I sometimes think we ought to hire ourselves out as rainmakers. It seems wherever we cycle the wet weather follows. Even in the Sahara, one of the driest places on the planet, we experienced a freak storm that left us with a soggy tent and water logged sleeping bags. (We’d left the fly off, naturally. It never rains in the desert.)
Now, New Zealand is not Mauritania. I get that. But honestly, I have to keep reminding myself that we’re mid-summer down under.
Some days I wonder if my parents back home in the midst of a Montana winter might be experiencing better weather.
Not that I’m really complaining. In six years of bicycle travel, we’ve surely been exposed to enough UV rays to put us over the cancer society recommended limit. Cloud cover is good, after all, in a country smack dab under a humongous hole in the ozone layer.
Even if the Kiwis are slightly sun deprived, their hospitality gene hasn’t been stunted. We’ve been able to wait out most extreme weather events in blissful indoor comfort.
As soon as the sun peeks out, we hit the road to explore some of the best scenery on the entire six years. Yes, here on the south island, we’re spoiled by beauty.
Crystal clear lakes, native forest, tranquil bays…bike touring heaven in other words. If you don’t mind a few killer hills mixed in to all the fun.
Just remember, these are the good times. All those miserable rain-drenched moments go unrecorded.
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