Author: Mike Huber

Adventure Toward Ayers Rock Part II: The Great Ocean Road

By Mike Huber

I will start this story with the disclaimer that my lack of planning and just going with the flow of Australia allowed for this adventure to even happen. I originally thought that I would easily be able to circumcise (I think that’s the right word) the Australian continent in a month.  Not a big deal.  Yeah, some long days, but doable.  Well, if you go back to Part I of this story, you will realize I got hit by a brick daily on that theory.  Either way I had a rental car for a month and would see what adventures I could experience using a list two close friends had provided as a high-level blueprint.

After a couple days exploring Sydney, it was time to pick up my rental car, hit the open road, and embrace what would come while in Australia.

One of the first locations where I was able to slow down and take some time to embrace my surroundings was The Great Ocean Road.  Having ridden some pretty incredible roads throughout the planet, for me to say much about any road is a rarity.  Well, this is one that I was kicking myself for being in a rental car (and not on a motorcycle).   I encountered a group of Japanese tourists, and one was a student at Boston University.  I was wearing my Boston University shirt, so we posed for a photo.

The Great Ocean Road begins just west of Melbourne and extends to Port Fairy.  It is 146 miles long.  The road is paradise for anyone who has ever ridden a motorcycle. The entire length skirts the coast of the Southern Ocean from cliffs high above.  “Breathtaking” doesn’t begin to touch how this feels, as every corner provides a new panoramic view of rock formations and ocean as bright green as you can imagine.

Occasionally the road cuts inland through thick rain forest. There are plenty of short hikes gushing waterfall views along these parts.  If you look closely you will likely find a koala bear lazily eating eucalyptus leaves in a tree high above.  Wallabies dance around your car, curiously peering in to see if anything is worth a closer inspection for something to fill their bellies.

Another beautiful feature of this paved paradise is the lack of people along the way.  Several campsites I visited had no one in them. I am certain it helped that it was offseason (that and my ability to find off-the-beaten-path locations).  It wasn’t odd for me to have miles of beach to myself while enjoying a cold VB Bitter beer.  I could stare along the endless coastline while listening to the waves crashing, with my surroundings devoid of any other creature (with the occasional exception of a kangaroo hopping by).

Upon driving along the Great Ocean Road my mind was in the right place.  I was filled with peace through the solitude I enjoyed from star-filled nights.  I felt as though my mental clarity was honed, and I was prepared for the next part of my journey (that being the vastness of the Outback of Australia).  On many levels, this would prove to be more challenging than I had imagined as I continued the long journey to my destination of Uluru, Ayer’s Rock.

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Memorial Day

By Mike Huber

Not being in the United States for Memorial Day and seeing our flag lining every Main Street throughout our country is one of those times I miss being home.  Having served as a soldier in the United States Army I have endless respect for those that lost their lives in defense of this great nation.  I now am learning how to respect it even more so from a global level.

This year on April 25th my travels afforded me the opportunity to celebrate a Memorial Day for two of our allies, New Zealand and Australia.  While on a guided tour through Frazer Island, a remote sand island off the northeastern coast of Australia, our tour was delayed an hour at the ship wreck of the TSS Meheno HMNZ Hospital Ship 1. The Meheno was a critical resource in WW I in retrieving the wounded from Anzac Cove in Gallipoli for both New Zealand and Australia.  When I asked why the tour was delayed the guide explained, “Today is Anzac Day,” and went into the meaning of this holiday.

Anzac Day is a combination of Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day for both Australia and New Zealand.  Well, once I learned this I left the tour group and made my way into the heart of the ceremony before it began.  I knew I was with my people here at this ceremony.  I am not quite sure how I knew, but I just knew.  It didn’t take me long to be welcomed by the Australian Army Veterans partaking in the ceremony. They eagerly invited me to stand with them front and center to pay respects to their fallen and veterans.  As many people know I only own two shirts, an 82nd Airborne Division shirt and a Boston University shirt.  This day I was lucky enough to have worn the 82nd shirt and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Australian Army veterans.  As the ceremony concluded, one of the veterans pulled me aside, thanked me and handed me an Anzac Day pin. I don’t travel with much, but that pin is now part of my sensitive items list.

