The Story of (Re-)Creation: Alina & Conor on Bicycles

Day 1: Let There Be Bikes  

And so it was that Alina and Conor emerged from the great city of Auckland, where the sprawl is vast and the roads are treacherous. They boarded the mighty train, which carried them forth beyond the lands of chaos, delivering them to the promised realm of Takaanini (South Auckland). Here, they set their feet upon their steel steeds, and the journey began.

The path was paved with good intentions and also with large, swift pick-up trucks. For though they sought the small roads, the roaring machines of Auckland followed them yet. But lo, the further they traveled, the quieter the roads became, until at last they reached a sacred place—a tranquil beach, nestled by the regional park Tapapakanga. It was here that they rested, bathing in the Pacific, meeting the wise and well-traveled Alice, who planned to cycle the long path from Singapore to France. Humbled, they lay down their weary bodies and prepared for the trials ahead.

Day 2: The Fall of Woman  

Morning came, and with it, the realization that their food supplies were as empty as their energy reserves. They rode forth to the Coromandel, where the people, ever wise and ever chatty, warned them of the treacheries of State Highway 25.

Seeking an alternative path, they found it closed. And in that moment of dismay, Alina did stumble—not upon rocks or obstacles, but upon herself, toppling to the ground in an act of divine comedy, unable to remove her feet from the steel steeds. She arose, bruised but unbowed, and they pressed on to Thames. The road was long, the effort great, and by the time they arrived, their spirits were as depleted as their legs. They sought refuge in a campsite, collapsed, and decreed that on the morrow, there would be no pedaling. And it was good.

Day 3: And on the Third Day, They Rested  

There was no walking, no riding, and certainly no climbing of unnecessary hills. Instead, there was a river, there was food, and there was an abundance of fish—bestowed upon them by a generous stranger who had simply caught too many. Thus, they feasted and were content.

Day 4: The Trials of the Mountain

With renewed vigor, they faced the feared State Highway 25, where the narrow ways and hasty drivers loomed large. But behold, the warnings of the elders had been slightly exaggerated! For though the road was perilous, the views were mighty, and the coastline stretched before them in divine splendor.

But then came the great mountain. As they ascended, the road grew steep, and Alina’s strength waned. Every 200 meters, she paused, feeding her body sugar as though it were the manna of the weary. Conor, patient as can be, bestowed in her confidence and hope. And finally, after much suffering, they reached the summit, where the land spread before them in glorious beauty. Yet, their trials were not over, for their chosen campsite had ceased to exist.

A wandering sage appeared—a man on his evening walk—who guided them to a benevolent host named Earl. And Earl, in his wisdom, allowed them sanctuary upon his land. And there was much rejoicing.

Day 5: The Temptation of the Beach

The morning was one of indecision. For in the land of Whangapoua lay a fabled beach, one of the finest in the world according to the all knowing Lonely Planet, yet since plagued by the multitudes of visitors. To go or not to go? But the path was set before them, and Earl himself delivered them unto the trailhead. And there, beyond the crowded first 200 meters, lay paradise. The multitudes were unable to see beyond their own feet, and much to the joy of Conor and Alina a majestic beach revealed itself. 

They swam, they played, and then they departed, for the great Coroglen Tavern awaited. Yet the journey was not without suffering, for also Conor had lost his nimbleness and stumbled upon himself in the safety of a static stance. As for Alina, her back began to ache, a reminder of their mortal fragility. But they pressed on, and in the hallowed halls of the Tavern, they found not only beer but also camaraderie in the form of Vicky and Owen, with whom they shared an evening of revelry. And thus, their cups overflowed, and it was very good.

Day 6: The Morning After  

The sun rose, but Alina and Conor did not. At least, not quickly. The revelry of the previous night had left them slow and ponderous. But the road called, and they answered, cycling onward to Tairaru, where they broke bread by the sea.

And as the day waned, they journeyed into the wilderness, where a hidden campsite, nestled among the native bush, awaited them. The cicadas sang their songs of welcome, and the land was still. Thus, they slept, weary but victorious.

What began as a peaceful day soon turned to madness. A rustic path led them onward, but it was no path at all—it was a river. With great effort, they carried their bags and bicycles, wading through the waters like pilgrims seeking dry land. And when at last they reached the road, they thought their trials were over. But lo, the dreaded State Highway 25A awaited.

The trucks were relentless, the shoulders of the road nonexistent, and the climb unending. Sweat poured, curses were uttered, and when at last they reached the top, there was no view to reward their suffering, a true test of their faith. But then, the descent came, and with it, relief.

The road changed, the land flattened, and cow pastures stretched as far as the eye could see. And though the rain came, they rode on, until at last they arrived at a place of rest—a humble tavern where Guinness flowed, and an orchard of plenty awaited with space for their nightly rest. And thus, they feasted upon apples, pears, and plums, and all was well.

And so, it was written: the first week was completed, and though there was suffering, there was also triumph. And thus, Alina and Conor cycled forth, into the unknown.

THE END