Return to NZ, part 2





Ahh, bikepacking in NZ. Quiet 2-tracky roads in deep forest and no wind.

Sometimes it is that good. Eszter lured me into not backtracking to town for food with the promise of this shortcut route,
which turned out like a dream.





When the dream ended, we still had nothing more than a kilo of oatmeal (porridge) in our bags. When we spied this sign, we thought
we were saved. Bikepacking signs are rare, so we always follow them.

We climbed a steep hill to the Huha farmstay. The owner offered us a not-so-cheap room.

“So, why does the sign say HuHa bikepackers?”

“Oh, is that sign still there? I think that’s from the previous owners.”

More than anything we were hoping to share bikepacking stories and meet some interesting folks. Instead we rolled on to a sandfly infested campsite just down the road. I borrowed a stove from our car camping neighbors so we could heat up the oats for dinner (a nice european couple, working in China and touring NZ paddleboarding). It was not so luxurious.





Friend! We pedaled some nice miles with Heather Rose.





Heather got us to go rafting down the Buller River out of Murchison. Last trip we’d ridden along the river and been impressed by it.

We spent most of our float in the river, swimming or floating down in our life vests. It was the correct strategy for a hot summer solistice day (Dec 21). Though “rest”, it was not.





No, duh.

Especially true on ‘push’ bike.





Following the TA route took us to the “Big River” hut, the first we’d stayed that is supplied with coal for heating.

The heavens smiled and rained on us, making the hut a little chilly and a fire welcome. Our first attempt at the fire whimpered out… you have to use a little wood to get it up to temp before throwing the coals on. Once those coals are going though…..





Nice boardwalk singletrack!





Duffy singletrack too!

Per usual, we underestimated the Big River track. Despite recent trailwork, it was still harder than expected for our ‘touring’ setups.





Blackball, NZ. 1080 is a poison that is dropped into the forest in an attempt to kill stoats and other introduced species that prey on native birds.





Blackball has it right. 4 hours is plenty.

They got their start fighting for a 30 minute lunch. Seems preposterous now that the miners were only given a 15 minute break. Maybe in 100 years it’ll seem preposterous to work 8-10 hours a day as people do now?





Blackball is on the Westcoast, in the rain forest.

We climbed a lovely trail, semi-loaded, to stay in the hut at treeline. Little did we know the DoC trail crew was there setting up the hut for a massive trail construction effort.

They were ever so kind and fun to talk to. And ever so easy to make fun of.

At some point late at night I asked why the generator was running (while we sat laughing around the table under dim candle light). The trail boss sheepishly admitted he was charging his phone (!). A generator for one phone.

Top priority was to make a flat spot for the BBQ that, sadly, hadn’t been flown up yet.





We continued up onto the “tops”.

A glorious ridgeline towering over the ocean to our left. To have clear weather up here is rare.





We appreciated the day and all we had, even as the going was slow and arduous.

Our new trail crew friends have been building high-grade “great walk” quality trail all along this ridge that we stumble-plucked our way through on this day.





“Pretty average” trail conditions. This was the good part of the trail.





Not as easy as it looks.

Near the car park the track gets semi-rideable. We came upon a fossicker looking for gold in the creek.

“So how was it?”

“That was some good bush-bashing. The track is in pretty bad shape up there. We’re pretty glad to see the car park.”

Hand outstretched, “Ahhh, WELCOME TO NEW ZEALAND!”

It felt good to put a bit of a proper adventure ride in our back pockets. It isn’t really what we’re aiming for on these trips, but we are bikepackers, dammit, so bikepacking we must, even if it means hours of dragging our bikes for just a wee payoff.

We hit the only store in Blackball because it was fish and chips night.

The owners might be the grumpiest couple in the entire South Island. No matter what subject you might bring up, they’d have something negative to say. It was truly something to behold, and quite entertaining.

After gorging on fish and chips I selected a few more snacks and took them to the register.

“Ooooh, big spender!”

“Uh?”

“You people usually don’t have any money.”

(You people? What does she mean… Americans? White people? Computer Programmers? Oh, bike tourists!)

“You usually just come in here waving a water bottle, ooohh, give me some water!!” (she made a hilarious mocking face while holding up a bottle, one that I will never forget).

“But you give it to them, right?”

(Long pause, thinking)…. “oh, yes, we aren’t so heartless that we wouldn’t give them water, but they could at least buy something!”

….

We pitched our tent at the community center for the right well price of $10 NZ ($7 US). Here we met the DJ for Blackball’s very own radio station. He was a sweet old man, but perhaps the slowest talker in the entire South Island. The introduction to a tune would take several minutes, followed by another minute of silence before the LP (yes, a record player!) would engage.

“Tonight… we have … some special guests….. A couple of YANKEE DOODLES!”

“Ah, yes, my name is Scott Morris and I’m a Yankee Doodle. We have a couple mountain bikes and we spent the day thrashing about the tops, connecting the Croesus and Moonlight Tracks….”

I proceeded to fumble through the story.

“…thanks to Blackball for the hospitality and for the lovely community center for travelers to camp at. We like it here.”

It was true, we really did like Blackball.





Greymouth wasn’t as kind to us. We’ve squeezed our bikes onto full buses before, but this one had more luggage per person than usual, so we were out of luck. There’s no guarantee they’ll take us with bikes, and we knew that going in.

Still, it was a frustrating hour spent waiting and trying to figure out what was going on.

A flat white (coffee) was needed before plan B could be conjured. The barista asked,

“How is the day?”

“Not bad, but we just got kicked off our bus.”

She handed us some free wifi vouchers with our coffees. Sometimes a small act of kindness can go a long way. I try to remember that and be on the giving side of such a small kindness whenever I can.





Free camping on the beach was a good consolation.





No penguins though. Just distant dolphins and maybe whales.





We were pretty stoked with our impromptu beach camp. Little did we know the next night would top it — an impromptu rain forest camp surrounded by glow worms!

These little guys ‘fish’ for insects with their sticky lines, attracting them by bio-luminescence.





It’s a temperate rain forest, but camping in it was pretty interesting. Moist and plants everywhere.

We wandered the forest finding denser and denser pockets of glowing bugs. It was pure magic.





Could the glow worm forest be topped? Yes. We got a hostel room due to a west coast rain storm (that did bring moisture most of the day). Our timing as perfect. It was Christmas Eve and the guests are treated to a feast!