I was beyond humbled to be standing there, shoulder to shoulder with our allies as they laid wreaths, gave speeches, and played both the Australian and New Zealand national anthems.  On more than one occasion I teared up, and for good reason.  These servicemen and women easily could have been backing any of our 6’s as Americans.  The ceremony resonated deeply within me in realizing that Memorial Day is much more far reaching than just our shores in the United States.

In the following month, I went further with what I took away from that Anzac Day Ceremony by taking the time to visit the Australian War Memorial in Canberra.  This museum was as moving as any of ours would be in the United States.  They have etched in the walls the names of each of their fallen from every campaign they participated in.  This includes The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier for Australia and an eternal flame.

I will forever remember my Anzac Day experience and although this day is for our American fallen, it is important to know that these ceremonies go on for all our allies across the world.  Please remember the reason for this holiday over the weekend and take the time to pay respects to our heroes of this great Country. God bless America, and God bless our Allies.

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Adventure Toward Ayers Rock

By Mike Huber

At the time of this writing I am sitting in my hotel room, which happens to be in an underground cave in the tiny opal mining town of Coober Pedy.  Normally this would sound crazy, but 50% of the residents in this town live underground so it’s perfectly normal to be living as someone on the desert planet of Tatoonie would live.  It is deep in the Australian Outback hundreds of miles from nothing. How I even ended up in this town is something I am still piecing together, but alas, here I am typing this up as an aboriginal drum beats from the distant hills and echoes into my cave dwelling.

I apologize for being on a brief writing hiatus. My travel schedule has been beyond nonstop (even for me). I have only had two days off since leaving New Zealand in early April.  In doing so there were multiple countries I toyed with visiting.  Australia was one that kept being recommended, but I didn’t really feel the calling for it. So was hesitant when I booked a one-way ticket to Sydney and was expecting a short stay to just check the box. Well, life had other plans for me as I am currently six weeks into this giant country with no end in sight.

When I say no end in sight, I literally mean no end in sight.  Having motorcycled much of the Southwestern United States over the past six years I think I have a pretty solid grasp on distances and expansiveness with large pockets of isolation and nothingness.  I knew what large areas were and how to negotiate them, even on two wheels.  I couldn’t have been more ignorant of what expansiveness really is.

Expansiveness is driving 100+ miles and not seeing another car and only a random oncoming truck towing three or four trailers that when it passes you throws your tiny rental off the road due to the wind gust.  Expansiveness is slowing down to some type of an unknown road hazard in front of you only to realize it’s an emu that decides to attack your car so you must quickly swerve and speed up.  Expansiveness is clicking search on both AM and FM radio stations only to have it indefinitely spin without a station to be found for hours.  Expansiveness is Australia.

Australia is my home for the time being and I am trying everything possible to do more than just scratch the surface of this foreign and incredibly large part of the world. With every type of climate you can imagine and wildlife that is other worldly, cute, dangerous, and some a combination of the three.  This article series will take you through my journey of Australia as I make my way towards Ayers Rock (Uluru) in the great Australian Outback.

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Zooming Through New Zealand: Part 5

By Mike Huber

I was in the tiny town of Omarama, New Zealand, having coffee and trying to wake up enough to plan the day. I was under an hour and a half away from the Hooker Trail, which I learned just a day or so ago was not too far off my original route. The Hooker Trail was one of those that I kept seeing and hearing about in any conversation about the North Island.  I normally avoid touristy places as much as possible. One of my many travel mantras is “If I run into another American I have failed.”  That’s because most Americans stay on the beaten path and rarely venture off.  The venturing off seems to be my happy place.

As I finished my coffee and began to put my gear back on for the ride to the Hooker Trail, I fueled up since it New Zealand was pretty devoid of towns for the next couple hundred miles, which is perfect for riding.  I was expecting Mount Cook would be similar to the other areas of New Zealand and was preparing to view a miniature copy of say, Mt. Hood.  The previous day (although incredible and diverse) was like a 70% replica of the western United States with a sprinkling of British Columbia thrown in.  Yes, I am extremely spoiled in my perspectives of motorcycle roads.  I understand this.

