Top notch MTB in the Top of the South

Riding the 2018 Tour de France One Day Ahead was so much more than a bike ride, and it brought some incredible people into my life.  When the organiser, Jonny Douglas, invited me to Cambridge to speak with the seven riders he's taking to do the 2026 route, I leapt at the chance - not only to see him, but also Steve, Mike and Paul (repeat offenders), Bruce (motivational speaker), Cam (logistics and mechanical support, once more), and of course, Julie.  By the time that weekend was done, Jonny had mentioned that he was putting together a mountain bike trip in the top of the South Island, and I told him I was keen.

When the dates were announced - to coincide with the opening of the Heaphy Track to mountain-bikers on the first of May, and as it turned out, some incredible weather - I realised I had some work awkwardness to navigate, but the trip and company were too good an opportunity to miss, and I committed.  

I was looking forward to seeing Matty - responsible for almost every aspect of One Day Ahead, from filming through to post-production - and Bill, whose prime responsibilities in France had been driving Matty around!  

As the travel approached, I became even more of a stress-box than usual - I'm not coping well with work at the moment, and prep for an overnight ride through the Heaphy added just enough load on my already frayed nerves, that my lower back was feeling a little funky when I woke on the Friday morning.  

My work obligations - namely delivering two 50 minute lectures between 11am and 2pm - hadn't played particularly nicely with Air New Zealand's 2:55pm schedule to Hokitika, but I'd devised an action plan.  Soon after 9am, Sarah and I drove to the airport and I checked my bike and gear in.  I smiled politely when I was told lounge access was still a few hours off, around which time I'd be heading to a lecture theatre.  I finished my second class on time, and was met outside by Sarah who'd kindly dedicated her day to helping me hoon around.  52 minutes after jumping in the car, I was airborne on a flight to Christchurch!  

After a short delay layover there, I enjoyed a spectacular flight over the Southern Alps and into Hokitika.  My pick-up was about an hour away, so I built up my bike, and then sat.  When Matty and Bill arrived in the van, I told them in all sincerity, that the wait had been one of the most peaceful hours of the last months.  And then we got stuck into the catch-up!!  

Hokitika Airport, after closing time

About an hour later, we were joining the rest of the group at a dinner table in the Blackball Hilton pub.  Jonny introduced me to Daz, TC, Dan and David.  Their connection to Jonny is that they'd been part of a group of bush runners who'd been exploring the Waitākere Ranges together on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays for over 20 years.  Matty had joined them as a teenager, and this is how he and Jonny had become friends.  (The rest is history, etc...)

Aside from great conversation, I had a very nice venison meal, and two desserts.  Outrageous, but with a big ride coming up, I figured it was also perfectly reasonable.  

Paparoa Track

My anticipation for the Paparoa Track was tinged with sadness - a trip I'd planned with Sarah and Khulan for Easter 2025 had been cancelled after Dad's fatal heart attack - but nonetheless I was excited to experience this masterpiece for the first time.  

After a 7am breakfast, we loaded our gear into the van for the short drive up to the trailhead. 

The boys had a bit of riding under their belts already, having ridden the Coppermine Loop in Nelson together on Thursday, followed by a shorter ride from Reefton the previous day.  Most were carrying a bit more gear, so there was a bit of faffing around before we were ready to ride.  

The post-ride plan was for Jonny to connect with a local friend, who'd drive him back for the van.   To avoid mooching around in riding gear for a few hours, I decided to carry a set of clothes, and Matty had accepted my haulage services for a sweatshirt.  I'd been warned off the hut water supplies, so had decided to carry a camelbak as well, which would also be easier to drink from on the fly.  

L-R:  Dan, Matty, Bill, Jonny, Daz, David, TC

After a few photos, we got underway, and I slotted in behind Bill.  We rode much of the first couple of hours like this, continuing our conversation in the van from the previous evening, and filling in plenty of gaps since our trip to France.  

There were reasonably frequent stops, to fill bottles in a stream, to cross swing bridges, and to play silly buggers with a camera!  In between, I was slowly coming to grips with my lightly loaded Aeroe rack gently tapping me on the bum when my rear suspension compressed.  It took me a few minutes to realise nothing sinister was happening!

Matty

Bill and I were ahead of all but David when we reached the turnoff to Garden Gully Hut, which we decided to check out, leaving our bikes on the main track so the others would know where we were.  After a short walk we found the hut, and were soon joined by everyone (and a resident weka)!

Jonny's rig, ex NZMTB Pro, Anton Cooper

Back on the bike, the main climb continued and we were soon breaking out of the bush as we neared Ces Clark Hut.  

Bill approaching Ces Clark Hut

There we found David, and before long, the whole party was together.  TC arrived last, bearing bad news - a few minutes below the hut, his seatpost clamp had sheared.  There was cell reception at the hut, so before setting off towards the van, he was able to call a bike shop in Greymouth to let them know what he needed.  The silver lining of this mishap was that Jonny wouldn't need to return for the van at the end of the day, and that everyone's post-ride change of clothes would be waiting for them.  

All our fingers crossed for a replacement being available, TC headed down, while the rest of us continued along the track.  I was finding it hard to keep my camera in my pocket, and more than once had to pull the pin on taking a shot, deciding that controlling my bike was more important in the moment!

The views were gorgeous, and were getting better as the cloud cover began to burn off.  

Sculpture above Croesus Knob

We were over 3.5 hours into the ride by the time the main climb was over, and we started enjoying undulating riding along the tops.  We met a wave of walkers who were going to stay at Ces Clark overnight.  Stopping to chat to some them was also a great opportunity to savour views down to the coast.

Approaching Moonlight Tops Hut, I was blown away by the spectacular sandstone escarpment beyond - damp rock was glistening in the sunshine, and it was hard to believe the track largely runs along the top of it.  

I had a nice moment while parking my bike in the rack outside the hut.  A rider named Mike came in and admitted to reading (and enjoying) this blog!  He and a mate had seen the weather window, and had driven over from Christchurch to ride the track in both directions over two days.  

Moonlight Tops Hut long-drops, with the escarpment beyond

After a spell in the sun, plenty of chit-chat and more snacking, we saddled up again.  I rode much of this section alone, in large part due to stopping for so many photos of the dramatic scenery.  

Looking north along the escarpment

I'd become a bit frustrated at how much focus was required on the track surface itself - this is a proper mountain bike track - and while my Yeti SB115 was performing admirably, lots of loose rock on the trail demanded the operator's attention.  To mitigate this, I was becoming a bit more deliberate about stopping for photos.  Occasionally clambering up rocks was necessary, and for one shot I even climbed a small tree.  

Moonlight Tops Hut visible just above the bush-line at the second low saddle from the right

Again, David (ahead) and TC (shopping) aside, we regrouped overlooking a spectacular argillite basin for a snack stop.  Once moving again, we passed a shelter, and then began the main descent to the coast.  

Jonny hooning

Jonny was kind enough to stop on a bridge - were he not there I may not have noticed the beautiful waterfall on our right - nowhere near to being at full noise, but very pretty nonetheless.  

Not far below it was a neat rock feature.  

Dan, making sure he wouldn't hit his head

NZ is rarely completely downhill, and there was still plenty of pedaling required to get to Pororari Hut - no doubt strategically placed for a four-day walking itinerary.  Matty arrived with his chain in his hand, and while no-one had an 11-speed quick link, Bill helped him repair his chain the old fashioned way - Matt was lucky his chain remained long enough for the full range of gears even after removing a couple of links.  

I left the hut first, hoping to find a nice spot to get a photo of each of my buddies.  After a couple of minutes freewheeling downhill, I realised I'd left my handlebar bag at the hut.  I quickly turned around, and started riding back up the hill.  Within a few minutes I had clear track ahead - the good news was that I'd avoided colliding with anyone, but the bad was learning from each of them that they hadn't grabbed my bag!

I found it exactly where I'd left it - near someone else's pile, presumably creating enough ambiguity that no-one was absolutely sure it was mine.  All-in-all, it was a good save, and within about 10 minutes I was riding on virgin trail once more, relieved I'd realised when I had!

Before too long I'd reached the Pororari River.  I was initially annoyed to find a goat sullying my view down-river, but then realised his ancestors may well have come to New Zealand on the same boat as mine, and decided I shouldn't judge.  

The Pororari River

I absolutely loved a stretch of track that was relatively flat and open, really getting my ex-roadie legs pumping, and had soon caught and passed Daz and then Dan before finding Matty enjoying the sunshine at a view point overlooking the river.  

The track had a bit of a sting in the tail, with mountain-bikers being diverted away from the river over a small hill.  I rejoiced at the sign warning of folk coming the other way, knowing this was code for "you're at the top and are about to go fast".  

David was waiting at the trailhead and announced that Jonny and Bill had gone ahead.  I was getting chilly, so moved on with Matty and Dan, while David waited for Daz.  A short stretch of gravel road took us out to SH6 just south of Punakaiki.  

Getting close to needing lights

Dan and I stuck to a cycle path while Matt took the highway, and I slightly regretted not having energy to visit the Pancake Rocks when we passed their entrance.  I've only ever been there once (when Jolene was pregnant with Kaitlyn in early 2000!) and had no recollection of the visitor centre on the main road, nor the wee forest between the highway and the rocks themselves.  

Arriving at our accommodation, it was good to learn that TC had managed to replace his broken clamp.  Showers and snacks later, we walked to a nearby pub, where I demolished some garlic bread and most of a pizza, saving a couple of slices of the latter for a riding snack the next day.  No one seemed keen for dessert, so I bought a few bits of Louise cake and Rocky Road from a cabinet and tried (without much success) to pry it into my mates before bed-time.  More riding snacks, it seemed!

