Hot Rides

Me, my bike and an empty mountain road. I was seduced by the idea of cycling across the Indian Himalaya back in 1992 when I took a two-day bus trip from Leh to Manali. Eight years later my dream came true. As the locals say, "shanti, shanti" - slowly, slowly.

At the suggestion of winter last year, Fraser and I hastily arranged a trip across the Tasman in search of less severe overnight lows and new terrain to explore by bike. South Australia appealed. 

A month ambling around the South of France on our push bikes... scorching hot days, lazy picnic lunches, curious cafés and a generous helping of old world culture.

We found ourselves stranded in a slot canyon, staring over the valley to the silhouette of some massive bluffs while perched atop equally precipitous cliffs... yet we were oblivious to the (presumably) outstanding scenery. It was dark and we were trying to evade the evil clutches of Pureora Forest.

Here's a simple question... where's the best mountain biking in Europe? During a stint in Germany I taxed a few friends with this question and consistently got the same reply. "Lake Garda". I rifled through some bike magazines and found shots of Lake Garda leaping from the pages. It looked pretty wild.

Xmas promises should never be taken too seriously, so I was somewhat surprised when my parents followed up on my bleary eyed suggestion of a cycle tour of the Netherlands. The idea was to embark on a pilgrimage to the haunts of Dad's youth - the more mature party members as tour guides and us youth as packhorses. Giddy-up!

"Mountain biking in South America - are you guys completely nuts?" Almost certainly, but over the years we've often contemplated the possibility of a few Latin American epics. A randomly spotted article about riding in Peru defended our sanity and catapulted us into planning a trip.

Orchestrating multi-day mountain bike traverses has become an unhealthy obsession over the past few years. Last summer's jaunt was conceived over a hearty helping of kumara balls at Main Street Café one night - it's curious how a full stomach clouds one's judgment in matters of endurance and suffering.

The Marlborough region at the top of NZ's South Island is a mecca for mountain biking - you could lose yourself there for a fortnight and still find new trails to explore.

The Marlborough region at the top of NZ's South Island is a mecca for mountain biking - covering the full gambit from "ego" singletrack to impossibly steep fire trails. You could get lost there for a fortnight and still find new bits to explore.

"Take me to the April sun in Cuba"... and why not? As the temperatures plummeted and I anticipated another Wellington winter with layers of thermal tights and horizontal rain, my thoughts easily drifted towards the tropics for a dose of solar therapy.

Long weekends traditionally inspire epic trips to the hills amongst our friends. A session down at the pub one night - sorry café - resulted in a more sedate version for the forthcoming Show Weekend. A weekend where everyone's needs could be met - some of the time.