Readers will know that I have been off road several times since this journey began, but normally in the blingmobile with Ant for moral support in Argentina. But now I was on my own. The pattern of weather in the Cook Islands hadn’t changed – I awoke to the pattering of rain on the roof – the grey skies looked set for the day. So what to do – no more reading of trash novels on the verandah for me. My first thought was to hire a car and explore, but forward planning let me down again. My driving licence was safely ensconced in the safe deposit box on Rarotonga. Not having hired a scooter in Rarotonga, I had also not taken my bike test there so couldn’t hire one of those either. So all that was left was a push bike. Apart from cycling in China this year, the last time on a bike was more years ago than I care to remember. The only bike available was a mountain bike so I went for that – not sure what the gears were for or even how they worked, so I just got on and pedalled. Originally I was just going into town and back, but decided that it would be more fun to cycle right around the island, and the rain wasn’t really that bad. My A Level geography told me that if I stuck to the coast road and kept the sea on my right at all times, I would get back to where I started, and it should be level. The map looked simple, about 2/3 tarmac road, and 1/3 not, whatever that meant. I started well, going at a good pace to find the internet café (no WiFi here) to do a quick e mail to Mum and it was quick, at £1 for 5 mins it was the fastest ever! A few kms further on I got into town – not a lot to stop for, a small wharf, no shops to speak of but a band playing at full tilt under a gazebo, with no one but me listening… On I pressed, and started to realise just exactly what non tarmac roads are. Basically bits of coral and rock, lots of potholes turning into mud and bits of grass. No houses, just coconut palms right to the edge of the beach and quite a few goats. But I had reached the point of no return – I must get back to tarmac soon I thought. I obviously underestimated my road speed (no yellow jersey for me….), and even though on the map I should have returned to civilisation some time ago, the mud was getting worse and worse, as the rain got heavier and heavier….. But I finally reached the bit where the road turned slightly inland and turned back to tarmac for a while – but sadly there was a rather big hill in front of me – so no choice, I either retraced my mud kms or went bravely up the hill –too late now, but if only I knew how those gears worked it may have been a little easier. But as the rain got even heavier, I must have been getting lighter by the minute with all the calories expended. Suffice to say after 25kms, and wet through, I had done it – I had circled the island with no more injuries than a rather sore bum – I had discovered that mountain bike saddles are not the most comfortable way to travel. Just to prove it, the pic shows said bike parked gratefully by my hut at the end of my journey - it looks even more worn out than me!