I was learning more about the bush runners by the hour, and was fascinated to learn of the breadth of their outdoor experiences - Daz had us all entranced describing a high speed capsize of a racing yacht he'd crewed on between Auckland and Mooloolaba, back in his youth!  

Stats:  58km ridden, 1800m climbed.  5.5 hours riding, with an additional 3.5 hours stopped for photos, regrouping etc.  Temperature range:  9 to 20 degrees.  Glorious

Heaphy Track, part 1 - to Saxon Hut

We had a lot to get through on the Sunday, and despite our best efforts, we began running behind right from the get go.  While some were in charge of bacon and eggs, the rest of us loaded bikes into the trailer, and we were in the van not long after our aspirational departure time.

At Westport, Bill and I ducked into the New World, where I grabbed a hunk of bacon and egg pie to eat during the ride, a filled croissant to inhale between the checkout and the van, and a bottle of chocolate milk.  Most had gone straight to the cafe across the road, and when we joined them, I was delighted to find I was already in the queue for a flat white!

Next stop was Karamea, where we dived into a cafe for second breakfast (or for me, third half-breakfast).  I enjoyed a pie and coffee while listening to a chap we decided was called Zippo, tell us a bit about life in Karamea.  

"Zippo" was growing "tomatoes" (or actual tomatoes) and was quite worried about the diesel situation

It was a quick stop, and I was slightly aghast (and relieved) to see my bike waiting patiently for our return.  Seven bikes fitted nicely in the trailer, and the eighth would have been a squeeze, so it was tucked into the van after the riders.  Consequently, we couldn't all get out without leaning it against a nearby lamppost!!!!  Good what you can get away with in Karamea!!! 

While I'd been to Westport a couple of times (including during a 400km tandem ride), I'd never driven or ridden further north along the coast.  The small towns (presumably now slightly less small on account of the Old Ghost Road track bringing more activity into the area) were fascinating, as was the fact that the road ran inland between Mokihinui and Little Wanganui.  

I was full of anticipation as our final preparations concluded at the Heaphy trailhead.  Unlike the Paparoa, this is a Classic New Zealand Mountain Bike Ride, and I'd neither ridden it before establishment of the Kahurangi National Park in 1996, nor since DOC began allowing seasonal MTB access in 2011.  It was a relief to finally be righting a significant wrong!

The dry bag on my Aeroe rack was pretty full, carrying a small sleeping bag, freeze-dried dinner and breakfast, warm clothes with a little bit of redundancy, and snacks for both today's ride and tomorrow's.  That said, I'd managed to avoid carrying my Camelbak again, which I was very pleased about.  I'd irritated a bit of skin on my lower back, and would also avoid the dreaded sweat patch.  

Photo:  Dan Roberts

We were hitting it on the third day of the season, and we'd already seen plenty of riders both on Strava and in person who'd beaten us to the punch.  As we began the glorious 16km coastal section, we began to encounter more bikers on their way out, as well as day-walkers, and trampers.  

Looking back towards the trailhead from Kōhaihai Bluff

The track was drop-dead gorgeous, and it wasn't lost on us that our timing was exquisite.  

To the north, the coast was shrouded in light sea spray, and while the trail surface demanded regular attention, the views were stunning.  

The light for photos looking south was also amazing, and we were constantly leapfrogging one another and alternating between photography and modelling duties.  I loved that it was all unscripted, and just when you thought you'd be bringing up the rear for a while, there'd be someone else returning the favour.  

Photo:  Dan Roberts

Nīkau palms were abundant, and as if they aren't awesome enough already, the light was bringing out the best in them. 

We arrived at Heaphy Hut just before 1pm, where everyone gave their bikes a bit of a rinse at a wash station to get rid of any sand.  We ate on the hut deck, where we witnessed one of the resident pīwakawaka plucking sandflies out of mid-air before they could settle in on some of our exposed skin.  

Heaphy Hut was the turnaround point for Daz.  Originally, Jonny had volunteered to forgo the full Heaphy, but Daz was feeling pretty weary after the Coppermine-Reefton-Paparoa combo, and seemed happy to relieve Jonny.  We farewelled him, and began the initially gentle climb along the Heaphy River.  

I chatted with TC for most of the stretch to the spectacular - and relatively new - bridge over the Heaphy River, a replacement for one washed away in a 2022 storm.  

Great curves, we all agreed

We stopped in at the Lewis Shelter, with only David up the track on his own.  We met three MTBers on their way to Heaphy Hut, and bummed the bloke out a little by not knowing the outcome of the Warriors match the previous night.  

I left the shelter first, and enjoyed the climb up to James Mackay Hut on my own.  I didn't expect to catch David, and wasn't really pushing the pace, but didn't stop apart from to clumsily walk my bike through occasional lumpy creek crossings.  It never ceases to amaze me how uncoordinated I am at such moments - I guess I get into such a pedaling rhythm that an abrupt change of approach doesn't look pretty!   

I did pass a group of 5 cyclists just before reaching the hut, including a young boy (about 10 years old), and a guy on what looked like a pre-national-park Heaphy rig, and the sort of thing my dear friend Simon might have ridden through on back in the day.  

Matt and Bill arrived shortly after I had, and announced another chain repair, this time aided by a quick-link donated by Daz.  We had a long wait for TC, who announced his cold symptoms had worsened, and his intent to stay overnight here.  We were all booked at the far end of the alpine section of the track, at Perry Saddle, and Jonny wasn't keen to rock the boat with such a large group.  We wished TC a good night, and pushed on.

Despite arriving at the hut under clear blue skies, we were soon riding in cloud cover.  A woman had told us it was "all down hill to Saxon Hut", but it became apparent she should have said it was "barely down hill to Saxon".   We met a DOC Ranger coming the other way, and I'd thought he was on an electric motor bike, but the boys said he'd cut his engine so as not to "ruin" our outdoor experience.  Very thoughtful - give that man an e-bike!

Bill and Matt passing me on one of my many photo stops

About half an hour from James Mackay, I found Matt and Dan deliberating about whether (and if so, when) to return to TC.  I wasn't keen to leave before knowing their decision, so waited patiently while they debated.  After a few minutes, they'd convinced themselves to turn around then and there, and I was able to press ahead with the valuable intel of what was happening.  It was really nice the way this long-since-established crew watched one another's backs, and beneath sometimes very casual appearances, were extremely experienced outdoorsmen.  

As I rode on, it got colder and colder, and as I neared Saxon Hut, I prepared myself for a very brief stop to inhale a bit of food.  I was met by Bill, and he told me the stop would be a bit longer - to the tune of at least 12 hours!!!  While I was ready to push back on a 15 minute stop, an overnight one seemed totally reasonable, and without hesitation, I saved my ride on my GPS, and started unloading my bike.  

Inside the hut I found Jonny, but learned David had pressed on before I'd arrived.  Two riders had actually planned to stay here - retired Cantabrians Sally and Ross.  They were both lovely and inspirational (only last year, they'd ridden from Mexico to Canada, in their late 60s), and we really enjoyed their company and conversation overnight - not to mention a bit of their leftover venison stew!  Sally had been a maths teacher, but didn't take the bait when I mentioned my job, and we mostly talked about cycling.  

To make a good evening even better, Bill managed to get a fire going, but the absolute highlight was discovering a resident takahē mooching around the hut while we did our business.  

Takahē - in the wild!

For dinner, I had a pretty good experience with my first freeze-dried meals in about 30 years.  I was especially pleased to have stowed a chocolate cake pudding from the Real Meals range that had been highly recommended by Brian Alder when I'd bumped into him on my shopping trip.  

Between the ride in, dinner, companions inside and outside, and the slowly warming hut, I was very content when I clambered into my lightweight sleeping bag.  It had been a spectacular day.  

47km ridden, 1400m climbed.  About 4.5 hours riding over an elapsed period of 6 hours.  Party of seven strewn across the Heaphy Track, in no fewer than three different huts!  Temperature range: 10 to 23 degrees.

Heaphy Track, part 2 - Saxon Hut out

I woke having had a sleep of two halves.  Soon after turning in, Bill's fire had really kicked in, and I'd taken off most of my clothes to avoid getting too hot.  In the wee hours the hut cooled significantly, and when I first woke feeling chilly, I really should have thrown a layer back on.  Instead, I had unsettled sleep for the remainder of the night, and woke a few times feeling cold.  

Once up, we found a heavy frost outside the hut.  We got in a bit more takahē action, before it inexplicably sprinted 50m and disappeared into bush cover, as if it had finally noticed us noticing it...!

We weren't sure what time to expect TC, Matty and Dan, so plugged away at morning chores (including drinking coffee, which wasn't at all a chore).  While we waited I was wearing almost all of my clothing, very glad that everything was dry!

Ross and Sally heading for Heaphy Hut

Not long after Sally and Ross had headed out towards the West Coast, a pair of men blasted past the hut heading in the same direction.  Soon after that, we heard the tell-tale sound of our cobbers arriving.  We welcomed them, and were soon brought up to speed on their night at James Mackay, and their ride to meet us.  TC was feeling a bit better for the extra rest, and was absolutely fizzing about the frosty ride.  

I quickly stowed a few layers of clothing, and made final preparations to ride.  I was very glad to have packed a pair of warmish gloves, and once on the move, was surprised how long it took before I began to feel overdressed in a woolen t-shirt, riding jersey, vest and jacket!    

Photo:  Matt Jenke

The alpine surroundings, and the conditions in which we were traversing them, were gorgeous and very photogenic.  And what's more, the ambient air temperature was becoming more user friendly by the minute.

Adjusting zippers was sufficient until we reached Gouland Downs Hut and took the opportunity to properly reorganise clothing.  I recalled that friends Jonathan and Bronnie had once spent a night in the (presumably much more empty) wood-shed only to be woken by a kiwi clambering over their sleeping bag.  What a special moment that must have been!