We chatted with Czechs, Germans, Israelis, Indians, Chinese and some kiwis too. There was beer and wine, and … Christmas crackers (those dorky things you pull apart and have a little toy inside), commonwealth style. It was a pretty special international Christmas.





Back tramping. The rata (red flowering beech trees) were strong this summer.





Destination: backcountry hot springs… with a hut nearby.

The secret to this soak was to hit it mid-morning, when the sand flies are nearly absent and the other hut guests are already hiking back to the car park.





Another bus (riding the west coast highway during high season isn’t an experience I need in my life) took us to Wanaka to meet up with Heather again, and…





Indie pup!





Plus her owners, Scott and Jo. Look — we did a regular, reasonable, fun mountainbike ride!





Scott texted us: “Having a cruisy morning. Is it heaving there? Should be there in the arvo.” God I love kiwispeak.

New Years-ish camping and hanging out with these van-lifers. We were hoping some of the coolness that is van life would rub off on us.





Indie gets her own door to the trails.





Ah the crown range road. I don’t know what we were thinking riding this road on New Year’s morning. And on day 3 of the Rhythm and Alps festival. We got going early-ish, but there was no such thing as early enough.

The TA route took us off it mid-descent, onto lovely quiet dirt into Arrowtown.

Then we made the mistake of camping outside Queenstown, in a secret spot that I guess isn’t so secret. A couple of cars pulled in after dark, one parking the front wheel a few feet from our tent. Once they finally got settled it was…. four episodes of “Friends” on their laptop at full volume. Occasionally they’d adjust the laptop, which was resting on the steering wheel, sending a lovely honk right at our ear drums. They’d laugh and giggle at that.

We had ear plugs (standard NZ equipment) but it was a funny night with minimal sleep.





Our next mistake was leaving Queenstown midday to ride out of the chaos and to Glenorchy. It felt ‘cool’ as we sat by the lake and the breeze ripped into us. It was anything but cool riding the highway out of town.

Beautiful, yes, and luckily there was a cold lake to jump into.

Multiple swims wasn’t enough. After a shiver inducing jump in the lake we’d still overheat in 2 minutes of riding in the sun. My avid brakes had that warranty issue where the plunger swells and activates the caliper… making the lever very firm and adding a strong bit of braking resistance.





The ride was a low point of the trip for me, but we got food in Glenorchy, enjoyed a more chill atmosphere and found a sweet free campsite with views of glacial mountains.





The next day I rallied for the main purpose we’d headed this way, and something we didn’t get to last year — running the Routeburn Track.

We hit the high point above the saddle on the route, squeaking in a good fjordlands weather window… glimpsing Milford Sound and the coast.





In hindsight, we should have chilled and waited for another good weather window (there were many) but at the time we knew the weather is different in this part of NZ and couldn’t believe we’d have weeks and weeks of more sun, pretty much no matter where we went.





Yeah, it was starting to dawn on us that we were tired.





falcon, new NZ bird!

But did we rest? Not really. We did decide to switch to a little different mode, though. The bike touring parts of the trip had been the hardest, or least enjoyable. Perhaps mostly due to my low tolerance for busy roads, and heat. But nonetheless we always seemed to not put a priority on the touring sections. It was just our way to get around, but we kept underestimating it and kept going into it tired from previous adventures.





So we based out of Glenorchy. There was plenty to do, free camping, huts, an almost passable grocery store and …. a cheap hostel with the best internet we’d found yet! First trip was a ‘hut-pack’ bike ride up to nearby huts used for Scheelite mining.





We pushed bikes up to the lovely McIntosh hut. Ez left hers inside and I unloaded mine. There was a giant mountain to climb!

Eszter got ahead, unencumbered by carbon fiber and spokes, and we both took a wrong turn above the upper hut. I saw her up above, but did not see her cut back to the actual track we were supposed to take to Black Mountain. Since I didn’t have these tracks on my GPS basemap, or any other way to navigate, I hurried to try to catch up, but never caught glimpse of her again.





Eventually I dragged my bike and topped out at a magnificent peak… but not Black Mountain. Ez was nowhere to be found, but I left my bike and tried my bike shoes at traversing along the ridge for a while. No fresh prints. Neato scrambling, but, she must have disappeared!

As I descended I saw the track we should have been on and took it until we ran into each other. Chalk that up to failure to communicate (about staying together, navigating, expectations).





We stashed the bikes in town and took a shuttle back to Arrowtown… a tramp intruiged us and we had an ambitious ~week on foot planned.

For several miles we simply walked up this… river, or maybe creek. Pretty average.

Actually dang fun, and refreshing on a hot afternoon.





The climbing thus commenced on steep, narrow and barely existent track.





It was damned lovely. Just what we were looking for. Wide open spaces.





Super nice huts. We stayed in two just like this one, which was empty.





Exciting sidling. The Motatapu Track is not for anyone uncomfortable with exposure.





These little steps made themselves just by people walking on the grasses.

Straight down, straight back up.





That is a decidedly non-IMBA approved trail layout right there. 100% fall-line. Yet it works.

I’d hike Motatapu again.

We hit the end of the track just as the only car in the car park was dropping its passengers (trampers going the other direction) and heading out. Struck it just right — instant ride to Wanaka for resupply.





We had planned to complete the loop by tramping over Cascade Saddle in Aspiring Park, but the weather had us decide otherwise. Plan B was to hitch-hike a ways towards the Pisa range and head up to the Meg (pronouced Meeeeg) hut for a night. It doesn’t look like much, but it was a favorite stay. And… finally, a respite from the NZ sun.





The walk along the ‘tops’ of the Pisa range wasn’t filled with views, but the fog and moisture felt divine.

Somehow we managed to get sun burned through that layer of thick clouds. Only in NZ…





Back in Glenorchy, our foot and hitch-hike loop was complete. We picked up the bikes and again headed into the scheelite country, this time on a more rideable old track.





There is no shortage of elevation gain in NZ.





Storms! None reached us, having to cross the ‘barrier range’ from the west coast.





Scramble! Mt. Alaska was the big mountain above our hut this time. I took my bike as far as ‘reasonable’ then joined Ez on foot.





Whoooooooooo….





Down down down.





Tiny old mining shack. Lovely place to spend a night with a hell of a view. The cables hold the roof on…. or hold the hut from flying off the mountain (which has happened to a number of huts in NZ).





! Day use only? Bummer.





