Today is going to be an interesting one. The journey starts with the Kaiwhakauka track, a grade 4 mountain biking course taking you from Whakahoro to the famous Bridge to Nowhere, with a steep climb followed by a bumpy descent. On account of this bridge leading to nowhere, the only way to get back onto a road again is via the river. This means that we all have jet boats booked for later in the day. Mine is at 2pm and I have decided to set off at 7am. Others have already left by the time I wake up. No one wants to miss their crossing and get stranded.

I wake up and do most of my morning bits and bobs (such as breakfast) inside of the tent, fearful of the cold outside. I then eventually pull the zip and am faced with a ghostly, glowing morning fog. I hastily pack up the (still quite moist) tent and make good on my goal of leaving at 7am. A short ride along the grass out of the campsite and I am onto the trail. The sign estimates 5-7 hours to complete. I have this amount of time. I feel relaxed.

This is the first time during this entire trip in which I have felt the cold in my hands. It is a chilly morning and I try to push hard in order to warm myself up. This is tricky on a mountain bike course though. The route twists and turns and has some intense ups and downs. I am doing a very bad job of ensuring I am in gear one when I reach the uphill parts. They come around too fast. Furthermore, my bike is making a weird noise in gear one, and this is the gear I need the most today.

Something I don’t like about this part of the trail is that all of the bridges come at right angles to the path, meaning I have to slow down right beforehand and thus experience the wobble of the panniers as I cross the narrow stretch. After a few of these and one instance in which I choose to walk my bike, I come across a couple already confident that they will miss their 3:30pm jet boat – the last one of the day. To be fair, I never see them again after this.

I enter onto some farmland, having spent the first 10km or so in forest. The morning sun shining through the trees makes the entire landscape twinkle. I notice filing cabinets lining the landscape. I have seen a lot of these around New Zealand and I still don’t know what they are. It’s an odd place to keep paperwork. I then get over this thought process and focus on pushing myself up the last bit of hill. I’m finally hot enough to remove my sweater.

As I reach a little turning, I see yet more filing cabinets and realise, at long last, what they are. There’s a big clue in front of them. They’re beehives. To be fair to myself, I don’t see any bees. It’s 9am. They could still be asleep.

As I approach the summit, I see Paora, taking a photo of the Maori flag – something I am impressed that he has carried with him all of this time. It’s Waitangi Day today, marking 185 years to the day since the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, of which one signature was Paora’s great, great, great, great grandfather. I think I counted that right. The treaty was put in place with the hope for peace and community, ensuring both the British and Maori could share New Zealand in partnership.

We are in the first spot for miles with phone signal and I take the opportunity to let everyone back home know that I am safe and well and inform the jet boat people that I am running on time, as per their request. I then bid farewell to Paora and do the very last bit of the climb before beginning the descent. I had been warned that the way down can be slower than the way up. I see why. This is a bumpy track. It is also hardened clay. We are lucky that it has not rained in a week, else we would be sliding everywhere. We had been warned that in the wrong conditions, this route is something of a chain breaker.

I take rest to apply some suncream and gorge on some snacks. Paora catches up, joins me in a snack and then steams ahead. Another couple pass who have come from the road near the peak – a Kiwi couple named Baz and Margie. I pedal on, overtake them for a bit and then let them go ahead as I meet my nemesis of this trail. For some reason, the suspension bridges on this track are supported by wooden beams that are too close together to fit bike handlebars through. This isn’t too much of an issue, generally speaking, as one can just twist the handlebars upon entering. My problem is my panniers…

I cannot be bothered to take these off and instead opt for carrying the bike over by lifting it. This takes some strength, with a good 20kg of luggage at the back. On the fifth or sixth bridge, the front wheel slips whilst exiting and the bags come down and crush my arm. I have a nasty bruise now, but I will live. For the last two bridges, I just take the panniers off.