Photo:  Tony Cooper

I set off last and soon almost steamed into everyone gathered on a bridge to admire a whio keeping an eye on the stream below.  

About to set off, I wondered why Dan was motionless, only to see a South Island robin picking something off his shoe.  Oh nature...!!!!

We began climbing, and I began regretting not shedding my merino t-shirt at Gouland Downs.  I stopped yet again to do so, and once underway, soon passed a woman walking with one kid in a front pack and a slightly older one walking alongside her.  I later found out she's an influencer (Shoshannah), and was hauling about 40kg, including a potty for the youngest child.  

I passed TC and Dan shortly before arriving at Perry Saddle Hut, about 2 hours after leaving Saxon.  Given the experiences we'd had since leaving James Mackay, none of us was miffed about not staying here as planned.  If Jonny, Bill and I had continued, we would have done so under cloud cover, and no doubt darkness prior to arriving at the hut.  

There was no sign of David, and he hadn't written in the hut book. We hoped like hell he hadn't come a cropper somewhere.  

Dan surprised us with a block of chocolate, and we enjoyed a few hunks of that each before getting back out to the bikes.  

Getting ready to depart Perry Saddle Hut

After a short climb, we passed a sign indicating the highest point of the Heaphy Track, and then began a long and at times raucous descent towards the road end.  I got one glimpse of the coast, and stewed on not going back for a photo for a wee while.  

Just about everyone was descending faster than me, but Daz's arrival had prompted a regroup!  He'd stayed overnight near Motueka and had ridden towards us from the Langford Store.  It was a relief to hear he'd seen David!

Before too long, we were eight for the first time since Heaphy Hut, and after a short break, started on the gravel road towards the van.    

Something went haywire in my brain, and before long I found myself in a brutal paceline with Bill and Matty, which we kept rolling right through to the van, Bill taking a much deserved sprint win!  En route we'd spent a few seconds in the gutter, ensuring a very large tractor had the road to itself - I'd gone from feeling a bit stink letting a gap open up to Matt's wheel, to feeling very vindicated in my conservatism!

At the quirky Langford Store, I found a plethora of choice.  Chippies, an ice-cream, and a coffee, were one highlight, but also Sukhita, the proprietor, turned out to be a(nother) dear friend of Oli - owner/operator of Roadworks, whose flag I've been flying for about as long as I've been flying flags!  

The others arrived, and it was all I could do to not go back in and order another round of treats.  Instead, I decided to keep my powder dry for the next stop.

Photo:  Dan Roberts

We loaded up the trailer, and got out of riding gear.  Soon, we were at the Mussel Inn, between Collingwood and Takaka.  There, I thought it would be rude not to order the mussel chowder, despite being very tempted by a couple of the pies on offer and then having serious food envy after seeing some of the burgers that others chose.  The chowder was delicious, and at the end of a more sedate day would have been perfect!  No matter, it was a very late lunch so dinner was not far away!

Back in the van, the drive to our accommodation in Kaiteriteri passed fairly quickly, and I enjoyed picking out a few familiar places from a trip I'd done in early 2017 with Sarah and our beautiful daughters.  Jonny made a booking down in the village and we headed out once everyone was cleaned up.  Without realising, we segregated ourselves according to meal preference, with one table of four all ordering pork belly and the other table all choosing a Moroccan lamb salad.  

Stats:  43km ridden, with only 500m climbed.  Just under 3 hours riding, with 4h15 duration.  Temperature range, 7 to 18 degrees, though I suspect the GPS was still nice and toasty from the hut at the start of the ride, and never made it down to the actual minimum temperature!

The Great Taste Trail

Before bed, I'd signaled an intent to ride back to Nelson, rather than have a blat around the MTB Park before driving back.  Only David had seemed interested, and after breakfast, we easily extricated his bike from the trailer, and got ready to ride.  

I wasn't expecting the Great Taste Trail to begin in the park, but that it did, and it was well signposted.  

View from Kaiteriteri MTB Park back towards Nelson

I'd had only a couple of brief opportunities to chat with David up to this point, so it was nice to learn more about him, and for a lot of the time we rode side by side, chatting about family, mostly.  We'd had a hearty breakfast, so didn't take a side-trip into Motueka, and briefly got off-track before picking it up as we crossed the highway at the far end of town.  

The Janie Seddon shipwreck near Motueka

The trail took us along some road I'd raced in a Calder Stewart Series event, before turning, becoming gravel and climbing along a ridge.  While I enjoyed this stretch, there was nothing on it that fully explained why they'd come this way (even building dedicated track alongside a perfectly good, and no doubt rarely used, gravel road), and we were soon re-crossing the state highway, this time via a tunnel.  

Our arrival at the Māpua ferry terminal seemed well-timed - about 12:20, with the ferries to Rabbit Island leaving on the hour.  I ordered some pancakes which slid down very nicely indeed, bookended by a couple of flat whites.  Family friends (and nowadays, Māpua locals) Rowan and Emily stopped at our table to say hello, which was a nice surprise.

At a few minutes to 1pm, we headed towards the beach, only to discover that I'd missed some fine-print on the ferry website above the prominently displayed times:  "Operating Weekends, School & Public Holidays only".  Fortunately, David didn't seem too miffed, and such was the quality of my pancakes, I was very glad we hadn't known about the dead-end in advance!

It seemed silly to run the risk of crossing the highway a couple of times when the highway itself had a decent shoulder, and we'd only need to spend about 10 minutes on it, before turning off to pick up the Great Taste Trail again near the Rabbit Island causeway - my guess was we hadn't added more than 5km due to the detour).  It was fun to see much of what we rode towards Richmond from the air the next morning on my way back to Wellington.  

Before we'd reached the airport, we took the inland route picking up the old railway bench through Stoke.  A short climb later, we were bombing down towards Matty's, and I was delighted to instinctively nail the right offramp and so we got to his house without any ducking and diving.  There, we found everyone else getting stuck into bike disassembly.  Little cleaning was required, and before too long, there were six MTBs flight-ready, mine included.  

Highlights of the evening were being able to catch up with Bill and Matty's respective partners, by virtue of them all calling Nelson home.  

Stats:  77km ridden over 4 hours.  Very few stops.  Temperature range:  12 to 29 degrees!

* * *

This trip was real food for thought.

The riding was incredible, and while one wouldn't dare hope for the conditions we encountered (let alone presume them), even ridden in less brilliant conditions, the Heaphy and Paparoa Tracks are of mind blowing quality.  I'm deeply committed to returning with Sarah and Khulan (perhaps even Kaitlyn if she's inclined to dust off her MTBing legs), and am very glad to have had this experience first - it helps to know what to expect.  

I had no doubt I'd love seeing Jonny, Matt and Bill - and quality-time with each of those special men didn't disappoint.  

I haven't raced since 2017, and do most of my riding among a very small and well-established circle.  So, it was a nice experience to meet TC, Dan, Daz and David, and to get to know each of them better through conversation on or off the bike.  I was made to feel very welcome, despite their long history together, and it really did feel a privilege to be along for the ride.  

I was lucky that my back didn't prevent me from enjoying myself - something I wasn't at all confident about when I left home.  Legs-wise, my current level of fitness made the riding very comfortable, even hauling more gear than I needed from a safety point of view.  I'm nowhere near my peak, but it is very satisfying to have the physical range needed to be able to cruise and smell the roses!

I slightly alarmed Khulan announcing I wasn't intending to wear padded shorts on the Heaphy - largely to avoid having to wear them on the second day.  The Paparoa was no problem due to the nature of the trail and how much of it I spent up and down off the saddle.  The first day on the Heaphy was quite benign, and my butt was a little less happy by the end of that, but nothing that prevented me from enjoying day 3.  I treated myself to some lycra on the final ride with David, but otherwise returned home with all contact points in great shape.  

My bike setup was great - nice fat, grippy tyres were bomb-proof on the trails, and gone are the days where I'd feel inclined to swap them out for something lighter and/or faster rolling. Comfort and security for the win!   About a month prior to the trip I'd upgraded my derailleur to wireless electronic, and it worked flawlessly (this time)!  Compared to the multitude of components on predecessor wired systems, the shifting pod and derailleur itself are an incredibly elegant application of this technology.  The Yeti I'd treated myself to a few years ago really has been a god-send, and this was yet another experience on it that had me fizzing. 

I dithered about whether to use the rear Aeroe rack, or to use a first-generation Freeload rack on my fork (2010 vintage, having been released just before the first Kiwi Brevet), opting for the former solely due to the ease of removing it for the flight home.  Next time, I might explore reversing it to get my luggage further away from my arse, but all in all, it was a great first experience with it in the wild.  

I was happy with the gear I had with me, though wished I'd taken my incredibly lightweight backpack - I wouldn't have used it, but I could see it being handy to temporarily (or permanently) take weight off a rack.  Also, I need to get a bunch of 11- and 12-speed quick links.  It has been years since I've broken a chain, but you never know...  Finally, carrying a spare seat-post clamp is a low-cost insurance policy (and one which I've needed to enact).  

It was interesting to contrast this domestic trip to recent overseas jaunts, and to realise (or be reminded) both what a stunning country I live in, and how much of it I've not yet seen.  The weather here can be a bit of a handful, but no one ever finished a ride in NZ complaining about air pollution!  (Cold or freezing or very wet air is another story...!)  Another revelation was realising how much of a service industry has sprung up to support cycling in this country, and that I shouldn't feel compelled to be self sufficient from the moment a ride starts.

