My Story So Far

For years, my idea of a good time was tramping. And no, for those unfamiliar with Kiwi lingo, that does not mean loitering on a street corner looking for spare change or rummaging through dumpsters for dinner. Tramping is basically hiking—just with extra New Zealand wilderness curveballs. Think unpredictable weather, knee-deep river crossings, and the occasional curious kea trying to steal your lunch.

Of course, my love for the outdoors didn’t stop at tramping. I carved up rivers, kayaking, smoked down hills mountain biking, and did a fair bit of overseas travelling. But my heart belonged to the backcountry—to the ridges, the valleys, and the kind of remote places where your phone is nothing more than a glorified camera.

The Moment My Ankle Staged a Protest

Then, disaster struck. My left ankle, after years of faithful service over hills and across postcard-like vistas, decided it had had enough. It staged a full-scale rebellion, the kind that involved pain, swelling, and a complete refusal to participate in any further wilderness escapades. It was like a sit-in protest, except instead of holding up a sign, it just refused to function.

The diagnosis? Surgery required. The timeline? Over two years before I could even get the operation. I was devastated. Life without my wilderness fix? Unthinkable. I couldn’t see the path for the trees (literally and metaphorically). For a while, I buried my head in self-pity, mourning and yearning for the smell of the wild!

A Crazy Idea (That Actually Worked)

Then, a glimmer of hope. I stumbled across something called the Tour Aotearoa—a 3,000km bikepacking brevet stretching the entire length of New Zealand. The catch? I wasn’t really a bikepacker. Sure, I had a bike, but cycling 100km a day, for 30 days straight? That sounded like a ridiculous idea. So, naturally, I signed up.

Three months later, there I was at the start line, wildly underprepared but fueled by a mix of stubbornness and caffeine. I had no idea if I could actually pull it off. But guess what? I did.

And just like that, I was hooked.

The following year, I tackled the Sounds to Sounds Brevet, a 1,500km epic down the east coast of the South Island. Along the way, I planned my own smaller bikepacking missions, each one reinforcing the fact that—miraculously—while I could hardly walk, I could still pedal. My ankle, it seemed, was willing to negotiate after all.

After years of stubborn refusal and enough protests to rival a civil uprising, my ankle finally got what it wanted—surgery. On December 6, 2023, the rebellious joint was wheeled into an operating room, where it was given a proper talking-to (with scalpels and medical expertise, of course).

Now, you’d think this would mark the triumphant return of my full-throttle adventure mode. You know, cue the inspirational montage of me sprinting up mountains, conquering rivers, and launching into epic bikepacking journeys. But no. Instead, I was sentenced to a summer of sitting.

Couch Adventures: The Low Point

For months, my greatest expedition involved moving from the couch to the kitchen and back again, all while dragging a glorified chunk of concrete (aka my cast) along for the ride. If I thought the wait for surgery was soul-destroying, this was....

...Actual hell.

Instead of chasing horizons, I stared at them. The ridgelines mocked me. The trees waved in the wind, whispering, “Come play!” while I remained trapped inside, watching my bike slowly disappear beneath a layer of dust.

Not even my usual adventure-fueled optimism could save me. My world had shrunk to the size of my living room, and the most action my legs got was propping themselves up on a stack of pillows.

Fast-Forward: The Rise of the Ankle

But let’s not dwell on that dark time—because guess what? We’re back, baby!

Fast-forward a year, and my ankle has finally decided to cooperate. It’s saying yes to walking, yes to bush adventures, and hell yes to getting back out there. Each day, it grows stronger, itching to make up for lost time.

The wilderness has waited long enough, and so have I. My boots are laced, my bike is dusted off, and my ankle? Well, it wants to play.

The Adventure Continues…

So, here I am, a tramper-turned-bikepacker, swapping hiking boots for two wheels and discovering an entirely new way to explore this incredible country. The wilderness is still my happy place—it just looks a little different now.

But what I need is a trusty sidekick that's crazy enough to come along for the ride. And thats another story!

Click here to meet my Trusty Side Kick