Continuing from the previous post. There I am. Stood outside a now closed airport with a bike that needs to be towed rather than ridden and 7km separating myself and my AirBnB. A pick up truck (locally known as a ute I have been informed) pulls up. A man is wondering about nearby. A jetlagged induced aura of confidence engulfs me and I ask him “what’s the deal with that truck?”, half expecting it to be the security guard I had been warned about here to close the gates. The man, Will – a Brit visiting from Sydney, informs me that it is his friend, Bex – a local (with a pickup truck). I ask if Kerikeri is mildly on their route tonight and they respond with yes (I have since discovered that it is pretty much the opposite direction and they are being very nice). We pop the bike in the back and I hop in. I then share with them my woes and enjoy a brief period of sharing our life stories. They take me to the Airbnb and we swap numbers in case they can do anymore to help.

Having still not slept for 48 hours, I manically tip the contents of my panniers onto the floor so that I can begin organising myself. But before this task is started, I need dinner. I set off out and make pleasantries with my Airbnb host through her upstairs window. Her and her family are very friendly and take pity on my bike situation. I then walk to Pizza Hut and somewhat chaoticially consume a “hot and spicy vegetarian” (a nickname I might start using for myself) on the way home. Regrettably, the Airbnb host messages offering me to join them for dinner right after this. This would have been nice, but to be fair, I am very smelly and need to shower before enjoying any company. I finish my slaggy pizza and pass out on the bed at 10pm.

The next day, I wake up at 5:30am. As jetlag goes, this is not a bad effort, but I don’t like waking up before the sun. I try to get back to sleep, but my brain isn’t into that. I have gone into overdrive figuring out my plan B. I take a shower and begin rebooking all of my accommodation. Luckily, I manage to do this at no extra cost, which is a triumph. With it still being 7am, I then utilise my time before checkout by setting up my tent to check it is all functional (and no bits are missing…), before reorganising my panniers and accessorising the bike. I get all of my jobs done, except of course the biggy: figuring out how on earth I am going to obtain these missing bike parts as soon as possible.

You may also be waiting for me to address another elephant in the room. Where will I stay whilst I figure this all out? Well, that’s where Will and Bex make a comeback. Having had the concern that I am exactly the kind of person that they may hear about on the news in a few weeks time, they decide out of the goodness of their hearts, to help me not die. Last night, I was offered a bed for the night in Bex and her partner Jake’s cabin and find myself being picked up by Will this next morning. The weather is not representative of the true Kiwi summer, with about 130mm of rain over the first two days I am here. We thus go to a winery and enjoy a tasting selection as well as some stone baked pizzas. I’ve been informed that the view of the Bay of Islands is greatly improved when fog isn’t blocking it. Following our meal, the pizza chef approaches me having overheard the conversation and mentions that he did the Tour Aotearoa, the same bike route as me, last year. His enthusiasm is encouraging and he says it took him five weeks. This makes the 33 days I am due to end up with to ride it look a little more achievable.

Then follows a chilled out evening featuring plenty of re-planning, re-booking, a solid one hour nap and a dynamite risotto courtesy of Will. I learn that Bex is driving to Auckland tomorrow to pick up her kids and I thus find my route to the missing bike parts.

Following a slightly anxiety filled night of worrying that these bike parts might not fit, we get up and set off early to the city. A three hour drive is a lovely way to bond and what’s more is that our route takes us out of the storm, arriving in a sunny, dry Auckland. We pick up the kids, then pick up the bike parts, then head to Becky’s mum’s for the night. Becky’s mum, Alex, and her partner, Cliff, live on a farm. Having enjoyed one essential Kiwi experience of visiting a winery, it is time to enjoy a second – farming. Today, Cliff is giving his sheep their vaccinations. He has to move them from one pen to another in order to distinguish which sheep has been done. We help (or more likely hinder) the process of herding the sheep. The kids, Josh and Jaden, teach me that the way to herd sheep is to stand behind them and shout “Get outta here, sheep” which should be read as “gitt-au-da-ere-sheeep”. They then give me a tour of Cliff’s tractor and introduce Bex and I to a new game they have invented called “kickit”. This is essentially cricket, but with your feet playing the role of the bat. Genius, really.

Becky’s mum then cooks a delicious meal and the children go off to bed. The next day, we make our farewells and begin our four hour car journey back to Northland. This is somewhat slowed down by the heavy rain, but we make it, with the help of a gas station pastry along the way.

We arrive back and reunite with Jake and Will. The moment of truth has arrived. Will these washers fit? I head straight into the garden and start assembling as per the instructions in the WhatsApp video the bike shop man had sent me. Success! I ride around the garden and all is well. I finally have a functioning bike. I collect my bags and set her up with all of the luggage for the first time as a mobile steed. I am ready to set off!

This is a bitter-sweet moment. Through all of the palaver induced by these missing bike parts, I have met a wonderful group of people and experienced a joyous first few days in New Zealand. I reflect on what my alternative would have been. I would have landed in a foreign country on the other side of the world and started my trip with three days of cycling in torrential rain, with the nearest person I know being literally thousands of miles away. Imagine how isolating and disappointing that would be. I now have an amazing network here and have experienced the very best of Kiwi hospitality. I had heard way in advance that the Kiwis are amongst the most welcoming on the planet, but one cannot comprehend just how generous they are until you experience it. I was the strange, sweaty, sleep-deprived man lingering around at the airport after closing time and I have now spent the past two days staying in their home and meeting the family. I will really miss this lot.

With the bike loaded up, I make my farewells and begin my first ride.