Descending to town was frigid in the morning — the only time we rode with all our layers we brought. Sadly it was a one day cool spell.





Ride to the tramp! We rode a fair bit of gravel, and then some tramping track, before ditching the bikes when the going got…





muddy. Poor Ez found a nasty deep mud hole.





We had yet to see a Kea, those mountain clowns, alpine parrots, perhaps smartest bird in the world. This steep climb led to Kea Basin… maybe, maybe, it would live up to its name?





No keas, but behold… a glorious amphitheater of glacier fed waterfalls. Beyond imagination, beyond belief.





Our next wee tramp took the imagination even further, as we climbed our way to the head of the Earnslaw glacier.





Keep getting closer…. is this real?





The tent, let’s set up the tent here!





The falls roared all night, but goodness gracious, what a place to wakeup.





For the route back we tried an ‘easy’ tramp, fighting through the bush to gain tree-line. Then struggling through speargrass (owie!) and slippery snow grass to gain the ridge, where the fun scrambling began. It was, as most thing are, harder than expected.





Going down! The tramp description said this was an easy slope to descend.





It was classic kiwi understatement. But we loved it.

I found this photo in the pub near the end of our stay in Glenorchy. That’s a scheelite miner creating a ‘track’. Possibly one we pushed our bikes up. It says so much that I love about NZ, encapsulates the attitude, toughness, beauty and at the same time, nuttiness of it all.

Return to NZ (part1)





From dry desert warmth,





to warm island humidity. We parked the Scamp and hopped a plane around the world. Again.

We hadn’t really been planning on it, but as the days got shorter and the Scamp looked smaller and smaller the choice became clear: we are fortunate to have few encumbrances and we love so much about New Zealand. It made sense.

I’m not sure if it was warmer when we got on the plane or when we got off — both places were in the upper 80’s, despite it being after Thanksgiving.





The previous year’s trip featured much precipitation. So, we thought we’d skip Novemeber this year and hit the drier months of December and January.

The photo above is one of only a handful of storms that grazed us in those months. November had been dry too. That’s what we get for having expectations.





The plan was still to base off our mountain bikes. It’s a simple, lightweight and semi-carefree way to travel. This time we’d focus a little more on foot adventures, using the bikes to travel about the south island.

We had a rough idea of:

– hanging out with Indie dog and her lovely humans in Christchurch
– taking a shuttle to Hanmer Springs because the pavement ride was a one time affair last year
– riding the St. James trail and Rainbow road to the town of St. Arnaud

That was the extent of our “planning” if you can even call it that.





Last year a local in Hanmer had told us of a free hot pool a short detour off the St. James. That little nugget was more than enough to put it at the top of our list. Hot springs bikepacking!





It didn’t hurt we’d also heard it was “sweet as” bikepacking trail.





The first of the NZ “Great Rides.”

A co-worker of our friends was concerned that we’d be in trouble on the St. James due to the high temperatures. “They’ll never make it.”

The heat did get to us, particularly on the last hike-a-bike, but we LOVED the St. James with its singletrack, primitive conditions and great camping/huts.





“It’s a Kiwi!” I did exclaim that last year when I saw a hedgehog like this one, but this go ’round I’m a (slightly) less dumb American tourist.

Near the Anne hut, we met a rather large group of Kiwis (i.e. people, not the bird) going hut-packing. The last in the group lingered a while and we struck up a conversation. Slowly he let slip that he was planning to ride the Tour Aotearoa (the closest thing NZ has to Tour Divide). He followed up that he was tracking the event as well.

“Wait, what? What’s your name?”

“Shane.”

“I’m Scott Morris from Trackleaders,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

It was a funny place and time to meet up — both out bikepacking and adventuring. Luckily neither of us are cuthroat businessmen, so we continued talking the ups and downs of the tracking world. I think we both just want to make a living doing something we enjoy and have an interest in, and there’s room for the both of us.





After some confusion we were told (on the phone) that we were “good as gold” to hop over the CLOSED gates on the Rainbow Road and cross that beautiful piece of land. It’s a fine gravel route, following clear rivers, and the only people we encountered were either fishing or kayaking.

I wish there were more routes in NZ like the St. James + Rainbow. I suppose more are coming as the country continues to invest in “Great Rides.”





Hot bike touring = jump in the cold glacial lakes.





And begin the bike touring diet. Cannot get enough food! Especially can’t carry enough.





Layers. Nelson Lakes National Park.





We got a hostel for a little work. Eszter writing and me tending a tracker or two. Luckily December is my off season, but there were still a couple of events and always emails.





We ditched the bikes in the bush near the trailhead, and commenced a 3-day hut trip (aka tramp).





First hut had a dock, several kind and interesting fishermen, and eels that lived under the dock. The eels can be upwards of 80 years old. Eszter is being still to try to sneak some glimpses.





A Scot joined us for the scramble up Mt. Angeles, one of the highest points around and the highest we’d yet been in NZ. We were pretty stoked to be climbing an off-trail mountain.





NZ alpine is just as dreamy as it looks in the fotos. Just as dreamy as being above treeline in the Western US. But 8,000 feet lower, so there’s tons of air.

Tons of air, and usually really bad weather. Not so for us. We pinched ourselves at the clear day and lack of storm threat — our experience last year taught us these days are precious, and indeed they are.





The building on the lake was our second hut of the trip, which we shared with a mix of international folks. The huts don’t provide much beyond shelter, a mattress and water. But that means you can go light — no tent or sleeping pad!





Dream walking, it is. We closed the loop, fetched the bikes, went swimming again, ate a couple of “Big Breakfasts” (LOVE LOVE LOVE the all day breakfast so common in NZ, it’s a bike-tourist’s dream).

Then we debated our options.

This is one of those points where, as I sit writing this months later, I can see the error of our ways. We were tired after 10 days of adventuring, riding and tramping. It was hot out.

But, but, the weather was sunny! We have to take advantage of it! We’ll rest the next time it rains for 4 days straight. The days are long! The trail ahead calls loudly — new territory awaits!

We aren’t invincible. Sometimes a little rest can go a long ways, and this is one of the points where we probably should have just sit by the lake and chilled out. Easy to say that now.





Instead we pedaled on and camped at one of the free sites you can find on the NZ camping app. All those vehicles are people camping — mostly europeans living out of their vehicles.

Some locals walked through the free campsite with their dogs in the morning.

“It’s disgusting, isn’t it?”

“Yees, they are destroying our native bush!”

