showered, sat sipping Earl Grey by the time Eal turned up looking as I had, shivering, bewildered, spent. We got the fire going without any kindling, score! Lucky for us there would be nobody else arriving that evening so we had the dorm block to ourself. Bazinga!

The cycling gods finally showed mercy on us for the ride to Queenstown. Clear skies and strong, gusty tailwinds. The first 40 miles to Wanaka were probably the easiest I have experienced as the winds urged us over hills and across straights at speed. Wanaka was a beautiful outdoors type town right on the lake. Eal caught up with me whilst I was having lunch then we set out into the afternoon, heading over the crown range as the temperature soared.

The landscape, heat and narrow road up the crown range reminded me of riding along the Columbia river gorge. The view distance at the top stretched out for miles, you could see Queenstown low in the valley by the lake. The descent was made terrifying by the low guard rails on the cliff side. The immense winds and narrow hairpin turns meant I was constantly gravitating towards the edge.

6 miles from Queenstown we jumped on an off road bike path that would take us into town, it was rideable and gave us a break from the cars of highway 6. This place is the main south island destination for backpackers, hikers, thrill seekers, pub crawlers etc. Everybody we have met talks about going to or having been to Queenstown. Its suited in the middle of several epic mountain ranges, we have a few days schedule to see what all the hype is about.

 

The Simple Life

Posted on by Ryan

There was supposed to be some heavy rain heading our way during the morning so when I woke to dry conditions outside I thought it best to pack away quickly and hit the road. It started to pour just a few miles in, my rain coat is not so waterproof these days after accidentally putting it on a warm colours wash, messing up the material. I was soon sopping wet head to socks with no option but to continue riding. My hands were cold and cramping from clutching my wet bars. I found Eal paused in the road by a stop sign, the heavy rain had dislodged some big rocks causing a landslide which embedded them in the road. The cleanup was underway with a helicopter scooping water up from the river and dropping it down on the slide to push down any more loose sections, mud, rain, wind and traffic jams along highway 6.

After making it through we continued towards the NZ west coast. Towns weren’t forthcoming so another roadside picnic with P+J sangas had to suffice. By now the rain had pushed over and the sun was shining bright, when I arrived at the town of Charleston there was no sign of a store or Eal. I took to the recreation area on the beach to dry out my layers in the sudden heat.

The ride along the ocean reminded me of the US pacific coast,  the roads hair-pinned inland over bluffs in the same manner as they did on highway 1, the rock stacks stood off in the sea, my brain was continually telling me to go on the right side of the road. Slightly confusing but hearing some kiwi accents re-calibrated my geo-location.

The local attraction in punakaiki where we spent the night is the ‘pancake rocks and blow holes’ I only managed one picture of the rocks before my camera battery died so see the following youtube video. Pretty incredible and unlike anything I’ve seen before!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ja1mIXP4rSY

From there it was a short 30 mile day to Greymouth where we intended on taking the Monteiths brewery tour on the afternoon. In town we located the Neptunes Backpackers, another super friendly family run place like in Turangi. We met Ben from Vancouver again who was staying there for 5 days as they offer free accommodation if you work a while, he has a few weeks to get to Queenstown so its perfect for him. We restocked on road supplies from the supermarket then enjoyed some wonderful sipping time at Monteiths. Wasting their time with the seasonal Apricot Wheat though, when asked what beer they like, each person on the tour responded ‘strong ipa’ Monteiths don’t do one, maybe they will take note.

When I strolled down to the kitchen for the free guest breakfast the next morning I could see the weather outside looked atrocious. I checked the forecast and it was scheduled to be heavy rain all day with winds of 25mph. Eal had arranged yesterday to have some tyres delivered to a bike shop in town. We couldn’t be sure they would arrive before 12 noon anyway so made the decision to remain at Neptunes another day.

I switched the tyres around on my bike, did some laundry and we played on the free pool table in the afternoon. Eal had destroyed me 7-1 in Wellington so I was happy to restore some pride this time with a 3-1 best of 5 win. The sideways rain didn’t let up once the entire time as I repeated over and over ‘So glad I’m not riding in this!’. Its not so much the getting wet its the riding with a burrowed head and squinting eyes. You miss all the scenery and on the narrow NZ roads it can be incredibly dangerous as the spray kicked up from the trucks when they pass prevents the drivers behind from even seeing you hugging the white line.

We said our goodbyes to the Neptunes owner and hit the coast road again on another beautiful spring day. I stopped to talk with a  couple of German tourers heading north, we have started seeing a few more cyclists recently as the finer weather approaches, I guess the South island is possibly a more popular destination too. Halfway through the day I stopped for lunch in Hotikika. Me and Eal had agreed on a primitive camp area for the night just a few km south of Ross so I decided to spend a few hours chilling out so not to arrive to early.

