So let’s have a review of my current physical state. I’m definitely quite stiff in the mornings (sorry if that’s too much information). I notice the weight of my legs as I lift my feat up to put my socks on. The saddle sores are real. I touch that part of my skin every morning as I gently rub in the soothe and lube gel. That skin is tough. Bumpy. Dry. I am excited for it to start healing again. My legs are covered in sandfly bites, scabs from where I have scratched said bites and a few more from where the studs on my pedals have rubbed against my calves when I’ve pushed the bike. I have picked up a few cuts and bruises from the trails and for whatever reason, my left hand is dysfunctional. I wake up in the morning and my pinky and ring finger are less willing to move than the others. This usually fades throughout the day, though perhaps it’s just being covered by the pins and needles that probably uncoincidentally appear in the same spot. I have loved this adventure, but my body is telling me to stop now. My body just needs to learn to hang on in there. Just for a little longer.

Will and I cycle out of Wanaka and head for the Crown Range. We begin on a gentle gradient and get through the first few hundred meters of elevation gain fairly quickly. Then, as we reach the last few kilometers, the gradient increases and our hard work translates into a pathetic 5km/h. Cars pass frequently along this touristy stretch and we find ourselves constantly observing the road, as opposed to the (honestly, slightly underwhelming) scenery around us. When going over the Haast pass yesterday, the guidebook suggests that one takes a moment to remember the explorer A. P. Harper who first went over by bike 65 years before the road was built. I’d wager that New Zealand summits are less perilous without the road. The drivers are shit.

We reach the top, having received no toots of encouragement from car horns along the way. One man did at least give the rock on hand signal through his window and a kindly woman who had passed us earlier does take the time to congratulate us as we tuck into our snacks. At least she is impressed.

We take some time to rest and Will uses my gorilla tape to hold his shoes together. I think it’s time for a new pair. We then gear up again and get excited for the imminent downhill through the mountains – the view is definitely better on this side. Then, following a brief journey in the wrong direction, we hit today’s gravel track.

Feeling a little too confident about the remaining daylight hours, we move slowly, embracing a chance to take photos and film some content as we cycle. At one point, in an attempt to get a nice shot of the scenery, I nearly lose my drone again as it decides to ignore me and start gently and indefinitely rising into the sky. I have never wanted its batteries to run out more. Luckily, after a few minutes, in which Will mostly just laughs at me and films the protesting drone, I am able to regain control and land her safely.

We then take a detour to the Four Square in Arrowtown and I drink a litre of cranberry juice. We are both pretty smashed at this point. That hill took away our energy. We have over 30km left to do today and it is all on gravel cycle track. Also, it’s nearly 7pm. I have accepted that we will be riding into the darkness tonight. We mount our bikes and embark on yet another river trail. This one is beautiful, all the more so during the sunset light, but I have hit the wall. I just about manage to enjoy the views as I trail behind Will up the ascents. He feeds me sweets in the hope that the easy to digest sugar will fuel me through this last section. If we didn’t have a ferry booked at 7am tomorrow from Queenstown, I’d be tempted to give up and camp here tonight. It isn’t sensible cycling when tired. I’ve been going a bit delusional of late. Two days ago, having spent a long period staring straight along the road, I then looked down at the ground and mistook my handlebars for a bird swooping underneath me. At that point, Will insisted I have some sugar.

The sun sets and we continue in the darkness along the gravel. I catch something of a second wind and am able to keep up with Will. Good thing too, his bike lights are brighter than mine. I hear him ahead protesting and groaning occasionally and then find my face being ransacked by a cloud of sandflies. He has become something of a siren, warning me when to squint my eyes.

Following two hours of riding in the dark, we finish the track off with an unexpected large slope and then opt for the well-lit cycle path into Queenstown. We make it to our hostel shortly after 10pm and take our bikes into the lift in order to get them to the incredibly poorly accessible bike storage on the floor below. Still in our cycling gear, and wanting to avoid spending too much time at the hostel, or crèche as Will puts it, we set off to Fergburger. This is supposedly something of a must do in New Zealand, but you can live without it. We then return and head to bed just after midnight, with a generous five hours of sleep ahead of us. Just what you need with a 100km cycle ride tomorrow.

It is 24th February. This is the last big trail of the trip. My alarm goes off and I perform a stealthy exit as not to disturb the slumber of the gap year kids. I meet Will at the bike storage and we head up to reception and cycle onto the marina. We are excited to arrive at an epic steam boat, with exhaust already billowing from the funnel. Our first disappointment of the day is that this is not our boat. This boat doesn’t leave until 9am and we need more cycle time than that, so we are on the earlier and cheaper staff boat just next to it. This is still a fun experience and we are allowed to head onto the deck to enjoy the views of the mountains (provided we can tolerate the wind).

There are a few other cyclists on the boat – the two men on e-bikes from the other day and two European women. We arrive and make use of the last facilities in a long time before cycling on. I am doing some stretches as Will charges his phone and get chatting with one of the women, Melony, from Holland. I mention that I have a bit of a stiff back and neck at the moment and she simply replies with “sit”. The next thing I know is that I’m getting a massage. Will pops out from around the corner wondering what he needs to say to have a go next.

Despite being two sleep-deprived idiots, we have each retained just enough energy to take in the scenery on this last off road trail. The opening stretch is truly beautiful. We cycle along the perimeter of the lake with mountains lining the horizon. This is a different world to one month ago, when we were cycling along 90 Mile Beach. As always, I am impressed by New Zealand. We cross a river and begin the climb up to our final high point of the trip, Von Hill. It’s all downhill from here. Triumphant to have made it here before midday, we take a rest and get chatting with our e-bike buddies who have stayed here to enjoy the view.

We then bash out a nice downhill stretch and set ourselves a 40 mile goal before lunch. This is cut short by 1km as I come to a sharp stop, with my pannier rack scraping against my wheel. It has come off again. Luckily (very luckily), the bolt hasn’t snapped this time. It has just worked itself loose. I have spares and just need to place a new one in. The lunch spot isn’t ideal, in that it is right in the burning sun, but it will have to do whilst I get this sorted. As we are eating, we see sheep approaching us in the distance. Upon taking a closer inspection, we realise that there are thousands of them. We sit and enjoy our lunch with the entertainment of swarms of sheep passing us on the road. I am quite pleased that we are not cycling through this stampede.

The sunny sky turns to grey and the wind picks up for our last leg of the day. We are blessed to learn that the wind is mostly coming from behind. We glide along, hardly pedalling, with the aid of the wind pushing us to our destination. We reach our hotel in Mossburn at about 5pm. This is a triumph compared to yesterday. I take the chance to wash some clothes and make some calls to sort out a bike box for my flight home in two days. Will also cracks on with some admin and we later reunite for dinner in the pub, joined by a special guest.

Mikayla, sister of my first cycling buddy Sherree, who I met in Auckland, lives nearby and is joining us this evening. We meet in the bar and she immediately comments on just how much my energy level has dipped since back then. I think she’s right. I’m pretty dead. But the evening we all enjoy together lifts my spirits, even though physically lifting my body is a bit hard. We tuck into an epic feast and have a merry time. Tom the barman, who knows Mikayla, is dishing up the banter and queries my choice of a prosecco. We play a game of pool (I’ve still never won a game of pool) and then make our farewells. I am thankful for all of the friends I have made on this journey.

As I get into bed, I feel a sense of relief that there is just one day separating my body and some much needed rest. 136km of pedalling left and one day to do it in. I hope I can make it.