new zealand …uphill

To the end and beyond

June 13, 2009 on 7:21 am | In Notes from the bike | 7 Comments

Being on the home stretch now, things were starting to sink in a little. The fact that the end of my journey was only a few days ride away was both exciting and a little disconcerting. I was so excited to be heading into my home turf and getting closer and closer to my family, but I was worried what would happen at the end. What would it be like when I finish. Would it be like “oh, okay, that was that” or would I break down and cry on my knees? Would I turn around and ride back down to Stewart Island?

While in Whangarei I was reunited for the second time on my trip, with my wife Mel and for a couple of days and so I had a support crew of one. Apparently having a support crew means waving farewell to Mel in the morning while she buggers off to a cafe somewhere for the day. The ride between Whangarei and Kawakawa went quick, it was mostly uphill but I had an energy inside me, an excitement. I don’t know if it was being so close to the end that excited me more or being so close to my bed in Kerikeri, a pit stop on the way to the end. Kawakawa is only a stones throw from my home and so when I got there, Mel drove me home, to my home and my bed.

Being home was strange. It was another false finish of sorts. Getting to Auckland was like a false finish. A lot of people thought Auckland was the end when I got there. Being back in Kerikeri and at home, it was like I had never left, except the lawns were now six feet high. The kids were still away in Auckland staying with the grandparents, so it was just Mel and I, which was good, as if everything was back to complete normality, I might have freaked out completely. As it was I got to wear OTHER clothes and eat food from my fridge and sleeping in my bed was heaven. Being on the road and cycling all day, you are never usually picky about where you sleep. As long as the surface is flat and somewhat soft, you don’t care. But being in my own bed, for one night I really really cared, and I slept so well.

The next day Mel dropped me back to Kawakawa while she did her support crew-ing somewhere, and I resumed my journey back into Kerikeri and rode into town and that afternoon caught up with some friends and in general just hung out. I knew there was a danger in being in Kerikeri for too long. It might become too easy to stay at home in my own bed. When I originally planned the trip, one of the reasons to start from the bottom was due to the relatively close proximity of Kerikeri to Cape Reinga. Only three days ride, and if I started at the top by the time I reached Kerikeri, I would be three days in and feeling sore, tired and probably in shock. Starting at the bottom, I would still be forty days ride away from home so the only choice would be to keep going. So now being towards the end of my ride, the risk of being mentally and emotionally ready to quit when I reached home was minimal, but still, before I became too comfortable I again got on my bike and rode out of town. I had somewhere to be.

I was doing shorter rides of around 60km each day now, to try and linger a bit longer and enjoy the last few days. I was still getting faster and hit Mangonui before lunch and so enjoyed the afternoon feasting at the Mangonu fish and chip shop, which sits out over the water, and just chilling out thinking about things. Mangonui is one of my favourite spots. Quiet and beautiful. The town is on the harbour and has blissful views across the water. My accommodation was no exception, with large windows that let the sunlight on the harbour flow right in to the room. I relaxed enjoying the smell of salt air. In the morning I met some more people who had seen me in the paper and on TV, I was feeling like a bit of celebrity. It is great talking to people every day about the ride and hearing about all the impossible things they want to do, riding the country is on so many peoples lists.

The next day I moved on up to Houhora, one of the last towns before you run out of land running north. As I went, it seemed I was passing the last of everything. The last gas, the last hotel, the last pub and in general the last of every kind of convenience signalled by a big sign out front stating “Last “. I was good, I had all I needed to get to the top in two days, but I could not help starting to feel alone. With every kilometre I went north I was becoming acutely aware of how little geography was left. I could see the east coast as I travelled up north and the further I went, the closer both coasts came to me and at points could see both from the saddle of my bike. I was heading up the countries largest cul-de-sac, there really was no other exit.

