Author: Mike Huber

Scuba: Part 2

By Mike Huber

It was 0700 and the location was a pier in Cairns Australia as 30 of us were boarding a live-aboard boat to perform 9 scuba dives over the next 3 days and 2 nights. There were only 3 of us that had never performed an open water scuba dive before, and I was one of them. It would take 5 dives while completing our drills for us to obtain our PADI open water certification.  We were ready.

It took the boat about 3 hours to get out to the reef for our first dive. 27 of the others were seasoned divers, so as the newbies we felt privileged they’d help us gear up and make jokes about our fumbling around prior to getting into the water.

Others may disagree with me and that is fine, but I have sky dived and to me, nothing felt closer to jumping out of an airplane as a paratrooper than scuba diving.  You suit up, perform checks on your gear and your scuba buddy’s gear, shuffle to the edge of the boat, give an OK to the dive master who checks your air is on (I always stuck my hand out and yelled “ALL OK JUMPMASTER!” just to get into the moment a bit more), and jump off the boat into the water. I understand the two experiences are almost polar opposites, but what isn’t is the comradery and the procedures prior to diving (or jumping out of an airplane).

As soon as I hit the ocean waters of the Great Barrier Reef in full scuba gear I felt two things: A brief moment of anxiety, just as I felt in the pool during onshore training, and when we signaled to go down.  This was a moment of bliss and freedom as you leave the world you know and enter a realm of tranquility beneath the ocean.  It was so similar to exiting an aircraft as you leave the chaos and perform the 4-second count prior to your parachute opening.  Both are moments when you have a quick chat with the big guy upstairs and are alone in the world.  There are few experiences in life that compare to these.  I was instantly hooked on scuba diving.

Our first five dives were work.  They encompassed the same drills over and over that we performed in the pool.  The objective was to review the same emergency procedures for a multitude of issues that you can face while underwater, and how to calmly overcome them.  This was another similarity to being a paratrooper.  The only big difference is there was less yelling for your mistakes, but the instructor did have a whiteboard to correct any errors you were making while on the dive.  Another reason I knew my instructor was great was when she wrote my mistakes on her whiteboard for, I literally could hear her stern voice in my head just as clear and loud as if we were above water.

Upon all three of us successfully meeting the criteria we were now PADI Certified Open Water Scuba Divers.  Now it was time to begin having fun and enjoying the benefits of diving.  We were on The Great Barrier Reef after all and the coral and wildlife we saw over the next 3 days was magical.  We were literally in God’s aquarium.  Each of the dive sites we experienced had something unique to offer, from schools of colorful fish, to sea turtles, to even a couple nurse and reef sharks.  If I wasn’t hooked before on this new hobby, I surely was now.

The remainder of the days were passed with dives, delicious food, and wonderful new friends.  The beauty of this live aboard boat were absolutely the people I was surrounded by.  We each had different experience levels in diving, and were from countries all around the World, yet we all bonded over this one passion, scuba diving. Once the evening festivities died down instead of returning to the tight quarters below deck a few of us decided to sleep on the open upper deck of the vessel.  This was the perfect way to wind down.  We would tell a few jokes while staring at the Southern Cross as it slowly made its way across the sky until we fell asleep, and in the morning awaking to the sunrise hitting this spectacular part of the World and lighting up the Australian Flag as the sun rose.  A feeling of accomplishment washed across me each day and evening of this trip.  It may have been the most rewarding time along my travels to this day, and for good reason. I had found a new way to add even further adventure to my travels.

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Scuba: Part 1

By Mike Huber

As I had begun to enter my 5th month of travel, not knowing where I would be sleeping the next night became routine.  My mentality was “Future Mike will figure this one out, he always does.” And I always did.  That mindset isn’t wrong, as crazy as it felt. However, as time pushed on and the countries began to be more in my rearview mirror something was missing.  A way to deeply experience a country, more than most experience it.  Similar to my past life with living off the BMW GS1200.  The bike added a much-needed color to my adventures whereas most were just doing these adventures in a van or car.  The BMW gave me that extra level of depth that awakened my senses and really allowed me to meet some wonderful people I wouldn’t have otherwise.

Realizing I needed to experience something new (besides circling the globe solo).  I needed something thrilling but something I had never done.  I was two months into driving through Australia and about to board a flight from Sydney to Cairns.  When I asked others in my hostel what was worth doing up there, one reply was always consistent:  Scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef.  That was it! I would become a certified scuba diver and head for the Great Barrier Reef.