Another issue to ponder is the role of work in life.  Working hard has certainly enabled some incredible (and incredibly privileged) travel experiences.  But it is increasingly clear that it is coming at a great emotional toll.  Among my companions on this trip, I sensed a much more healthy approach to why one works, and what is truly important in life. I realise I've been pushing myself too hard, and have lost track of the why of it.  Perhaps I'll be brave enough to make changes, or at least explore the possibilities a bit more deliberately.  

While we were riding, Joe Nation rode not only Heaphy and Paparoa in a single "day", but also tucked the Old Ghost Road in between them (29 hours end-to-end).  I haven't yet done OGR, but this experience with Jonny and the others has given me both impetus and valuable experience from which to continue day-dreaming about experiencing these rides again, and filling in some of the gaps - albeit at a much more sedate schedule.  Until then, other adventures beckon!

Paparoa, Heaphy and the Great Taste Trail.  2-5 May, 2026

Plan B in Northern Vietnam

We'd enjoyed Viet Nam so much when we'd ridden much of its length in late 2024, that a return visit beckoned.  The Easter holiday is a golden opportunity in that it is always tucked into a 2-week teaching break for me, and although we'd been burnt once before with the air quality in Asia at that time of year, we nonetheless booked hoping things mightn't be identically bad.

Learning from my past mistake with a visa-broker, this time I bought visas directly from the Vietnamese Government website, and these were promptly received, downloaded and saved in a safe place.  I dropped our packed bikes to my office the evening before our travel began, repeating a now familiar pattern!  Once Thursday was done, Sarah and I grabbed dinner in town, then with the bike bags in tow, jumped on a bus to the airport.  Mum joined us there for a nightcap, following which Sarah and I slunk up to our room in the Rydges for a slightly truncated sleep.  

Early morning activities went well, and before too long we were settling into our upgraded seats on one of Air NZ's refurbished Dreamliners.   That made for a very nice start to the much anticipated break from work for me, while for Sarah it would mark the end of her employment at Universities New Zealand - an organisation being largely wound down, much to our disappointment, but little surprise.  

I didn't have a fully formulated plan, but the broad strokes were to head into the north-west of the country, and to ride the Ha Giang Loop - a popular "3-4 day, 350km motorbike adventure."  My dear cousin Holly and her mum Ange had done just that about a year ago, and had loved it.  The few photos I'd seen looked spectacular, and while it seemed most likely that we'd be surrounded by swarms of said motorcycles, I hoped that the tourist itineraries were sufficiently similar that they would tend to be concentrated into a handful of waves each day.  I figured the people-watching would be part of the experience, but was also conscious that we might be able to use dirt roads to keep away from them if need be.

After a long flight to Taipei, we had little energy to haul bikes with us onto the metro for a short trip to our overnight hotel, so checked them in at the left luggage - pricey, but on balance, worth the expense.  I'd begun staring longingly at our bed when the peace was shattered by Sarah announcing the absence of her toiletries bag.  That triggered a somewhat panicked couple of hours, involving phone calls, metro misadventure (jumping on an express which overshot our hotel stop by about 10 minutes), and ultimately failure.  The bag hadn't been found on the plane by cleaners, and the plane had since "pushed back" en route to NZ, so it couldn't be checked once more.  We would have to deal with the missing contents upon arrival to Vietnam.  

Day 1 - Noi Bai to Thai Nguyen

We slept well despite the drama, and the morning went smoothly - taxi, bike retrieval, check-in, etc.  Once we cleared customs in Vietnam, we headed to Level 2 of the terminal, where as advertised, the left-luggage office was.  There was a spacious and air conditioned area right next to it, which we used to get ready to roll.  There was no need to rush, as our first night's accommodation was only about 60km away (if we went direct).   

Nearing completion, I stashed Sarah's bike bag inside my own, as well as our noise cancelling headphones and a few other things.  After a security scan (which involved separating the two bags so they could fit through the scanner), we checked the single item in, promising to return in 11 days time with about NZ$90 in cash.

I'd booked a single night's accommodation so far, in Thai Nguyen, a city about 80km drive from Hanoi, and slightly closer to the airport, which lay between them.  Before leaving the airport, I topped up our cash supply, fired up the route on my GPS, and we were underway!

Our first stop was for water and a bit of kai, and then we got stuck in.  I'd mapped out a slightly indirect route, which took us past a nice lake, and between a couple of ranges of hills.  It was useful to start getting a sense of how frequent food and drink opportunities were (abundant, but not in the form of convenience stores, so a bit more effort to spot), heat (not too bad), air quality (not too good).  Nonetheless, it was nice to be riding.  

After some nice "countryside" riding, the second half of the route into Thai Nguyen was on busier roads.  While I'd been busy with ride prep, and during our rest stops, Sarah had been scoping out optometrists, and had found one which would be able to supply her somewhat unusual prescription (one eye only these days, following successful laser surgery on one eye last year).  Once we'd reached the city, we made a beeline for that shop, and checked into our hotel a few minutes later feeling a touch less stressed about our prospects.  

We "locked" our bikes in the hotel parking garage, and after a wash, headed out to find dinner - our experience last time taught us that if the staff were happy with where our bikes were left, we should be too.  

It was kind of weird to settle on a pizza and pasta joint, but alternatives weren't leaping out at us, and besides, we had a decent ride ahead of us the following day.  We were about 250km from Ha Giang, and there looked to be a few accommodation options at around the half way mark.  We were fresh, and the terrain ahead was fairly benign, so I decided not to book a room - we could leave that until lunch time and base the booking on our progress and enthusiasm levels.  

Stats:  73km ridden, 25-36 degrees, though 30 for the vast majority

Day 2 - Thai Nguyen to ... Hanoi!

Hotel breakfast was followed by dressing and packing up, and our first stop on the road was a pharmacy.  Dealing with the contact lenses had enabled us to think more clearly about the other contents of the lost bag, and it was helpful that no prescription was needed to replace Sarah's infrequently used -  but sometimes critical - asthma inhaler.  I was in a bit of a cranky mood, not helped when her bike fell over while I waited outside.  

Shopping done, we left the city on big and fairly empty roads, dismayed by the air quality which didn't improve as we left the urban environment - we simply traded vehicle and industrial emissions for smoke.  

We stopped briefly outside what seemed to be a domestic tourist attraction.  Here, I had the first of a few photo requests - a domestic tourist attraction on wheels, I suppose.  

We eventually put masks on to combat the air quality, but were still able to enjoy the novelty of our surroundings.  I was quite taken by a prominent sign at one of the factories we passed ("Customers pay our salaries") and sent a photo to two of my dearest colleagues a couple of days later (along with a photo of our trip fridge magnet: "Forget work. Drink coffee").  

About 35km into the ride, I heard hollering from behind me and stopped to learn that Sarah's rear derailleur had stopped functioning.  Having ridden a big chunk of our Christmas Tour with her stuck in a single gear, this was frustrating and a problem we'd mitigated before.  Interestingly, this issue was slightly different - her front mech was fully functioning, and after following a few internet-assisted reset processes, it seemed that the problem was within the derailleur itself - a horrible clicking signaled it was trying to shift, but shifting it most definitely wasn't.  I wondered if the morning's topple had almost dislodged something.  I found a post that described our very symptoms, and concluded that a professional was needed.  Just as well I hadn't booked accommodation!

We were headed into a hilly region, and a 2-speed bike was not the tool for the job.  I decided we would have to head to Hanoi to see if it could be fixed or replaced, and then depending on the outcome of that, come up with a new plan.  If we were completely unsuccessful, we'd again benefit from being in a pan-flat part of the world.  Fuck.

It was about 100km back to Hanoi.  I followed Sarah, watching her an her bike intently.  Eventually I ordered her to pull over - I'd noticed the mech was sitting mid-cassette OK, but from time to time would shift into a harder (and more unsuitable) gear.  We harvested a bit of cardboard from the roadside, and I packed the parallelogram with it - a trick I'd picked up from Simon at the Graperide years ago - and this largely did the trick all the way into Hanoi.  

Dusting off Sarah's contact lens playbook served us well, and we had a bike shop in mind when we reached Hanoi, better yet to find it was on the side of town we were approaching from.  We handed over the bike, and tried to be patient while investigation proceeded.  After an hour or so of cleaning and tinkering, the bike was handed back to us in its original state, i.e. still bung.  I was kind of surprised that they didn't offer to replace it - in NZ, the shop would have ordered a new part from the wholesaler, and perhaps after a day or two we'd be good to go.  In went the cardboard, and off to shop number two went the cyclists.

We had about 10km to ride, which included merging with a LOT of city traffic.  Even the "cycle lane" over the Red River was at a standstill.  

The next shop visit was fascinating, and gave me a bit more insight into what the supply issue was.  Our 11-speed electronic system was installed back in 2021 I think, and it was fairly uncommon and "cutting edge" back then.  Here, it became apparent that it wasn't too fancy, but rather too old-fashioned, and that Hanoi had moved onto newer 12-speed systems!  Of course, we'd be very welcome to upgrade the entire bike (for a cool USD1200).  We asked who we should try next...

The shop they'd recommended was close by, but was closed until 8:30 the next morning.  We booked a hotel round the corner, and tried to muster some patience!

After a wash, we struck out on foot for the nearest laundromat.  This became a bit of a mission, as the first couple we tried were figments of Google's memory.  Third time proved a charm, but we were well pooped by the time we'd managed to leave our riding gear with someone.  We had a nice meal at a nearby Indian restaurant, but by the time we'd finished eating, we'd only burnt through about half of our waiting time.  We walked back to the hotel, and I set out on my bike half an hour later to collect the laundry.  

Once back, I managed to find a stream of the Ronde Van Vlaanderen on YouTube, and despite doing so on my puny phone screen, enjoyed immensely the favourable time zone!  It was a nice way to wind down...

