It’s the Same, but Different

Since we’ve been in New Zealand, we’ve been fortunate to have a lot of honest chats with US ex-pats. It sounds bizarre that seeking out another outsider would help us understand where we are; but we’ve learned that sitting down with another American, who’s been in NZ for awhile, really helps us make sense of Kiwi culture (particularly the parts which seem, to us, like a complete contradiction).

Traveling to NZ, we joked before we left, would be like a gateway drug. With the same spoken language and similar customs, it would be a gentle way to ease into international touring. The reality of our experience has actually been the opposite; and, in many ways, it seems like it would have been easier to adjust to international travel if we had gone to a completely different country, with a different language and noticeably different customs.

What we’ve discovered is that, in NZ, about 90% of daily life is almost exactly what we’re used to from the US. It’s similar enough that we joke about NZ being a sort of “bizarro world” – and we can sometimes forget that we’re actually in a foreign country. The remaining 10% of daily life, however, is so immensely different that it jolts us each time we encounter it.

Why does a country with such a strong history of tramping put pedestrians at the bottom of the road culture? How did ‘traditional kiwi camping’ evolve into pitching your tent a mere three feet away from your neighbor in an open field?

The weird thing about experiencing culture shock in a place like NZ is that you never expect it – there isn’t a constant and glaringly obvious reminder that we’re not in the US. To buy food, we go to a supermarket, pick things off the shelves, go through a checkout line, pay with our debit card – we don’t have to haggle over the price of loose spices in an open-air market. Sure, Kiwis use some different words and their traffic signs have a slightly different design, but the overall pace of life is so similar to how we do it in the US, that we’ve effectively been confused into expecting things to be entirely the same.

Which makes a bit of a mockery of one of the most important travel rules – learn how to stop translating everything into something more familiar and just let a place be what it is. When I lived in Spain, I eventually learned to see a chair and think ‘silla’ instead of thinking, ‘okay, that’s a chair, what’s the Spanish word for chair? oh, yeah, it’s silla.’ Because I wasn’t in the US, where that object is a ‘chair,’ I was in Spain, where it’s a ‘silla.’ But, here in NZ, because it’s not overwhelmingly obvious that we’re in a foreign place, it works just fine to continue to interpret things through my US eyes. Until, at some random moment, it doesn’t, and I feel like that stereotypical American tourist who expects everything to be like the US.

So, here we are, two months into our NZ adventure, and we’re still struggling with random moments of culture shock, and trying to make sense of the very big cultural differences that lay just under the surface. We seek out conversations with local folks who can tell us how that works or what this means or why they do it a particular way. And when we have a chance to sit down with some US ex-pats, who are a few immersion steps ahead of us, we jump on the opportunity to let them interpret the differences in a way that makes sense to us – so the next time we run into the same situation, it’s a little less confusing.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our 2012 2012 calendar or some of the fun bike-themed t-shirts we’re designing.)

Murchison to Christchurch, via Greymouth and a Big Detour-Causing Mechanical

After a restful day in Murchison (and much contemplation about tourism in NZ), we headed off down the road again. We had consulted with a number of bikey people on which route to take to Greymouth, and we opted to follow Hwy 65 out of Murchison, thus avoiding the worst of the Buller Gorge traffic and setting ourselves up to take Hwy 7 into Reefton (which was promised to be spectacular). As it turned out, Hwy 65 was full of lovely scenery, but still packed with way too much traffic. By the time we rolled into the small community of Maruia, we were exhausted and cranky and had spent most of the day whining about NZ roads. With no shoulder and insanely high-speed traffic (unwilling to be patient and pass safely), we spent most of the day looking at the white fog line and pedaling as fast as we could. Which was rather unfortunate, because when we got to Maruia and looked up, we were surrounded by some truly incredible scenery. In Maruia, we stopped for coffee and a snack, and then wandered over to the small motel to give in and pony up for a room. But the motel was full. And the motel owner was completely useless, telling us that it was only a short 19km down the road to Springs Junction and, no, actually, he didn’t have the phone number for the motel down there, maybe he should have that. Um, yeah. Somehow, we rallied the energy to tumble down the road to Springs Junction, distracting ourselves from the task-at-hand by whining about traffic and the wind. Arriving in Springs Junction, we were delighted to find a little motel (with vacancy) and a cafe – and be done for the day. The motel, it turned out, was quite nice. Simple and basic, and much more than we would have paid for a similar room in the US, but it was situated next to a small creek and was warm and cozy.

In the morning, we treated ourselves to breakfast at the cafe. The grey weather of the day before had turned into an actual drizzling rain, which did not inspire us to get going particularly quickly, and which also obscured most of the beautiful scenery that was the entire reason for taking this particular route. But we were delighted to discover that the traffic all but disappeared along the stretch from Springs Junction to Reefton, which almost made up for the weather. We rolled into Reefton early in the afternoon, cold and tired. After wandering around town a bit, we made our way to the motor camp, where we were delighted to discover that we could get a simple cabin for just $15 more than pitching our tent. Sold! We enjoyed a bit of a lazy afternoon, fishing and reading, and basically enjoying the fact that the rain had let up for a bit.