(No, farming and clear cutting have destroyed the native bush, not campervans)

Eszter tried to be friendly (we were the only ones awake) and play with their dogs, but they would have none of it. Complain to the council for allowing free camping on your walking trail in a tiny little parking lot — not to the people stuck with it.

It was funny. Prejudice even in the most otherwise friendly of places. We try not to camp in the obvious overrun campervan spots, but when you travel by bike there sometimes isn’t any other choice.

(I do sympathize with the locals whose little park is not being destroyed but is over-crowded with campers)





Oh there are great tastes, on the great taste trail!

Once again we didn’t stop for wine tasting, sadly, but we did enjoy some nice riding. And the “no hike-a-bike” sign makes me smile. (It’s actually a common NZ symbol for no motorcycles).





But we did ride on the beach this time.





And swim in the very warm ocean!





We ditched the bikes in Motueka, skipping another opportunity to rest, and lined up a boat ride out along the coast of Abel Tasman National Park. This is a popular tramp so we had to, gasp, carry our tent and sleeping bags.

We were a total junk show, with extra bags tied onto the outside of our Osprey packs, and a satchel of fruit and veges carried in the hand. We had much laughter at our own expense.





We walked barefoot a lot, in and out of the ocean. Because it’s novel to us non-coastal types. And because this coast is especially beautiful with its iron rich brown sugar sand.

I got stung by a bee, resulting in pretty solid forearm swelling. Eszter had a massive reaction to sand fly bites, or maybe something that bites in the sand. The bottoms of our feet got pretty torn up (duh).





In short, we sorely underestimated what is probably the easiest of the NZ Great Walks. And we got totally epic’d by it. Only we could pull that off.

Cleopatra’s pool, above, was a lovely cold and fresh water oasis that rejuvenated us enough to crawl the next several km’s to our next beach camp.





This night stands out among the whole trip. A gorgeous cove and our own personal beach. There were a couple of other campsites but no one else was there.

The sunset and sunrise, the soothe breathing of the planet in the waves, it was enough to erase a lot of epic and forget how foolish we’d been. It was worth it.





House-truck! The Kiwi’s were way ahead of the tiny house movement. Decades.

The beaches and ocean mesmerized us, but let’s face it, the deserts and mountains have our hearts.





We pedaled a day or two to a remote trailhead populated only by a weka and it’s little weka babies.





Good lord tracks in NZ are steep. I think STIL still applies (steeper than it looks). How it hasn’t turned into a giant erosive trench, I don’t know — there’s magic in these forests.





One of the best moments in NZ tramping is when you get your first glimpse of ‘the hut’ (meaning your destination hut). Glorious! Especially when it starts drizzling (waa hoo! 2nd rain of the trip).





The hut was the base for climbing Mt. Owen.





Mt Owen being a wilderness of karst limestone.





Like nothing I’ve ever seen.





I was entranced, and loving the exploring and new kind of “scrambling.”





From the top it was obvious how deep the wilderness was up here, and how lightly we had scratched the NZ surface. And it was obvious how tired we were.





We made our way down through the maze of deep chasms, giant blocks and steep flowery steps, all the while discussing what we knew was the right choice:





Stay in the hut another night! Take the afternoon off. Rest and take in what had been a visually stunning, hot and draining couple of weeks. How we scored two nights at this hut alone I’m not sure, but it helped push us towards making one of the first ‘smart’ decisions of the trip.

Would it be enough? Will our poor biketrampers get tired again? Will they get eaten alive by sandflies? Bivy in a sea of campervans? See wild and exotic New Zealand places? Shred the gnar in the bikeparks? Take another afternoon off? Stay tuned for part two.

New Zealand Part 4 – central sun, Wanaka, Mt. Cook and having to leave.



I think we reached the interior of New Zealand right as it finally became summer.



I can’t say we saw all that much of the friendly little fireball in the sky previous to this. But we were about to learn just how strong the NZ sun can be. I don’t know if it was the hole in the ozone layer (which is actually shrinking these days), the clear air, or just that our bodies were expecting winter, not summer. But the sun seemed to have a special intensity when it did shine and on bluebird days.



poppies! did these come from north america, or europe, or?

Heavily sunburnt kiwis and foreigners were a common sight. We slathered the sunscreen on thick.

Nonetheless, it was a good time to climb the ‘highest road in NZ’, the Nevis Rd. Steep climbing, open views and few vehicles, it was lovely. NZ doesn’t really have an off-road culture, of the type we are used to in the western US. ATVs seem to stick to the farms, while jeeps and 4x4s are rarely seen. It works out well for us sensitive bike tourist types.



Our destination for the night. Also the first hut we had to ourselves.



You too can stay here, for the low price of five New Zealand dollars (roughly $3 american). Oh, but you have to climb 4000 feet or so to get here.



Many of the huts have maps and DOC brochures relevant to the area. As we drank tea and kicked back in our luxury accommodations, it started to sound like we could stay high and ride ridgelines instead of dropping back to the valley floor as we’d planned.



Information on the tracks/roads was sparse. We didn’t know whether this was something people did, or whether it was a good idea, at all. Very few mountain bikers had signed the hut log, and a few of them mentioned being flown to ‘the top’ in a helicopter!

It was just a magic night, sleeping in our own little hut, perched high above New Zealand, out of the wind while dreaming of tomorrow’s unanticipated adventure.



Taking the adventure route was the correct choice. Some of the best riding of our trip, culminating here at ‘the obelisk.’

Though the gales were howling, the views and riding made them easier to ignore.



From the obelisk we again chose the adventure route, with very little beta. As we dropped off the ridgeline we could see tiny little Alexandra below, and it felt a little like the Manapouri powerline. We were ready to walk and scramble if needed.



Sometimes you win — the descent was ‘surprisingly rideable.’



We really liked Alexandra and the quasi-desert around it. The sun shone bright the whole time we were there.



Yet the trail ahead called even though it was a place we wanted to linger. It felt like a genuinely kiwi town, and everyone was kind. I suppose by genuinely kiwi I might only mean that it’s a town that isn’t really on the main tourist route, so we were surrounded by kiwis.



Thanks to one such kiwi, Geof, who we met at the coffee shop and is a past TD rider, we knew of a ‘rustic’ hut on our way north. This one is just for travelers and has been that way for some hundred years. We are travelers! The timing was just right and up this high the night had a chill, so the hut was welcome.



