And now I journey alone. I say farewell to my Airbnb hosts, Jenny and Bruce, and begin my first leg of the day. This starts with scenic and quiet country roads, before hitting a T-intersection in Hobbit land. What happens next is hell on Earth. 15km of busy highway. To be fair, it does have something of a cycle lane, but the cars are passing fast and frequently. I push through quickly and finally make it back onto a quiet road. Along this road, a trail begins in parallel – the Waikato River Trail. At first, I wonder why I don’t just stick with the sealed road up hill, instead of the rocky, bumpy gravel trail, but then, the route veers off down to the river and the fun begins. This little 7km section is what I came here for. The course takes you on a winding route along the riverside, offering stunning views and wild jungle. “You’re hard-core man, you’re hard-core” shouts a passing mountain biker as he sees the panniers on the back of my bike. To be fair, doing this with 20kg of luggage, I am hard-core.

I reach a point on the trail that allows me to sneak through the bushes and onto the road in a little village called Arapuni. I’m on the hunt for The Rhubarb Cafe. I see a string of bikes lined up outside it and feel right at home. I notice no one else has baggage attached though. I am evidently the only one here for more than a weekend trip. I find myself taken aback by people’s confidence to leave a bike unlocked and unattended. That would be a brave move in London. I fill myself up with a milkshake, a sort of quiche tart and a decent wedge of carrot cake. All of it is heavenly. I chat with other bikers before hitting the road again.

The next section is the standard mixture of hilly sealed and gravel road. I climb to a local maximum on gravel, chatting with other day trip bikers along the way, before then bombing it down the sealed road at over 40km/h. At the bottom of this hill lies a bridge crossing the Waikato River. I take a moment to pause and observe the impressive valley before continuing to Waipapa Dam, where I take a proper break and suncream up.

It’s about 4pm. I thought with only 16km to go and a modest (by New Zealand standards) 250m ascent, I’d be in Mangakino in less than an hour, way ahead of the shops closing at 7pm. I then realise that the route does not want to take me along the road. It wants to take me along the 19.6km grade 4 mountain bike trail veering off from it. Well, I must stick to the official Tour Aotearoa route, I suppose.

This is supposed to be a biking holiday. Not a walking holiday. The steep up and down climbs and general gravel-induced intensity is salvaged by the absolutely cosmic experience of pedalling through thick jungle-like forest. The course is amazing. It takes me nearly three hours, partly due to the previous 80km I have done today catching up with me, but largely due to my regularly inspecting the breathtaking scenery around me.

Having spent the past few hours having not crossed paths with a single soul, I am somewhat relieved to make it back into a town. With little time to spare, I make it to the only supermarket for miles and stock up on bread, chocolate, apples and cereal bars (I’m roughing it a bit for the next few nights). To my ecstasy, there is a fish n chip shop next door that is still open and I relish in the chance to have another hot meal today. For the first time on this trip, I cycle with a shopping bag over the handle bar and make my way to the freedom campsite. I am relieved to see that it’s busy and that there are toilets and drinking water (even if the water pressure is abysmal). I see two bikes with panniers attached and decide to say hello to the owners – a pair of road cyclists who have been bike-touring cities across the world for nearly a year now. We chat and they invite me to set up camp up next to them. I tuck into my dinner as I unpack my home from the bottom of my bike bags.

There are no showers at the campsite. I see a few kids swimming in the lake and make the judgement call that this is probably my best means of being clean. I had better get a move on before the sun sets. I enjoy a little swim and then get myself into some clean clothes and tuck myself up. To the frustration of myself and the biking couple in the next tent along, some teenagers arrive for a spot of late night fishing and make an awful lot of noise whilst doing so. I pop in my earplugs and catch up on writing the blog (mentioning the blog in the blog – very meta). When this is done, I take myself outside to pass time stargazing. For the first time in my life, I can see the galactic cloud with my naked eye. It didn’t appear at a time that I expected, but it’s an important one ticked off of the bucket list for me.

The next day, I am woken by the sounds of some early morning jet skiers. The sun is shining and the fog over the lake is clearing. I hop straight onto my bike and pedal into town to visit a laundrette. It is fair to say that cycling up hill is a lot easier when you leave your luggage at the bottom.

I arrive at the laundrette. To my dismay, none of the washing machines will take payment. This is meant to happen via a fancy online system which is evidently failing. I call the customer service number and instantly get through to someone. He recognises a glitch and turns the machine on for me. Free washing – what a win. As I wait, I pop into the cafe next door and have myself a slap up breakfast. I won’t have cooking facilities for quite some time now, so it’s good to have something proper.

I collect my clothes and head back for the campsite. I then gear up my bike and set onto the next trail. This one includes quite an epic bridge. Though, I will admit it is a wobbly one. Having initially gone the wrong way, I then arrive at a gravel road, which quickly takes me onto a sealed road on which I struggle to make progress given the stiff headwind. The road then eventually ends and descends into gravel, which descends into 4WD track, which descends into a bridge so narrow that I can scarcely fit my loaded bike through it.

What comes next is an ascent through thick, unmaintained forest. The track is narrow and windy and the crickets are deafening. Through them can be heard the weirdest birds I’ve ever heard. It’s like the forest has Tourette’s. I take a break, sun cream up, then begin a big ascent.

A short 500m detour from the route lies a point of significance – the centre of the North Island. This was calculated by creating a model of the island and hanging it from a string at various points until it remained in a balanced state. In this sense, this point is the centre of mass of the island.

With not far to go, I push up the final few hills and am delighted to pass fellow biker Paora along the way. I am pleased someone else is pushing it as hard as I am. We ride the final downhill together before turning different directions at the very end, as he heads for the cabins and I head for the Department of Conversation (or DOC) campsite. With a huge area to myself, I set up my tent and attempt to wash myself under the tap. As I am sorting out my bits and bobs, two more cyclists pull in. These two are geared up so clearly also on an expedition, but following a brief conversation, not the Tour Aotearoa. In any case, we are all here to ride the Timber Trail tomorrow.

With all my jobs done, I select the picnic table in the prettiest spot and tuck into my thrilling meal of six English muffins with butter, followed by half a chocolate bar. Healthy.