Heading out again at 4pm with the intention of arriving at 6pm I met a local cyclist, he had a very unique prosthetic left leg with cleat mechanism for his road bike. He informed me that the camp area I was shooting for was much further south than I thought (based on what google maps had told me), Eal had the map so I couldn’t verify where it was marked on the paper copy which I never actually saw for myself this morning. Lake Ianthe would actually be another 25km past Ross. I saw the cyclist again in town. Without me saying a word he said “I can’t offer you a place to stay because I’ve had to many people thieving off me over the years.” Gee-thanks! I verified how far Ianthe was with the store owner. If I set off now I would arrive in darkness, that’s assuming the terrain wasn’t too bad and I didn’t get a flat or worse. I resolved to make up the mileage in the morning and located an odd cabin deal to sleep in for the night.

Very basic and dusty but it will suffice. The rustic setting pushed me towards pen and paper to finish some postcards I had still failed to send 2 weeks after picking them up, better late than never! This would be the first night since May 27th me and Eal had not spent in the same place.

The early alarm I had set to catch Eal up didn’t wake me up for some reason. My cabin was a little chilly during the night. When I did eventually wake at 7am I got trucking quick sharp, amazing early morning light, super still and quiet. The day began with glorious scenery, views of Mount Cook in the distance, pristine lakes, snow capped ranges.

The views continued to wow me into early afternoon, at this point I was debating in my head whether this could possibly be the best bike ride of my life. I concluded it was simply special and precious in its own way just like many other days riding this trip. A couple from Brisbane, where I’m heading to in Oz, were stood on the bend of a river taking pictures and offered to take mine in return for me snapping one of them. Afterwards I managed to stab my right calf on the big chainring turning my bike around. I looked for a way down to cleanse it in the water but it was inaccessible so my bottled water had to suffice, nothing could spoil my mood today though. So happy with life, I felt euphoric. The couple beeped and waved as they passed, if ever I feel like a smile on the road I will throw a wave out towards an oncoming driver. Which is almost always returned, helps to feel less alone some days out on the road and reminds me that there are real people inside those metal boxes zipping by me.

Arriving in Franz Josef I still needed to locate Eal, I checked in at each campground and backpackers with no luck. I had arrived in good time so he must have been here much earlier. It crossed my mind he may have continued to Fox Glacier. Either way we both knew we would be in Fox Glacier tomorrow afternoon after both deciding our one ‘kiwi’ experience splash-out would be a glacier hike. I checked rates at backpackers and found a great deal at the YHA for cyclists as part of there carbon footprint scheme. I failed to mention my 2 long haul flights getting to this point.

I shared a big dorm room with just one other guy from Hong Kong. We had some communication issues but he was so enthusiastic and friendly, continuing to try asking questions and understand my responses. He had just been on the ice breaker ship down to Antarctica for $3000 and had other touring cyclists on board with him! After telling him about my ride he nicknamed me ‘Ironman’. Doesn’t quite work somehow when I’m curled up on my bed like a chesire cat under the quilt with woolly socks on to stay toasty. Meow.

 

Feeling Wellington

Posted on by Ryan

Ian didn’t make it easy for us to leave the backpackers lodge in Turangi, offering us a drive up the mountain and back. We had to hit the road though and get some mileage under our belt if we were going to make our intended campspot for the evening. Things didn’t start well, I noticed my rear wheel could do with some air so started pumping only to rip the handle out, slicing my finger in the process. Quite the gusher, I seem to always give myself these little nicks, lucky Eal has plasters.

The road we stuck to all day would take us through Tongariro national park, where there had been snow fall as recently as yesterday. The aptly named Desert Road was baron, in stark contrast to our recent riding through lush green farmland. Clouds were menacing, the mountains which flanked us intimidating, therefore it was all the more fitting when we learned the area played backdrop to most of the Mordor scenes from Lord of the rings, just without the fire and lava, although this range does contain two active volcanoes!

Reaching the top of the Desert Road pass and breezing down the opposite side, the evening ended amongst the familar and safe green hills where we located camping. The campgrounds of New Zealand must be commended for their facilities. I am already taking for granted that every place has a full kitchen, tv lounge, laundry and showers. If you remember from earlier in the blog how basic European campgrounds were in comparison and the only improvement in the US was the guarantee of a picnic bench and fire pit.