I registered for the dates I would be in Northern Australia for a 5-day Open Water PADI Scuba Certification Class. This class would include two days of classroom/pool training and three days and two nights on a live-aboard boat in the Great Barrier Reef. Upon filling out the school course paperwork it seems that due to my ripe old age of 51 I would require a physical.  Not a big deal; there was a clinic across the street from my hostel. I am sure they would rubber stamp me through this, so I booked an appointment.  Upon being called into see the doctor I noticed his clothing apparel seemed a bit…off. It wasn’t until I went into his exam room I noticed posters of Elvis all over the walls.  Now his butterfly collar, gold glasses, slicked back hair made sense. He was an Elvis impersonator, or a big fan at the least.  Once reviewing the physical requirements with him he explained the physical entailed much more than I expected, including chest x-rays, hearing tests, vision test, drug test, etc.

So I am not saying I cheated on this physical, nor am I disclosing if I did cheat how I would complete such an act. What I am saying is I passed the physical with flying colors. Sweet. I sent the paperwork off to the diving school and was formally accepted into the program.  I was still smiling as I boarded my flight from Sydney to Cairns in Australia (which was one of the northern-most points of this mind-blowing continent).

Arriving on time to class (15 minutes prior to its scheduled start) I learned the class would be small.  Myself, a young man from France and an American female from San Diego. Our instructor was from Pittsburgh.  Normally I would hold that against her, but she was beyond stunning so it was easy to let that go as we began our class instruction on the equipment and different emergency protocols, hand signals, and a tutorial of almost any underwater emergency we could possibly encounter.  This was the first half of the day and post lunch it was time to put these lessons to use, using our scuba gear in an enclosed 12-foot deep pool.

The first thing in the pool we performed even before learning about our gear was a swim test. This consisted of treading water for 10 minutes in place and a 300-meter swim.  Upon successfully passing this, it was time to learn about all our gear.  This included the air tank, BCD, respirator, fins, mask and snorkel, and how to successfully connect it all together.

It was now time to put on the scuba gear and go underwater in the pool for the first time.  I will admit this caused a bit of anxiety for the first few minutes, even though we were just a few feet under.  It was a new experience for me and the others, so that was normal.  In no time we were nailing the different drills, such as mask removal and replacement while underwater, and buoyancy control. We also performed drills in the event we ran out of air and how to signal and use your buddy’s secondary air supply (I of course made sure I was paired with the instructor). Little did I know at the time, but paying attention to this lesson would prove to be lifesaving in just a few weeks in Indonesia.

Upon successfully completing the classroom, pool sessions, and passing a written exam, we were ready to take our skills into the ocean.  The next day we were scheduled to meet at 0700 at the boat launch where we would be on a live-aboard boat for the next three days.  The remainder of our training and honing our skills would be performed in the open waters of The Great Barrier Reef in Australia. This is where we hopefully would pass and become Open Water Certified Divers.  Bad ass!

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Cambodia

By Mike Huber

Guys, I apologize (again) for the long gap without writing.  I have a massive backlog that I am attempting to catch up on and really have just been constantly doing too much to complete even a short blog.  It has been a busy but productive time for me.  I’m currently in my 6th country and I’m 8 months into a 1-year journey.  I’m in Cambodia.

Cambodia is yet another country that wasn’t on my radar but having been semi-obsessed with experiencing all 7 Wonders of The World I really wanted to see Angkor Wat.  I know, I know. It isn’t on the list of 7 Wonders now but that list seems to be ever changing and I didn’t want to miss out in the event it was added again. That, and the other reason is I was about to overstay my visa limit in Thailand (running my visas out seems to be a new talent of mine).

Originally, I booked a flight to Phnom Penh as a forward journey requirement for Thailand entry.  As the time got closer to my travel I linked up with a driver in Cambodia who would take me around to see the many Temples.  However, upon sending him my flight itinerary he quickly replied “Dude, you are flying into the other side of the Cambodia, Angkor Wat is 360 kilometers from that city.”  After 8 months this was really my first error of any consequence.  There were two options, a 6-hour bus ride, or just eat the $80 and book a new flight.  I chose the latter to save time.

Upon arrival and a minor hiccup going through immigration (I didn’t bring $30 for a visa so I had to “borrow” it from an immigration officer who included a hefty “tip”).  It was part of the game and another lesson learned from my poor planning.  I can’t complain. Once through customs I met my driver, Kong, outside the airport. And we were off to my hotel in Seim Reap.

The first thing I noticed in Cambodia (beside the fact that they drive on the right side of the road…it has been 8 months since I have been in a country that drives on the right) was the heavy humidity. It was brutal, even though I was in high humidity places over the past three months.  This was next level and there just was no reprieve, even in the early morning and evening.  Along the drive we discussed my objectives while in Cambodia and the main one was to see Angkor Wat.  With the heat and humidity being so oppressive, Kong recommended we start at 0430 the next morning in order to see sunrise at the Temple.  This would provide for a magnificent way to begin the day and allow us to get a head start on the heat.