Singletrack! Sadly it seems that most true singletrack we encountered was more along the lines of a bike park or stacked loop system. That meant that with a some exceptions, they often couldn’t be a part of a thru-route.



Luckily Wanaka has all sorts of trails and every mode of recreation you can think of, including XC (as in covering country, not looping) trails.

We would ride along the banks of impossibly blue and raging Clutha river many times in our adventures around Wanaka.



Our goal was to ‘have christmas’ in Wanaka with Eszter’s brother and his girlfriend. It was a fantastic plan, and in fact the whole idea of being out of the USA for Christmas was brilliant as well. Besides the deep and thoughtful rejection of all forms of Christianity that I have settled on, my patience for the overblown consumerism and stress of ‘the holidays’ is pretty low.



Things were refreshingly laid back in NZ. We barely even knew the holidays were coming until right before, and no one gave us fake and patronizing holiday greetings for weeks leading up.

We marveled at how empty the Wanaka area was (and the trails — this photo is from Roy’s Peak).



The crowds did come. After Christmas the place blew up with kiwis ‘on holiday.’ It hadn’t really occurred to us that it would be a camping holiday, but it makes perfect sense. It’s summer and school is out! Camping for Christmas, or Christmas in the summer, what a great idea!

There was a holiday park just outside town that swelled to 2000 people, all camping in the kiwi style with caravans and big canvas tents. It was so cool, and something to see.

We took advantage of being on bike and found secluded spots outside of town.



For Christmas, we went hiking. Mt. Aspiring National Park.



The Rob Roy glacier and associated ‘scene’ defies description. One of the most complex and stunning places we visited, by far.



Andras and Vanessa had to head back to Queenstown, but we continued on into the park, amazingly by bike! The first 10km is a grassy two track that almost everyone walks and no one drives. For some incredible reason, it’s open to bikes!



This gave us a slight advantage in getting up higher with our day.



It seems the red huts are the truly alpine ones. I’d like to visit more red huts…



Liverpool hut was a little scrambly to get to, in a uniquely New Zealand way. Roots make good ladders and hand holds, it’s true.



Riding the national park ‘two track’ back out. The weather called for major wind and rain, to come, otherwise we would have surely stayed at the red hut.



Instead we spent a semi-restful night, then woke up to what appeared to be massive tailwinds. Indeed, it was nuclear.

Free ride back to town. Get drenched a little. Dry off at holiday park with 2000 kiwis…



The crash on the beach in the sun after it clears out. Lovely.



Wanaka sunset.



“Don’t worry honey, it’s a shortcut.” It was an ambitious day ride, but we wanted to see what Grandview had to offer. This shortcut behind farms didn’t have anything to offer other than scratchy plants and no tread. Win some, lose some, we abandoned.



We figured hike-a-bike is easier unloaded.



So let’s have Scott do the math and wholly underestimate the mileage. I might have called it 60 miles and it was more like 80.



You know, pretty average. Par for the course for us.



Views were worth it. The sun beat us down and water ran alarmingly low.



A killer downhill, made even better by the surprise appearance of a clear and cold spring, right on the side of the trail. Salvation!



We were wrecked, but our time was starting to run short. We had some highway to ride and were leery of the traffic. So we planned to get up super early.

The fly in that ointment was that it was new years. We camped in a free spot not near any civilization, with a handful of campervans that were dead silent…. until midnight. Then it rained and they went inside. And it stopped raining, and even though the new year was more than an hour old, screaming and banging things resumed.



Ah, well. We got up early anyway, forded the river to avoid a backtrack, and beat traffic and wind over the pass.

The wind caught up with us on a dirt road up the Ahuriri Valley, where we hoped to reach a hut for the night. 30 mph headwinds had other plans for us. Even though Ez is much more resilient to wind than I am, for some reason I was content to plug out the 10 or 15 miles at 2-3 mph. I admit it didn’t really make sense. After an hour and a half we flipped it.

Due to that detour we got flagged down on the highway by none other than Scott and Jo, who live in Christchurch and are bikepackers. That was a fortunate meeting!



We hopped on the “Alps 2 Ocean” cycle route in the town of Omarama, which was my favorite placename to purposely pronounce incorrectly.

There was some purpose built grade 3 singletrack on this one, somewhat to the chagrin of a few folks we met on touring bikes. Hey, you can always walk… we do it all the time!



The high mountain platter! One of the best meals we had.



We turned off the cycle trail for an out/back to a hut up another stunning glacially carved valley. At the hut we were joined by some college aged kiwis from Christchurch who were very new to tramping. It was fun to see all the little things they fretted over, but the card and role playing type games we played with them were even more fun. And then went to bed at a reasonable hour. They may have been new to tramping but someone had taught them good hut etiquette.

Another hut win and good people we would have never met otherwise.



Back at the lodge for a second high mountain platter the next day (yes, it was that good) the place was inundated by all sorts of folks riding the route. Some on e-bikes, mostly unloaded, all seeming to love it. Go NZ cycle trails!



Purpose built cycling gates… just a little too narrow for poor Donkey (nickname for Eszter’s bike).



These canals are part of a power generating scheme, and also used to hatch salmon. Apparently it’s legal to pull any escapees out of the canal.



We didn’t have time to stay in the town of Twizel. Mt. Cook and free camping to the north called us.



Though Cook was an out/back (or in/out as they say in NZ) for us, mostly on highway, as we watched the sun set on it from camp, we had no choice but to get up early and try to beat the campervans.



It worked. The last few kms are on a gravel bike path, as the steep walls and glacier falls pull you in.



As with national parks in the USA, you need to leave the bikes behind in order to actually see the place.



Pretty darn nice camping in a very informal site for a national park. Having a bike meant we could get a bit further out from the vehicles, and access to the cook shelters was fantastic for the morning and when it rained.



We stuck to the main touristy hikes, and while they were busy, it wasn’t that much by national park standards.



This trail is pretty much a giant staircase. There was some quality suffering going on, but it seemed like most people were making it.



Kiwis love their signs, and many are humorous to us. “… may be prone to kea damage.”



We could have stayed longer, but our time was running out. We rode until sunset, trying to get as much of the pavement done in the evening. Just as we needed to camp a tiny piece of DOC land presented itself — the Pukaki Climbing Boulders! Perfect. A 5 min hike-a-bike took us to this stunning campsite, and just enough off the road. One of our best sites.



Back to cyclotour mode, to finish up the Alps to Ocean in the opposite direction.