It didn’t take long after leaving the coffee shop before low level clouds consumed me and the road.  I had just gone through a similar area and noticed when I gained some elevation it cleared up.  I remained optimistic as I strained to see anything in front of me. The attempt to hike the Hooker Trail surely would be in vain if it continued to stay this way, as I have heard it often does up in the s, outhern Alps of New Zealand.

Fortunately, this wasn’t the case. Once I hit Lake Pukaki, I had obtained enough elevation to where the clouds were below me.  Lake Pukaki than came into full view and it was stunning.  The neon green water contrasted with the brown mountains surrounding the lake, and it became all I could see.  The colors were so overwhelmingly bright I had to pull over several times not only to take the views in but allow my eyes to adjust from the drab cloudbank that had me engulfed over the previous hour.

After another 30 minutes of riding along this other-worldly lake I could see Mount Cook was getting close and I was excited to finally hike the Hooker Trail.  As I entered the parking lot around noon, I noticed how crowded it was. There was hardly any parking (at least for cars).  I found a perfect spot for Massie right up front next to the trail head and swapped out my riding outfit for hiking gear.

This was it: The Hooker Trail.  It wasn’t too long, only around 6 miles round trip.  Once I began hiking I understood why I had kept hearing about it in my travels and when reading random blogs and posts. It was super-crowded.  The hike was beautiful.  Around each corner was a new view of either glacial lakes or views of Mount Cook towering above. The trail ended at a glacial lake with a beach that was perfect for a quick swim.  It was mid-afternoon and it was warming up quite nicely.

Massie she was parked right where I had left her and ready to blast out our final few hours to the hostel on the edge of Lake Tekapo. The trip had taken me through what felt like a whirlwind of geographical features. There’s no question that that the roads, people, and environment in New Zealand are a dream for anyone (especially a motorcyclist). As I cracked open a cold Kea IPA on the lakeshore a sense of satisfaction came over me. I could now add New Zealand to the growing list of countries I where have motorcycled. The memories of this trip will help me pass the time while on the long flight to my next destination.  Cheers New Zealand!

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Zooming Through New Zealand: Part 4

By Mike Huber

It was well after 6:00 p.m. and I was starting to hit my wall for riding.  My goal was to travel to this campground I stumbled upon on Google which was about 5 miles down a dirt road which had some decent reviews.  The rental company mentioned no off-roading as Massie had street tires.  I zoomed in on the map and saw “Linda Road,” so I technically was not off-roading. Check!

The road was a very tame forest service road with the occasional “Traffic Lamb,” as quite frequently there were herds of sheep and they would part like the Red Sea as they heard Massie’s engine roar grow closer (you can send hate mail for that joke to Joe Berk).

Once I neared the campsite I noticed a couple of old rundown stone buildings (from who knows how long ago) and a few van lifers dispersed around a large field.  This was a really cool spot!  Not only that, but you had views for miles of the sun beginning to set over the brown grassy mountains that surrounded the location.  This was Linda’s Camp.  It was an old short term gold mining operation from the 1860s, which switched hands a few times before finally being abandoned in the 1950s.  This was an amazing place to camp and it was far off the grid.  I didn’t even have cell service.

After setting up my tent I struck up a conversation with an old gold miner.  He was living in his van there and spent his days panning for gold off a nearby river with minimal luck.  He got a good laugh from my story about getting the boot from the coffee shop earlier that day for drying my gear there.  The rest of the evening was spent exploring the hotel ruins and a short hike up the mountain to watch the sunset.  It was one of those moments where I really was able to relax, breathe, and just be in the present.  It was a long but rewarding day and I thought having an early night was in order.  It would be another long day tomorrow to include the Hooker Trail hike, which I was greatly looking forward to.

Waking up in yet another serene location with Massie sitting just outside the tent was another perfect kickoff to this new day.  Since it was still pretty early, after packing I thought pushing the bike out of the camping area was the proper thing to do to avoid waking any of the van lifers (or the gold miner).

