A Change of Pace - Johanna Brebner
Johanna Brebner is on an adventure of a lifetime, taking on the length of Aotearoa New Zealand by bike—surfboard in tow—experiencing a full range of emotions as she establishes a deeper connection with the land she calls home. In this third journal, Johanna and good friend Hahnee have crossed the Cook Straight to Te Ika-a-Maui, the North Island, where the journey takes a new twist. Gone are the quiet backroads and windsewpt coastlines of the south – now they’re navigating the hustle and bustle of the big smoke, weaving through cityscapes in search of surf, stories, and a new kind of adventure. Follow along as Johanna shares stories from the road as she pushes further north.
Glaring stares and disgruntled murmurs float past as we teeter through the sea of pedestrians, bikes and surfboards awkwardly in tow. It seems everywhere we stop we’re blocking a doorway or entrance that someone needs to get through – much to their dismay. Completely out of our depths and overstimulated, Hahnee and I laugh nervously, moving forward at snail's pace through human soup. A warm welcome to the north.
The difference a day can make right?
We have somehow managed to land ourselves smack bang in the city on the exact same day as one of the largest annual music festivals in New Zealand, Homegrown. Punchy sound checks from the adjacent park fills the air around us. We smile politely and do our best to dodge and weave through the crowd, careful not to bump anyone with our excessive loads. We can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all - two salty and tired adventurers navigating the concrete jungle on one of the busiest days in the city. Impeccable timing.
Hahnee recounts our maiden adventures in the North Island below:
After a few days in Wellington city, we were excited to escape the hustle and bustle and begin our journey north. We spent the better part of a week following the coast of the North Island, and the landscape quickly transformed into farmland. With no option but the highway, our nerves were frayed by the sound of logging trucks, and it was hard to get the smell of cow poop out of my head. Despite the stark contrast in terrain and the relentless headwinds, we were super excited to make our way up the coast, where we knew we should find some fun waves.
Starting this trip, it was easy to slip into full grom mode—obsessing over the long-range forecast, planning a week of riding just to score one morning of surf. I’ve been learning (with some relapses) to let go a little, and enjoy the slow pace—rushing was never the point anyway. Otherwise, we could have easily done this trip in a van. Or at least an e-bike!
As the trip wraps up for me, I find that it’s the small moments that have been the most memorable. Landscapes, animals, cute corner stores, conversations—little details in small towns that you’d normally fly past in a vehicle. I’ve really enjoyed the journey and the challenge! When we finally arrived back at the coast, it was great to see the ocean again, and we even found some fun waves to end on. Good luck on the rest of your travels Jo, thanks for having me along xxx.
Life on the bike has taught me to adapt significantly on a daily basis. Wind changes, gear failures, equipment mishaps, have all engrained in me a resilient malleability that I had not known before. It has shown me how to take what life presents me with a newfound ease and acceptance. There's only so much I can control on my end, and if I'm doing all I can in that space, then the only option is to let the rest in with welcome arms, even if it's not what I expected. This mindset has altered my relationship with surfing in a healthy way too. I am no longer obsessing over long-range forecasts and tides, weeks out, in a pre-swell panic. It’s just not possible to do an overnight strike mission halfway up the country on a bike. Its taught me to be extremely present with where I am, and a 100km radius of that. I’ve found though this shift, I hold less expectation, I'm not rushing, and my surfing is more in tune with the ocean when I do get there. That said, my paddle fitness on a 5’6 fish, after all this time on the bike, has made for some amusing moments in sizier waves haha.
I am currently writing this from a tiny little cafe in the middle of nowhere. Far from any coast. The weather and wind have been wild the last few days, resulting in an inland tack, and hindering any further movement north. The trusty steed is getting a new chain and some love at the bike shop next door. It turns out that lugging the equivalent weight of a dead horse up multiple hills, can really cause some damage. A bit of TLC, and some sunshine to dry out the damp camp gear and belongings today, and we will be back on the road again in no time.
It feels surreal to be on the home stretch now. Time warps on the road are a real thing.. has it been a week? or five lifetimes? Endless kilometers, farmland, Spotify playlists, conversations and memories all begin to blur into one big haze as I make my way north. It is a strange feeling to be so close to the end, knowing it will pass in the blink of an eye. A huge thank you to all the beautiful locals who have helped over the last few weeks – who've housed and fed me, and pointed me down quiet roads away from highways. Everyone of you have made this trip what it is and I'm deeply grateful for your open kindness, love and connection.
1,633km in, with roughly 700km left to go.
