Let’s begin where we left off. Following a sleepless night (or morning or afternoon or whatever it was), I land safely in Auckland. To my surprise, I have to collect all of my hold luggage in order to immediately begin the tight biosecurity checks. This is cumbersome, but uneventful. I use the opportunity to grab a few bike bits from the luggage, such as my pannier rack, before checking in the bag again. I then linger in the airport for an hour before catching a bus to the bike shop. Whilst I am waiting for the bus, I hear the announcement saying “last call for George Macaulay”. Later, losers.

I arrive at 99 Bikes and am met by a friendly team. I test a couple of rides and then carefully begin selecting the right pedals, pannier rack (mine literally broke in my hands upon arrival – it is time to let go) and other tools and accessories for the journey. I then dismantle my steed and pop her in a bike box. This means pedals off (to be fair, they were already off), wheels off, tyres deflated and handlebar twisted. Unfortunately, with the wheels being so massive, I actually have to take the handlebars clean off. This is an important plot point. Remember this. I then book an uber to the airport as I don’t fancy carrying the box all the way to the to the bus stop. The uber driver is very excited about cycling and provides a false impression of the Kiwi drivers’ attitude towards bikes. I then check in my gigantic travelling companion and follow this up by doing something very clever, which reduces the severity of the incoming situation about 10-fold. I check the location of the air tags placed inside of my hold luggage. They are still in Auckland…

I head over to baggage management and enquire. There is some confusion. I am still not sure if they took the bags off of the plane having realised my absence or if the bags ever made it onto that plane at all? In any case, the staff are friendly and helpful and happily add the bags to my approaching flight with zero hassle or financial blow.

After a two hour wait at the airport, I then proceed to the final flight: Auckland to Bay of Islands, in the North. To my surprise, there is no security to pass and the plane only seats about 40 of us. The steward kindly allows me to move to another empty seat after take off so I can enjoy the stunning views from the window. I feel a great deal of excitement about the land I am due to explore. We then endure a bumpy landing and arrive in an airport the size of a small town bus station. There is no luggage carousel. The staff simply move the bags into a storage room and we collect them. I reacquire my massive box and my bag that has travelled with me from London. Inside it, two panniers buckled together, and inside them, the star of the show – my multitool. It is time to reassemble this Kinder egg.

I began with the handlebars as this should be easy. It isn’t. Something is not making sense. “OK, we’ll come back to that”, I think to myself. Pedals – easy (if you get your left and right the correct way round). Tyres – hard to reinflate if the brand new pump you bought is still in its packaging and you didn’t think to pack scissors. My old one has to do. This takes some energy, with a disappointing amount of pressure achieved at the end. Wheels – unsurprisingly, the front one goes on in no time at all and the back wheel takes ages. Pannier rack – requires the surprising removal of the bike seat, but all good. Bottle holder – check, phone mount – check, GoPro mount – check, bike lights – check. Two hours later. So what’s going on with these handlebars? I know something isn’t right. I had procrastinated with the other bits. Upon inspection, I make a brutal discovery. I am missing a bit of bike. Specifically, the washer between the bike frame and handlebars. Bugger. Without this, the handlebars aren’t secured and rattle around. A tiny component, but enough to render the bike unusable.

I search around desperately on the ground. I wonder back into the airport scanning everywhere. I then inspect the bike box. Ah. A hole has formed in the bottom corner. Clearly, this has been dragged across the floor and the friction has formed a tear. The sort of tear a washer can easily slip out of. Upon deducing that I am in something of a pickle, I decide to call the bike shop. Despite being an hour after closing time, I am lucky enough to get an answer right away. The man on the phone couldn’t be more useful. I send him photos and he goes through all of the bits and bobs drawers in the shop to find a sensible set of parts. He then disassembles an identical bike to mine in the store to test that these pieces work. Success! Next step – how on earth do I obtain said pieces? I’m still working on that.

So let’s focus on the present. My bike is in one piece and fully mounted with all of the luggage. I ask him if it is safe to cycle 7km to my Airbnb. He says “no”. I could destroy the headset bearings on top of other damage. Not ideal. This leaves me with a dilemma. This is a tiny town and I doubt I’d manage to book a taxi that would come any time soon, let alone one that would take an assembled bike, and there is certainly no public transport. I ask the man on the phone if I can walk the bike. He says that would be fine. Right, there we go then. An hour and a half walk into Kerikeri… or not.

As I am about to set off, a pickup truck pulls in. Hmmm, I may as well try my luck…