The next morning, however, the grey weather had settled back in, and we donned our rain jackets yet again. As it turned out, that weather is pretty standard, and the area just south of Reefton is actually known as The Grey Valley. After a short, steep climb out of Reefton, the road just rambled along, beside a sparkling river. The traffic was delightfully light along the highway, and was almost nonexistent on the parallel side road that we took from Ikamatua into Greymouth. Early in the afternoon, we came upon the turn-off to the small community of Blackball. We had heard so much about this small hamlet that we couldn’t pass it up, and we pedaled up the hill to check it out. The famous Blackball Salami Co was closed, since it was Sunday, but we were able to pick up some of their product at the market and enjoy a picnic lunch. And, of course, no trip to Blackball would be complete without a beer at the Formerly the Blackball Hilton. The independent spirit of the town was still thriving and it was a lovely rest in the middle of the day. Unfortunately, enjoying a pint on a warm afternoon has a knack for making any remaining hills feel worse than they are, so the rest of the ride was a bit sluggish, and we rolled into Greymouth ready for a couple days off the bikes. In Greymouth, we opted for a Backpackers for the night, and went with the one with free wifi.

We took our time in the morning and checked out just under the wire. With all the bags loaded onto the bikes, we pushed off to explore the town a bit. And, then, just as we were bumping off the curb, Russ stopped, looked down, and cursed. One of the bolts that holds the hinge together had unscrewed itself a bit and sheered off. The bike was completely unrideable. We pushed everything back into the yard at the Backpackers, and sat down to figure out a Plan B. We had received a generous homestay offer to stay with Kevin Hague, MP, and he was able to rescue us in his car. Over the next two days, while we worked out what to do about Russ’ bike, we were able to talk a lot about cycling in NZ and learn some of the backstory and hopes for the NZ Cycle Trail network.

We eventually worked out a plan to travel by train to Christchurch, which has a much better selection of bike shops and trained mechanics than Greymouth. The folks at Cheeky Transport in Australia would ship the replacement parts to Christchurch and we would wait it out with some lovely readers. We were bummed to completely change our plans to ride down the West Coast, but excited to check out the NZ train. The scenery along the ride (which crosses the Southern Alps) was truly spectacular, and the train even featured an open-air car at the back.

We’ve now spent a week in Christchurch, resting, exploring, and doing a bit of work. Christchurch is a fascinating city. There is still plenty of evidence of the destruction caused by the earthquakes, but there is also plenty of evidence of a thriving community spirit trying to put it all back together. We visited Re:Start, a pedestrian shopping mall downtown made out of shipping containers. We explored some art galleries and watched the hysterical outdoor play “The Complete History of Christchurch, Abridged.” We sampled some of the fantastic food and beers that can still be found in the city, if you know where to look. And we had a lot of great conversation, and even felt a few rumbles for ourselves.

It took longer than expected for the part to arrive for Russ’ bike, but it finally made it today and the installation was a breeze. The good folks at Cycle Trading had no fear taking on an unfamiliar job. And Shane, the mechanic, who happens to race Penny Farthings in his spare time, did an excellent job taking everything apart and putting it back together. Thank you Cycle Trading!

Since we lost a bit of time, we’ve had to re-arrange our plans a bit for the remainder of our time in NZ. The thing that we are most keen on experiencing is the Otago Central Rail Trail, which is the success story that launched the whole NZ Cycle Trail network. Tomorrow, we’re hopping a bus down to Dunedin, where we’ll get to meet up again with the cycling family that we met along the Forgotten World Highway. Then, we’ll be off to the rail trail!

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our 2012 2012 calendar or some of the fun bike-themed t-shirts we’re designing.)

Nelson to Murchison: Entering Sandfly Territory

Of all the towns we’ve visited in NZ so far, Nelson (and surrounding communities) definitely stood out for us. And not just because we finally got some real summer weather there. Nelson is smack in the middle of the path between the inter-island ferry and the West Coast of the South Island, so it sees a LOT of cycle tourists. For years, we’ve been told, cycle tourists have rambled in and out of the Nelson area, making residents accustomed to seeing them and the councils interested in supporting them. It may not be perfect, but they’re trying – and we enjoyed riding around on the bike paths, popping into the bike shops, talking to bike-friendly businesses, and generally surveying the impact of cycling on the community. We also took some time to enjoy Nelson’s other claim to fame – being the craft beer capital of NZ.

After a few days of good food, good beers, good cycling, and digging for clams on the beach, we headed out of Nelson, bound for the West Coast. The ride will take us about a week, and we’re currently breaking it up with a day off in Murchison, where we have found internet for the first time in the last few days.

From Nelson, we made use of some good local knowledge to head out of town on the bike paths and back roads. The sun came out as we rambled beside farms and wineries. We stopped for coffee in the small town of Brightwater, and stopped for the day at a small regional park in Wakefield. We decided to break up the ride to Lake Rotoiti into two days, rather than slog it out in one long day – which turned out to be a prudent decision that allowed us to camp that first night beside a beautiful small stream.

