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The Family Adventure Project and Family on a Bike e-newsletter
"A straightforward transfer through Customs
to domestic departures," said the Customs officer as he hassled us to move on and clear his hall of our debris. Behind us, three staff were
flustering about, busy rearranging the elastic queuing gates we
demolished on the way to his desk.
We'd heard how strict New Zealand Customs were about bringing
in bikes, tents and walking boots, keen to prevent travellers
importing unwanted organisms. So after thirty hours travelling,
we were praying we wouldn't have to undergo a full inspection
of all our outdoor gear. "Do you have a tent in there?" the official
asked. "Yes, tents, bikes, buggies and boots"
we volunteered. "I got my Lamby Mummy"
added Cameron. "What about Puppy The Wuppy?
He's got his passport stamped." Matthew cried from behind a tottering
trolley load. The officer sighed. "Please, please tell me you've steam cleaned
everything" he begged, "or we'll have to open all of this up."
We knew we had to answer carefully. We had just half a roll of
packing tape and no cling film left following a surprise early
morning repack at "Everything is really clean and we've
not used the tent for ages" we said, avoiding the fact that the
boxes had travelled to the airport in a
well fertilised horse box. "And you definitely have no fruit in
your bags, it's a $200 fine if we find any in X-ray," said the
officer. "Stuart, where's Cameron's apple?" The
look in our youngest son's eye and apple sauce down his T-shirt
made us jumpy. We emptied Cameron's 'pack pack' to avoid a fine,
and scattered a hundred tiny plastic toys across the shiny floor.
There was no apple. "It's
in my brudders pack pack mum" said the cheeky one. One more bag search and we
were ready for X-ray. "Is it OK to import a lamb into Daddy trolley was the first to tackle the doors. With
ten metres to go, the doors zipped open to reveal a small crowd
of expectant faces waiting for that first glimpse of their loved
ones. The German cyclists swept through without a hitch and blended
into the crowd. There was no-one waiting for us but we still had
to navigate the doors. Crunch.
The very ends of the giant mattress box slammed against the sides
as the doors opened as wide as they could. The crowd smirked.
Stuart retreated to regroup. No exit. Baby trolley was next; Matthew and Cameron
piloting. When the doors opened, the crowd saw only Puppy and
Lamby steering; the boys navigating blindly from behind their
towering load. Carving a random path, the trolley made its final
approach side-on. It looked promising but the timing was poor.
Half way through and the doors had waited long enough. "OOoohhhhh,"
the crowd winced as Puppy The Wuppy
toppled off dragging Lamby with him while the box was pinched tightly by the closing
doors. No exit. Mummy trolley was last, sliding gracefully
through the carnage. The doors swished open. The crowd drew breath
in anticipation. Kirstie appeared and
slid one end of the box elegantly through the open doors. Then
a pirouette, and her lumbering partner
twirled 180 degrees to glide effortlessly into the Arrivals Hall.
With a glance behind, Kirstie signalled
to Daddy and the boys to do the same, then
waltzed off to the domestic terminal, acknowledging her audience
with a grin. There was no way Family On A Bike could enter On arrival in Invercargill, 'the friendly city', we were
warmly welcomed by our homestay hosts,
Marion and Russell. To avoid creating a scene at a city hotel,
we had chosen to rest, unpack, repack and prepare for the start
of our biking in a traditional
"You'd better eat up quickly," said Russell,
from behind his Musketeer mask with false nose, and stripy pink
crepe hat. "I've set you up with a TV crew at ten. They're going
to film you leaving Invercargill." In his clapped out BMW, Russell drove
the lead vehicle as we cycled down Invercargill's
rain swept main street; cars hooting, and people pointing and
staring at the English family from
the paper. Outside the southern most city's
television station, the cameraman opened Matthew's buggy, and
stuck a camera in his face. Matthew, unimpressed by his celebrity
status, looked away. "Puppy The Wuppy
is tired." The cameraman then turned his attention to us, and
the smartly dressed reporter stepped forward to conduct her interview.
