The Last Road North - Johanna Brebner

In this fourth and final journal, Johanna Brebner reflects on the closing chapter of a truly remarkable adventure — cycling the full length of Aotearoa with her surfboard strapped to her bike. After three months on the road, each turn of the pedals has brought her to new landscapes, fresh waves, lifelong lessons, and a deepened connection to the land she calls home.

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The peanut butter rice cake splits in half and falls to the soggy ground near my muddy shoe. Sideways rain pelts down relentlessly, yet my stomach has signaled that food is a higher priority than finding shelter to eat in. The peanut butter jar balances precariously on the handlebars, slowly filling with water. The rice cakes are soaking up the moisture- laden air. I feel alive. My rice cakes - not so much. It’s still early in the day. The winds are forecasted to reach 70kmph by the afternoon, so I do my best to make the most of the weather window before bunkering down further up the coast. Thankfully, we’ve lucked out - Milo’s family have a house close enough to reach before the storm gets to us. After only a single day of rain in three weeks in the South, the North Island sure has delivered us a medley of weather patterns. Combine that with a significant increase in elevation, and my quads have been reduced to a permanent spaghetti-like state.  

Google claims that one health benefit of regular cycling is reduced stress levels. This is true - until you arrive in Northland. It turns out properties here don't often have fences, and as result, neighbourhood dogs roam the streets freely. One moment I am biking peacefully along the pavement, the next, I am surrounded by barking and find myself entangled in a dog chase – uphill – I am what it is chasing. I tap into some un-human sphere of energy to outrun this pooch, who is probably having the time of its life. Apparently, I must be quite a fun object to chase as this is the third furry pursuit of the day. A great way to keep me on my toes and make some solid ground north in a short space of time.  After three weeks of riding up the center of the island (things hadn't gone quite to plan) and out pacing canine fury, the surf blues had started to rear their irritable head. When we finally caught sight of the ocean in Northland - after three grey, landlocked weeks - my heart and soul were absolutely filled with childlike glee. I found myself flying down the line on a surf mat in knee- high slop, hooting like a crazy woman. Never been happier. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so they say. My surfing heart was very fond of these tiny peelers, which most normal ocean dwellers would not blink an eye at. Low expectations are a desperate lady’s best friend.