In the morning, we headed out of Wakefield, into the hills, along the backroads. Finally, we had found some quiet country riding! Eighty-Eight Valley Road led us through rolling countryside with very little traffic. We wound our way over two good climbs and gradually gained over 2000 feet of elevation. It was a beautiful day that was also a lot hotter and harder than we thought we were in for (yes, we keep forgetting that NZ is full of hills). As the sun beat down, we drank our way through our water a lot quicker than we expected, and we were forced to catch and treat some water out of a road-side culvert (which, thankfully, did not seem to be downstream from a cow pasture). A few kilometers before we reached the lake, we took the turn off to Tophouse, home of NZ’s smallest bar. A beautifully restored old hotel and restaurant, Tophouse serves lunch on the front patio and features a tiny “honesty” bar (where we pulled our own pint of beer and settled up later). Refreshed by our afternoon snack, we rode on into the town of St Arnaud and Rotoiti Lake. The lake is stunningly gorgeous and great for a brisk swim. It’s also swarming with sandflies, an annoying little insect that travels in hordes and bites with a vengeance. Legend says the sandflies were created to keep man from endlessly staring at the natural beauty. Whether that’s true or not, we certainly enjoyed the beauty of the lake quickly, from behind several layers of clothing, and then hid out in our tent.

In the morning, we packed everything up in lightening fashion to run away from the sandflies, which do not seem to rest while it’s light out. We chatted over breakfast with some trampers from Oregon and another cycle tourist writer. We had intended for that day to be a rest day, but we just couldn’t stand to be around the hordes of sandflies or spend another night in the packed-like-sardines campground. So, we headed down the road toward Owen River. Along the way, we stopped at an access point to the Buller River, and Russ threw his line out. Watching from the road above, I was hoping that he’d be able to snag the monster trout for dinner, but the trout proved to be too smart. We camped for the night at the domain camping ground at Owen River, just down a short gravel road from a pub. The camping was perfect, nestled beside the river, amongst a row of enormous fir trees, and nearly empty (there were only two other people in a campervan at the other end of the park). We enjoyed a leisurely afternoon by the river and then moseyed up the hill to the pub for some dinner and beers. When we got back to our tent, we discovered that the wind had died down enough to bring out the sandflies, so we ended our evening (again) by hiding in our tent and reading.

And, again, we awoke to sandflies everywhere, and hastily broke down camp and headed out. This morning, we had a ridiculously short day into Murchison, broken up once for some coffee at an animal park about halfway to town. We found a great deal at the Riverview Holiday Park, and are enjoying a (sandfly-free) cabin for just $40 (and a much-needed catch-up afternoon). With any luck, the rain that’s predicted for today with blow through while we’re indoors, and it’ll be clear again tomorrow.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our 2012 2012 calendar or some of the fun bike-themed t-shirts we’re designing.)

Wellington – Nelson: Heading for NZ’s South Island

Our stay in Wellington was intended to be a low-key exploration of the capital city and a chance to talk with some of the folks behind the scenes of the NZ Cycle Trails program. While we did get to sit down with the Cycle Trails people, our stay turned out to be anything but low-key. Our very surreal road rage incident turned into a small media circus and started us thinking (a lot) about the differences in cycling and advocacy in NZ and the US.

By the end of the week, we were in desperate need of some bike fun, so we joined up with the Frocks on Bikes Frocknic. The idea was to take a peaceful ferry ride across the bay, cycle out to the lighthouse for a leisurely picnic, then catch the ferry back. Instead, the fierce winds that had been howling for a few days persisted, and we were all treated to an intensely terrifying ferry ride, in which the boat actually caught some air several times and we listened to the bikes on the exposed upper level get thrown back and forth (except for all the Bromptons, ours and two others, which were folded and stored inside). Safely back on land, we decided to tarry forth, and we all enjoyed a short ride with a tailwind and a lovely long picnic in a sheltered bay. And then we faced the hard truth that we we would all be riding back, into the howling headwind. It turned out to be the most extreme Frocks on Bikes event ever, and we finished off the day with some beers at a local pub, glad that it had taken our minds off the craziness from a few days previous.

On the morning that we left Wellington, we woke up to still weather and beautifully calm seas. Thank goodness! The short ferry ride of the day before had made us nervous about crossing the Cook Strait, but we were fortunate to have a smooth sailing. We even wound up on the same boat as Kiele, a Canadian expat Brompton owner that we had met the day before! The ferry ride between New Zealand’s North and South Islands is simply lovely. Nearly half of it is spent winding, slowly, through the spectacular Marlborough Sounds. The sun was sparkling and we saw a school of dolphins. In Picton, we found our way to Queen Charlotte Drive, a lovely small road that winds along the edge of the Sound, with absolutely phenomenal views and limited traffic. We stopped at a beach for a picnic, then at a small shop for lemonade. And we enjoyed a true NZ rarity – flat land with a tailwind! When we rolled into beautiful Pelorus Bridge campground, we immediately decided to stay for two nights and enjoy a bit of downtime in nature. We hiked out to a waterfall, chatted with several other bike tourists, and took advantage of the cafe on the property. Russ also took the opportunity to cast his line and enjoy some fishing.