Once well outside the perimeter I went to start the bike. Nothing happened.  Shit.  The battery was somehow dead. I took the panniers off and attempted to manually jump start it off a small incline.  No good.  It wasn’t starting. Well, I thought, it was not so funny breaking that “stay on the road rule” now, was it? I had no cell signal either.  As I sat down weighing my options (none of which none were good) I heard a couple of pots banging together.  The old gold miner was up.  I walked over and asked if he had jumpers, and he did!  Sure enough, the bike fired right up with his help. Okay, cool I can still make the Hooker Trail even if I am an hour behind schedule.  And, the rental company would never know I was off road.

Once I was back on the main road and well on my way, the need for coffee hit me.  I pulled into a rest area to see if there was a cell signal to guide me to a coffee shop.  There was a cell signal, and there was a coffee shop not too far away.  I pulled out and began racing the Linda Pass switchbacks when suddenly all I saw was a huge yellow Scania 18-wheeler coming head on at me.  Why was he in my lane? SHIT! I was on the wrong side of the road!  In my morning fog, and my distraction from the battery issue I zoned out and drove on the right side of the road.  Even with a giant yellow arrow on Massie’s dash as a constant reminder, I somehow ignored the fact that they drive on the wrong side in New Zealand.  I didn’t have much time to react and managed to skirt along not so much of a shoulder, but a strip of grass as the truck blasted by me.

That was close.   I really didn’t need any coffee after that wakeup call, but what I did need was a moment to get my head back in the game (especially if I was to complete the Hooker Trail and find a campsite).  Due to Massie’s moody electrical system, tonight’s campsite would need to be near a town with a strong cell signal. It was still early and my confidence was high. I knew I would satisfy both objectives.

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Zooming through New Zealand: Part 3

By Mike Huber

There are certainly worse places to wake up. I opened my eyes facing a beautiful mountain lake with loud wekas clumsily hunting for food in the brush next to my tent. Without my cooking gear it took me just about 20 minutes to pack up and load Massie, the BMW GS750 for what would be a full day of riding.  As I was packing up I was already craving a coffee and a meat pie for breakfast.  While stuffing my gear in the panniers I noticed how wet everything was from the dew and being so close to the lake.  The sun was out though, so I thought after an hour or so of riding I would dry it out as I ate breakfast.

Riding to breakfast took a bit longer than expected and the one hour turned to three.  Not that big of a deal as the sun was fully out now and would allow for my gear to dry while I researched my route and stops for the day. As I pulled into a coffee shop in a small town along my route the waitress stated how it would be a while for my food and coffee.  This was my queue to unpack my wet gear and lay it out to dry while I was researching maps and things to do for the day.

During my wait several people introduced themselves and we had some fun conversations about my gear and riding.  It was a great environment, or so I thought. After about 20 minutes my coffee and food arrived and I was told that maybe I should take it to go and it was time to pack up my gear.  I guess they didn’t like the look of my tent and equipment drying and sprawled out all over their front porch.  Which I sort of get, even though many of the clientele had been chatting me up.  I apologized and, well, it took me about as long to pack up that gear as it did for them to bring my coffee (it happened to be fully dry by the time it was packed).  I found it a bit rude, but I understood that having my gear everywhere could be viewed as a bit of a mess.  It was time to get going, anyway, as I had a long day ahead.

During my minimal research and planning at the coffee shop I discovered this one hike that I continually heard about from others.  It was the Mount Cook Hooker Trail.  The hike wasn’t too long, and it had an incredible view at the end. This was only a couple hours off my planned route.  Adding that hike meant I would have to have a long day and miss a lot of stops that tourists hit, such as the Franz and Fox Glaciers and hikes along that area.  I decided to prioritize the Hooker Trail and skip the glaciers and other coastal hikes. Having made this decision meant a 350-mile day.  Which to me didn’t seem like a lot, but the roads were tight and windy, which I thoroughly enjoyed, probably too much as I used the long day as a reason to really wear the edges of the tires in.