Stats:  139km ridden, plus another 4km for the laundry pick up.  24-33 degrees

Day 3, aka Day 1, take 2 - leaving Hanoi

In the morning, we optimistically suited up for the short ride to shop number 3, and checked out of our hotel.  We didn't intend to be back!  A lake en route was lovely but for the haze.  

The head mechanic at 2 Cycling spoke good English, and was supremely confident that he'd be able to fix the derailleur.  What's more, he seemed quite outraged at the thought of replacing it, bless him.  An ETA of "one day" became "this afternoon" and we set off on an outing into the city centre feeling quite upbeat.  

After a short walk onto the nearest bus route, we were soon on board a bus, and in the care of the conductor who helped us pay, and told us when to get off.  We were soon attempting to get into the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex without ditching my headtorch (which was in the bag I was carrying).  Eventually we were admitted, having promised not to use it...  The museum was closed, but we enjoyed walking the grounds for a bit.  After buying an irresistable fridge magnet, we left, giving us a chance to admire the complex from the outside (much easier to do without bicycles).  

After 15 minutes following our noses, we found the famous Hanoi Train Street, which became a fascinating experience.  We were there for about an hour, during which time we began to fully comprehend the fairly benign "scam" being enacted as far as the eye could see.  Tourists were told the next train was in 15 minutes, presumably based on "economic studies" identifying this as the perfect balance - short enough that people were willing to wait, but long enough that people felt compelled to sit down for a drink, no doubt paying handsomely for the privilege.  Just as we were preparing to leave, a young tout told us "there's no train coming", and then moments later flashed us a lovely smile when he knew we'd overhead him telling his next marks that one was a mere 15 minutes away.  

An hour or so later, we had bellies full of banh my and avocado smoothie, and had enjoyed perusing a small - but crucially air conditioned - art gallery.  We checked in with the bike shop and were told the job was nearly finished.  We jumped straight into a Grab ride (akin to Uber) only to find the bike shop still closed for the local version of siesta.  That gave me a chance to replace our loofah at the supermarket over the road, and it was a short wait beyond that.  

Sure enough, we were good to go, and left with not only a fully functioning bike, but armed with the curious intel that somehow Sarah had been running a 10-speed cassette on her 11-speed system (or maybe an 11-speed cassette mounted without one of its 11 sprockets).  Time will tell on that one!  

Half way through day three of the "tour", we were now about 250km away from where I'd expected to be at this point.  It seemed possible - but not certain - that the derailleur would give us no further trouble, but the Ha Giang loop plan was always going to be a bit tight (and I was half expecting to need to get a bus back to Hanoi) and it seemed totally out of the question now.  Even if we hustled, we were about 3 days behind schedule, and by the time we'd made that up, we'd have only 5 riding days left... 

The other popular tourist destination in northern Vietnam is Ha Long Bay, and I decided we'd set off in that direction instead.  It was sure to be nice, and the location gave us a few more contingency options.  

By now it was 2pm, and we had more than enough time to get out of Hanoi, but not much further than that.  I scoped out a hotel about 45km away, and mapped a reasonably direct route to it.  This soon took us to a rail bridge back over the Red River which was having some work done on the foot/bike/motorbike paths on either side of the railway.  In NZ we'd have been turned around by the workers for sure, but we managed to politely mooch past them without issue.  

We then started riding along the road atop the river flood wall.  At some point I noticed a sign indicating there was a ceramic village not far ahead.  Subsequent signage wasn't forthcoming, but we managed to find it on Google Maps, and were soon supping smoothies at a cafe adjacent to a pottery class and a kiln complex.  Sarah, aka the now-full-time owner-operator of Nomadic Ceramics, was like a pig in muck!

Between the cute ceramic village and some truly horrible highway through an industrial zone, we passed through an eerie development of hundreds of cookie-cutter apartments, almost all of which seemed uninhabited.  

Our hotel's amenities (including a sauna) made up for the gross location on a 6-lane smoggy highway, but by that stage of the day we were a touch worn out to take best advantage of them.  We ate local cuisine at the hotel restaurant, and afterwards I scoped out our next day's ride, ambitious, though hopefully with a happy ending.

Stats:  47-miraculous-km ridden, 30-35 degrees

Day 4 - to Cat Ba Island

Upon waking, we started the now familiar pattern of hotel breakfast, suit up, pack up, and then hit the road.  Initially, the route was on big roads, which made for good progress and from which we would still see interesting things, but tended to be noisy and polluted.

I started scanning my map for opportunities to ride smaller roads, and took Sarah on a few very messy detours - time consuming and short lived.  Leaving one town we found ourselves on a rail bridge across a river.  Naturally, we rode on the right, per the road rules, only to discover motorcycles coming towards us (with no passing room).  We promptly did a u-turn, grateful that we actually could, and found our way under the railway line and onto the opposite side.  It was strange that we'd had to do so, and the road layout at either end only made it more confusing.

Soon after, we took an impromptu opportunity to ride along the same river on a dirt track.  Initially great quality (unsealed, but smoother than the worst NZ highways), we soon discovered the surface wasn't consistent and could be anything from concrete to almost unformed track.   The weirdest thing was it had mile markers - common on the main roads, but out-of-place here.  

Eventually we came to a road crossing, and by this stage, I had no inclination to see if the track continued on the other side.  We turned right, crossed the river, and then bore left so that we were travelling vaguely parallel with the route I'd originally mapped.  At the next town, we stopped at a pizza joint hoping for ... a pizza.  Inexplicably, all that seemed to be available was a plate of fries (shoestring, heavily seasoned with something that reminded me of cheezels).  Once on the move, we had a bit more riding through a sparsely populated area.

The next milestone (in the figurative rather than literal sense) was the city of Haiphong which served up interesting sights without becoming hectic, and was a good opportunity to stop for more sustenance.  Once back on the move, we passed an intriguing building, whose backstory we never established, before ducking and diving around a major highway and port facilities.  

We soon found ourselves riding the 5km Tân Vũ–Lạch Huyện Bridge, over half of which sits above an industrial area featuring roads that looked much more pleasant to ride.  It was a 4-lane dual carriageway, dead straight, and mostly dead flat, but with no on- or off-ramps requiring us (and everyone else) to do the whole thing.  I found it stressful, but did enjoy views of a flock of large herons.   

Even though there wasn't much of a shoulder, the traffic was great.  There was a (vertical) bulge towards the end which created better access inland from the sea, and just before reaching it, I stopped and waited a few minutes for Sarah. 

The bridge took us to Cat Hai island, and en route to the ferry terminal, we passed a massive gondola station which seemed to be having a very slow day.  In fact, for the 80 minutes or so that it was in view, it didn't budge, despite looking very impressive and presumably being a fascinating thing to ride.  We figured we'd be unwelcome with our bicycles, and proceeded straight to the ferry ticket booth and then into the queue for next sailing.  

There were a couple of other cycle tourists on our boat, the first we'd seen on the trip.  They were from Spain, judging by their branded clothing, but didn't seem interested in swapping notes.  Sarah needed the loo when we got off, and as a result, we didn't pass them (on their heavily loaded bikes) until about 10 minutes into the ride.  

It had been a long day, with a decent distance covered, but duration amplified by the gravel section and ferry ride.  Nonetheless, 20km from one end of Cat Ba Island to the other was still pleasant enough, and quite enjoyable due to slightly better air conditions, the sun going down (pretty colours, but also cooler) and new scenery to enjoy - not to mention curves in the road!

At the far end of the route, we arrived into the island's tourist centre, Cat Ba Town.  Our hotel didn't have a parking garage, which led to a few hours fretting about bike security, but eventually our precious steeds were allowed into a storage area inside, and we were able to relax.

Many of the restaurants were selling seafood, and the assumption seemed to be that you would select your "food" from one of the aquarium tanks lining the frontage of whichever restaurant you settled upon.  We didn't do that, but did have a few tasty prawn dishes, washed down with local beer, and then a shared coconut ice-cream treat from across the road.

I'd tasked Sarah with organising an overnight cruise for the following night, a challenge she'd gladly accepted.  This would give us something a bit more traditional to enjoy, some rest off the bikes, as well as a bit of downtime during which I could come up with a plan for the rest of the cycle tour.  By the time we'd turned in, we'd bought a berth on a cruise boat, and had an arrangement in place to leave our bikes at a travel agent near our hotel.  Exciting!

Stats:  137km ridden, 26-35 degrees

Day 5 - Cruisin'

After breakfast, we had plenty of time up our sleeves, so walked to find the travel agent's office.  I began pushing Sarah for details about the arrangement, and was soon glad that I had.  

The standing arrangement was for us to leave our bikes, be driven to a port at the other end of the island, from which our cruise would depart.  The following day we'd be driven back to Cat Ba Town where we could collect our bikes, and by my estimation ride back to the very same port!  At my behest, Sarah asked about storing our bikes at the port, but instead we were offered to take them onto the cruise ship.  Better yet, they'd drop us to the mainland afterwards, giving us a head-start of 5-6 hours over the original plan.  The local travel agent was glad, as they really didn't want our bikes kept there, and everyone else involved (us included) also felt better off in one way or another.  We headed back to the hotel and soon after were rolling out, deliberately, but still without any need to rush - the port was only 25km away, and we still had three hours up our sleeves.

We repacked, checked out, and did a quick tour of some land so recently reclaimed that my Garmin thought we were riding in the sea.  

A nice ride through the guts of the island ensued.  While mountainous, I was surprised to note that much of the road was along valleys which must have been at little more than sea level.  A few low saddles between them kept things interesting, provided great views, and all without being too arduous.  

We stopped for a 20 minute walk through a cave, but neither had time nor inclination to do what was reported to be a four-hour walk to the highpoint of the island (or at least something with great views) that the cave entry fee also covered.  The walk distance wasn't great, and we were told we could ride some of it, but between bike and gear security and the odds that it was actually infeasible, we passed.  