From Pelorus Bridge, we hopped on Hwy 6 to Nelson. We passed one small town, where we stopped for coffee, then headed off into a long stretch of forest. The road rambled beside a few rivers and wound up and over two good climbs. Surprisingly, there was a halfway decent shoulder for most of the climbing, and the traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as we were expecting. Screaming down the backside of the second (and last) big hill, we were blessed with not a single car behind us (a small and delightful miracle that put us on a happy NZ high!). As the downhill leveled out, we pulled off for an ice cream break and to revel in the extraordinary descent. From there, we rambled into Nelson. At the edge of town, we discovered a cycle path that allowed cyclists to get off the busy highway. We decided to check it out and were pleasantly surprised by the bike friendly signage. Nelson, it appears, is trying to embrace everyday cycling. Indeed, this is what we’ve come to explore, and we’ll spend the next few days talking with cyclists and advocates.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Road Rage Update

There are two words that I would use to describe the past two days… Surreal and Grateful.

No doubt, most readers have heard about our recent road rage incident in Wellington, NZ, in which Russ was tackled to the ground by an angry driver and punched. It was shocking and bizarre and we are still trying to wrap our heads around what happened and what it means. Yesterday, we spent some time talking with reporters from the NZ Herald and the Dominion Post, and today we woke to two great articles from each newspaper about the incident. In response, we have received an absolutely incredible outpouring of support from Kiwis around the world, eager for us to know that this incident is not representative of the NZ that they love and live in.

Far from making us angry or bitter or scaring us off of our bikes, the whole event has made us very thankful and hopeful. Whatever else happens, we hope that the incident has sparked a conversation about cycling and road culture in NZ, and that it will lead to some positive change for cyclists.

Russ has been trying to focus on writing a post or piecing together a video about the incident, and we hope to share that soon. We know you’ll understand that it’s been a complicated experience for him to process.

Many thanks to our readers, old and new, for your support! We are okay and trying to turn this lemon into some sweet lemonade.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Turangi to New Plymouth: Bicycling the Forgotten World Highway

Over the past few weeks, one of the things we heard again and again was that we should make time to ride the Forgotten World Highway Cycle Route. Spanning 180km between Taumarunui and New Plymouth, this route cuts through some of the most remote parts of New Zealand and glimpses back into Kiwi life a century or so ago. After spending the holidays in Taupo and Turangi, we set out through the Forgotten World. Although the route officially begins in Taumarunui, we felt like it began (for us) in Turangi, because that was the first day that traffic levels dropped off and we felt like we were riding through truly rural countryside.

Luckily for us, the day we left Turangi, the sun decided to re-appear after several rainy days. Between the clear weather and the much-reduced travel volumes, it was a lovely day to be back on the road. First we rambled around the southern end of Lake Taupo, then we rambled up, up, up our make our way out of the Taupo basin. It was exhausting work, but the views were stunning. And with all the rain of the several days previous, we were treated to dozens of roadside waterfalls. Eventually, the road dumped us out in Taumurunui, and we stopped at a small cafe for a late lunch before making our way to our camp spot for the night. As we were settling in at the Taumarunui Holiday Park, who should arrive but other bike tourists! A whole family of bike tourists, to be exact. Every summer for the past six years, Bridget and John have taken their kids for a three-week rambling cycle tour of a corner of New Zealand. This year, they had decided to ride the Forgotten World route as a part of their holiday. We compared notes and found out that we would likely be camp buddies for the next several nights (which, it turned out, we were, and we loved being able to compare notes with other cyclists at the end of the day).

In doing our research beforehand, we knew that the only camp spot for the day was at least 80km down the very hilly road (unless we stumbled onto something else or opted to free camp), so we were up and on the road early that morning. We rolled through town, turned onto the Forgotten World Highway, and immediately spun our way up the first hill. From Taumarunui to just south of Whangamomona, the Forgotten World Cycle Trail follows an already-established tourist road known as the Forgotten World Highway. The highway is narrow, with no shoulders, but there is virtually no traffic. And, because the area is so quiet and rural, you can hear any cars well in advance. Over the course of the day, we went up, then down, then up, then down, over and over again, through rural farmland and bright green hillsides. The hills through this stretch of New Zealand, however, aren’t cute, coast-able bumps – they’re more like steep, mini-mountains that you slowly have to summit. We would huff and puff our way up, complaining and whining, and then we would get to the top and look out over the stunning scenery and just stand in awe of the landscape around us. Talking to the hundreds of sheep and cows that we passed helped take the edge off the climbing too. As the afternoon wore on, it felt like progress was very slow, which was compounded by the fact that none of the road signs had correct mileage information. And, then, we rounded a corner and found ourselves in the jungle. The Forgotten World Highway passes through Tangarakau Gorge, an incredible area full of thick native bush and jagged cliffs, showing off what New Zealand must have looked like everywhere before it was colonized. The road through the gorge is a hard-packed gravel, and we were delighted that the Bromptons handled the ride beautifully. On the other side, we found ourselves back in a landscape of steep, green pastures. We slogged our way up one last hill, exhausted and long ready to be done for the day, and turned off at Back Country Accommodation. After checking in, we pitched our tent in the open grass field, and looked out in awe of our nearly 360-degree view of endless green hills. We were literally on top of the world, and couldn’t believe our luck. That night, we went to sleep before the sun, listening to the sounds of the bleating sheep in the hills and the Tui birds playing in the flax bushes.