We hit Lake Tekapo where our dirt route ran out, and so did our time. Time to make preparations to leave country, sadly.



Time to savor the last flat whites and cheese scones. We could have easily stayed up to the 3 month no-visa limit, but work season was about to ramp up for me, and internet access had proven challenging throughout. We took a bus back to Christchurch.



A flightless bird is the logo for NZ’s air force. Love it.

We had one more task, which was to see an actual kiwi (bird), even if was just in a zoo. We did that in Christchurch, and then were kindly hosted by Scott and Jo, whom we had met a few weeks earlier on the road.

I don’t know how I don’t have a picture of them, or the ‘wee scenic wander’ we took by their house, or of Indie the heeler cross, our favorite NZ dog. It was a lovely quick visit to Christchurch and an easy transition to traveling back to the states.

We left quite satisfied with our time, falling in love with many things about New Zealand, and definitely feeling like there was plenty more to go and see. The thought of returning every year in Dec/Jan certainly was discussed.

As the days grew short this year (2017) and the Scamp seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the choice became clear — pack up the bikes and head back! So here we are, as I write this, about to launch again for more kiwi adventures.

Thanks for reading, cheers!

New Zealand (part 3) – Fjordlands, South Coast, and too much wind



We rolled south from Te Anau, on the outskirts of Fjordlands national park. The pedal down was beautiful, including this lovely beach.

TopoFusion users might recognize this photo, which became 2017’s splash screen on the Pro version of the software. TopoFusion is on sale this weekend, for Small Biz Saturday through Cyber Monday, too…



So many cool rocks in the world. Ez loves to collect.



We paid a few bucks to have a local bloke ferry us across the river. Apparently I say my name incorrectly, because no matter how many times I said it, or how I tried to enunciate it, he couldn’t understand me. Finally he got it and I thought back to the couple we met from Invercargil. Down south the Kiwi accent is a little bit Scottish, and there is definitely a Scottish way to say “Scott”. I didn’t really think there were too many ways to pronounce my name, but I was wrong!



On the other side were tramping trails and a hut we wanted to stay at.

NZ is a geologically young place, which shows in the steepness and unstable nature of the mountains. These trees, soil and grass were curiously melting off the hill, seemingly before our eyes.



A beach walk along lake Manipouri was called for. As the night attempted to descend (long days!) more and more people started to show up at the hut. We naively thought it would be empty since you can only access it by water. A tramping club was the bulk of the group and they were quite interesting to talk to. We got a little beta on DOC camping and other rules.

They got a huge fire going on the beach (we didn’t realize that was legal) and though we all got many sandfly bites, it was a special evening. A japanese musician played us some tunes, and one in the tramping club got so worked up over Trump getting elected he had to take a walk to cool off. It was hilarious, and quite the night.



Always take the boat ride. This was generally a return trip ride, but they’ll sell you a one way ticket because there is a sneaky way to exit on a bike and not a boat.



Always take the free coffee.



We didn’t see any mice on the road over to the Doubtful Sound. With no bears or large mammals, critters aren’t much of a worry in NZ.



A hefty climb (unloaded since it’s out/back) took us to a stunning and misty view of Doubtful.



Then it was time to retrieve our luggage from the bush and commence a massive climb out of the valley and up to ‘the tops.’



Why is there a road in this ridiculously steep and beautiful country? Certainly a dubious place for what was a pretty decent road.



Pylons! Lake Manipouri generates power through giant underground tunnel, something I’d never heard of. The water ends up in the Doubtful Sound, which is 10km away, dropping 750 feet on the way.

The problem? See where I’m taking the photo from? And where the next pylons are? Yeah, there’s no road. They didn’t need to build it, instead using a huuuuuge run of cable between pylons.



No problem, have bikes, will carry. I would really like to know who the first mountain bikers were that saw this connection and decided it was a good idea to attempt. Kindred spirits of mine, surely.



Navigating a steep section just on the edge of a slip. Loaded bikes were not ideal, but not so bad either.



Success, road base again! What a beautiful connection.

We spent another couple days riding out of there and camping in what felt like an incredibly remote area.

When we finally emerged back on pavement the wind was absolutely ripping. Any indecision about which way we were going was over.

Done and dusted, wind at our backs, we took the free ride to Tuatapere.



My Redpoint had been given the name “Sausage” earlier in the trip, so I had to. Tuatapere may have been the sausage capital, but we sure loved the town, or rather the quirky holiday park we spent a few nights at. They had incredible food, good wifi and lots of room.

Somehow I talked Eszter into doing the Humpridge Track, which we had seen advertised all over the south island. We were able to book one night at the fancy hut and use our hut pass for the second. There was apparently no other way to see it (without paying a night and supporting the trust of the trail).



This sketchy swingbridge said it was damaged and had been downgraded from ‘max 4 people’ to ‘max 1 person’.



Tramping on the beach? Yes please.



Despite the luxury billing on this tramp, the climb is no joke! It worked us over good.



I’ve always been fascinated by places you can stay that don’t have roads, and this was by far the fanciest one I’ve seen. Everything is helicoptered in. The ‘hut’ is perched just at treeline, in quite a spot.



Coastal alpine. Stunning. This is the day hike you can do above the hut.

The Luxury hut thing doesn’t seem to be working out for them. They could sleep 48, but there were only four of us so we almost had the place to ourselves. The dad and daughter from Australia that we shared it with were quite fun, even if the daughter had trouble understanding us!

As we sat in the dining room, looking out the huge window, the wind started blowing columns of snow in. It was something to see, and assuaged our guilt at splurging on ‘luxury’ just a slight bit.



South coast forest, wow.



Our next night was anything but luxury — it was in this little schoolhouse. It was the only building that remained after a boomtown logging operation went bust 100 years or so ago. We had walked on the line and over trestles that had briefly transported trees out of the bush.

Somehow we crammed 30 or 40 people, many in their teens, into that little ‘hut.’ The bulk of them were a christian school group. The best part was when they played a highly censored version of Cards against Humanity. Quite entertaining, and with earplugs we slept well.



Hey look, a photo of both of us, how rare.



Endless entertainment as the waves crashed into rocks and cliffs. We looked for dolphins and penguins, only seeing the former.



Thick bush along the coastline. Beautiful.



