inspiring riding adventures have been assisted by:
I like to think of my On-One Il Pompino as worn-in, not worn-out. The bearings run smoothly, it is structurally sound, it rides like a dream. It just looks, well, a little weary. Next year it will be ten years old.
Riding through the barren landscapes of Rock and Pillar, Rough Ridge, Poolburn, Manorburn and Little Valley caused emotions as stark and beautiful as the scenery: it was at once lonely, belittling, exhilarating, exciting, calming and relaxing.
Central Otago in bikepacking, rural touring 
I hate it when it comes to this, but there is no running away from it. I guess I've just grown itchy for change - for something a bit different. Our last day out, a sunny afternoon trip to Red Rocks, wasn't planned as a big farewell.
Wellington in mountain biking 
Fortunately I had the camp site to myself - there was no-one to see an angry man in pants chasing a cheeky Weka. At least I needed the early start if I was to finish the Queen Charlotte Track, if the trails were as slow going as the previous day.
Marlborough in bike overnight, bikepacking, mountain biking 
On some mornings in Wellington, it is strange to see a cyclist not wearing some form of bright yellow jacket, vest or backpack cover. Everyone seems to be calling for cyclists to wear high-visibility clothing - the council, police, cycling advocates and other cyclists.
Wellington in commuting, urban 
I reach the end of our street. Turning left is the direct route - main roads that descend steadily and directly to my office. Not today. Today I turn right.
Wellington in commuting, mountain biking, urban 
Sitting on damp grass at the start of the Rameka track in Golden Bay, staring at a very broken derailleur, my bike was trying to tell me something. It was communicating on a level that transcended its status as a collection of parts.
Golden Bay in mountain biking 
My first mountain bike was a 1989 Scott Boulder. It was the beginning of my descent into mountain biking. There was no way of knowing how far it would take me, or how big a part of my life it would become.
Lake District, Wellington in bikepacking, mountain biking 
In the northern hemisphere summer of 2011 I found myself back in Britain at a loose end for a couple of days. Here was a chance to hook up with my old riding buddy Mark and revisit Coed y Brenin, a place neither of us had been to in 12 years.
Wales in mountain biking 
By late June, when I finally got to the Heaphy, it had been open for seven weeks and eight weekends. In that time an estimated 1000+ mountain bikers had travelled the trail, around 150 each week.
Golden Bay, West Coast in bikepacking, mountain biking