After close to 10 hours of aggressive riding through what I felt was like a mini version of the Western United States and British Columbia, I arrived where I thought would camp for the evening, just outside a city called Wanaka.  However, the “campground” resembled something of a tent city I would expect to find under Interstate 5 in Seattle.  That made it a hard pass for me.  I did have a second option, but it was another 45 minutes north and if it didn’t work out, I would be in a tight position as the day was beginning to wear on me.  I decided to shoot for it and hope for the best.  What I found was far more than I expected and maybe one of the coolest places I ever moto camped.

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Zooming Through New Zealand: Part 2

By Mike Huber

Kim from South Pacific Motorcycles had just picked me up at my hostel in downtown Christchurch, New Zealand and we were off to meet my new steed for the week.  It was a BMW GS750 named “Massie.”  Even with my lack of planning, somehow the Universe decided I needed to get back on a motorcycle and I was fortunate enough to snag the last one available for the dates I was in town.  The stars couldn’t have aligned any better.

Kim and I exchanged ideas on routes and agreed the one I had lazily researched would be a great one, but it might result in some long riding days. I would have to forego some hikes and tourist attractions that were on my list.  It was a loop that would take me over three unique mountain passes, and allow me to see two glaciers and cruise along ocean roads.  It would be a full riding trip with not much time for hikes and other tourist stops.  This was fine with me as I was itching to ride again.  Also, I had enough time remaining in country that if anything appealed to me, I could always return via bus or rental car.

The weather was a perfect 70 degrees F and I was ready to hit the switchbacks as I raced towards Arthur’s Pass National Park.  The roads were pretty solid going through this area.  It was just exhilarating to be riding again (and in another country at that).   I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot to top off on fuel prior to heading into the mountains.

Upon hitting the first town after completing Arthur’s Pass, Massie’s fuel level read a mere 18km remaining (a rookie mistake by me). Once the bike was topped off I sat under the gas station’s awning to figure out where I would be staying that evening.  The rental company recommended staying in Holiday Parks.  These were similar to the KOAs that we have in the United States.

I cannot stand KOAs.  Unless I was in a pinch that would not be my plan for the evening.  Camping in New Zealand is different from the United States in that many areas are called “freedom camping,” but in order to stay there you had to have a self-contained vehicle sticker.  To obtain the sticker the vehicle must undergo a rigorous inspection process to ensure the vehicle has a toilet in it.  So Freedom Camping was obviously out of the question.

Hunting down campsites wasn’t anything new for me.  It didn’t take me long to remember that on the North Island I had camped in DOC (Department of Conservation) campsites.  These campsites could be quite primitive but they have toilets, which meant I didn’t need a sticker.  I found them in really beautiful areas and at a cost of just $15 NZD ($10 USD) they met all my requirements for a peaceful night of camping.

The campsite was perfect.  It was next to a beautiful lake with plenty of weka birds that would walk right up to you and hang out for a bit. It had been a short day but it was the perfect length to get used to the bike, chat with a few other riders, and get back into camping off a motorcycle.  I was back in my natural environment and decided to call it an early night.  I knew the next day I would have to put some serious mileage behind me if I was to complete this loop.

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Me for VP

By Mike Huber

Just to preface this blog, I am not too much of a political person.  For me, the current political scene is an ongoing series of Melrose Place episodes that play out in the background as entertainment. I really don’t give it too much thought otherwise.  For others it seems to be deeply rooted in them to be for one side or the other, even at times they switch sides like when Macho Man became a bad guy in the WWF. At any rate, I wanted to state that prior to this write up.  Enjoy!

In 2016 I found myself dating a girl I had met on Day 1 in boot camp at Fort Jackson, SC.  Soldiers were still segregated then between male and female, except on KP.  We hit it off and dated for a bit in Fort Gordon, GA as we were both communication specialists.  That faded as I was shipped off to Korea for a year and we lost contact.  Fast forward 23 years or so and we happened to reconnect when we were both living in Seattle.  I was working remotely and she was quite high up in Seattle’s city government.  She was very politically active (as you can imagine being in Seattle).  That was fine and I didn’t give it much notice or bother, and I was always well behaved at dinners with the mayor and the other work functions I tagged along on.