We whiled away a bit of spare time at the last village before the ferry terminal, though might have spent a bit more time there had we known that all that lay ahead was the ferry terminal!  The road to get there was among the sweetest stretches of the entire trip, with nice shape and stunning scenery.  

The terminal was reasonably deserted when we arrived, and largely remained so.  The facility accommodated another roll-on-roll-off boat which connected with the mainland.  At Cat Hai we'd seen half a dozen, running at a frequency of about 20 minutes or so, where as there were only a few sailings here each day.  A young couple from Germany showed up while we were waiting - they were midway through a motorcycle tour of the region, and seemed very happy to get out of their jeans and leathers!  We too changed, and took advantage of being early by hanging our riding gear to (rapidly) dry out in the sun.

Dozens of cruise ships of various sizes and shapes were moored in the bay.  We eventually realised that they all run on a 24 hour cycle, and we'd arrived while they were being cleaned - in between two sets of clients.  

After about an hour's wait, Sarah's Whatsapp pinged to alert us of our impending collection, and we were soon boarding a tender full of lifejacket-wearing tourists, faces eager with anticipation.  We weren't given a lifejacket ourselves, and indeed were only on the boat for a few minutes before being offloaded onto the Venus, our home for the next 21 hours or so.

First order of business was a late buffet lunch, during which time we were given our room key.  We sat near a solo-traveller named Chris, and chatted to him on and off.  I was certain he'd initially said he was from Western Canada, but later on in the cruise I concluded this was code for Hawai'i without being an outright lie, and bought him some time to scope out our politics...!

After lunch, we went to find our room - it was on the third deck (of four), and it was pretty swanky indeed.  The agent had been apologetic that this was all that was available at the last minute...  We didn't feel at all sorry for ourselves.

The cruise format was fascinating, and was carefully and thoughtfully orchestrated.  One by one the boats we'd seen moored headed out of the bay, presumably in negotiated order.  Whether to save gas, reduce erosion, or perhaps merely because there was no point in going any faster or further, the boats travelled incredibly slowly and near silently, for about an hour, perhaps travelling only 4-5km all up.  Each then took a pre-allotted parking spot in amongst stunning karst cliffs, and moved into the next phase of the cruise.  

For us, that was a kayaking activity.  While we were waiting for that, a Vietnamese woman turned up on a small boat which was probably worthy of a "convenience store" moniker.  She beckoned to us wondering if we wanted to buy a bottle of wine, or perhaps some chips, or biscuits, or chocolate bars, or soda, or...  She had a butterfly net on a long pole, which presumably was used to transfer cash and items between the two boats.  

From our point of view, her timing wasn't great, as we'd recently had a huge lunch and didn't anticipate needing snacks.  Instead, we politely declined, enjoyed our dual-kayak experience, and then retired for an eclectic pre-dinner experience.  This consisted of overpriced drinks (maybe the visitor was onto something), to wash down free (warm) roasted peanuts, and shortbread cookies, of all things!  We got a great position on the top deck, and enjoyed the strange clash of nature vs mankind.  

Next up was dinner, but not before we motored back to where we'd come from, which surprised me a bit.  This seemed uncommon, but it was clever, given that the sunset conditions on the way back were very lovely indeed.

Once the scenery was no longer changing, i.e. we'd parked up in our original spot, we had dinner, followed by a very nice sleep indeed.  We'd been much more like regular tourists than cycle tourists, and it had been bloody lovely.  There were some on board who had were constantly changing outfits - I swear every time I saw them they were wearing something I hadn't seen before.  Sarah and I made do with our non-riding-outfits.  

Stats:  a mere 24km ridden, 27-35 degrees

Day 6 - back on dry land

The early, pre-activity breakfast was much more major than advertised - "tea, coffee, milk" was what we were expecting, but I got stuck into bacon and eggs, and dragon-fruit and melon, among other things.  This was a riding day, and a buffet breakfast was a good way to ease ourselves back into cyclist mode.  

A visit to a very nearby fish farm was not that enjoyable, but we did see 50 year old (and duly huge) groper being fed before being transported back onto the boat to do the check out process,  followed by another breakfast (which we ate suited up).  

After that 2nd breakfast, we got onto the tender for the final time, and were dropped to the mainland along with everyone else.  We chatted to a lovely Colombian woman who'd visited New Zealand a few times, and was a huge fan.  I had not seen our bikes on the roof of the boat when we boarded, but the crew assured me they were there, and I figured they would want to get rid of them just as much as we  wanted to keep them!  Nonetheless, it was a relief to see them at the far end of the sailing.   

It was after 11am by the time we set off towards Ha Long (after which the Bay was named, or vice versa), and it was pretty hot out of the gate.  We soon found ourselves in a cafe looking for respite.  Salt coffee and avocado smoothie might well be my lingering memory of Vietnam, and the combo slid down like nothing else.  

We'd long since discovered that the best source of ice (for Sarah's cooling strategy) was places like this, quite unlike Malaysia, Thailand or Taiwan where convenience stores or gas stations were prime.  (Here, the only things sold in gas stations were meant to go into the car, not its occupants, which was kind of weird!)

After a very slow start to the day, we finally got underway proper, en route to a booking I had little confidence in, but no alternative for.  We were headed towards the Chinese border, which in the coming days, we'd ride parallel to until such time as it became necessary to make a beeline for the airport.  Anyway, better late than never, and I was really glad to be pedaling again - with spectacular scenery in Ha Long Bay, both in natural terms, but also the built environment. 

We spent a while right on the coast, and enjoyed seeing more of the karst formations that we'd been treated to at close-quarters on the cruise.   A few times I thought we were turning away from it for good, only to return to the coast for more.  

While I steadfastly refuse to take photos of cemeteries while riding, I do find them interesting, and in particular different cultural approaches.  In one fairly large town we passed through, I was fascinated to realise that the small "buildings" sitting on prime real estate overlooking the coast were in fact all mausoleums.  

Our road was fairly major, but also very quiet - the main (motorway) route to China was nearby, leaving only local and tourist traffic on our route.  Our first and only tunnels of the trip were enjoyable, not least because I was expecting a sharp climb!  Sarah hadn't seen me enter, and had decided to take the elevated pedestrian path rather than ride in the largely-devoid-of-traffic right lane, only to discover that it had regular obstacles that made for very slow going.  This delay meant I fretted for a couple of minutes, but also have been through this often enough to know that nowadays the explanation for her absence is not usually crash-related.  

Next point of intrigue was an elaborate conveyor belt system that transported something from its source to ships for export. 

Beyond that was another recent development which seemed at odds with the "build it and they will come" mantra.  It wasn't quite as unsettling as the neighbourhood in Haiphong, and this had more of a work-in-progress feel than apocalyptic!

Our last major town on the coast was both more established and less modern, and we both enjoyed our passage through it.  Then, it was into the countryside proper.  We passed a massive power station, which looks likely to have been strategically built not far from a coal-mine.  I stopped a few times to exchange messages with Ash, who was enjoying the Easter holiday back in NZ.  

By this stage we were only about 50km from China, and a lot of the vehicle traffic was funneled onto the motorway which headed up an offshore island.  I think we could have ridden onto the island from the South (on a second road), but the single bridge in the north appeared to be off limits to bikes.  Instead we took an enjoyable route inland, along which I made out one observation post that hinted we were within cooee of a border.  

While quiet, we still had enough opportunities for stops, the last of which featured our first try of nuoc mia, or sugarcane juice - for some strange reason I remember this vocab, because we'd met a young French tourist on our previous trip, who'd told us that her name was Mia (like the juice).  This was probably the most readily available drink on the roadside, followed by coffee, coconut, and sadly, lagging well behind, avocado smoothies (which I had - and still have - regular cravings for)!  In this instance, we'd actually "ordered" a coconut each, but made do with the strange sugarcane juice, and a single coconut.  

I regretted not doing some shopping before riding out of town to find our very cheap guesthouse.  The shortcoming was easily resolvable, and we were more than capable of walking back to the town for food.  We actually didn't have to go too far for dinner, and stopped well short of the town itself.  Beer, some tasty beef pho, and some junky long-life-custard-filled cakes for dessert were duly consumed.  

Location of our guesthouse wasn't the only drag - our room also had a bit of a pong, and the toilet wasn't flushing well.  The hard surfaces all looked beautifully clean, but the room smelt mouldy and this stressed Sarah's system out considerably through the night.  She slept like shit - a combination of physical ill-effects plus stress - and she made good use of the inhaler we'd replaced early in the trip.

Stats:  101km ridden, 29-36 degrees

Day 7 - to Lang Son

After a rough night, we inhaled a couple of dessert leftovers before heading onwards.  It was a short ride to a small town (which had had no presence on booking.com, more's the pity) where we were able to find coffee and more custard filled cakes.  This time I got a 12 pack, whose packaging I'd have sworn was the same size as the paltry six-pack we'd shared overnight!   My - ahem - morning processes had not all occurred, and I spent the rest of the day reluctant to drink any more coffee, despite there also  being risks associated with too little.  I figured better the devil you know, than the devil you don't...  

We'd spend the whole day riding parallel with the border which hovered between 10 and 30km north of us.  The road was designated QL4.B and there was a roadside milestone almost literally every 100m - better yet, these happened to be counting down to our final destination.  The "code" took little time to decipher: e.g. H4 on top of 80 = 80.4km to go. 

We had nice tail wind for the most part, a great road surface, frequent-enough supply stops, and much cleaner air than we'd experienced very early in the trip.  Sarah had been curious about the trees being grown in this area, and her findings appeared consistent with what we were seeing - Acacia trees, being mulched for export to China to make MDF.    