When we woke up the next morning, we were rather exhausted and sluggish. Everything was wet from a bit of rain overnight and we were happy to pack up slowly and wait for our clothes and tent to dry out. We thanked the folks at Back Country and rolled down the hill to Whangamomona. Signs greeted us as we entered ‘The Republic’ and we stopped at the hotel/pub for a second breakfast and a few more cups of coffee. By the time we headed back along our way, it was nearly noon, but we knew we had a shorter day ahead of us and could take our sweet time. We rambled up and over a few more bright green hills before reaching our turn off the highway. From here, we would follow posted NZ Cycle Trail signs, with arrows pointing us in the correct direction. At the turn-off, the road turns to gravel. It’s a looser, more slippery gravel than we encountered the day before, but completely rideable with wide tires and some patience. The scenery through this stretch is simply stunning (so far, we have yet to get tired of the bright green hills here), and the ride was made even more amazing by the fact that it is so rural, with no traffic and very little sign of people. We truly felt like we were in a forgotten world at this point. As we rolled down the road, we chatted with the cows and sheep, and eventually we arrived in what remains of the small community of Purangi. It’s just one couple now, Laurel and Ian, who own the schoolhouse and a walnut orchard. Through a stroke of fate, they met the man who routed the cycle trail, and they decided to open their property to passing cyclists. You can camp on the lawn or stay inside the schoolhouse (which is outfitted with beds and a kitchenette). They told us the history of the area and invited us in for tea. After Bridget and John and their kids arrived later that afternoon, the eight if us decided to pool our meals into a communal dinner and we all spent the evening laughing and swapping stories. It was a truly magical evening that ended only as the last bit of light was fading from the sky and the wine was putting was putting us all to sleep.

We rolled out of Purangi the next morning after some last conversation and photos. After seeing Bridget and John for the past several nights, we would be going our separate ways that day, so we wished each other well. We thanked Laurel and Ian for opening up their space for cyclists and we hope that it continues to be a worthwhile experience for them. Riding away from Purangi, we rambled up and over several more hills, through more gorgeously rural scenery and one narrow old tunnel, and then we turned a corner and stopped at the sight of Mt Taranaki peaking out of the clouds. As we began to roll into the outskirts of the New Plymouth area, the cycle trail begins to zig-zag through small farm roads. It was fantastic to not have to plan our way into the city and it’s evident that care was taken to choose quiet roads, but we had to be careful to not miss the small way-finding signs at each turn. Eventually, the cycle trail to leads to a series of multi-use paths. The Coastal Walkway path follows the Tasman Sea coastline into New Plymouth and is dotted with look-outs, public art, coffee carts, and one incredible bike-ped bridge. It was an amazing way to be welcomed into New Plymouth, which we hear is working to be a model cycling city. Coming in to a city again was a bit of a shock after the quiet of the countryside, but we were delighted with New Plymouth and looking forward to some good food and a mattress for the night.

Overall, I would dare to say that the Forgotten World Cycle Trail was one of the most rewarding stretches of road that we’ve ridden. The scenery seriously out-does itself, the people we met were friendly and helpful – and it was an immense sense of achievement to complete the ride, because it was one of the most difficult stretches of road that we’ve ridden. In 180km, there are no markets, and the only place to buy food is at the pub in Whangamomona. Planning ahead is absolutely essential. The landscape will take your breath away and turn your legs into jello as you climb and climb and climb, so this is certainly not a beginner’s route. Our hope is that, over time, additional facilities will open up for cyclists along the way (a few other campgrounds, perhaps, and a cafe or two), because the low traffic volume and quiet, old-world charm make this an excellent route for capable cyclists looking for a rewarding rural adventure.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Whitianga to Turangi: Beautiful Scenery, Stiff Legs & Confusing Pronunciations

