Strap in, it's about to get weird.

My friend Lia (of http://www.liaweston.com/ fame) has been telling me I should do this for quite a while now because my life is a comedy of bad judgement, good people and stories that will make you say 'how in the FUCK did you get so lucky AGAIN?!'

So, lets begin with my first comically bad decision, at 19, when my girlfriend (Sarah) at the time and I decided buying mountain bikes, trailers, a tonne of gear and cycling the entirety of New Zealand's south island was a wonderful idea. It was an awful idea. But as you will learn, that has never stopped me throwing caution to the wind and just doing it anyway. Flying into Wellington and attempting to fit 80 kg of  bulky gear into a 4-door taxi resulted in this:

Which, although I am smiling in the photo, left me feeling more like someone had shoved me into a washing machine more-so than ever in my life before. Sort of like this:

So off we headed with our surly taxi driver guiding us to our hotel where we checked into a room slightly bigger than a double bed. I know this because the bed was a double and I could just fit my gear bag between it and the wall, provided I wanted to make it extremely difficult to move about the room. I obviously did that.
Off we went the next day to the ferry terminal on our way to the South Island. We immediately got lost and narrowly made the ferry. Yes, it was my fault. That did not stop me acting surlier than our taxi driver and then downing beers despite having to immediately ride 45km off road on the queen charlotte track. Then I forgot my water purification tablets and drastically underestimated the elevation changes, leaving me surlier than before. The plus side is that the Queen Charlotte track looks like this:

It is spectacularly beautiful for almost the entire length. It just sucks a bit when you're so dehydrated that you piss sand. Onward and upward is the only option though, right? Unfortunately, no, no it is not. In this case the only option available was headwind, rain, more rain, close encounters with trucks, almost getting blown off a bridge, losing shit, losing VERY important shit and eventually heading home. Here we go...

Leaving Picton, we headed for St Arnaud, which has one road in and one road out...i.e. you need to retrace your steps. Totally worth it. Although, I did get a bit too close to a freshwater eel (i.e. it bit me). The trip was relatively uneventful until we got to Christchurch and went mountain biking in the port hills (amazing trails btw). and that is where I got Sarah to take this photo:

Apparently that day the cows were feeling rather unphotogenic...because the one on the right gave chase for approximately 5 terrifying, close-to-pants-shitting minutes.

Now, on to Arthur's pass and the first time I genuinely thought I was going to die. Getting there is a horror. But that's what we signed up for so we rode uphill for what seemed like an eternity on a windy, narrow road only to get rained on within 5km of the town. When I say 'rained on' I actually mean 'I have been less wet in my shower' (but still not the most soaked I would get on this trip. Preview; fuck Haast). No worries though; proper shower and all good. Went and did some amazing hikes and then on the way out, heading west, you encounter a bridge called the Otira viaduct. Now, with a steep incline, 30+kg of gear pushing you and a 100+km wind roaring up the valley from your left hand side, speed wobbles are pretty likely. So, being a reckless idiot, I ploughed on at full speed (about 70km/h) whilst Sarah was more cautious. Introduce speed wobbles and you find me, screaming my ill-advised head off and hurtling across a bridge which looks like this:

Now, the added effect of having a trailer is that it has momentum and when you brake with speed wobbles; it creates a lever arm attempting to oppose this momentum. This makes them worse. Much worse. What did my fear-addled brain do? Let go of the brakes, hit almost 95km/hr before I regained control and then pulled over and waited for Sarah, shaking like I had just confronted an axe murderer and then cautiously (extremely cautiously) make my way to Greymouth, without ever telling her.

I warned you it was going to get weird.
Pt 2 coming soon.