Fast forward a month or so, and we were almost ready to roll. The key word being almost. With pandemic panic wreaking havoc on global supply chains and shipping routes, Matt and I only had a tracking number but no bikes. After a couple of days of frantic calls to shipping companies and a late-night, covert rendezvous with a freight truck, we finally had our bikes safely in our hands. I say bikes–I actually mean bare frames and boxes of parts. It was 9 p.m. on the eve of our departure as we sped home to meet Kurt, our trusty mechanic who scrambled building two e-MTBs for the next morning. In true Kiwi-style he pulled it off at the buzzer, and by 10 a.m. the next day the loudspeaker at Queenstown Airport beckoned to me. “Passenger Masters. Please report back to the luggage desk.” Turns out that forgetting to remove your e-bike battery in checked baggage is not that kosher. If it wasn’t obvious already, we were pretty new to this whole e-MTB thing.
Crisis averted, I boarded the plane, sat back, closed my eyes and enjoyed the flight up the South Island. I was only awakened by turbulence on the descent into sunny Nelson at the southern extent of the Tasman Bay. Sven’s wife, Anka waited for us at the airport with her trusty Land Cruiser. She’s a mountain biking legend herself, and she had offered to play driver, chef and most importantly camp mum for our trip. The Martins live up in the hills, a fifteen minute drive north of Nelson, and their place just happened to be a stone’s throw from Cable Bay Adventure Park where we had decided to ride on our first day. They had also found us an awesome bed & breakfast just round the corner as our base.