We didn't have too far to cycle, so I spent much of the day looking forward to having a haircut that evening.  On the other hand, it was the first anniversary of Dad's death, and while he's been in our thoughts almost every day since (as when he was alive), I was definitely feeling pretty gloomy about it all.  Fortunately, from time to time there would be uplifting distractions.

At the risk of jeopardising my evening plans, we made plenty of stops.  Banh my just down the road from a very grand building slid down very well indeed - these filled with fresh coriander, and a freshly prepared single-egg omelette, plus some very tasty (but unidentified) sauces.  

Soon after, we bought ice-creams at a convenience store, and foolishly allowed ourselves to be usher next door to eat them.  While out of the sun (yay!), we found ourselves sitting at the back of a karaoke bar - everywhere (as were barbers, and nail salons, and motorbike service centres...), but this was our closest encounter yet.  We endured a single duet, which involved some very nasty noise indeed - perhaps it was the store-keeper's (aka shrieker's) way of punishing us, for interrupting her lunch break?!    

Three hours of pretty unremarkable riding later, we arrived at our hotel and checked in.  I misinterpreted instructions as to what to do with the bikes, but bringing them into the main lobby triggered only mild panic rather than anger, and they were soon "locked" across the road in a somewhat derelict facility which seemed to be doubling as a staff motorcycle carpark while someone was working out what else to do with the building.  

Drawing the curtains in our room, we found we'd knocked off at a nice moment, and that we had a great vantage over the city, especially at this time of the day.  The curtains had been drawn, so after coping with the blast of very hot air we'd liberated, it made for a nice and fascinating viewpoint.  

Our bodies started telling us it was time for dinner.  We tried to get a table at a Thai restaurant near the hotel, but were too early.  A cash mission was also unsuccessful, so we then popped into a supermarket which I really enjoyed - "grocery tourism" was the terminology mum had been quite taken by on our trip to Italy last year.  Anyway, there are always fascinating differences to enjoy, and while we couldn't quite get everything we were after, we did buy some new antibacterial wipes, a bag of "croissant cakes" to much on the next day's ride, and some cold drinks for right now...!  It was a shame we didn't need a toothbrush, as there were plenty to choose from.

Soon after, I was in the queue at a nearby barber's, with a short wait for a young boy who was constantly being told off by the barber for slouching.  Then came my turn - a bit more elaborate than what happens at home - here large clippers were followed by smaller clippers followed by an electric razor - my first close shave in years - and during which I didn't slouch for one moment.  Sarah and I both laughed when the guy hadn't seemed keen on my requested "style", as if there was any viable alternative! 

Duly groomed, it was beyond time to head back to the Thai place for papaya salad with fresh shrimps, chicken pad thai, and some greens garnished with dried shrimp.  That latter dish demanded a plate of mango sticky rice each to overcome the after taste, and, because we could...

The annual Paris-Roubaix bike race was looming, and so it seemed appropriate to watch A Sunday in Hell on YouTube, capturing images from the 1976 edition.  I can't explain why, but we watched a Danish version, so the narration demanded close attention to the subtitles.   

Stats:  95km ridden, 23-39 degrees, one great man missed immensely

Day 8 - Lang Son to Cao Bang

The next morning my guts were feeling a bit unsettled, so I didn't eat a huge amount at the hotel buffet.  We were headed for Cao Bang (a name I found strangely amusing), this time along QL4.A.  

Before leaving the city, I ditched Sarah and eventually found an ATM which was happy to provide cash.  Back on the move, and now liquid, we saw "Frontier area" on at least one sign before arriving into a town that was very busy with people, including a couple of tour groups that looked likely to be Chinese.  We stopped for a brief visit to a pagoda (one of us at a time, to ensure the bikes stayed put), but didn't do any shopping.  

It was strangely exciting to be so close to another country, and at one point the road was only 100m or so from the border, though I think it may have been at the top of a cliff high above the road, so not visible.  Nor did we see any of the border crossing points, but there were plenty of unusual sights clearly connected to our location, including a convoy of about 30 identical trucks, hot off a Chinese production line, I'd wager.

We discovered that the croissant cakes slid down very well indeed, and were also happy that Sarah had unlocked the ice code - first buying some drinks (typically ice-laden) and subsequently asking the vendor from some ice before our rapid departure (lest the ice begin melting all over the shop).  On the other hand, we didn't have much luck getting what we were craving.  At one stop late in the afternoon, we tried without luck to buy avocado and then mango smoothies - each time thinking we'd succeeded - only to end up with a strange sundae topped with purple wild rice.  Delicious, but unsolicited.

Our route included our first substantial hills of the trip.  The longest of these ascended a mere 300 vertical metres ("a couple of Mt Vics" in Wellington parlance) - not much in the scheme of things, but our largest daily totals so far on the trip had barely exceeded this, and some were much less!  

Onto the climb, we found the road was dead quiet, and that the NZ side of the road was mostly in the shade.  It seemed crazy not to sneak up the hill on the wrong side of the road - this was common on the dual carriageways among bicycle and motorcycle traffic, though a bit odd in this setting.  I entertained myself throughout thinking about all the pearl clutching that would go on among passing drivers at home.  

The riding beyond the climb was interesting, with lots of rice paddies, spectacular karst formations, as well as random points of interest including a complex with a massive smoke stack in the middle of nowhere, a huge highway construction site (also in the middle of nowhere), and an occasional water buffalo.  

Sarah became a bit cranky, and complained of sore knees, and her mood didn't lighten once we were off the road.  We had a bit of trouble finding dinner after we'd checked in to our hotel and washed up.  In the end, we shared a plate of carbonara and and most of a pizza for dinner, with a couple of takeaway slices ("boglonese" and pineapple) saved up for the next day.  I've no doubt that Italians and their sympathisers would be horrified, but I thought the combination was delicious.  The restaurant was on a river bank, and before we'd settled in to eat, it was cool to see the locals enjoying some water play.  

That evening, Dad was booted out of the family chat on Viber due to inactivity, and we nervously called mum, relieved to find she wasn't fussed.  It didn't make the fact of his death any worse, it seemed, though I'd found that hard to confidently predict after we'd failed to delete the notification for all chat-members.  

After dinner, Sarah had some nurofen and a bath, which we both hoped would sort her knees out ahead of a big climbing day tomorrow - unavoidable, despite there being two obvious route options.  I was leaning towards a single massive climb over the alternative with smaller climbs but more total vert, and would make the call in the morning.   

We watched a documentary on Netflix about the murder of a top-level American cyclist named Moriah Wilson before lights-out.

Stats:  128km ridden, 1470m ascended, 25-40 degrees

Day 9 - Cao Bang to Lake Ba Be

The breakfast buffet was in full swing when we showed up in the morning, and it was probably the first time a hotel had seemed "full".  I couldn't resist sampling "Cao Bang black jelly" which fitted in very well, aesthetically speaking, but wasn't very distinctive otherwise.

With three days remaining, we'd run out of time to continue north - we were still about 180km from the nearest point on the Ha Giang loop, with some epic climbing between here and there.  About a day's ride west of us lay a lake that had been recommended to us by the concierge on the cruise, Ba Be - popular with Vietnamese holidaymakers, we'd been told.  It was going to involve a fair bit of effort to get there, but that would hopefully be enjoyable riding.  

The route turned out to be pretty sparsely populated, and we weren't able to stop for a pick me up until Nguyen Binh at about the 40km mark.  Sarah gave me one hell of a fright (not to mention herself) when she thought she'd lost her phone, but it turned out merely to have evaded her touch when she'd first reached for it in her backpack (aka ice receptacle).  

We made our way through and out of town, and then onto the day's main climb, looking forward to unrestricted views over the mountain range that unfortunately we were turning away from.

The climb was hefty, ascending about 900m over 17km, but was a very consistent gradient, and a relatively benign one at that.   We tended to ride alone, but regrouped regularly for rest, a snack, chit-chat, or to soak up the views - which were becoming dramatic especially towards the so-called Dragon-Back Panorama.  

We found a small settlement about half way up the hill, but didn't see any opportunities to shop.  We took what felt like a turnoff, but could have been the main road, to keep climbing.  Folk were collecting water from the hills, run to their properties through plastic hoses lining the gutter.  We noticed a section that had sprung a leak, and stopped for a makeshift shower.  

Very soon after that there was a waterfall very near the road, with a small pool of crystal clear water that was easily accessed, and we stopped again for a bit more drenching.  While doing that, I noticed a newt in the water, which we photographed without noticing its mate in the same pool.  

Despite (or maybe because of) the climb, Sarah was in good spirits, and I was glad that her knees weren't bothering her again.  At the summit, we briefly celebrated before beginning the 26km descent.  

We stopped fairly regularly to take photographs, impressed at the effort that was going into squeezing value out of the terrain.  

When we finally came to a shop - our first in hours - it was a blessed relief.  We had plenty of food still, despite being reluctant to eat it (One Square Meals are good in an emergency situation, but not my snack of choice), but we were getting low on water, and were craving cold drinks due to the heat of the day.  

We did have a decent break at said shop, and it was interesting to observe locals popping in.  Underway again, we took a short detour for another soak before successfully negotiating a series of annoying bumps en route to our hotel just short of Lake Ba Be.  We'd followed the signage to the lake, which forced us up and over a nasty climb which might have been unnecessary if I'd paid closer attention to my map.  I didn't mention that to my off-sider.  

Once we'd arrived and checked in, we were asked to order dinner and specify when we wanted it, before we'd even been to our room.  We turned up our specified time, to find that we were outnumbered by the staff.  Beef pho and spring rolls slid down well, and while the fruit platter wasn't entirely what we'd imagined, we were able to take it back to our room and it became the gift that kept on giving.