Being a passionate Newcastle United fan, I have enjoyed the sight of the Australian Magpie in New Zealand. That was until I discovered they can be incredibly aggressive towards cyclists during breeding season! Again we spent the morning being swooped on from above by the wise guys who clearly thought I was some sort of competition in my black and white bike jersey. They must attack the odd car too because many lie dead by the roadside, chill out lads!

Instead of sticking to highway 1 which was possibly flatter, if a little longer in distance, we came off it to take the quiet 57. It would involve some super steep hills but the lookout points over the surrounding shires were worth it. As we descended towards the town of Feilding a women pulled over in an old white 3 door and offered us a place to stay for the evening. It was a nice offer, she had cycle toured many moons ago in the south island, but it would make for an early stop on what was already a short day. We thanked her anyway, if we hadn’t just taken the time off in Turangi we may have taken the offer. You make decisions like this daily on tour, today we just felt like riding further.

Arriving in the town of Waikanakakia-something-beach, the road signs pointed towards camping, our maps had camping icons indicated but such a place that offered us a place to pitch was not forthcoming. After asking a few locals, the only place in town appeared to be called El Rancho. On arrival the office was unattended, the intercom put us in touch with somebody who told us we couldn’t tent camp despite the fact they had an empty motorcamp patch. After spending a good hour cycling around the towns near by we still had no joy finding accommodation.

It was getting late now but we trucked onto towards Parapurapapa-something-beach (sorry I can’t remember the full town names exactly without maps to hand, they are incredibly long and unpronounceable for a Teessider.) with light fading and rain and wind getting stronger (like gale force sideways rain stronger) we started to panic a little thinking this could be the first night all trip we had to unintentionally wild camp. A guy walking his dog ended up pointing us in the direction of the main street in town that had a YHA backpackers lodge, poyfect! Smarting from our luck we enjoyed a cosy night in the warmth as the elements battered the building situated right on the beach front.

After the storm had passed over during the night we were presented with a glorious bright morning outside the hostel. Breakfast in town over maps made it clear getting to Wellington, the New Zealand capital, would be tricky by bicycle as it becomes a tad inaccessible once the roads bottle neck around the bay. Yesterday evening I had noticed the passenger train-line begin, with small stations at each town. So we decided to save ourself a headache, avoiding several hours of stop start riding and map checking, we would ride down to a station then take the train for the last stretch into the urban area, hopping off conveniently at Wellington central. Jobs a good ‘un.

The first evening spent in Wellington, we quickly decided to book another night on top of the day we had planned to take here anyway. Head and shoulders above Auckland, its a great city. Steeped in creativity, character and scenery, also classed as New Zealand’s Craft Brew centre it was a hugely enjoyable few days. We took in the Te Papa Museum, botanical gardens, watched live music, drank incredi-brews and just generally appreciated the gentle, unique, happy vibe Wellington was giving us. From here we will be taking the Ferry across the Cook Strait (Whoop James Cook!) to the south island. The north has been a great kiwi introduction but as anybody who has researched or done a trip to NZ will know, everybody spends their time in the south island, so greatly anticipating what else is waiting for us. P.s Thanks to Laura Jaime Hanson for the North Island visitor guide!

Thermal Hotbed Shelter Riders

Posted on by Ryan

The morning riding to Rotorua Eal had an empty stomach, I was trucking on P+J sarnies again but still welcomed the unexpected cafe along the narrow highway which we were riding along with some morning traffic. I managed to briefly speak to my dad over a bad line to wish him happy birthday, 10am New Zealand time is 10pm back home so I caught him just before bed.

We hit some back roads for the second half of the ride through blueberry wine country, which I passed up trying. A great downhill through dense forest brought us out on the edge of Lake Rotorua, nice and flat to the town centre where we located the backpackers in town we had reserved. The town is situated on a thermal hotbed, strong sulphur smells waft through the air which takes some adjustment.

We spent an extra day in Rotorua to take in some of the local walking trails the town had to offer around the lake and local thermal activity. We also visited a Maori village, unfortunately we missed one of the daily shows, however walking round the village was still interesting enough. Away from the town centre Rotorua is transformed into a colourful blooming wonderland, a really beautiful place. At the backpackers in town we had been cooking big meals in the large kitchen area and had a great talk with a Scottish dentist currently travelling who had lots of tips for the south island.

The lodge handed out a coupon for each guest to get a $1 wine at a local bar. Me an Eal visited later that evening, it was a great place with live band on. We asked for the house red BEFORE brandishing our coupons, I doubt we would have received such a generous glass full otherwise. Rotorua was a good choice, pronounced Ro-taw-ua, unlike elsewhere in the country for some reason they roll the second ‘r’. Additionally I learned that in New Zealand ‘wh’ is spoken as an ‘f’, for example Whangarei is pronounced Fangarei, odd.

