Back in the post-University, pre-Kahurangi days a gaggle of us were riding the Heaphy. Climbing up to James Mackay Hut, Daryl mashed his rear derailleur. We're hovering around - poking, prodding and offering unhelpful advice when the clouds parted (literally) and a blond apparition approached the hut. Darryl all casual-like, selflessly announces “She'll be right guys. You carry on, I'll stay here and single-speed back tomorrow. See you in Karamea.” Predictably that was the last we saw of him. The couple were spotted by another party walking out the next day. There was a note on the car cryptically advising us he'd make his own way home. Shortly after Darryl followed his muse to Australia and on to Canada. I on the other hand completed the trip with a bout of giardia - or something disturbingly similar. The ying and yang of mountain biking.
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