It didn’t take long for her to start pushing me to take my career more seriously and move from being a project manager to higher management positions.  The push wasn’t a bad thing from her perspective I am sure, but I was content where I was. I was great at my job, I could travel, and I had a great team (both on my projects and in my managers).

This didn’t stop her from mentioning at every dinner with friends about her wanting me to take my career to the next level.  The nagging just didn’t end. Quite often when I am being pushed to do something I really don’t want to I either dig my heels in and refuse or… I go FULL into it so obnoxiously that the point comes across pretty clearly as to where I stand. Even as a child if I got in trouble at school (a daily occurrence) my Mom would make be bring wood up from the basement and to protest this more than once I would bring up so much, and stack it so high, that they would need a step ladder to use the top pieces.  For good or bad, my mentality hasn’t changed much over the years and with the girlfriend and her crew constantly nagging me about my career it was time to take action and put this to bed.

It was a Friday evening in 2016 and we had a group of her city workers and their spouses over for dinner. As the conversation drizzled on I was waiting for my moment. As she was telling one of her friends how well I had been behaving the past week, I decided it was time.  I took a knife and softly dinged my wine glass. “I have some big news, guys.  I have formally applied for an upper management position.  Actually, a VP position and I feel I have a great chance here and this can really boost my career.”  Everyone was happy; a few claps even ensued.  I was then asked what company was this VP position in?  I proudly slammed the write up below down on the table while loudly saying “VP OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, BABY!!”

Dear Sir, I would like to apply to be your Vice President in 2024. I am a highly motivated individual with valued skills both in leadership and management which will enable us to lead this country as it has never been led before. My skills have been honed beginning in my youth as a soldier with the 82nd Airborne Division. These skills have only grown throughout my life as a successful graduate of Boston University, and as a leader in the field of project management. Thank you for your consideration and I look forward to working with you to make America great again.

Sincerely,

Michael Huber, PMP

Well, as you can imagine that announcement went over like a fart in church. Nonetheless I stuck with it and doubled down asking if any of them had applied for the VP position.  Of course, none had, so I made it very clear that I now had a better shot than any of them.  Needless to say, I got the reaction I was looking for and my career aspirations were never discussed again.  I accomplished my objective.

Now, in 2024 I find myself currently without a job, so I formally applied yet again and, so far, I have only received the photo reply you see above.  My Dad says I will have to return and work from Washington D.C. if I get the job, but I think as a VP I can be remote and work from abroad (I will negotiate that once I am formally offered the position).  I am expecting either an offer letter in the mail or a phone call in the next week or so.  I will keep you in the loop on how this new career path works out.

Thanks for your support!

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Zooming Through New Zealand: Part I

By Mike Huber

Having both traveling and motorcycling as my two greatest passions in life whenever I have an opportunity to combine them it is always quite magical.  Add on top of that camping, and it’s a trifecta for pure bliss.  Having found myself in New Zealand (and previously hearing tales of the incredibly technical roads and terrain here) was something that I didn’t want to miss, yet I almost did.

One of my strengths as a traveler, which seems counter intuitive, is my lack of planning.  I rarely plan more than a week in advance, and sometimes less than that.  In the past this has been a double-edged sword.  The agility of minimal planning allows me to instantly adjust with few consequences when opportunities arise, but it also has caused me to miss highlights that require more planning.  Still, this is the way I have traveled and for the most part it works.  To be fully transparent, the lack of planning could be due to laziness.  But to be perfectly honest if it hadn’t been at least semi-successful I would absolutely put in the work to lay out a more detailed plan.

This lack of planning almost became a major regret here in New Zealand.  By the time I arrived on the south island to reserve a motorcycle they were booked months in advance.  I was pretty distraught, but I understood the reasoning since it was peak tourism season (and I hadn’t planned).  It didn’t look like riding a motorcycle in New Zealand was in the cards for me.