Leaving town we were unexpectedly treated to a bike path which would keep us off the main highway for around 10 miles. The scenery was so spectacular I was having a hard time getting any miles done stopping every quarter mile to marvel and take pictures of the hills and fields surrounding me. Bang on route was the ‘Thermal Wonderland’ Wai O Tapu. A leaflet I picked up in Rotorua depicted yellowstone-esque pools that seemed to good to miss. They charge $30 at the entrance . It seemed very excessive, natural wonders should be free, or at least a very small fee to support maintenance if it will enhance the experience. It was a decent 3km walking loop, comparing it to Yellowstone is probably the difference between Flamingo Land and Disney land though.

Afterward we rode on to Reporoa where I scored a dairy fix with some great ice cream, so good I immediately returned to the store for seconds, the lady gave me extra big scoops to satisfy me. We finished the ride in Taupo, the town by Lake Taupo, camping at a holiday park. A sunny Friday evening it filled up quickly with families and many BBQ’s going strong. I felt like a grandad getting in my tent at 9pm as kids were still running riot full of beans. Sleepyhead.

Waking to rain pattering on my tent I wasn’t sure I was ready to get up. We have hardly had a morning since May we have had to wake and pack in rain. It didn’t stop and was only getting heavier. After loading up quickly we hit town for breakfast and managed to put off hitting the road as long as possible. Soaked within seconds of riding I could feel the squelch in my shoes everytime I pushed down on.

To paint a mental imagine of us riding on highway 1, if you have ever seen a huge lorry plough through a puddle creating a wave of water that drenches a pedestrian, we were that pedestrian been sprayed over and over again. At a cafe about 30 miles in I was already thinking Turangi, just halfway through our intended mileage, would be a good option for the day. Eal obliged and we pulled into the town 13 km later to find the information centre which pointed us in the direction of the A Plus Samurai lodge backpackers.

What an awesome little place it was! Tucked away in the back streets of the small town, the complex was comprised of several small buildings each of which had unique and quirky artwork on the inside and the outside. It was a family owned place and Ian the owner was very funny. I spent that night in the lounge area by the fire with all the other guests, super warm and comfortable in a big old armchair.

The following morning the forecast looked grim again, ‘The Big Wet’ as New Zealand news is reporting it with more gale force winds coming. I had asked Ian the previous night if people had trouble leaving the place and now I was. I quickly decided to stay another day and Eal was keen on the idea of cooking up a Sunday dinner. The lodge makes for great people watching, the current crop consisted of Germans, Slovenians, Israelis and Indians.

On the evening I found myself flanked by Ian’s 2 kids Jackson and Sarah. We laughed and joked around all night. I looked around the rest of the filled room and wondered why they had picked me out for fun. I had a happy realisation that all the years growing up with younger brothers, they were similar age to Will, had given me a special ability to connect and entertain with them effortlessly which they were extremely receptive to. I was happy to make them laugh given it was a Sunday which marked the end of the long NZ school holidays, first day back for them tomorrow!

Trans-Hemispheric

Posted on by Ryan

The flight from SFO to AKL was only 12 hours, it always surprises me how quickly you can reach a completely different part of the world. Arriving 5:30am New Zealand time, it was still dark and wet outside. Riding bikes from Auckland airport to hostel was out of the question, so we  squared some transportation. Waking up in San Fran 6am one morning not really sleeping on the plane and now it was 6am again, we were tasked with staying awake another full day too avoid a bad sleep pattern. It was tough work and we both flaked out around 8pm.

We spent a few quiet days around Auckland and particularly one of the inner city suburbs, Ponsonby, getting over jet lag. After so many months in the USA it almost felt like a return to home. The streets, cars, buildings looked similar and people are just generally a little British in nature. One thing we immediately miss however is our American IPA’s, NZ beer selection leaves a lot to be desired, however this is countered by the return of all my favourite cadbury’s chocolate bars and use of the term “cheers mate” is again acceptable to use without somebody giving me a look of bewilderment. Not to forget sarcasm can be used mid-conversation without acknowledgement or explanation, just like home. 🙂

One thing I love about being on a loaded bike is that EVERYBODY talks to you. Having spent a few days back as plain clothed Ryan it felt good to be lycra clad and hitting the road again. Nobody was all that talkative in the hostel until I was stood in reception bags,bike and all ready to leave, then I chatted with each passing backpacker. I was particularly pleased to have one girl ask excitedly if I was from Newcastle, close enough and happy in the knowledge my accent is intact. I left pumping tyres until outside the Hostel only to find my rear was somehow punctured, start time delayed 30 minutes.

