Te Iringa on the other hand is one of those ‘once every few years’ type of rides that takes so much out of you, you are completely drained. If the last few rides were of the Lord of the Rings and Jurassic Park variety this one was straight out of Avatar. No computer animation necessary. Five hour ride, three hours of pushing. Unbelievable descents, with not one man–made dumbed down MTB ‘feature’ to be found anywhere. We met a hunter camped out at the trail head afterwards and even Anka, a vegetarian, was seriously considering eating his wild freshly shot venison he was offering us. If you hate trail centres and like to carry multiple spare derailleur hangers in your pack this ride is for you. We went through three hangers on this one ride alone. Thankfully you are safe to pretty much drink any and all of the water on these remote trails, no filter necessary. That just makes it even that much better. Fuck yeah #3.

With fear of slipping back into our latent wild primal state it was time for some city life and metro style and what better than Wellington, recently voted the fourth best city in the world by Lonely Planet. The surrounding hills overlooking the bays and city are reminiscent of San Francisco, but these hills are littered with interlinking pockets of local legal trail networks, where bicycles are at the top of the food chain. You can be bombing runs off Makara Peak, Mt Vic, or Rata Ridge and be sipping Cappuccinos or throwing back cocktails in cosmopolitan downtown twenty minutes later. Caleb Smith gave us the tour of his domain and organized some shuttle access for Blenkinsop and Clay who we crossed paths with again for some more 3MG shooting. If it wasn’t for the near constant maritime wind Wellington is a city rich with trails that I could easily live in.

With days slipping away faster than Sam Hill in Champery, it was time for the South Island, a quick scenic ferry ride away. Arriving with some very un–summer like weather we decided to keep moving, taking advantage of the stormy conditions to get in some surfing near Kaikoura, where you go to have your breath taken away by snow capped mountains that spill right down to the bay that is home to dolphins whales, seals and great waves. Pushing on to Christchurch, the flat approach to and through the city contrasts the actual riding just beyond it on the ridges separating the city and its natural harbour just beyond. Breezy, narrow hardpack single track keeps you on your toes as you navigate your way up and down ridgelines into small neighbourhoods and bays. A good mix of city and natural park riding with open views give it the scenic tourist ride feel. Some good downhill trails with both public and private shuttle access that locals like Cameron Cole and Justin Leov have cut their teeth on provide ample tech, fast, fun and variety for all levels. Some all–day riding and followed by some night driving resulted in a squashed possum or two (the Kiwis will thank me) it was time to keep moving towards the Southern Alp’s towns of Wanaka and Queenstown.

Driving southwards on the South Island, you can’t help but feel you are entering the Scottish highlands, even the names are the same, Ben Nevis, Ben Lommond, Glenorchy, you get the idea…This South Island beauty has a completely opposite appeal from the subtropical mountains and tropical beaches of the North Island. Backlit windswept hills covered in gorse looking like heather peppered with snowy peaks and glaciers framed by ominous grey storm clouds all make this a country rich in contrast and all within grasp.

After rolling into a random riverside campsite outside of Wanaka we were awoken by the sound of skidding tyres. Fuelled by coffee we ventured up the hill and discovered, by chance, we had parked at the end of a local underground mini DH trail network, complete with jumps, berms and gaps. Sometimes the unexpected, off the map spots tend to yield the most impromptu fun sessions. Next it was off to nearby Queenstown, passing the Snow Farm DH trails, sections of which are made famous by Gee and Steve Smith in the film Follow Me. The other three or four sections to their video part were all to be sampled over the next few days with our newly adopted big crew of Queenstown and Vertigo bikes friendly locals, all of which hailed from either England, Scotland or Wales. Where are all the Kiwis? In the UK?

We met up with Chris Ball, whom I spend the better part of the year either hiding away from, or complaining to depending on the race or situation, as he is the UCI DH technical delegate. He was out visiting NZ with his fiancé Kate and hooking up with his old Scottish ex–pat teammate Paul Angus from the original Mojo–Orange team, who is now part owner of the Queenstown go–to shop, Vertigo Bikes. The ex–pat crew will tackle any climb, no matter how steep, single big 36 tooth ring up front, armed with nothing more than a Kiwi Camelbak (water bottle in pocket). After destroying us on the climbs they repeated the humiliation on the descents. Thank God by the time you read this the newly opened gondola accessing the Skyline tails and legendary massive jumps of the Dream Track will be in full swing. You want a Whistler for the winter; this is it, look no further. While you read this, the Atherton’s will be deep into their second month in Queenstown, using it as a pre–season launching pad to get up to speed. With all its tempting distractions we will have to see how that pans out.