Thirty Sleeps on a Bike - New-Zealand
A Steep Grade
Five in the morning. No use waiting for dawn. We decide to get up rather than wake up every half hour and tell ourselves we can still sleep a little. It’s actually kind of funny that the new parents are up before the baby. But last night’s decision was clear: we have to attack this 10 km hill before the mercury hits +36°C, a common occurrence in this region of the North Island. With the sun just peeking its nose over the horizon, we broke camp to the morning song of the Toui, reminding us that we really are in New Zealand; and the morning sounds of Karine, reminding us that we really are parents. An hour later, we were on the road. With a slice of raisin bread in hand, we attacked the hill. Denis cheered us on by whistling; Karine laughed happily and was soon asleep. We climbed slowly, in silence: the melted tar literally sticking to our tires. We concentrated on one goal after another: a flower, a pole, a rock. Once in awhile, a truck loaded with sheep would drive by with an encouraging honk. But it was all worth it; the view at the summit was fascinating: then, the descent!
Bushwalking
At Thames, on the Coromandel Peninsula, we took a breather from biking and went for a hike in the mountains. A day of bushwalking, or tramping as the Kiwis say, on the “Rocky Track” gave us the opportunity to experience the New Zealand rain forest up close. The gigantic arborescent fronds formed an opaque ceiling above us that filtered all but a few streams of light. The underbrush was very thick, yet the narrow path formed a distinctive passageway through the vegetation. Winding our way up steep hills, we discovered breathtaking scenery. Sitting comfortably in a baby carrier, Karine let herself rock back and forth to the rhythm of our footsteps. She was captivated by Mother Nature’s lively show of thousands of shades of green dancing in front of her. The only problem is quickly solved by a bottle of baby formula and water. Once we got back to the camp, we made a long distance call to Canada to wish everyone a Happy New Year. Speaking to our families put things in perspective and reminded us just how far away we actually were.
A Chance Meeting
About ten days later, at Paekakariki, a small village tucked between the hills and the Tasman Sea, we stopped at the general store. As usual, passers-by stopped to talk to us. Sarah invited us to her house for tea. Sitting around the table with us were Mark and Deborah, Sarah’s husband and sister, we ate cookies and ours hosts practiced some rusty French learned a long time ago at school: bonjour, au revoir, merci, un deux, tri, quatro! In the meantime, Karine was playing on the biggest non-abrasive surface she had seen in a week: the living room rug. Accompanied by four other children, Karine started crawling for the first time in her life! Sarah surprised us by inviting a couple of her friends over: Pete, a Kiwi, and Sheley, a... French Canadian. Sheley gladly began to speak French for the first time in one and a half years. We all spent the evening together at our camp, rapidly becoming friends. Only this time, we replaced the traditional tea with good old-fashioned beer.