Navigating away from Auckland was simple, hit the bay and follow the bike path for 10 miles. The towns gradually became smaller and more rural until we were out in the sticks, again with a decidedly British feel and smell! Cows, sheep and manure mmmm. However, just as you think the landscape looks familiar I have quickly learned New Zealand will throw you a curveball. Sheep grazing on a field one corner will turn into a temperate rainforest scene the next and then to a thermal pool or geyser. It makes for fascinating riding, the variety has me excited to see what else is out there.

After camping at Orere point we set out early along the coastline, what struck me is that along a bay which would normally be built up with million dollar homes, there were fields of cattle grazing, lucky meepers. It was a short fairly uneventful ride to the town of Paeroa where the camping option listed on our map was difficult to find. At the information centre the only camping they knew of was an overnight parking area on the edge of the public domain. Not strictly for tents we pitched up regardless. Some local kids, up past their bedtime, came over inquisitively and threw questions at me like “Do you have grass in England?” and “What rugby team do you support?”. Funny lads, who enjoyed the pictures of USA on my camera and insisted on striking aggressive poses for their commemorative snap.

From one Pacific coast to another…

Apparently it rained in the night, being at the base of a small hill the water had ran down underneath our tents. It managed to seep through my bottom sheet and create a small puddle INSIDE my humble abode. Wet tents are nasty to roll and heavy to carry, yuck. We devoured breakfast in town then hit the road on a super fresh, ever-brightening morning, its springtime in New Zealand at the moment, by switching hemispheres we have skipped Autumn and Winter, not sure how I feel about that yet. Is it possible to miss scraping the ice of my car on those dark frosty mornings, driving with one hand under my shirt until the heating kicks in…?

The roads are fairly narrow in NZ (and yes for a certain somebody they use ZED here not ZEE ;-)…) with limited to no shoulder, but a country the size of the UK, with only around 4.5 million people, traffic is always light. We took a pitstop in Te Aroha by the public domain, their name for town parks. It was a great recreation area, very well kept, with spa pools harnessing the local geothermal activity, bbq areas and a short walk trail up into the hillside which we spent some time on.

Continuing on mainly back roads and treated to some spectacular waterfalls as we rode alongside a small mountain range, we arrived at Okorie Hot Springs Hotel which was part of a golf course complex but most importantly had a small camping area. The kiwi running the place informed us of a $5 roast on offer in the lounge area from 6pm. Too good to miss, we joined all the other locals in what was a popular spot. It had the feeling of a working mens club back home, only rugby on the TV, great people watching. Next to the camp field there was a river flowing down toward the hot pool area which was closed for the evening but the walking track beside it took you into a magical forest area where I plodded around for a good hour, amazing and free!

I had this song in my head…

 

O’er The Land Of The Free, My Thanks To Thee

Posted on by Ryan

I found myself in Eureka, CA on a bright crisp morning leaving Arcata. Home to the funkiest fairytale buildings, they almost look edible. From here we would leave the coast for a while and make our way inland and thankfully back to the warmth away from the brisk coastline.

At a lunch stop in the charming town of Ferndale me and Eal both ordered the Gardenburger, it was incredible. The most perfect sautéed tomatoes and onions with a pesto spread on the underside of the bun. Thinking of the burger joint in Fargo with Flavia, this cafe should advertise its veggie options as “So good meat eaters will choose them.”

The heat came straight after lunch, back to shorts and short sleeve jersey. We entered the Avenue of Giants early evening, a 25+ mile stretch of quiet redwood highway, amazeballs. Hiker/biker camping in the state park was busy again, Eal had given me all coins for the deposit packet which I then found made it too fat to fit in the deposit box, I left it by the office instead.

I left early the next morning having agreed a destination with Eal, I generally wake up early and Eal likes to get trucking later so recently when the directions have been straight forward we have been riding separately for most of the day. To make things simpler for myself I stuck with the 101 which was shouldered well if a little busy. Mornings are chilly but by 10am I am stood by the road, bike perched on a sign, stripping down to my kecks and fishing out shorter attire from my bags. Very amusing for the passing cars to see my pasty white torso, especially for the ones that slow down, you’ve seen it all before love.

The first few town stops still had a major hippie invasion with the aforementioned marijuana harvest about to go down, most were friendly but some characters seemed shady looking to blend in and make a quick score. I wasn’t very comfortable leaving my bike outside stores with my flimsy lock and had to be quick with transactions. One guy told me he would ‘watch’ my bike before I went to get a drink, he was friendly enough and we talked a while. He was making his way down to San Diego and asked if I could spare any money for food. I happily gave him all the shrapnel weight out of my wallet. Not long left in the country and I probably wont shift those coins. He was buzzing, nay bother lad.