On the penultimate day I made it to Waitiki Landing, only 20km till the top. I wanted to spend the Friday night close to the tip, so Mel and the kids could come up in the evening and spend the last night with me, and join me at the finish line. It was the first time we were all together as a family in almost seven weeks. We had a blast, despite the accommodation being one of the worst places I had stayed at my whole trip. Funny things happen when you get to the fringes of civilisation, usually you meet the most friendly people. However it would seem that the reverse is true when you head north. For our stay we were made to feel like we were a burden and a nuisance, and generally ignored. The facilities were non-existent and the staff were more interested in sitting out the front smoking all day. I have raved about all the great places I have stayed and not mentioned the rest, but this place was by far the worst I had been to, and as usual it was the people that made the difference. This bummed me out a little, as I was looking forward to having a night of fun with my family, instead we were hosted by a group of bad mannered, disinterested people. We had fun anyway, being together for the first time in so long far outweighed the bad mojo from a terrible nights stay. We laughed and played, much to the displeasure of all our hosts.

The next day was the last. The day was overcast, ironically after a week of perfect weather, the day I get to the end it was less than perfect. I didn’t really see it that way. Going to the cape for me is a spiritual experience. I can’t explain exactly why or what, it just is special to be able to stand at the very tip of our country and look north to the rest of the world, from the bottom of the world. I love visiting. And the cape has played a special role in Mel’s and my relationship. When we first met, young kids in love, we visited the cape, it was our first road trip together, and it was on that trip I decided all those years back to travel the world with Mel, leaving all of my life behind to discover a new one, and never looked back. The next time I visited the cape was just after last New Years, this time with Mel and the kids, some nine years since the last time, and this time I decided to do this cycle, to the complete horror of Mel. Now, on this visit, I was finishing my journey, almost six months to the day since I decided to embark on it. Since then I again become a different person in many ways physically and emotionally.

I set off on the rough unsealed road from Waitiki Landing to the end. I had forgotten how hilly it was heading up to the lighthouse, but with only 20km I would be there in just over an hour on the hills. I stopped frequently just to look around and soak it all in. When I started right back at the very beginning, each kilometre seemed insignificant compared to how far I had left to go. A couple of days ago it was 100km to go then suddenly I was only 10km, 7km, 5km, then 2km from the end. What would it be like to get there, the end? 1km to go. I was starting to feel very very weird. Only one hill separated me from the end, the very end this time. I would not be getting on the bike tomorrow and riding. I climbed it slowly then there it was, the finish line, I could see it. With both coasts of New Zealand flanking me, I rolled over the last stretch of road until the road ran out. Waiting for me on the kerb was Mel and the kids with pictures and signs the kids made. They were excited, they were going to get their daddy back. This was the end of the road, but not the end of the ride. Not just yet. I kissed my two girls and promised them I would be back soon, as there was one thing left to do. From the road to the lighthouse, right on the tip of the peninsular, was a walking track of about 400 meters. At the end of that was the real end, the lighthouse then the cliff that dropped down to the sea. As usual there was a constant stream of tourists visiting the lighthouse and I smiled and greeted every one as I rolled past. To some of them it seemed odd to be riding a bike down to the lighthouse.

Then finally 300 meters, 200, 100, 10 and then none. I was there. I had just cycled from as far south as I could go, right up to here, the northern most point I could cycle to, and it… felt… fantastic. I must have had a grin beaming from ear to ear, I just couldn’t stop smiling. Do you know the feeling where your cheeks feel like they are in permanent spasm? I got off the bike, and I sat on a small stone wall on the tip of the cliff looking out north, I closed my eyes and emptied my mind letting the wind and the waves filled my head. This was it, I couldn’t believe it. When I was last here I was not sure I would be back by bike. I thought I could do it, and I did. YES! I can’t actually describe what I felt. It was like a thousand thoughts, and a mixture of emotions all at once. It was like how I felt at my wedding, mixed with the feeling you had as a kid on your last day of school before the summer holidays, blended in with the feeling you get when you step out of a sauna, with a bit of saying good bye to a loved on at the airport and then, on top of that, imagine you have just heard one of the funniest jokes ever. It was all that mixed up and then more. All I can say is do it. Find it. It is one of the best feelings you can ever have.