Having grown some confidence about making our boat rides, Paora and I are concerned to find the trail getting slower and slower, with the silly bridges to compete with, but also occasional sections which are signposted insisting that cyclists dismount and walk. With my bike being harder to control when walking than when cycling, I largely ignore these. I also feel that the signs are old, given that each of these sections now have railings on the cliff edge – something that can’t be said for the trail as a whole.

As I am nearing the end, I see a group of people in the bushes and one of them confidentially shouts “George”. It can’t have been Baz and Margie as I haven’t told them my name yet. It turns out to be my boat driver. It would appear that I am tagging along on a tour and enjoy the free biscuits provided. We then disperse with a time to meet on the boat landing later and I take some time to explore the ‘Bridge to Nowhere’. Fact: it was originally built to connect a small village to the rest of the world, but by the time of completion, the people had left and the village was gone. So it goes nowhere, much like most of these posts.

I cycle into a little forest, which has winding wooden tracks. At one point, edging slowly round a tight bend, I lose my balance due to the weight of the panniers and I fall off of the bike and off of the wooden decking and into the forest. Luckily, no harm is done to me or the bike. Even more luckily, my GoPro is recording the whole thing. Picking myself up and brushing off my embarrassment, I press on to the landing where I am met by Paora and Stuart, amongst some non-cycling civilians, jetting off on their 1:30pm boat.

I have a little sit down, suncream up and take the bags off of my bike. Our driver pulls in and loads the bikes onto the boat. As a man who spends a good portion of his time driving a vessel that does not exceed 4mph, it is fair to say that I am somewhat amazed by the power of this machine. We soar down the river at great pace, speeding up each time we hit rapids or when the water gets shallow. Going faster makes the boat sit higher in the water, so this is shockingly sensible. We do slow down for the canoeists and kayakers however. At the start of the trip, I’m chuffed to see Ruby and John, from the campsite yesterday, across the river, pottering along.

Following an epic journey through what could have been the Amazon river, we moor up and I gear up my bike again. I bid farewell to the driver and begin my last 30km of the day on flat road. I welcome back my old friend, gear eight, who I have not made an acquaintance with in quite some time, having spent the past week doing trails, and I cycle along bump free.

This final ride is tough. It may be down to my fatigue or the horrible headwind, but after about 20km, I decide to pullover and oil my chain. I thought it could hold out until I finished today’s travels, but have decided that there is no reason I should make life hard for myself. The chain is filthy from the tracks and needs some love. As sods law would have it, the oil is at the bottom of my bag. Classic. What also doesn’t help is that it is in the second bag I try looking in. Then, with the chain lubed up, I add some pressure to the back tyre, repack my panniers and press on.

It is definitely the headwind that is the problem. Even going downhill, I am having to pedal to move anywhere at all. Having had a long day, with nearly eleven hours having elapsed since I began, this is tough. I am desperate to get to my campsite. The views on this ride have been stunning, but I need rest now. With evening approaching, I make it to the turn off and descend a brutally steep gravel track. It feels dodgy going down with all this gear on the bike. I am also not looking forward to going up it again tomorrow morning.

There is a quirk to this campsite: it is on the other side of the river to the road. Upon arrival, one needs to hit a ginormous gong in order to notify the owners, Jane and Kelly, of their presence. You then speak through a walkie talkie (there is no phone signal here) and ride a cable car across the river when ready. I arrive at the same time as a British pair, Charles and Lynn, and offer to take one of their bags with me to save up some space on their pilgrimage right after. I ride the cable car over the river and take in the scenic view. I am then greeted by Jane and Kelly, and Jane shows me around.

The campsite is gorgeous, with lots of little bits to explore. There are orange, apple and avocado trees everywhere and chickens roaming around. I setup my tent and enjoy a hot shower up in the forest. I then make myself some avocado and rice filled flat breads for dinner and enjoy a bottle of wine with Charles and Lynn, who are a pretty awesome pair. At times like this, I wish I had more time on this trip, because I could stay in this place forever.