We arrived at Angkor Wat at around 0530 and walked through the darkness and over the moat that guards this UNESCO treasure.  All the while the mountainous sandstone silhouette was gaining in color and depth as our path led toward a meeting point between us and the rising sun.  Even during off season there was quite the crowd at the reflection pool, at sunrise, to try to get that perfect photo of this stunning homage to Hinduism. It didn’t take long for the heat to follow.  This was our queue to seek out shade deep within the Temple to avoid more heat and more crowds, and begin exploring the hidden Temple chambers.

The depth and detail on the Temple was more than impressive.  Even with the destruction from past wars and an occasional bullet hole in the sandstone, the overall structure hadn’t lost its mystical feeling.  The mysticism was unavoidable as we walked through the Temple’s many chambers.

Of the many experiences along my journey, I think Angkor Wat is one of the best things worth seeing, touching, and experiencing.  Whether included in the 7 Wonders of the World or not, it makes little difference in my appreciation of this stunning structure.  Even as a massive tourist attraction, this Temple sets the criteria for what an ancient wonder should be.  Experiencing it was well worth the trip to Cambodia.

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Adventure Towards Ayers Rock

By Mike Huber

Ayers Rock was my destination.  This is not an easy destination to reach, especially by car.  It takes dedication, time, and patience. Many people fly to this location and use tourist busses to get around in the park, snap a few photos, and leave.  Not me.  It is cliché, but I feel the journey is more important than the destination.  What you see, hear, and feel along the way allows you to appreciate the destination when you do finally reach it.  This two-week drive to Ayers Rock was one that elevates that cliché phrase to a level I never thought possible.

My original plan was to circle the entire continent of Australia in a month. That was NOT happening so Ayers Rock (Uluru) was a solid turnaround point.  Mind you to even complete this took me one month. The isolation was beyond what I had expected.  I knew going into this that isolation would be the greatest challenge, but what I didn’t grasp was how far I would be pushed mentally during this journey.

To add to the trip, one of my best friends and a fellow paratrooper had been diagnosed with cancer a few years back and I knew his time was coming.  Our texts and calls were becoming more and more infrequent. Fortunately, I am very close with one of his sisters.  When I don’t hear from him within a week I reach out to her to obtain a status.  During one of the most desolate spots on earth I received a text from her to inform me of his passing.

You don’t understand isolation until you receive a text like that in spotty cell phone coverage.  There was no way of replying or reaching out to console and provide support to his loved ones.  This left a more than significant gap in my mind with no way of processing it since I was in the middle of the Outback.  There is no one to rely on for comfort or a crutch to get you by.  There is nothing.  Just nothing. The only consolation I found was hours of alone time to think and process it while focusing on how fortunate I was to have such a close friend, all the while driving for hundreds of miles with, again…nothing.  A few dead kangaroos on the side of the highway with an occasional eagle or dingo chomping on them was the only life I saw through this portion of the drive.

Upon arriving at Uluru I set up camp, which only entailed pulling into a parking spot as I was car camping.  This has been a solid pro to car camping, just minimal to no preparation setting up or pulling down camp. After cooking a quick meal in my “campsite” I thought I had enough in me to drive around Ayers Rock for sunset.

Upon entering the park and seeing Ayers for the first time my eyes welled up.  I am not sure if it was due to this area being such a spiritual place for the Aboriginals or that the drive to reach it was so emotional.  It really doesn’t matter.  To finally lay eyes on this magnificent rock glowing in the golden hour of sunset was a moment that will resonate with me forever.  I was fully present in the moment and felt a sense of calmness.

After a semi-solid night’s sleep in the car, it was time to do a 3-hour hike around the rock and really get to experience this monument of the ancients up close and personal.  Since I had been car camping in some warm climates I purchased some mesh window covers to allow the windows to remain down in the evening without having any bugs, flies, snakes, kangaroos, or dingos enter the vehicle while I was sleeping.  This purchase turned out to be one of my better decisions along this drive.  Uluru is plagued with flies. An unimaginable amount of them.  Starting the hike early in the morning was key to avoid them and as the sun rose over this great rock having the car mesh as a makeshift fly screen for myself on the hike was a lifesaver.

Traveling alone through Australia is an experience that forced me to look at life from a unique perspective that many will never understand or even imagine existed. The month was filled daily with two constants: Change, and being challenged to adapt to the environments. By environments I mean both from the outside world and from the world within me.  Both were deeply felt throughout my long journey to Ayers Rock.

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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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