I was going to have lunch in the town of Leggit, on arrival I found the gas stations and cafes all shutdown so had to make do with P+J sanga’s before tackling the 2 huge climbs. I love climbing when its like this though, short steep climbs tend to irritate me but I find great peace of mind in these long traversing pinches of several thousand feet. Sweaty work though, looked like I had taken part in a 1 man wet T shirt comp. After the second of the big climbs I was thrown out onto the coastline again to chilling sea air, its cold magnified by the sweat on my skin. Jacket on I located the hiker/biker campspot on a beach cliff edge. Eal turned up shortly after, pitched, ate. Sleeping that night I kept waking thinking I was being swallowed into the sea. If you imagine the foot of my tent was sloped down towards the waves 50 feet below which crashed loud as thunder. Yikes.

The light was amazing breaking camp, hitting out over my shoulder as it rose from the east (Sun sets in the West for those who forget ;-)…) I had to remember to look back now and again. I noticed what I thought was a cat on the roadside up ahead, I screeched on my breaks when I realised there would be no cats knocking about in this area. It was twice the size of a domestic with an almost leopard like coat. I looked it in the eye whilst trying to unzip my bag and grab the camera, when it shot like a bolt into the bush. I later found it was a little lynx which are present around here. Look them up, incredible animal, no pictures so if you want to see one in the flesh you will just have to come out and ride for yourself.

The morning was glorious the afternoon not so much. Deep fog rolled in which made certain stretches of narrow road and bridges quite scary with the local log trucks seemingly in a rush to make deadlines. Then some brutal switchback climbs did their best to beat my seasoned yet tired limbs. We rolled up to a KOA camp, normally ignore because of high prices but being on the coast this one offered a biker rate to compete with state parks, magical and overdue hot shower followed by a heart warming gesture by an old couple who we talked with by the front office on arrival. They had sent a worker on a golf cart to our plot with an envelope wishing us well and $20, the cost of our camp. No signal and I needed to make some calls so had to trek in foggy darkness away from the campground where I was told reception was stronger, I lost count of how many times I tripped over branches but made it back safe as houses.

Fog seems to be set in for good at the moment, leaving camp again to the same old narrow roads and close shaves with traffic. I really wasn’t feeling the ride. Eal was up ahead an neither had breakfast so I was surprised to see he had passed up the first cafe a few miles in, I continued expecting him to be by the next one, he wasn’t so I stopped anyway hoping the sun might come up and burn through a little. It still hadn’t made much impression by the time I left so up and over the coastal bluffs I went, only escaping the suffocating cloud when I rose above them onto a high lookout point.

Scary descents followed back into fog, we were joined at camp that evening by Tim from Maine, and older guy who I had seen at breakfast. He had put down 100 miles that day in what was incredibly tough terrain, kudos.

Managing to scout out coffee and a cooked breakfast was essential on yet another foggy bone chilling morning. This would be the last days riding in the USA, destination for the evening was with John & Jessi, friends of Flavia’s in San Francisco. Judging by surroundings it was hard to see that is where we would end up. The riding was pretty glum, not a thing to look at accept cardboard brown grass with annoying short hump climbs and rough road that made riding feel like I was treading water. Mentally I was beat this morning, possibly a little fatigued and under-slept. Whatever it was I stopped for second breakfast just 15 miles in looking for and answer in the bottom of a coffee cup which was shortly followed by a pesto twist from the adjoining bakery. Somewhere between there, grabbing some wifi and just chilling out contemplating the last few months riding across the USA again I hopped back on my bike and started riding. I’ve road bikes long enough to know the road will take care of the rest and it did! The sun came out and the town of Point Reyes made for a delightful lunch stopover. In the afternoon me and Eal rode together for the last stretch, something we haven’t done for a while.

Drawing ever close to San Fran, in Marin county traffic picked up, stop signs every 50 yards made for slow progress. We meandered along several bike paths happily acknowledging our recent milestone just as the golden gate bridge came into view. Crossing it was thrilling, the wind, bustling traffic, outlook over the bay, fog, a movie script ending. We navigated toward downtown as I pedalled with phone on google-maps in one hand as the Garmin wasn’t playing nice. John had told us he would be taking part in a Critical Mass bike ride and we could meet at his apartment afterwards  Well we rode right into the ride, a congregation of hundreds of cyclists on this a special anniversary for the event which literally takes over the streets grinding cars to a halt. The most surreal, bizarre yet perfect end to the USA tour.