There was a bright spot as an old friend of mine, Neal from the United States, happened to be on an Air Force duty assignment here. We hadn’t hung out in almost 20 years, so seeing him would be a great way to wash away the disappointment. Neal was in Christchurch and attached to an Air Force unit whose mission was to provide support for Antarctica.  Which I thought was really cool as they were part of the maintenance team for C-130s that delivered supplies to the frozen continent.  I love C-130s as I used to jump out of them when I served with the 82nd Airborne Division. The only difference (from my limited perspective) is the props had eight blades on the propeller instead of four, and these planes had skis attached to the wheels for ice landings. Of course, I thought all this was bad ass.

Leading up to our visit, Neal kept mentioning this Brazilian BBQ place that is an all you can eat meat on a stick fest. When we arrived along with three of his soldiers, the owner came out to greet my friend like he was the mayor of Christchurch.  Instantly I knew Neal frequents this place quite often.

After we ordered Brazil’s National Drink, the Caipirinha, we waited for the feast to begin.  During this time I began chatting up the owner. He was originally from Arizona and had motorcycled quite a bit throughout the United States.  It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to motorcycling New Zealand and how I couldn’t find a bike.  Within 5 minutes he had texted the owner of a local family-owned rental company, South Pacific Motorcycles.  They had a BMW GS750 available for the exact days I wanted. This was great to hear. I may be able to rebound from my lack of planning after all! If this wasn’t destiny, I don’t know what is.

I had 5 days to kill in Christchurch until I picked up the BMW.  That wasn’t too hard as it’s a fairly large city with some quirky architecture, botanical gardens, museums, and beaches to occupy my time until it was time to pick the bike up.  The downtime also allowed me to research different routes.  This wasn’t done by online forums or social media groups but by just looking at maps and putting a route together (as I would do in the United States).  Again, this could be laziness, but it’s what works for me.  Things were looking bright and the weather was great the day Kim, from South Pacific Motorcycles, picked me up in front of my hostel.  It was time to get this adventure underway.

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Tongariro Crossing, Tongariro National Park, New Zealand

By Mike Huber

The Tongariro Crossing in New Zealand is touted as one of the world’s best day hikes. This obviously meant it was a hike I had to tackle.  The crossing is 19.4 kilometers (11.64 miles) across an active volcano, and it includes a LOT of stairs, both up and down.  Having not been hiking in several months, this was the first time I was actually questioning my physical ability. I don’t think it comes from age as much as hard landings from falling out of airplanes.  Either way, it’s the Number 1 hike on Earth so it really needed to be checked off my list.

As with all mountains, the weather is constantly changing and this mountain would prove no different.  The previous day the hikes were cancelled due to heavy winds.  Upon waking up at 0400 it was a relief to learn that the shuttles would be running that day. My campsite was just outside the town of National Park and was right along the shuttle path for a 0545 pickup and a 30-minute drive to the trailhead.

The hike started with misty clouds which added to the already stunning mountain scenery, and the winds, well they were blowing hard. I had purposely loaded my day pack heavy with extra everything in the event I’d need it.  That was smart. By day’s end I had used almost everything I brought.  This was comforting since I thought I had over packed.

The first five kilometers weren’t bad except for the brutal winds, which were a constant battle. It got to the point that when the winds subsided I’d almost fall down due to leaning in so much.  Once that five kilometers were wrapping up, there were several posted signs that said “If you aren’t feeling well, now is a great time to turn back, there is no shame in that.”  I used those signs as motivation to continue.

Once reaching the summit, it was obvious the crown jewel of the hike would not be shining as brightly as it had been in the photos.  There were two bright neon emerald green lakes that in the sun just glowed; however, with the weather having turned so quickly it was nothing more than a dull blue barely visible through the cloud bank.  The winds were still howling from every direction.  There was hardly even time to snap a few photos before I decided it was time to descend into the next crater for some shelter and to take a break and eat a snack. The only portion that remained was the never-ending descent filled with many more steps.

Overall, it was a magnificent day with great views and conversation with fellow hikers from all over the world. My finish time, not that it matters, was just over 6 hours.  This seemed admirable as the estimated time for most was between 6 and 8 hours.  The remainder of the day was spent at my campsite swimming in my own personal grotto behind my tent, talking with others that hiked it (or would in the morning), consuming ibuprofen, and feeling semi accomplished now that this hike was now completed.

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