It’s day zero (with tomorrow being day one). It is my final day of pedalling to get to the starting point. The journey: Ahipara to Cape Reinga Lighthouse.

I begin riding at 7:30am. It’s important to plan your journey around the tide times. Setting off three hours before low tide will give you seven hours to cross the beach. I leave the campsite, turn left, continue 400m, turn right, continue another 400m onto the beach, then turn right. Satnav voice: “make a right in 82km time”. This is Ninety Mile Beach. It is in fact 50 miles, but if you do it both ways, like I did, it’s definitely at least 90 miles (I’m a mathematician).

I pedal away and keep myself entertained by exchanging voice notes with my pal Sophia. I also started busting out the tunes from my phone. There’s no one to disturb here. There’s no one for miles. About every half an hour, a car will go past, often waving as they drive by. Unlike on the road, I am thankful for these cars. Without them, I’d feel very isolated. Each time I pause to rest, I look in either direction and see nothing but beach. Infinite beach. The cars are the only connection to humanity that I have right now.

Being on the official Tour Aotearoa route, I am finally starting to pass other bikers starting their journeys. This starts with a guy about my age, an English couple, then later, a pair of Canadians who stop to say hello. I later learned (from the English couple when I met them the day after) that both of these Canadians are named Bob.

After a fairly exhausting and repetitive six hours, I reach the end of the beach. Only 30km left today. It turns out that these 30km are due to be awful. I turn right onto the Sand Dunes. The course route is literally a river flowing through the landscape. The bed of the river is soft sand and I regularly find myself coming to a sharp halt as my back wheel sinks with all of the weight on it. This stretch is only 4km, but takes me over an hour. It doesn’t help that I am going against the flow of the river. With a pair of very wet shoes and a sandy bicycle, I arrive at the gravel track. A very enthusiastic Kiwi man questions my actions and is highly encouraging of my incoming adventure. Following this charming pick me up, I then ascend the gravel track and make it onto the road. At this point, I’m beaten. It’s 23km to go and the last thing I need is a hill. As it happens, there are several hills. Steep hills. When I am 6km away from the starting point, Cape Reinga Lighthouse, I decide to pause and have a sit down in the only bit of shade I have seen in seven hours. This turns into a nap and a passing car stops in order to ensure that I’m not dead. Cute.

I then pick myself up and commit to the last leg of my journey. Minibuses go past transporting other riders to the starting point. I would have chosen this option if I was either rich or had friends.

I eventually reach the carpark before the lighthouse and make use of their facilities to fill my water bottles. I am a thirsty boy. I then collect myself and ride the 800m down to the starting point.

It’s a calm evening. I get chatting with an older couple and even take their daughter’s number down, should I need somewhere to stay in Christchurch. Classic Kiwis. Later, a man named Luke arrives. He’s in his 50s and is also quite keen to ride the beach. I advise him to do it over two days. With the sun starting to set, I make the final descent to my campsite. The 200m elevation loss down the gravel road will come back for me tomorrow morning.

I setup my damp tent at 9pm, take a cold shower and enjoy an evening meal of protein shake, bread dipped in Flora and chlorinated water on the side. This is a low point. To make the correct tide time, I need to set off at 5:30am tomorrow. It’s 10pm now. Where is the George time? I get chatting with a couple from Colorado in the tent next to me, also cycling. They had seen me from the minibus. Their pleasantries and good chat are the lift I need before bed time.

It’s the next day and I get up at 5:30am (oops) and leave at 6:30am, having already waved off my American pals. The ascent up gravel path is vile, as is to be expected, but I am treated to a pretty sunrise at least. I then manage to whizz through the next 16km of hilly road. I arrive at the Sand Dunes and take a moment to snack, suncream up and chat with a couple having breakfast next to me. Croissants are best served with a bright red Brit next to you wearing tight shorts and slathering himself up with suncream.

The Dunes are more fun the second time around. I think going in the direction of the river flow helps. Then, following a valient effort, after only 40 minutes, I make it back onto the beach and meet a man at the start of his own adventure – walking across New Zealand. No, thank you. I wave him goodbye and pedal into the distance.

So it begins again. 82km of nothing but sand. I push through 30km with no breaks (as in rests – I do have a fully functioning bike by this point, I must clarify). It’s amazing how this affects your back. The twists and turns and ups and downs of a typical cycle ride keep you moving, so nothing gets too sore. 82km of flat beach will not do this for you. I find myself mostly pausing to stretch, with nothing to mark the rest points. Not reaching the top of the hill or passing through a town. All I can do is set distance goals. Each time I break, there is nothing to see. Just sand and sea. No shade to enjoy. And once again, I find myself rationing my water. This is an isolating place. The sun shines intensely and there is absolutely nowhere to shield from it for tens of kilometers (at the time of writing, I literally have swollen lips from the dry, salty air and sunburn).

After six long hours, I finally reach the end. In theory, I am 20 minutes late, but there is still enough beach to ride on. The high tide didn’t get me today. I pull into the campsite and make good of their little shop. I buy myself a “Cyclone” which is the southern hemisphere equivalent of a Twister ice lolly. It hits the spot. Having had an early start, I arrive at 3:40pm and have plenty of time to rest, hydrate, set my tent up, and clean the sand off of my filthy, filthy bike. I can’t wait to have a functioning chain again. One that doesn’t make a noise as you pedal.

A man pitches his tent on the site next to mine. He’s also cycle touring, on a road bike from South to North. He’s made it 5,000km without a single flat tyre. This makes my 2.5km stretch at the start all the more pitiful. Later, in the kitchen, I meet an English couple. It’s the pair I had cycled past yesterday – Ash and Andy. They are cooking shell fish that they have foraged from the beach. I’m glad they had found some form of entertainment amongst the pedalling. I am told that they had played eye spy, which they apparently exhausted quite quickly. Ash also experimented with pedalling with her eyes closed and Andy repeatedly found her trailing off into the sea.

Every rider I have spoken to since has agreed that the beach is a psychologically damning cycle ride. I have not yet spoken to anyone else who has attempted it in a single day and certainly not twice. No one else is so foolish.