We had a few days at J & J’s  to organise bikes, bags, Auckland accommodation and just generally rest the legs and soak in our last few days in the Northern Hemisphere. It was a very retrospective time, I thought about all the wonderful people I had stayed with, the incredible generosity and hospitality afforded to me once again. The bad towns to the good towns, the baron places to the beautiful vistas. From Massachusetts to California via a whole heap of incredible summer and not forgetting meeting Flavia, my absolute highlight of the ride and another friend I will cherish dearly until we next meet, which I am already excited for, the same goes for Joe C Meyer and Coop! Days on the bike are so highly concentrated with physical and mental exertion whether it be my poor thighs sluggin’ up a hill or my eyes taking a million pictures with every blink in each new town or landscape. You can sometimes forget to take a step back and soak it in. That’s why afterwards I find experiences like this are best shared.

Toodle-pip USA! I’ll be back again or maybe you can come visit me?

Low And High Tides

Posted on by Ryan

Today started without breakfast as I was out of food supplies but knowing Dune City was just 4 miles up the road I had planned on an early cafe stop and shop. Mistake. Dune city did not have the provisions listed on the map and now I had another 16 miles to go without food, 20 in total. I was already Hank Marvin when I woke up so this did not make me a happy bunny. Thankfully a road marking along the way kept me going.

I passed through the ghost town of Gardiner before entering Reedsport where I would finally have breakfast. These places were grim and in stark contrast to the previous Oregon towns so far. I know not everywhere can be shiny, happy and affluent but these places just seemed to be decaying. The type of place that only the industry workers would live, but the industry had died. It was inland on the small river bays away from the glorious coastal views I had been accustomed too recently. The sky was grey, the buildings were grey, I think the air was even grey.

My mood wasn’t helped too much when I arrived in North Bend, coming over the bridge into town a guy in a blue pickup drove up on the white line and shouted at me for riding on the bridge, I was furious. Needing to regroup I located some coffee, disaster struck as my handlebar bag, unbalanced, fell sideways knocking my 16oz on the floor to surrounding public amusement. I felt like calling it a day and I stayed in North Bend until 3pm with 30 very hilly miles to go. The ACA maps had you come off 101 which seemed strange and go over Seven Devils Road, a Devil for each of the steep climbs to overcome. When I arrived at the biker camp in Bandon I was cyclist number 10, not much in the mood for chat I bought some Floridian cyclists beers then hit the hay.

I woke up with renewed enthusiasm the following morning and hit the road super early for a nice breakfast with options assured in Bandon. I parked my bike on the side of a cafe so Eal would see it, the women came out screaming she had just planted things on that patch, just looked like sand! Dragging my bike off with the rear wheel still locked I had tangled the cable up between cassette and spokes. 10 minutes and filthy hands later it was removed but I didn’t feel like eating breakfast there any more so found another spot.

After I started riding I heard a huge pop, a flat tyre. Huge rooftacs had been sprinkled in the shoulder, nasty. I caught up with Eal to find he had a flat from the same things, his first in the US. He managed to get a second heading into the next town from a staple then a third shortly after and I a second. 5 flats!! In Port Orford I saw a genuinely homeless cyclists with a dog and sign that said ‘Any food helps’. Looking to the cycling gods for mercy I road over to him and gave him my freshly restocked bread, peanut butter and jam. He was ecstatic and shared it with his buddies, we talked briefly before I hit the library. I was feeling chirpy again and read a great email of Flavia which helped immeasurably, still missing her being around and probably why I have struggled to see the brighter side in situations as normal the past day or so. That afternoon things did pick up, I ignored ACA today and stuck with the 101, wide, clean and flat shoulder :-).

In Gold Beach we met with a guy called Clifford riding the coast. He said the RV Park appeared closed and we decided to split a cheap motel room 3 ways.

Clifford up and left early the next morning to tackle the nasty looking climbs between here and Crescent City. The ride would take us into our final state, California. I was looking forward to seeing what northern California had to offer having covered just about every other inch of the state south of  Sonoma. What I found was a more rural California, charming and pretty country roads that could be mistaken for France and as many blackberries as you could shake a stick at. I gorged on them throughout the day. Clifford reconvened with us  at the campsite, a wonderful spot right on the beach. Sea Lions barked all night long but its hard to get angry at those goofy guys.