After being completely drenched by rain the day before, we were happy to wake up to dry conditions in Whitianga, even though it was still awfully grey. We spent some time exploring town before pushing off, including visiting the surprisingly great little bike shop that we were completely not expecting. From Whitianga (that ‘wh’ is pronounced like an ‘f’), we hopped aboard a little passenger ferry across the bay to Cooks Beach. The trip was all of 7 minutes long and nobody batted an eye at us hauling our loaded bikes onboard. From Cooks beach, we rambled up and down through the hills, soaking up the beautiful scenery, and trying to kick-start our hill-climbing legs out of their hibernation. When we reached the small town of Tairua, we stopped for a picnic lunch at the beach, followed by coffee in a small cafe by the marina. One of the aspects of New Zealand life that we are thrilled about is the cafe culture, and the fact that you can find a really good cup of coffee in just about every little community! After a long rest, it was impossible to motivate ourselves to get moving again, so we opted to take another short little ferry across the bay to Pauanui, where we camped in a funny little Holiday Park. Holiday Parks seem to be what we would call a RV Park in the US – a place to park your camper, or possibly pitch a tent, sometimes with folks who live there year-round, often with some communal facilities (kitchen, laundry, etc). You may not get the most scenic camping experience, but you get a shower and decently safe place to sleep.

From Pauanui, we rambled up and over some more hills (this is definitely a trend!). We followed a small country road out of town and then connected up again with the highway. Most roads, we are discovering, have no shoulder, just a fog line that drivers expect you to hover over. It can be unnerving on a busy road, but isn’t so bad on a quiet back road. New Zealand also likes to chip-seal its roads, so the experience is a bit bumpy and slow (although, sometimes it’s better to endure a steady chip seal than dodge cracks and potholes on an otherwise nice road). Just north of Whangamata, we stopped at a small roadside farm stand and stocked up on a bike touring essential: an arm-full of fresh fruit and veggies (in this case, plums, avocados, zucchini, and broccoli)! In Whangamata, we stopped for coffee and lunch and pondered our plans for the rest of the day. We were tired, but we decided to push on to Waihi. Of course, if we had known about the huge hill we’d have to climb, we might have stayed put. But we were ignorant of the impending stressful hill and unbelievely windy road, so we went for it. We’ve heard a lot of talk about whether it’s safe to bike in New Zealand. For the most part, we’d say that it’s no less safe than anyplace we’ve been so far. The caveat, of course, is when you get to these narrow, winding hills. The curves are so tight that you have terrible sight lines, so you have to be constantly on your guard and careful to not hang out in the gutter, where you’ll be completely invisible to motorists. This particular hill felt as if it went on forever and we were ecstatic when we finally reached the top and were able to soar into town. Beers were definitely called for that evening and we enjoyed a happy hour round at a cute pub in town. For the night, we found our way to the Waihi Motor Camp. We weren’t expecting much, but it turned out to be a really lovely spt. It’s located on the edge of town, butted up against a hill, with a small creek running alongside the edge of the property. As a tenter, we were able to set up wherever we liked, so we pitched camp by the creek and went ot sleep to the sound of babbling water.

In the morning, we headed back into town to explore a bit of its history. Waihi has had active gold mining for the last 200 or so years, and has an enormous open pit mine just a block from the main shopping strip through town. It’s fascinating to stand at the edge and look over and watch it operate (especially for me, since I work with precious metals on a regular basis). From Waihi, we hopped on State Hwy 2 toward Tauranga. Unfortunately for us, it was the day that everyone started migrating for the holidays, so the traffic was incredibly heavy and loud. It was also quite a hot day (for a change!), so we chugged along rather slowly, stopping at every opportunity for coffee or ice cream. Eventually we rolled into Tauranga and found our way to a Backpackers for the night.

We were so charmed with Tauranga upon arrival that we decided to stay two nights. We discovered lots of bike lanes that criss-crossed the town and we wandered around the shops by the wasterfront. Given that it was only a few days before Christmas, we also witnessed a massive last-minute gift-buying spree, and we even got to meet Santa.

The following morning, we were up and out early, so we could hop the bus to Rotorua. After experiencing such awful holiday traffic, we decided it would be prudent to use transit to climb the hills to Rotorua, instead of jockeying for space on the narrow roads. I had to sweet talk the bus driver, however, to let us take the bikes, and he eventually relented because we had the Bromptons, which fold up so small and compact that they hid nicely in the back of the bus (although, we did still have to pay the bike bribe, which we’re pretty sure just padded the driver’s pocket). In Rotorua, we met up with jeff Anderson, who runs Kiwi Bikes and is the one remaining steel bike frame builder in New Zealand. He gave us a great tour of his work and we enjoyed chatting with him for awhile. He also tipped us off to a great craft beer pub, and we met up for beers and laughs and bike talk that evening.

While in Rotorua, we also met up with Damian, a fellow long-distance cyclist, who uses cycling to mitigate the effects of his nerve disorders. Talking with him was inspirational and a good reminder that we all have a choice, no matter what our circumstance might be. We spent the afternoon of Christmas Eve cycling around Rotorua and a few of the nearby lakes. Rotorus is a fascinating place with an enormous amount of geothermal activity. Sulfur smells hang in the air and thermal baths and tourist activities abound. We rode along the bike-ped path by the lake, and stopped often to marvel at the strange and bubbling formations. We also couldn’t help but think how odd it was the European colonists arrived in Rotorua in the 1800s and looked at these stinky, boiling pools, and thought that they must be healthful – whereas, I think that if I were to stumble onto stomething like that in a strange new world, I might just think that they seem rather dangerous and apocalyptic. At any rate, we certainly enjoyed looking at the natural oddities!

