The Bumpy Start
After months of planning, dreaming, packing (then repacking) our gear, and a couple of test-rides, the big day finally arrived. On the 15th of May, we boarded a flight from Madrid to Auckland, with a stopover in Doha.
But of course, the universe had some nerve-testing surprises on his schedule—At the Madrid airport, we hit our first obstacle. At check-in, we were told we couldn’t board unless we had a ticket out of New Zealand.
Luckily, a bit of fast typing and some last-minute booking magic saved the day—and got us our boarding passes just in time.
Once we were in the air, things smoothed out. The flights were long but surprisingly comfortable, filled with movies, naps, and the occasional glance at the flight map. We were getting closer.
But the adventure wasn’t done with us yet—in Doha, we found out that Gianluca’s bicycle had missed the flight and was still sitting in Madrid (apparently it wasn’t as ready for the adventure as we were).
Not exactly the best start for a bike trip. Still, we stayed calm and positive. We were nearly in New Zealand, and nothing was going to ruin that excitement.
Day 1 – 17.05.2025: Touchdown in New Zealand: Chasing the first Sunset at Piha Beach
We landed in Auckland on a fresh, bright morning. After collecting our bags (minus one bike), we picked up our rental car and headed straight to a huge shopping mall to grab the last essentials—camping gear, gas, and some front panniers we couldn’t fit in before the flight.
Once we dropped everything off at the apartment, we didn’t rest—we hit the road again, this time heading west to Piha Beach to catch the first sunset in New Zealand.
The drive there was a winding mix of hills, forests, and sudden ocean views, passing through incredibly charming residencial areas. When we reached Piha, it took our breath away. The black sand beach stretched wide under a dramatic sky, and the waves crashed onto the shore with wild energy.
The wind was cool and salty, and the clouds began to part just in time for the sun to shine through. Golden light poured over the cliffs, making everything glow. We stood there for a while, quiet, smiling. We had made it!
Day 2 – 18.05.2025: Lost and Found: The Bike Makes It to New Zealand
The jetlag hit hard. Gianluca slept for 14 hours straight—the kind of deep sleep you only get after crossing the world. But the best part? The bike arrived! Finally, all our gear was together again and ready for action—almost.
It was raining, and we were still feeling the long journey in our bones, so we took the day slow. We strolled through the city under our hoodies, wandered along parks and side streets, and ended up at a small Vietnamese restaurant that served some mouthwatering dishes. Hot tea, cozy seats, delicious food and rain tapping the windows—it was the perfect spot for a day like that.
Back at the apartment, we dried off, let the body relax, and called it an early night. No alarms, no rush—just letting ourselves settle in.
Day 3 – 19.05.2025: Into the Caves of Whatipu
We went to bed so early, we woke up at 2 a.m. Wide awake. Instead of fighting it, we got up, made coffee, and spent a few peaceful hours editing photos, organizing footage, and writing. The city outside was quiet, the lights glowing gently in the dark.
As the sky began to lighten, we watched the sunrise from our apartment window—a soft, golden start to the day.
The plan of the day was to go to Whatipu for a small hike and visit the Caves. It took us around 1 hour to drive to the parking area at the starting point of the trail.
The trail first brought us to the sea caves—dark, echoing chambers carved by wind and time, where the ocean’s breath seemed to whisper through the stone. From there, we climbed to a lookout perched above the wild coastline, the Tasman Sea stretching endlessly into the haze. And then came the moment of awe: Whatipu Beach. A vast, otherworldly expanse of black sand, completely empty but for the crash of distant waves and the sweep of seabirds overhead. It felt like we’d stepped off the map and into the very edge of the world.
We got back tired, happy, and a little damp from the sea mist. Dinner was simple, and we were again ready to call it a night around 7pm.
Day 4 – 20.05.2025: City Walks & Prep Day
This was our reset day. After days of movement, shopping, organizing, and exploring, we needed a proper break.
It was a calm, sunny day—the kind that makes you slow down without feeling guilty about it. We returned the rental car early in the morning and took a quiet walk back through the city, letting the day unfold without any rush.
Back at the apartment, we kept things low-key. We grabbed some takeaway for lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon inside, preparing the bikes and planning our route. Maps open, panniers packed and repacked, and the apartment slowly turned into a gear-covered base camp.
It felt good to take a breath before the big push—one last pause before the road ahead.
Day 5 – 21.05.2025: And We’re Off!
We woke up early and after a solid breakfast, we went over our gear one last time, checking bags, tightening straps, making sure nothing crucial had been left behind. It was finally happening. We rolled our bikes onto the train with direction: Papakura, on the southern edge of Auckland. From there, we finally started riding.
The first part of the route was smooth—gentle hills, open skies, and the hum of our tires on the road. The landscape slowly opened up into farmland, patches of forest, and sleepy rural roads with barely a car in sight. It felt good, almost too good. The kind of good that you know won’t last forever.
And it didn’t.
The climb up hit us harder than we expected. The gravel road grew steeper with every bend, the surface rough and loose. We shifted into our lowest gears, grinding forward, until even that wasn’t enough. We dismounted and pushed—one foot in front of the other, breath ragged, calves aching, sweat running into our eyes. The silence was broken only by our laboured breathing and the occasional curse muttered under breath. It felt like the hill would never end.
