Words Lester Perry
Images Jakob Lester

In this issue, you’ll find Liam’s account of a trip we took to Aotea, Great Barrier Island. I’ll leave the details for him to expand on but, although we were on the same trip, riding the same roads and trails, we each had our own thought patterns and internal experiences over the course of the trip.

My backpacking belt has few notches, but I’m reasonably new to multi-day, outback bikepacking rather than “credit card touring”. The more trips I take, the more subtle details I take in each time, and the more I crave the escape.

During our Aotea trip, all we needed to do was ride our bikes. The responsibilities of normal life were stripped away, but our hours of ‘free’ time each day were full – not just with the ‘work’ of riding, but the ‘work’ of simply existing. Even though arrival at camp each afternoon meant the riding was done, the real work still needed to be completed before we could relax. Food needs finding and cooking, so does water – and, oh! We need to filter it before we can drink it! – the dishes need doing, another pot of water needs boiling, my bed needs setting up… cripes it’s getting late and I’ve hardly stopped all day. Dawn comes, coffee needs making, get more water, wait for it to boil, cook some oats, sit on the ground to eat; pack gear between mouthfuls, leaving my sleeping gear until last, allowing the dew to dry as much time as possible before packing it. We have all the time in the world but no free time.

The slowness of travelling by bike allows us to do things we wouldn’t usually do in our daily lives. Pulling over to read a sign, scratch a horse’s nose, check out that random store, or just take in a view— I’d never pull the car over to experience these small things; life just blazes by at a posted speed limit.

I find a bikepacking trip like a return to the past— just the essentials of life. If you look past the bike- related stuff and weird clothing, I could be back in the 20s, perhaps a shepherd moving some stock, sleeping under the stars, and cooking some basic food over a flame. It’s a step back to simpler times.

It’s curious to me that we enjoy putting ourselves through this relative hardship. It’s a privileged place to be; to do life the hard way for a few days rather than having it thrust upon us as many in the world do.

Sure, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not really that difficult, but for sure it’s harder than ‘normal ’ life. The change of scenery and pace allows me to see life through a different lens than I otherwise would while at home, distracted from the details by life itself.

There’s beauty in the simplicity, seeing mundane things or even tasks in a different light. Having a flat phone or being out of service just ramps the experience up to another level. While on Aotea, we stayed ‘unplugged’ as much as possible and, as soon as we had a signal, we unknowingly withdrew from the experience we had been immersed in just prior. While travelling by bike – chatting, planning, and problem-solving – as soon as our phones began to light up, the three-way bond we (Liam, Jakob and I) had while sharing the experience, was broken. Just for a few minutes, but broken nonetheless; we were each transported away, back to our regular lives. Granted the world doesn’t stop while we’re away; family needs tending to and work is still there, but our time ‘unplugged’ was so amazingly refreshing.

Coming back to the mainland, both Liam and I commented how there’s a period of reintegration required. As we ride through Auckland CBD hunting down our next meal, it’s all busyness: the cars, the people, the noise. Reality comes rushing back at a great rate of knots. It’s almost like jumping in a cold shower; a stark shock, but it soon becomes familiar.

As the years tick by, I’m finding the need to break the daily cycle of busyness becoming more critical. Not only for myself, but for those around me; just ask my wife what I’m like after a week off the bike or without time outdoors. Trips away on the bike help me disconnect from the world and always confirm how important it is for me to unplug occasionally. It turns out that ignorance is in fact bliss. I’m by no means saying ignorance in a broad sense is a good thing, but the reality is we don’t need to know everything going on everywhere, all the time.