The Surly LHT went out for a test ride today, from town back to the farm – a distance of just 45km which seems much further psychologically, but realistically is fairly similar in length to most other segments of 45 kilometres, and so didn’t take much more than two hours, even with my loaded panniers on and an unpleasant headwind.

In the end I got distracted with the riding and did not take many photos. Well, not only distracted with the riding, I also developed a gripping fear of getting catheads (or caltrops, or whatever you want to call them) stuck in my tyres, so I couldn’t leave the road to prop my bike up anywhere, as anywhere that wasn’t road probably had catheads. Not that the road was free of suspicion either. But the reason I was so anxious not to get a puncture is all due to the war of the wills I’m currently engaged in with my cantilever breaks, which I’m learning to hate with a vengeance. Yes I KNOW they’re simple. So simple that the relatively obvious act of un-doing them so you can get the wheel off, or re-connecting them so you have brakes again, seems almost impossibly for me and invariably ends with me wanting to kick them in frustration, but instead I just glare and beg a passer-by to help me.

So all photos were taken while standing over the bike, or while holding the bike with my spare hand. Combined with a fixed 50mm lens to shoot with, photo opportunities were rather limited.

I rode with both front and rear panniers on for the first time, plus the handlebar bag which is really really handy, and I’m not sure why I as so keen on avoiding getting one previously. Probably the fact they tend to look quite dorky, and my bikes have always been far too fashionable to stand bearing such a thing.

The internet is as slow as the tractor (which doesn’t go at all currently).

In Australia now. There are many more gum trees than I remember, and birds! So many birds constantly singing and talking and arguing.

The houses are also much colder, the confectionery sections in supermarkets much larger, and there are less bears.

“I’VE HAD IT WITH YOUR ATTEMPTS TO GET THESE MOTHER F**KING BIKES ON THIS MOTHER F**CKING PLANE (without paying the relevant fees which we are levying even though you thought that because you’d bought your tickets from Air New Zealand you would only have to follow their baggage rules)” the Calgary Air Canada employee yelled at us, hurling a stapler at Alex’s head.

He went on to threaten us with overweight fees of $100 per bag for our two bags which were underweight by 500grams, and overweight by 800grams respectively. This was right after we’d killed his puppy, and stolen his favourite lampshade.

Thankfully we managed to make it into the departure lounge section of the airport, after running a gauntlet past other Air Canada employees, who all hurled either abuse, excrement, or particularly vicious glares of disdain at us.

It was almost enough to make us wish we’d gone to Vancouver with Greyhound – even with the evident risks of beheading and spontaneous bus combustion.

As if I haven’t done enough gadding about already this year, I have decided to travel across the Pacific Ocean and go to Australia. And then come back again 3 weeks later. Although I’m tempted by Anonymous Lefty’s noble and environmentally conscious scheme of going by ship, I shall probably just stick with an aeroplane. This is the route I shall direct the pilot to take:

So in two days time I’ll probably be hanging out at an airfield of some sort, trying to hitch a ride on a plane. Or a zeppelin.

A visual diary of my afternoon/evening:

In between, I look around at the mountains and the yellow aspen, and listen to the wind blowing through the trees, and I climb and do not fall despite the strange slanting of the rock which gives the disconcerting sensation that the mountain is casually shrugging you off.

Where we have the Larch Pilgrimage from Moraine Lake (in the Valley of the Ten Peaks), up to the Larch Valley and Sentinel Pass. I found out afterwards that this is some sort of Rocky Mountains tourist mecca – well, more accurately I found out as we were walking, and there were all these other people walking next to us.

“What are you all doing here?” I asked.

“This is a nice hike,” I said, “but I’ve done many others that were also nice, and no-one else was doing them.”

“It’s written up!” they said “in the guide books and on the internet”.

“Aah,” I replied.

I did see a larch. Several in fact.