When we reached the top it felt like we had conquered Mount Everest. After an easy and very welcoming descent we made it to the campsite. No other campers. No phone signal. Just trees, wind and some funny birds making hylarious sounds. We set up the tent, had a quick dinner, and crawled into our sleeping bags—tired, proud, and already a little sore.
Distance: 27km
Ascent: 463m
Day 6 – 22.05.2025: Mangatawhiri to Miranda
The first night under the stars wasn’t exactly a fairytale. The air turned icy after sunset, and the humidity crept into everything—our sleeping bags, our clothes, even our bones. We tossed and turned, still getting used to the strange intimacy of tent life. But even the cold couldn’t shift our mood. Morning arrived wrapped in mist, and with it came the smell of coffee—hot, strong, and essential. We sipped slowly, warming our hands on the mugs, as the forest quietly came alive around us.
Eventually, we packed up our gear and hit the trail again. Today’s destination: Pukorokoro / Miranda, a small coastal settlement known for its bird sanctuary and thermal pools. We’d been warned by some cyclist we met along the way that the first climb would be even tougher than yesterday’s. Spoiler alert: they were absolutely right. It was brutal.
We found ourselves off the bikes again within minutes, pushing uphill one step at a time, legs burning, lungs protesting. We stopped constantly—sometimes to catch our breath, sometimes just to question our own judgment. “Why are we doing this?” became the morning’s unofficial mantra.
But, like all climbs, this one had a summit. And when we finally reached the top, the view and the quiet triumph made it all worth it. That feeling—the mix of exhaustion, pride, and disbelief—is impossible to put into words. Every curse and doubt faded, replaced by something much better: a deep sense of accomplishment.
From there, the road became our friend again. A long descent led us toward Mangatangi Reservoir, where we paused for lunch and a well-earned stretch. The water shimmered in the midday light, birds flitted over the surface, and for a moment, the world felt still.
The rest of the ride was a gentle cruise. The terrain flattened out, the road meandered lazily through farmland, and the first hints of sea breeze teased us as we got closer to the coast. After the morning’s challenge, it felt like a reward. We arrived at Tasman Holiday Parks in Miranda by late afternoon—legs heavy, bodies tired, but spirits sky-high.
There’s nothing quite like the feeling of peeling off dusty clothes and stepping into a hot shower after a long day on the bike. We set up camp again, this time with a little more routine and a lot less fumbling. Then it was time to unwind—some quiet work, a bit of journaling, and simply soaking in the satisfaction of another day conquered on the road.
Distance: 32.90km
Ascent: 377m
Day 7 – 23.05.2025: Miranda to Tapu – Our “Relax Day"
After a couple of seriously intense climbs, today felt like a gift. We called it our “relax day”—an easy 50 kilometers along the coast, no major hills, no knee-burning ascents, just a straight-up cruise from Miranda to Tapu. And for once, the road seemed to agree with us.
The sky stayed moody and overcast, but the rain held off—thankfully. The air was cool, the wind gentle, and the road flat enough that it almost felt like the bikes were moving on autopilot. We pedaled along quietly, soaking in the rhythm and the rare simplicity of the day.
We passed through small towns like Waitakaruru and Pipiroa, little dots on the map with their own kind of quiet charm. By midday, we rolled into Thames, a cozy riverside town, where we took the chance to restock on supplies, grab some lunch, and stretch our legs before tackling the final stretch to Tapu.
And that’s when the scenery really stepped it up.
The coastal road beyond Thames was straight out of a postcard. To one side, the sea stretched out endlessly, calm and grey beneath the clouds. On the other, dense forest rose up into the hills, hiding secret trails and streams. We rode between the two worlds—waves to our left, ferns to our right—and couldn’t help but feel lucky to be right there, on that road, in that moment.
We arrived at the campsite in Tapu around 4 p.m.—right on cue for sunset, which is starting to feel like our unofficial daily ritual. Our pitch was perfect: front row, ocean view.
As we began setting up the tent, the smell of something delicious drifted over from the next site. We looked at each other and instantly thought the same thing: Maybe tonight’s the night to skip cooking and treat ourselves at the tavern across the road.
And then—pure magic.
A man named Zack, camped next to us with his family and their adorable little van, walked over and offered us some of the freshly cooked fish they’d just prepared. No hesitation, no fuss—just pure, spontaneous kindness. Of course, we said yes, and wow, was it good. Crispy, flavorful, and exactly what our tired bodies needed.
We ended up chatting with Zack, his young son, and his mother, Kirsten. Turns out, Kirsten had just bought the van and this was her very first night camping in it. She was glowing with excitement, and it was so inspiring to meet someone jumping into adventure like us. It’s these small, unscripted encounters that make travel feel so human, so special.
That little act of generosity—sharing a meal with strangers—became the true highlight of our day.