On Christmas morning, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, coffee, and chat with Damian at the Backpackers, before heading into town to catch the bus to Taupo. It was wonderful to ride through town and have everything be closed. No traffic, no people, no noise. We zigged and zagged all over the road – which felt overly huge without any cars! Our bus to Taupo was much more pleasant than the bus to Rotorua, because we had a very sweet and level-headed bus driver who adored the Bromptons and waived the bike fee since they fold up so small. A lovely Christmas gift! Even with buses criss-crossing the country and a steady stream of tourists utilizing them, we have discovered that the bike friendliness of transit in New Zealand is pretty much on par with transit in the US – it all comes down to the whims of the driver. In Taupo, we found similarly empty streets, and we wound our way to our homestay. The rest of our Christmas day was spent out on Lake Taupo, boating and swimming, followed by a bit of exploring, walking some local tracks, and a delicious ham dinner.

All told, we spent four nights in Taupo, enjoying the hospitality of two great families. We got out on the lake a couple times, wandered the town, and went out on our first-ever mountain bike rides.

From Taupo, we rode down to Turangi, at the southern end of the lake. The plan was for Russ to be able to fly fish the Tongariro River for a few days, and give us a quiet place to wait out the rest of the holiday traffic. Unfortunately, it has rained a lot here in Turangi, so the fishing isn’t so great, but it has proven to be a nice spot to relax for a few days. We’re staying at the Riverstone Backpackers, which is hands-down the nicest hostel-type accommodation we’ve ever experienced.

In New Zealand time, it’s New Year’s Eve, and we will be celebrating here in Turangi. On the 2nd, we’ll be headed west to Tamarunui, and then hopping on the Forgotten World Highway to New Plymouth, before making our way to Wellington. We can’t believe how quickly our time in New Zealand is passing, and we’re beginning to wonder if three months will be anywhere near enough time!

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

The Path Less Pedaled Goes International!

Where can you find sheep, glaciers, meat pies, and a government that’s actively trying to entice bike travelers? The same place that you’ll find us in a few days… New Zealand!

That’s right, on Sunday, we fly to New Zealand! We’ve been keeping this a secret for so long, as we’ve been working through a lot of the details. We have so much that we want to share about our plans overseas, but for now we wanted to finally reveal our next travel destination.

We’re taking our faithful Bromptons with us as we spend the next several months exploring both islands. And we’ll be connecting with cycling advocates and tourism officials across the country. What’s it like to be a cyclist in New Zealand? What are all these great new facilities for bike travelers that we keep hearing about? How long does it take to learn how to ride on the left side of the street?

We’re also simply excited to follow Summer and go back to camping and fishing and trying new foods. As we explore New Zealand as a cycle touring destination, we’ll be continuing the video series that we started this summer in Eastern Oregon. We’ve even teamed up with Bicycle Times magazine! You’ll find our videos both here and on their website, but you’ll have to check out their site for exclusive behind-the-scenes information.

We’ll post more details soon (we’re working on a video!). In the meantime, let us know of anyone you think we should connect with while we’re in New Zealand. We arrive in Auckland on Tuesday and would love to meet up with some local folks!

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

This Winding Road

Things did not go as planned this year. Our lofty, yet attainable, goals just seemed to slip through our fingers. And, while I’ve long felt that I should just make peace with the way things turned out, I have been incredibly frustrated about it all.

Ironically, the hardest part has been this weirdly nagging feeling that there’s a reason why everything worked out the way it did. As if someone else had other plans for us, possibly better plans, and we had to stop trying to control it and just go along.

I have been struggling for weeks to put this into words somehow. To find a way to express this frustration, while also recognizing that, somehow, we’re exactly where we need to be. To explain how much we have been focused internally this year, and where it has begun to lead us, without sliding down the hill of pessimism and blame.

And then a weird thing happened. It was late afternoon on the second day of our recent train journey from Oregon to Los Angeles. I looked out the window and suddenly recognized a road that we had ridden on a trip nearly three years earlier. We reminisced for a moment – about the beautiful riding, being passed by a farmer driving a tractor, having to hitch a ride in a pick-up because we had blown our timing and needed to cross a small mountain pass in the dark – and, suddenly, it clicked in my head.

Anyone who has ever traveled has, no doubt, experienced that moment when, suddenly, everything is right with the world. As I watched the small town of Guadalupe drift past the train window, the anxiety and petty frustrations of daily life disappeared, and in their stead was a firm understanding of why I live this non-traditional life. And, somehow, as the train wound around the hills, I finally realized what I have been trying to put into words about where this year has led us and what it means to be a veteran traveler.