We retrieved our bikes from said thick bush at the end of the track and commenced a long and somewhat ill-advised ride back north. We wanted to make it to Wanaka to spend Christmas with Eszter’s brother. But no good routes were really presenting themselves. Just lots of pavement on farm roads.



sheeps! so many sheeps!

Normally that wouldn’t be so bad, and indeed most of the roads we found for the next several days were low traffic.

But… the wind. We’d ridden it south after Manipouri, but now were paying the piper trying to get back north. Grass pollen had started to be an issue for both of us. Too much time spent out in the wind.

The town of Lumsden allows free camping in the town park. So cool. And we were ready to get on the ‘Round the Mountains’ cycle route, back on dirt, the next day!



But… the wind. We set up our tent on the lee side of the train, which was the only thing giving shelter in the park. That worked pretty well until 1 or 2 AM when the direction shifted ever so much, and we had the classic ‘tent to the face’ type of situation on our hands. Our solution, since it wasn’t cold or storming, was to take down the tent and simply sleep on it. That worked, but it was a miserable night.

We noticed cracks in a few places on our tent poles the next day. Tape, yeah, tape should take care of that right?



Round the Mountains was a relief to rejoin, especially when we got to ride *inside* hedges. Much of the farmland in NZ has planned hedges of trees, so we’d seen them everywhere. When oriented correctly they provide good wind blocks, but this was the first time we got to go inside them!



Round the Mountains is an NZ cycle trail, and the time/effort/money that went into it shows. This was only one of many giant bridges on the route. A little accommodation we stayed at (indoors, out of the pollen and wind!) even had a cute children’s book written about riding the route.

It’s cool when you have routes just for you (touring cyclists). We really love and appreciate the NZ cycle trail program.

From Round the Mountain we transitioned into the more central part of the South Island, which is drier and almost desert-like in places. As it became summer, the weather also improved. It was time to ride high and head on to Wanaka!

New Zealand (part 2) Queenstown, Greenstone, Kepler Tracks



Queenstown. Adventure capital of NZ. It’s a funny place, and also a beautiful one.

Kaitlyn was resting and getting her knee checked out while we did shorter day trips.



Including the bike park. We had pretty capable bikes, so why not?



Deluxe accommodation in Queenstown. The grass was just barely wide enough for our tiny tent. Being outside was somewhat preferable to the ‘partying’ that was going on inside the hostel. Flexibility, make due with what you can.



Now these are accommodations! We met up with Andras, Eszter’s brother, and he showed us his secret camp spot above town. Somehow we crammed five people and four bikes into Yeti, his campervan. And we all returned to the campervan when it rained.

A Thanksgiving feast was prepared, with the Remarkables (jagged mountain range) and a rainbow as the background. Life was pretty darn good.



Mountainbiking with Andras, near his campsite. Stunning mountains and being more interior they aren’t completely covered in rain forest. Thus far we’d spent a lot of time in the trees, where us westerners that are addicted to endless views tend to get ancy.

Kaitlyn’s knee checked out OK, but it needed rest. They found a free place to stay in nearby Wanaka, while we set our sights on a nearby ‘Tramp.’



The Greenstone Caples track! Hut passes were secured. Optimistic readings of the forecast were made (i.e. Eszter read it optimistically and convinced me to go for it). Somehow we talked Andras into giving us a ride out to the trailhead, which was on a dirt road. And that dirt road had several yellow signs with exclamation points on them.

Often an exclamation point means a ford on a dirt road. These were deep ones. He let us out and we started the 10km trek to the trailhead. About halfway a van full of middle school girls picked us up. Wahoo!



It was our first exposure to popular ‘tramping’ with huts that often fill up.



Huts may be full, but the track is generally empty. And generally beautiful. And this one was very wet. We were often crossing water, or walking in bogs, or just generally walking in water.



Favorite NZ bird? The fantail.



We discovered that if we stay in huts we can easily carry 3 days of food in our Osprey packs.

Walking through deeply carved glacial valleys, past thousands of waterfalls, we also discovered what we already suspected: to see some of the best stuff (e.g. national parks), we needed to ditch the bikes and get out on foot.



Errr, get out on boat! The best way to continue south to the Fjordlands and our next tramp was to take a 40 minute boat ride to the start of the ‘Around the Mountains’ cycle route.

Free coffee in hand, sitting on bean bags on the deck, yes we felt like we were winning at life. Any time you can take a boat ride on a bike trip, you probably should.



The route on the other side of the lake felt remote and surrounded by unfamiliar mountains. Just what we like.



A 10km diversion along the shoreline of the next major lake took us to a hut. We had the hut pass and were determined to use it as much as we could.

We shared this hut with an older couple from Invercargill. They were ever so kind and fun to talk to as well. We’d ask them a question and they’d respond, “Ahhh, yeeeees.” They were old-school trampers, carrying giant packs, sub-freezing sleeping bags and giant billies (water pots). They must have boiled 10L of water while we were there — stove on the entire time.



A steep and overgrown climb above the hut let us survey the area. Whooeeee.



Next up, another hut, along the Te Araroa trail (the long distance route across both islands). A young french couple joined us, pulling out their instruments to serenade us to sleep with original and folky french songs. It was just magic, and we were beginning to see the magic of the hut system.



In Te Anau, we had reservations for two nights on the famous Kepler Track (tramp). But a little bit of time to kill until those ‘sniped’ (last minute) reservations were ready.

Local mountainbiking trails were on the docket, including a jump over a ‘mini’ (mr. bean car) that had been junked on the hillside.



And birds! This is a Kaka, one of the mountain parrots with whom we’d start to get to know soon enough. These are hilariously mischievous birds, and stunningly beautiful, too.



Rainbow Chicken! Also know as Takahe, these guys are seriously endangered. It’s amazing such flightless birds survived the (not all that recent) invasion of homo sapiens.



We ditched our bikes in the bush and began the rather massive ascent to the Luxmore hut. The Kepler Track is a ‘great walk’ and thus is pretty popular.



We reached the hut with time to spare. Despite the gales about the tops, we ventured out to climb Luxmore peak. The next day was forecast to be nothing but cloud and rain, so we wanted to see the views while we could.



Being us, the ridgeline return called to us more than a track return the way we’d came. It was a fun ridge and then open tussocks back to the hut.



We dallied in the hut the next day, putting together a puzzle with ‘grumpy magoo’ (as we called him) from San Francisco. I think the fact that he had to stay in a hut grumped him out more than the weather. Who likes a roof when it’s pissing rain out?

