Leaving the airport in Auckland, the fresh wind whips us in the face. The sun shines, the clouds flit across the sky and our lungs fill with the scent of ocean and space.
We load our mountain of luggage onto Kathy`s pick up and leave Auckland heading east. The small settlement of Whakatiwai is our destination today. Here Kathy has two acquaintances who kindly accommodate us for one night.
When we reach the small town, grey clouds are gathering and soon it is raining cats and dogs. It’s not a lukewarm, tropical shower, but a cool deluge that makes us put on our woollen jumpers and hats. We sip tea and try to arrive in this country with our heads as well. From here it is about 200 kilometres to Kathy’s farm, where we will spend the next few weeks to regroup. So once again it is now: Bikes out of the boxes, organise luggage, repack and finally load up tent and cooker again. Ian and Jenny – our hosts – leave a first impression of the new country. They are somewhere between retirement and somewhat frustrated final years of work. Ian has had an impressive career as a horse breeder and polo player; large-format photos showing him on horseback next to Prince Charles attest to this. Jenny works in a dog food factory and so we learn some details about this apparently lucrative business. It is not a particularly disgusting list of ingredients that impresses, no – just the opposite: there is a market in the world for dog food with ingredients so noble and exquisite that some feed themselves worse than the dogs of the rich. Manuka honey, cranberries, nuts and other delicacies are just the beginning.
For the first time in months, wine is drunk at the table and a few racist remarks are made. Wine is easy to refuse. But how to react to the “funny” comments about the Indians, Chinese and Maori is something we have to figure out. When was the last time we encountered such narrow attitudes? We scan the countries and encounters of the last 12 months. In Turkey and Iran we encountered the phenomenon “In the East/ in the mountains/ in the next town the people are not as good as here” every now and then. But these were more (unnecessary) warnings and less tangible racism. The last time we encountered this was a long time ago in Greece, when we were repeatedly warned about the supposedly horrible Turks. There, this attitude can be halfway explained by recent history. But here in New Zealand? A consequence of living on an isolated island? Colonial thinking? Simply arrogance? We find no explanations and need a while to digest this doubtful first impression of the Kiwi people.
The thunderstorm clears and the next day we cycle along the sea in sunshine and wind. The temperature is a real joy! We enjoy our first day of cycling in the new country without sweaty streams and instead wearing long sleeves. Fortunately, one of the few new cycle paths passes through here and so we can avoid the uncomfortable road for the most part. Interestingly, New Zealand is the first country where we preemptively fear the traffic, or rather the driving.
Today we are spared the need to look for a place to spend the night: In Thames, the Warmshower host Maurice and his wife Sarah welcome us. It is friendship at first sight and we spend a wonderful evening with the friendly couple. How warming to be able to tell these two cosmopolitan people about our experiences. The trip comes alive again as we reminisce and the melancholy about the imminent end is mixed with pride and confidence that this was not our last trip.
The uncertain island weather promises to hold and so we make a detour to Wahi Beach, more precisely to Athenree. Friends of ours have been living here for a short time with their two children.
By now I am 26 weeks pregnant and the sitting position on the bike is no longer really comfortable. My legs press against my stomach when I pedal, my organs are a bit squashed and I have to go to the toilet all the time. The 72 kilometres are a bit much today and on the sofa with Krystal and Matt I feel that the time has come to literally cut back a bit. From here on we have two flat 50 kilometre riding days ahead of us. That can be done! In the meantime, Louie transports most of our equipment on his bike.
For our last night on the road we fulfil a little dream: we camp wild! Here in New Zealand this is a bit more complicated, as the land is either private and therefore fenced or protected and therefore also unsuitable for camping. In a marae (Maori meeting house) we look in vain for a contact person and so we finally settle down next to a road in a valley next to a dammed stream, out of sight. We are sure that we will remain undiscovered here. Louie thinks the New Zealanders are capable of all sorts of things: angry farmers, drunken teenagers and long-fingered thieves are in his mind’s eye. It’s a wagging feeling that feeds on cumulative news articles. Or are we perhaps slipping into the same pattern we have encountered again and again on our journey? Are we most critical of our own countrymen?
We enjoy our last night in the tent to the fullest. We cook ourselves a risotto, marvel at the New Zealand starry sky, relive memories and wonder what our next stage of life will be like.
Our last day of driving is a glorious spring day. It’s easy riding, the Kaimai range climbs into the blue sky to our left and we enjoy our first legendary “Flat White” in a pretty cafe in Te Aroha next to the mountain of the same name. We follow the “Hauraki Railway” cycle path, which has been running directly past Kathy’s farm from Thames to Matamata for a few years now.
Soon we turn onto Tower Road. This is Kathys road! It feels surreal to arrive after pretty much fourteen thousand kilometres of driving and hundertandtweny thousand metres of altitude.
Or is it maybe just a longer stopover?
Huge herds of cows graze on the vast pastures, the sun is shining, the sky is steel blue and then we spot the red letterbox in the distance. Between pasture fences we bump towards the simple farmhouse.
Please, the limping Labrador wags happily at us, Kathy waves through the window and we get off our bikes with one eye crying and one laughing.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)