I had done what I needed to to at the lighthouse. I could have stayed there for hours. I rode back up to the road and the waiting car. I gave my bike a well deserved rest and we drove slowly back to home. Again being in a car felt like such a weird experience. We went via the giant sand dunes by the cape, for some rolling and sliding down them for some family fun. Next to the dunes is a small stream that runs all the way out to the beach. Once we had our fill of the sand dunes, almost literally as our clothes hair and car were full of sand, I got into the dirvers seat of the car and sat behind the week and looked down the stream. I knew it lead to Ninety Mile Beach, and the beach was drivable down the coast assuming it wasn’t high tide. I had never driven on the beach for fear of getting stuck and the stream heading out looked like it could hold a few ruts that our mere station wagon would be no match for. “wanna go back down the beach?” I asked Mel. “Ahhhh, suuure” she hesitantly replied. “Okay then” and we were off. Hell what was the worst that could happen? We roared through the stream, with the water flowing over the bonnet and windscreen. The kids couldn’t believe it, what had happened to dad? First he disappeared on a bike for weeks and now he was driving down rivers. They were having a ball. Each small rapid we approached we all in unison went “Woooooooooaaaaaaah wheeehheeee” as we splashed through the water and onwards down the stream, over the ruts and banks. Then finally on the beach we were heading south with the waves on our right, the dunes on our left and the bike on the back. Crashing through small streams and taking the top of small dunes. It was an adventure, the first of many more to come.

Since then a week has gone by. Before I wrapped up my blogging on this fantastic adventure, I wanted to see what would be different in the week following my ride. Would it be like I never left, would I think about things differently? This is something that people always wanted to know as I went, was the trip changing me? Was I now a different person?

The day after I got home I went for a ride on my old training route. I had a few scores to settle with a couple of hills. I geared up, started my stopwatch and rode a route I hadn’t travelled for two months. It was funny, with each hill I came to on my old training route, and there are a few, I had the exact same feeling of apprehension as I approached the hills as I did when I first got on the bike all those months ago. What if I couldn’t ride up these hills again? My mind was being completely irrational of course. I rocketed up the first one, then the second then the third, then before I knew it I was almost home and facing Frank. Frank was strangely quiet, but still my legs felt like they were weakening, but I powered up and over and then I was home. I checked my time. I had shaved, no, hacked off a whole quarter of the time from my last ride on the route before I left. A whole quarter. I could feel Frank fading away. Sulking off to torment some other rider somewhere else. I was not going to put up with his shit anymore.

I have been playing at home dad with the kids for the last week. We have been on trips into town, puddle hopping, gardening and spring/autumn cleaning the house. It is hard not doing anything, and I have found that I am setting goals on everything I do and then take some reward when I do them, even if it is just doing the washing. I guess my mind is used to setting goals each day and then achieving them now. I wonder if this will wear off? I hope not because it feels good. I have pep in my step. I have been setting some new long term goals too. Some big and scary and some not so hard, but I have learnt that without a goal you have no reason to keep pushing you forward. When the goal is too big and too hard, then you just break it down into small achievable chunks. When I began thinking about riding the length of the country I started small. First, can I ride a bike. Yes, well can I ride a bike up hills? Can I do that without vomiting on every hill? Can I then ride for half a day non-stop? A whole day? Then finally can I ride a whole day, with gear on the back, and get up the next day and do it all again? As soon as I could do that then riding the length of the country was just repeating the same smaller goal over and over and over again until I got to the end. And that was it. If I had set out on day one with the expectation that I could just jump on a bike and go, I would have failed. Instead I filled my days with small achievable goals, that all add up to a greater goal. A life full of goals is a full life.

And so what else has changed? I don’t know. A lot, but I can’t put my finger on it. I am developing a dislike for procrastination, which is interesting. I am less self conscious about some things. I have less patience for time wasters. And probably a hundred other things. The journey was gradual and I have learnt a lot along the way. There was no bolt of lightning moments, but I know I am fundamentally changed as a result of my ride.

Would I do it again? you bet. I have missed getting up and riding everyday this last week. Will I do it again? No, not for a while anyway. I have some new challenges lined up. Some other things that are on my “impossible” list. I now want to see how may other impossible things I can do. How about you?