With my ferry check in closing at 3pm this afternoon, I decide to play it safe and start early. I leave the Airbnb just after 6:30am, as dawn breaks, and say goodbye to the host who is heading to work. I then cycle about 10km along the road to the start of the Remutaka Rail Trail. I park up my bike and use the public toilet. Public toilets in these remote areas are just toilet basins over a large tank. When going to bed at a campsite, try to avoid pointing your head torch directly down the hole. You don’t need to see that. I am surprised that I need a wee already. Usually, I sweat so much throughout the day that despite drinking a gallon of water on route, I probably urinate at most twice before 7pm – something that every other rider I have spoken to has also experienced. But not today. This morning it is cold and damp and my body is not sweating.

I begin the single track ride up the 400m ascent. After about 500m, I cross paths with a dog, Nemo, then his friend Barnaby joins, then shortly after their human, Ritchie. I chat with Ritchie for a while. He’s very jealous of the day I have ahead as he returns home to his laptop to work. Barnaby then protests our imminent departure by standing between the frame and front wheel of my bike. I guess I’m staying put until he says so.

I enjoy a leisurely ascent through what I’d describe as Scottish highland fog. I never notice the ascent on trails. I take it easy and enjoy the scenery. On roads, I push myself too hard going up hill because the cars raise the speed standard too high.

About half way, I decide it is a good time to test out my new drone, the DJI Neo. At £150, it’s cheap and cheerful compared to other drones. The camera quality is comparable to that of a phone and it certainly isn’t built for high altitude cinematic landscape shots. Instead, it’s equipped with plenty of AI features that allow it to follow and track you as you groove around from a modest height of about five meters above the ground. It can also be controlled from a phone which is handy. I start by instructing it to follow me as I cycle up the hill (I am impressed later on when it can keep up with me riding downhill). I then test the feature in which it follows you from the side. I am in an open space with one obstacle in sight – a large wooden pole. It immediately soars right into it, as if on purpose. Luckily, no harm seems to have been done. With its sickly sounding whirring blades, like it is struggling to make peace with its own existence each time it leaves the palm of my hand, I’d describe it as a cute little simpleton.

As I cycle on, I am met with my first railway tunnel. They do say to charge your headtorch ahead of this ride. I see their point. I carefully cycle through the tunnels and up the gravel track until I reach the summit. It does feel like cheating when you in fact cycle under the summit through the tunnel.

I enjoy the rail trail a lot and find myself saddened when it is over. The road to Wellington is now all cycle path. It starts along a river with the road on the other side. I try to keep focused on the river and ignore the ugly road. This becomes impossible, however, as I reach a point in which the trail is closed and I have to cycle through Upper Hutt. The route then wiggles through various parks and I take a break to say hello to the sea again. I then reach the truly ugly cycle lane along Highway 1 that takes you towards the ferry terminal. This highway has a decent size shoulder and the handbook says plenty of people choose it over the cycle lane. The cycle lane is notably bumpier, but I enjoy having the barrier between myself and the cars passing. I still push out 20km/h so it’s not that bad.

As I am approaching the ferry terminal, I pass a French cafe. With an hour and a half to spare, I decide to take lunch. I enjoy a quiche and the best almond croissant I have ever eaten. Jill Barber starts playing on the radio and I am reminded of sunny Summer mornings enjoying a coffee and pastry on Poohsticks with Douglas (according to Spotify wrapped, Jill Barber was the artist I listened to most in the Summer of 2024). I miss those times, but I must remember that the UK is still in the thick of Winter and the world I am fantasising about does not exist right now and shan’t for another three months).

I cycle the last 2km to the ferry and check in. I ask where to go with my bike and the woman at the reception points outside and says “where the other bike is”. Having just done 80km, I sort myself out first and a lad in the waiting area waves at me. Either he has mistaken me for someone he knows or he is the owner of the other bike and has recognised another pedaller. We start chatting and quickly confirm that we are on the same journey. Furthermore, we have the same end date as well so I have no doubt that we will be crossing paths many times in the fortnight ahead. Following our first exchange, I am also delighted to have met someone else who foolishly cross-threaded a pedal when assembling their bike and lost it before the 20km mark. The story of how he got his fixed is a lot more terrifying than mine.

Something I enjoy on this trip is the way that various threads tie up. As I entered Whakahoro last week and was greeted by Stuart, he asked if I had lost a Garmin on the route. He has since been on a mission to find the owner. As my new friend Finn and I are reminiscing about the horrible gravel path into Whakahoro, he tells me that it was so bumpy that his Garmin came clean off of his handlebars and he never saw it again. You can see how this story ends. Furthermore, he is amused to learn that I am the guy who lost the drone on the Timber Trail. I need a better defining characteristic than that. I prefer being the idiot who did the entire length of 90 Mile Beach in both directions two days in a row. It makes me sound hard-core instead of like a simpleton millennial.

We finally get to board the ferry and lock our bikes up on the railway carriage deck. We then proceed up the stairs and set sail. The ferry has a modestly priced cafe and with my food supply in my bags running low (I’m down to three cereal bars and half a jar of olives), I have a vegetable lasagne for dinner. I enjoy getting to know Finn and learning that other TA riders are nearby. I then see in the sounds from the outside deck.

The ferry arrives and Finn and I part ways. With very few cars about, I cycle on another 16km to my campsite at a leisurely pace, taking in the South Island views along the way and making a small dent in the next 1358km.

I arrive at camp at about 8:30pm and setup my tent next to two Belgians. I apologise for the close proximity – the campsite is small and fills quickly – but they’re cool with it and we get chatting. I then head into my tent and start planning ahead. On the horizon, a perilous journey awaits: the road to Nelson over Maungatapu saddle – so steep that bikes need to be walked both up and down over it. I had been advised against this by Kathi from the Timber trail, but with the alternative being a busy state highway with no shoulder, I have decided that if I am going to die, I am going to die well. I will set off on this leg of the journey early in the morning, allowing myself plenty of time for completion. With 40km separating myself and the start and the desperate need for a lie in, I decide to have an easy day tomorrow, with Thursday being the epic saddle day.

I pop my coffee bag (like a tea bag, but full of coffee – excellent for travelling) into my cup to prepare my morning brew. This is something that I have been getting very into with my lack of cooking facilities. The night time temperature is cold enough that the brew is ideal for drinking first thing. It beats the caffeine pills I had packed originally.

I then settle into my sleep and am woken by birds chirping at 6am. It is notably colder on the South Island and I slip my sweater on inside my sleeping bag. My hopes for a lie in have gone, but I feel well-rested and enjoy a gorgeous morning view from my tent, sipping on my morning brew and polishing off those last few cereal bars.