I do! I do!

There was a limestone cave nearby, so we went to check that out before setting off down the track.



Most of the day was spent above bushline, walking in the rain. It was disappointing to not see the views we knew were there. The mystery of the place pulled us in, instead, as we only got glimpses here and there. We looked at plants and finer details.



It’s the fjordlands, and a rainforest, you know. A sunny day is a blessing.



At the lower hut there was also much to explore. A short hike took us to a magnificent waterfall. We discovered a scribble in one of the books in the hut mentioning glow worms nearby.

Darkness didn’t fall until 10pm, so everyone else was going to bed in the hut when we ventured out.

We heard Kiwis calling and stamping in the darkness. And we found and were able to photograph glow worms, too. What a place this is.

A rowdy group of Keas (mountain parrots) decided to wake everyone in the hut up at 5am. It was getting light out and I think they’d learned that if they make a racket, dumb tourists like us will rouse and they will have some entertainment. Silly Keas.



We were out of sniper hut reservations and facing a bit of a long walk back to our bikes. At the far point of the circuit, we decided why not hike back along the ridgetops, hoping that the weather forecast written on the chalkboard in the hut came true:

“Becoming fine…. EVERYWHERE!”

(Everywhere? Everywhere! I like the sound of that).

It was pure clouds as we climbed several thousand feet back up to bushline, somewhat dubiously of the chalkboard and hut warden’s prediction.

But then… hints of light.



We were climbing out of the clouds, and they were lifting!



All that had been hidden the day before was revealing itself.



It was a magic ridgline walk.



Hi Keas! I bet you’d like some rubber from our shoes or some of our food.



Topping off water, Fjordlands style. You don’t really worry about going thirsty here.



Yay, tramping! Our bikes were waiting for us back in the bush. We decided we really liked the mode of bike touring between tramps, then getting out on foot for a few days.

So then, what was next?

New Zealand (part 1) Molesworth, Earthquakes, Ghost Road

We’re flying back to New Zealand in just a few days. That means I’m more than a year behind here. So it’s time to recount a little of our visit to those lovely little islands in the southern hemisphere.

We’re going back this year because we love New Zealand — the landscapes, the people, the …. [Continue reading]

A summer in the Scamp, without a plan

What can one say about a summer spent in a Scamp? A summer lived without a plan?

Was it a worthwhile summer? Was time spent outside? With friends and family? Adventures had?

Without a plan it could go either way. Nothing might happen, a summer wasted.

climbing steep …. [Continue reading]

Living in Moab, Spring 2016

Moab.

It’s always been a pilgrimage for me.

It’s always a been a good idea, too. It was the first truly good idea I remember having. And like all good ideas, it was stolen from someone else. My best friend in 3rd grade talked about taking mountain bikes to Moab, and how you …. [Continue reading]

Semi-rideable 14ers Story

Eszter and I are back in the Scamp after spending 9 weeks living off our bikes in New Zealand. It was such an experience, and we are already missing many things about those cool little islands at the bottom of the world.

More on that, hopefully soon, though Ez has done a fantastic …. [Continue reading]

Redpoints in the Gila

Salsa was launching a new bike, the Redpoint. The plan was to find some aggressive terrain for a 3 day bikepack. Tucson wasn’t the first choice, so Eszter and I were enlisted somewhat late in the game.

The challenge was to come up with a route that would showcase what Arizona has to offer, push …. [Continue reading]

Scamping in AZ

We moved ‘full time’ into our little Scamp trailer at the end of February, 2016. All our belongings fit in the van/trailer, and we were officially rent-free and on the road. Wahoo!

How would it go? What would we learn? What unexpected challenges would there be? What places would we visit, what trails would we …. [Continue reading]

Into the Scamp

We’ve been nomads for a while now. We seem to follow good weather and good adventures around the west, working on the computer in most places as we go.

In 2014, we lived off our bikes, traveling north on the Continental Divide Trail. We shipped our laptops to post offices along the way. Even they …. [Continue reading]

Grand Enchantment on the Safford Morenci Trail+

photo by Lee Blackwell

It started innocuously enough. Lee and I pedaled a graded dirt road into the Black Hills east of Safford.

The original idea was to recreate a memorable bikepack we did on a rather iconic section of the Grand Enchantment Trail some years back. We hiked our bikes a lot …. [Continue reading]

Emergency Gila Bikepack

It wasn’t going to happen otherwise. We had to do it, we had to declare an ’emergency’ and drop everything. We can’t let a beautiful spring season go by without a visit to the Gila Canyons and the Arizona Trail. We just can’t.

What was the emergency? The emergency was many fold:

We …. [Continue reading]

Return to Tucson

The first photo on this blog has been, for the last month, a photo of my green Lenzsport Mammoth. The bike was leaning against a ledge of that beautiful white rock on Gooseberry Mesa. Sadly that bike was stolen soon after we returned to Southern Arizona for the winter. It had seen many a mile, …. [Continue reading]

Adrenal fatigue in Southern Utah

Moab’s wind and rain brought us to Salt Lake. It was a good time to visit with my family — overcast and cold for several days. Very little temptation to go outside and play. We played inside, with nieces and nephews, instead. It was fun.

The skies began to clear over the west, and the …. [Continue reading]

To the desert!

At last the snows did come to the mountains. It piled up in a slushy mess, up high and on the roads down low. We were lucky to get out safely when we could.

The destination? Fruita / Grand Junction – the desert.

Eszter and two Bec(k)s were bikepacking the Kokopelli Trail …. [Continue reading]

Closing out the alpine season — with a binge and a bang.

The view from my ‘office’ was superb. Gold aspens, blue sky. Trails from the door. Easy access to the alpine. A cozy place to stay.

Why leave such paradise? Why jump back in the van and sleep in a tent for two weeks, working from campsites and libraries, constantly on the lookout for …. [Continue reading]

Feeding the addiction

bird nerd!

Our addiction to high places and to places where trees cannot grow, continues.

run! the storms are building!

Sometimes that just means getting in the car, driving up high, and walking for a few hours. (We were also hoping to catch a couple of CDT hikers and ‘perform’ some …. [Continue reading]

6 Million Trackleaders

I’ve been meaning to write this code for a while. It would dig through the trackleaders archive, and do a little counting. The results are a little staggering, at least to me.

That’s a lot of tracking, a lot of adventure covered. 6 million miles!

It started back in 2008 or 2009. …. [Continue reading]