As night settled in, the air cooled and the breeze from the ocean whispered through the campsite. We zipped up the tent, curled into our sleeping bags, and let the day gently fade behind us. Tomorrow would be a tougher ride—Hahei Beach was calling—but for now, it was just us, the stars above, and the sound of the sea a few meters away.
Distance: 50.6km
Ascent: 81m
Day 8 – 24.05.2025: Tapu to Hahei Beach–"Up, Up, Up!"
By now, our mornings had settled into a rhythm: coffee first (always), then breakfast, followed by loading up the bikes. It’s funny how quickly even the most unfamiliar routines start to feel second nature when you’re on the road. This morning was no different—well, except for the small detail that a massive hill was waiting for us just a few kilometers out of camp.
We rolled out of Tapu around 10 a.m.—a little later than planned, but we weren’t exactly sprinting out of our sleeping bags. With the climb looming in our minds, we started pedaling in silence, mentally preparing for what awaited ahead. The gradient increased slowly, giving our legs time to adjust and find a rhythm. And with the sun shining gently on our backs, the first few kilometers were actually… peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
Then came kilometer five…
The gradient cranked up, the trees closed in, and the smooth asphalt we’d come to love quietly disappeared behind us. Gravel road ahead. No mercy. No apology. Just the clatter of stones beneath our tires and the slow, grinding effort of the climb.
But this time, we didn’t have to push the bikes. Progress was slow, but we kept pedaling—steady, focused, determined. We stopped now and then to catch our breathes, but there was something satisfying about just keeping going, no matter how tough it got. The views helped: lush hills rolling out behind us, forested valleys, and the occasional small waterfalls splashing on the side of the road.
After about 10 kilometers, we finally reached the ridge and rolled along at a steady altitude. It was a beautiful stretch—quiet, remote, and surrounded by native bush. And then, finally, the descent began. The road smoothed out into asphalt again (hallelujah), and we coasted down into the little village of Coroglen.
There, we stopped at a roadside tavern for a quick lunch, fueled up, and jumped straight back on the bikes for the final push to Hahei. We figured the worst was behind us. But oh, how wrong we were.
The last leg of the ride turned out to be a sneaky beast—hill after hill, curve after curve, all the way until just about a kilometer from our destination. At that point, we were running on fumes. Every pedal stroke felt like a small miracle. When we finally rolled into the campground, we didn’t even speak—we just nodded at each other, silently acknowledging the day’s battle.
We set up the tent, took a warm shower, and slowly eased into dinner prep, too tired for any big celebrations. Today’s 48 kilometers felt like double that. But underneath the exhaustion was a quiet, satisfied pride.
And the best part? We booked two nights here.
No morning packing. No breaking camp at sunrise. No kilometer countdown. Just time to rest, breathe, and maybe even dip our toes in the ocean.
Tomorrow is all about recovery.
Distance: 48km
Ascent: 661m
Day 9 – 25.05.2025: The "Day Off"
After a week of hills, gravel, and more than a few leg-burning climbs, today was finally a proper “day off”—and we soaked in every minute of it. We let the morning unfold slowly, watching the first light of day coming out almost shy over the horizon.
Breakfast was simple but tasty—toast with peanut butter and banana and strong coffee savored with no rush. We caught up on some long-overdue laundry (our socks had definitely entered biohazard territory), and finished up some work from the picnic table, soaking in the quiet rhythm of camp life. No big goals, no kilometers to count—just letting the day take its shape on its own.
The only plan we had was to stock up on groceries for the next few days and head out in the late afternoon to visit Cathedral Cove, one of New Zealand’s most iconic coastal spots. The walk to the cove begins just outside Hahei and winds through lush native bush, past open lookouts with stunning ocean views. It’s a gentle 2.5-kilometer trail, just enough to stretch the legs and feel the fresh coastal breeze on our faces.
As we reached the last bend in the path, Cathedral Cove revealed itself in all its beauty. It felt like stepping into a postcard.
We wandered down to the beach, and just sat in silence for a while. The late-day sun bathed the cliffs in warm orange light, and the whole place had a kind of magic to it.
By the time we started heading back, the trail was dark. We walked slowly by the light of our headlamps, the forest now quiet and cool. It felt like we had the whole world to ourselves, just the soft crunch of our steps on the path and the occasional rustle in the bushes beside us. Back at camp, we had a simple snack for dinner, wrapped ourselves in warm clothes and made ourselves comfortable in the tent, just relaxing our legs and getting ready for a good night sleep.
This life on the road was starting to feel familiar. Stripped of clutter, full of motion and quiet wonder. Tomorrow the bikes roll again, but today was for stillness, for stargazing, and for remembering how lucky we are to be out here, doing this.
What’s Next?
The wheels are finally turning. Ahead of us lie winding roads, rolling hills, deep forests, and climbs that will test our legs and our stubbornness over and over again. We have no idea what’s waiting around each corner—surprise rainstorms, jaw-dropping views, sleepy little towns… and maybe a staring contest with some roadside sheep and cows.
But that’s exactly what we came for—The unknown, the freedom, the challenge, the highs and also the lows. This first week was just the beginning—a soft landing, a deep breath. Now the real ride begins.
It’s just us, our bikes, and the open road. Let’s see where it takes us.