Being a traveler means being equal parts dreamer and businessperson. We have to envision grand things and leave a lot up to serendipity. At the same time, we have to dot all our i’s and find a way to keep the books in the black. It’s a tricky balance of roles that becomes more important the longer we travel – because, at a certain point, traveling diverges from vagabonding, and it must become sustainable if we want our experiences to be bigger than just us. In other words: If traveling full-time is to be our lifestyle and livelihood, then it must also be our business.

That may sound cold and calculated, or conjure up images of schmoozing with suits. In reality, that change in thinking moves us away from an all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime endeavor, and toward a model that can nurture more than just our immediate personal needs.

When we think about the future, we don’t want to build a house somewhere, we want to build a world full of bicycle travelers. It’s a goal that requires both strategy and fun, smart planning and adventure. And it’s an enormous opportunity for our travels to mean so much more than just our own gratification.

Things did not go as planned this year. As it turned out, we needed the space to shift our identities and our narrative away from a simple extension of our first big trip. We needed to step into bigger versions of ourselves, and start building something that will outlast the stories of a single journey.

A few weeks ago, we officially became a small business, focused on publishing content that promotes bicycle travel. We’re excited about this evolution and look forward to wherever it takes us. We’ll soon have some exciting news about our next travel destination – and we hope that you’ll continue to follow along as we continue to travel and inspire a bicycle-travel-friendly world.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

What About My Bike? (or, The Indignity of Taking a Bicycle Aboard a Bus)

On our recent bus trip to Bend, we learned that we were supposed to have the Bromptons packed in some sort of box or bag. It’s a halfway reasonable request, but one which we knew nothing about until we were actually boarding the bus. The very limited website said nothing about bicycles. The person on the other end of the phone number I found to call for questions said, rather nonchalantly, that they just bring all bicycles on board. The station agent, when we purchased the tickets and then checked in the next day, said nothing about the bag/box requirement. Which led me to once again grumble internally and grit my teeth through a forced smile, as I tried to talk my way on to the driver’s good side by copping the ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ defense.

As it turns out, we were also supposed to have paid a $15 bicycle fee. This we don’t learn until a week later, when we had purchased our return tickets, leaving Bend. I asked about folding bikes, thinking that, surely, common sense would kick in and the Bromptons would be exempt from the fee. Nope, she tells me, those are $15 too. Which leads me to wonder why. By their very own luggage policy, a passenger is allowed to check one bag, provided that it is under 50 pounds and isn’t oversize. So, if our Bromptons fit in a bag that is within the size and weight restrictions, why is there an the extra fee?

In the US, there seems to be an ingrained prejudice against bicycles, especially when it comes to taking them aboard some sort of transit system, and even more especially when it comes to long-distance bus systems. To be fair, a regular-size bike can be bulky and unwieldy and require a large amount of space. But so can a baby stroller. And those suitcases that are four feet tall. The reasons why a bicycle, specifically, should be subject to extra fees are nonsensical and illogical. And they’re even more absurd when the bicycle-in-question fits inside a rather standard-size duffel.

Contrast this with our experiences taking The Wave bus between Portland and Tillamook, OR. The Wave is the same small size/style vehicle as the bus to Bend, yet our bikes were cheerfully welcomed each of the three times we traveled on The Wave. With racks on the front and a large luggage compartment, it’s so easy and enjoyable to take a bicycle with you on The Wave that we’ve seen upwards of seven cyclists onboard at one time. No muss, no fuss, no fee… just an example of a long-distance bus system that gets it.

Which also leads me to wonder why there’s such variance in bike policies? Why is it such a guessing game to figure out how to take along a bicycle? And why do you inevitably feel like you’re doing something wrong?

I think it comes down to one very simple answer: Long-distance bus systems have not yet become aware of the fact that bicycles are now a part of the everyday equation.

Yes, people, it’s time to recognize that, whatever your personal feelings, your patrons might want to take a bicycle with them. They want it to be a simple, straight-forward process. They want reasonable policies that are laid out in advance and easy to find. They want the bus driver and the customer service agent and the woman behind the counter to all understand said policies in exactly the same way. And here’s the clincher: They want to feel like their bicycle is welcome, because then they will use your bus again and again and tell their friends to do so also.

Which isn’t to say that bicycle-toting patrons are unreasonable. Set a limit to the number of bicycles your bus can carry. Require patrons to reserve a bike space (and make sure to tell them how). These are policies that are already in place in a lot of train systems. And I’d hazard a guess that cyclists would be perfectly fine with these limits, because it’s obvious that you’re open and willing and trying to accommodate your customers.

Right now, there is a lot of unnecessary indignity that faces someone trying to take a bicycle aboard a long-distance bus. We have all flubbed the truth and slipped through the grey areas, heart pumping way too fast, in order to get past the pointless red flag that pops up at the mere mention of the word ‘bicycle.’ Most of us would be happily willing to be law-abiding bus-riding citizens, if we didn’t feel like common sense had completely broken down and we were being unreasonably targeted.

So, we hereby issue a challenge to all long-distance bus systems… Sit down and craft a reasonable, non-discriminatory policy that allows your patrons to take bicycles aboard. Then let us know.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)