Waking to a sopping wet tent from the wet mist that was tumbling in from the ocean we all packed up, fingers numb. I had almost every layer of riding gear on which is saying something, I’m usually good with cold. I had visions of Flavia riding in her sleeping bag, holes through the bottom for her legs. The road out of Crescent City was an instant climb of around 1500 feet. Within half a mile I had stopped and stripped down to just jersey, amazing how quickly you can warm up.  It was Eals birthday! and at the top of the climb was a great wooden lodge cafe where I bought him a special birthday breakfast. The entire morning was spent riding through huge redwoods, my lense isn’t wide enough to do them justice but they were phenomenal, I inhaled lung after lung of the warm bark smell

Destination for the evening was Arcata where we would be taking a day off tomorrow in the small college town which had been recommended to us by a few people. The roads at time in the afternoon was nothing more than single lane of crumbling sand and rock, cars were still driving on it. Getting annoyed with ACA we jumped back on the nice wide shouldered 101 and hit town. To our dismay we pulled up in front of the motel we had reserved to see it completely shutdown. Apparently it had moved and the address not updated everywhere. We found it and had a few beers and then ice cream from Arcata scoop where Flavia had told us to visit. We found the following day she had left card details and our descriptions so we would get some free ice cream, best girl! Unfortunately they realised at the point of purchase they were missing a zip code. The gesture alone was sweet enough though.

The day off in Arcata was spent doing laundry, grocery shopping then hitting town in the afternoon to check out the campus, go hippy watching at the town plaza, of which there were hundreds in town and hit the brewery. A quirky place for sure, we later found it was the marijuana harvest coming up so they congregated here yearly to pitch in, funny.


Pacific Coasting

Posted on by Ryan

After hopping off the train at Kelso we road a short 20 miles that evening to a campground, it was dead, the water was not drinkable and I didn’t bother with a shower, still feeling down after Seattle I slid into my tent early and went to sleep, not an easy night. The next day would see us finally hit the coast in the town of Astoria. The place has lots of history particularly in film, being the location of The Goonies, Free Willy and a long list of others. Around the docks in town you can find hordes of Sea Lions chilling out making their goofy sounds, great watching. I also realised how difficult it is to tell Seals and Sea lions apart. The easiest way to know is if they have ear holes or ear flaps, the latter being a Sea Lion like the lad featured in my picture below. There all Pinnipeds regardless.

The salt in the cold sea air instantly triggered thoughts of home, fish & chips for lunch, no mushy peas unfortunately. The route took us inland slightly before bringing us back out into a beach town a mile away from the campground for the evening so we decided to hang around in town a while before finishing up for the night. After a hot shower I sat in the steamy room for a good 30 minutes with my phone plugged in so that I could get some charge to make calls.


We emerged from our tents tents and checked the breakfast situation the next morning on the maps. Cannon Beach wasn’t too far away so we could ride until then. It was a very well pointed postcard town, I had the best pastry breakfast, bear claw + dohnut. The towns main attraction was the rock haystacks that stood out in the sea, after making our way down some steep hills for beach access I took my shoes off and waded along the sand to get a closer picture.

Magnificent riding all day, just how I had remembered from my days riding on the Oregon coast previously. Steep climbing up high onto the cliffs always rewarded by stunning overlooks. We ended the ride in Pacific City, almost a carbon copy town of Cannon beach. Spectacular sunset sat outside a small brewery whilst playing fetch with a dog. Lifes a beach.

From Pacific to Newport the pattern was much the same, blessed with tailwinds and sunshine. Impossibly perched homes on top of rugged cliff-tops, the waves crashed up a hundred feet with every swell, simply epic riding and clear enough to pretend you could see Japan.

The Oregon state parks along the coast are great, all $5 for bikers with a guaranteed spot and hot showers. By the time we had arrived in Newport hit the brewery and made our way to the park a heavy sea fog had rolled in. Cold, damp night ahead. A guy pitched next to us came over to let us know he was getting up at 4am for work and apologised in advance in-case he woke us up, strange. Too bad for him some kids disco that night raged on until around 10, the kids sliding on there knees type. He was trying to go for kip around 8pm, hard lines pal.

Super cold morning with the fog still lurking around. Looking at a 2-3 day plan on the maps to see what towns line up it was nice to find today would be a short 45 miles to Florence. A special place for me, that’s where I finished the TransAm. So I raced on ahead so I had some time to spend in the nice historic district.

I had lunch at a small bakery then went to the cosiest coffee shop right on the river to get some long overdue blog action going. Eal found me several hours later as the heart palpitations from too much caffeine began to kick. We rolled up the road a few miles to another state park biker spot amongst a huge circle off trees. Later that evening we were joined by and older guy from Maine and an Irish guy who I think was pretty drunk, unless he was just generally bleary. Camp notices mentioned a recent bear in the park so no food in tents, in the middle of the night some mammal snagged itself on my rear tent rope tugging it downwards, not bear sized though, more like fat raccoon  Still had me eyes wide open for a good hour with held breath before I nodded off again.

Florence Flashback #1