"Right then. Please look at me, not at
the camera. Are you ready? Great. We're
rolling. 'So why have Family on a Bike come to With the television cameras at our back,
we took
Some people seem to think this way of
life is hard but many things are simpler and easier on the road.
Cosy in their own buggies, Matthew and Cameron watch the world
go by, take a quick nap, play with their toys or count the shells
and sticks they have picked up along the route. There is no fighting
over TV, which video to watch or which toy to bash each other
over the head with. We
use the buggies to divide and rule for a few hours peace each
day. But it's not always peaceful.
Cameron soon realised how to earn himself a silencing lollipop
by heckling Mummy from behind on the hills, and Matthew provides
a running commentary and question time on the various environments
we travel through. They shout with delight and call for time out
whenever they see a beach or playground. And wherever we go, thanks
to our publicity in the paper, people invite us in for tea and
biscuits. "Oh no, if I'd known you were coming,
I'd have baked a chocolate cake," mourned Trudi,
at her hillstation near Blackmount,
site of the next world sheep shearing record attempt. "We saw you on TV. You must come in and
tell us about your trip" said a resident of Riverton, the oldest
European settlement in the country. "Really?" said Kirstie
in alarm. "We hoped we might have hit the cutting room floor."
"Oh you weren't that bad," the woman
replied, "although Anthony Hopkins was better." The man most famous
for being Hannibal Lecter is following us around Suddenly thrust into the public eye,
the issue of celebrity has never been very far from our consciousness.
While we have tried to play down our fame, we've met others who've
gone to great lengths to encounter a star. At
Tuatapere, sausage capital of After three weeks on the road, we gave
our bikes a rest to spend a day as Family in a Car, visiting one
of If the marketing folk are to be believed,
You approach And as we continue our journey, leaving
the catchment area of the Southland
Times, we are unsure whether we will become unrecognised. While
being anonymous for a while would be a novelty and allow us to
cycle without interruption; a part of us would miss all the attention,
the constant interest, and more importantly the invites for tea
and cake. And although we're aware that fame isn't all it's cracked
up to be, we're also bearing in mind that the Queenstown Mountain
Leader is always looking for good copy. But if it all appears
to be going to our heads, then please feel free to tell us to
get on our bike. What's new on the website? As we travel around we're doing what
we can to find out about, experience and write about different
ways of adventuring as a family.
As well as our Family in a Car day, we've been on a family
wilderness cruise and had an eventful tour of a horse trekking
enterprise happy to work with families. We'll be posting photo-diaries about these and
other observations about family adventure on our web site on a
regular basis. You can access all these from our postings
from the road page at: http://www.familyonabike.org/familyonabike/InSearchofTour/FOAB2004Storyindex.htm.
There's
a few postings there already and more in the pipeline so check
back regularly and keep up with what we're up to. You can keep us going Although we're on the road, you can get
in touch with us as we travel. We still welcome any contributions
you have and ideas for things we might research, experience or
write about. Tell us what you'd like to know about adventuring
as a family, about your own adventures or thoughts, reflections
on our writing. You can send us a message by replying
to this email newsletter, by mailing us at mail@familyonabike.org or even by calling
us on our mobile +64 (0)21 203 2392! Our technology pannier means
we'll be contactable throughout our travels. We'd love to hear
from you. And finally Well that's it from us for now as we
continue to adapt to life on the road and our new found fame.
We're heading off tomorrow towards the madness of Queenstown,
on a wild back-country road. While it's not that far (120km) it
will probably take us four days as we deal with a gravel surface, numerous water crossings and our heavy loads.
Travelling this way you experience the country
in a very physical way, feel every gradient in your legs, the
wind in your hair, the rain on every patch of exposed skin and
just occasionally the sun on your back. We look forward to these
wilderness roads where we can stop when we're tired, often in
places where few others stop, and meet and talk with people who
may see us as a curiousity
but treat us as people, a family not walking dollars. It's all an adventure to us, and after three
weeks of being battered by the rain and bruised by the wind, we
are keen to see more of the country, hopefully experience more
of the sun and perhaps one day meet Anthony Hopkins in person.
So, for the moment, we continue our family adventure
The Family Adventure Project
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