With two days left to ride, we'd made good - and necessary - progress, but were both looking forward to finishing up.  While the hotel TV did have YouTube access, I had no luck finding a free Paris Roubaix stream (unlike the Tour of Flanders the weekend before).  I made do with a live commentary on the TV, plus a video feed via the web browser on my phone.  While the eventual outcome seemed the most likely for the final half hour or so, it was still a very nice way to wind down.

Stats:  125-cobble-free-km ridden, 2060m ascended, 26-42 degrees

Day 10 - Lake Ba Be to Thai Nguyen

There was only one other guest at breakfast, and not surprisingly, we had fairly limited choice.  Nonetheless, quantities weren't a problem and we ate plenty to see us through the first hours of the ride.  

We hadn't yet reached the lake, and had a bit of climbing to start with before reaching a saddle and dropping into the lake.  During this, we were passed by a young guy on a road bike with flat pedals, who seemed to be cycle touring with an incredibly light load (or was going on a day ride with a big load).  He didn't slow to talk to us, so we couldn't ask.  

The road sidled around the lake for a while, and undulated in a way that made it both harder work, and more enjoyable.  Views of the lake were fleeting, but occasionally the trees opened up to dramatic effect.

We stopped and did a very short walk up a track to see a cave, but it wasn't what we were expecting and were soon back on our bikes and dropping down to a bridge over the lakes inlet - or outlet, it was hard to tell.  

We stopped to buy a bottle of water, and the continued onwards, enjoying occasional views over the lake.   It really was very pretty, even though the air wasn't very clear.  (It didn't seem like pollution, but rather some sort of early morning mist...)

The whole place was eerily quiet, but we did see suggestions that at times, it would be a hive of activity.  There was a clear tourism hub, and a jetty from which boat rides on the lake would depart.  We didn't partake, but enjoyed the road instead.  

There was a nasty climb out of the lake, after which we dropped into an interesting valley where I really felt like we were out of place.  Usually people had been friendly enough, or at least politely curious.  Here, I felt like people were deliberately not looking at me, which was unusual.   

We were riding up valley towards a short climb, and were glad to be able to stop for drinks before the gradient kicked up just after the 30km mark.  Once the climb was despatched, we had a long descent, at the end of which I made the dumb decision to stick with the route I'd mapped, thereby bypassing a town that we'd seen a whole lot of school kids heading to on motorcycles.  

That cut out a few kilometres, but more crucially, eliminated a place we could have spent some money before turning off the main road onto a section of very minor road which I'd have preferred to do with a full belly!  The road was very cute, devoid of traffic (though we did pass a wedding function!), but when we finally came to a supply point about 30km later, we were very glad indeed. 

The last 50km of the ride weren't completely conflict free, contributed to by the end being in sight, services being infrequent, and possibly the fact that I wasn't feeling well in my guts - one of the things we were constantly seeing were butterflies, and it wasn't lost on me that it felt like I had them flying around in my stomach too!

Finally we reached an intersection beyond which the road was consistently "main".  We stopped for a drink at the first place we saw - a coconut each - and Sarah was able to fill her backpack with ice before we'd left, so was slightly happier subsequently.  At some point, I decided my rear tyre needed a pick-me-up, and used our electric pump for the first time in anger - success, I suppose, though it took me quite a while to remember how to turn it on and so it felt like a hollow victory...!    

We were both well frazzled by the time we rolled into Thai Nguyen, the city we'd spent our first in, quite a few minor dramas ago!  While there was nothing particularly wrong with the first hotel we'd stayed at, we picked a different one which shortened the ride by a kilometre or two.  

The hotel did have a restaurant, but when we enquired about dinner, it seemed like we basically ordered Uber Eats, and the meal was prepared off-site and delivered to us at the hotel's otherwise empty cafe.  That suited us OK, and was definitely preferable to striking out on foot.  

With no live cycling to while away the evening, I did allow myself a 300th viewing of my favourite Tool video - 51 million views and counting, not including the millions of reaction video views, and no doubt dominated by repeaters like myself.  

Stats:  134km ridden, 1330m ascended, 24-37 degrees

Day 11 - Thai Nguyen to Noi Bai

The following morning, we had a relatively straightforward run to our final hotel, a few minutes ride from the airport from which we would fly out the following day.  As it turned out, that was a bit of a godsend, as I was feeling very far from OK.  

My "symptoms" started pretty much as soon as I woke up, and while my regular trips to the loo were slightly alarming in the context of the day, I was very glad that the action was downwards, and not up.  I hate spewing...

Sarah was feeling absolutely fine, so went and had breakfast, and kindly ducked out to the nearest pharmacy to get some anti-diarrhoea medication, which I was glad to consume, along with some electrolyte drink and half a banana which stayed down well.  We made a plan to hang out at this hotel until the midday check out, which would have the benefit of letting my body get rid of as much as it could, give the meds time to kick in, and allow us to check in as soon as we arrived at Noi Bai.  

When we rolled out, I'd flogged the remaining roll of TP from the hotel, and decided against wearing my bib shorts the usual way lest they need to come down in a hurry.  We'd noticed that while petrol stations didn't sell any food or drink, they did tend to have decent toilets, and I visited one about 15km in but all was quiet.  

We stopped regularly for cold drinks, a couple of times at convenience stores, and once at a milkshake bar where we were able to get out of the heat and rest a bit more comfortably.  I didn't push my luck, and consumed only water or electrolytes.  

As we approached the airport, we passed a carwash place and I saw at least one person water-blasting a vehicle.  For the remainder of the ride, I hoped to pass another, and if we did so, I was committed to stopping to see if they'd give our bikes a once-over.  Alas, it wasn't to be.  

We passed under the flight-path...

... and then followed the airport fence for a while on a path otherwise being used by motorcyclists, bringing us to our hotel via a nice little village which had plenty of food options - still the last thing on my mind.

We checked in, and cooled down for a bit, before deciding to go tend to the bicycles in preparation for return into New Zealand.  Far from shoeing us away, the hotel staff were really helpful, and we were able to wash the bikes in the driveway to the garage, rather than out on the street.  The small rag I'd been carrying (kept damp, in a plastic bag) was put to good use, and between the two of us, we soon had most visible dirt removed, and bikes reassembled for the short ride to the airport in the morning.  

While I convalesced in the room, Sarah went out a couple of times for bits and pieces (including an avocado smoothie, of which I was very envious but not yet prepared to partake) and we made a trip together to pick up our laundered riding gear.  When we arrived, it seemed like it had been forgotten once the wash had finished, so we hung out there for 15 minutes while it had a quick spin in the dryer.  I encouraged Sarah to get some pho, but she seemed OK without, and we retired to our room.

Stats:  50km ridden, 29-33 degrees, zero sphincters breached

* * *

The next morning we checked out, and rode a few minutes contra-flow on the dual carriageway to the airport - the first and last kilometre of our tour had been on the identical stretch of road shoulder!  Our cash supply had run down, and it took a wee while for me to get to the front of the ATM queue to remedy that situation.  Our bike bags soon had the two bikes in them, and we had only a short wait for the check-in counter to open before we were able to clear customs.  By the time that was all done, I was feeling brave enough to eat, fascinated how my body's ills had well and truly shut down my hangriness.  Very convenient!!!!  Some 24 hours later, we were loading bikes into our car outside my office, while our sweet shuttle driver took the bus to Karori.  What a home-coming!

I have to admit, the trip has improved in my mind as I've drafted this narrative.  I'd been beating myself up that the route was a bit shit, and that it had been less relaxing than we'd hoped - overlooking that there were very good, albeit unfortunate, reasons for that.  

There were some really nice moments, and I'm really glad we'd had such a nice time at Ha Long Bay - that was a real highlight, and I think we'd have been unlikely to get there had the original plan not been disrupted.  

To counter that, the air quality was really a downer at times.  Cycling in it is not enjoyable, and while we're surrounded by people who are living in it day-in, day-out, even limited exposure seems unhealthy.  Photos look so washed out too, which is a minor annoyance in the scheme of things, but adds to the general shittiness.  Mark my words (perhaps I said this after the similarly ill-fated trip to the north of Thailand - but I really mean it this time), I will not come to this region again at this time of year.  

Aside from the issue with Sarah's derailleur, which seems likely to have been as a result of the day's earlier fall, our bikes ran well, and we had no other problems.  We had everything we needed, except perhaps swimwear, and the handful of things that we didn't replace from Sarah's toiletries bag.  Sarah's hydration pack works really well for her, and filling it with ice periodically, helps her manage the heat really well.  She used one of her two bottles for drinking water, while the other she topped up at taps to pour over herself when ice wasn't available.  

We noticed accommodation prices had gone up quite a bit since our last trip, but don't know if that was related to the time of year, the area we were in, inflation, or something else.  We ate many evening meals in restaurants, and seemed to be paying NZ prices for those meals.  That said, often beer was barely more expensive than water in these places!   

While the route didn't have many stretches of road that made us go "wow!" (and I'm confident we missed plenty that would have ticked that box on the Ha Giang Loop), I was still very glad to knock out just over 1000km of riding.  The seven traditional touring days averaged around 120km, with shorter days at the beginning and end, and to accommodate the derailleur repair and cruise.  I think we both are glad to have those miles in the bank, even if their acquisition was not entirely satisfying at the time.   

A handful of times each tour Sarah swears she'll never do one again, and I secretly (and not-so-secretly) hope that won't be true.  We have one more trip planned for this year - a three week period in Japan, after which Sarah will visit Mongolia for another few weeks, while I'll come back to Wellington, to "slaver away", as she likes to say!  We've got our heat management strategies down pat, and we have a cassette to replace (or complete) on her rig.  Otherwise, we've had great and not so great experiences on the road together to try to mine for inspiration and pitfalls alike.  I'll be hoping to hear "I can't wait to do this again"!