My coworker and I were both single, and I was in the trenches of online dating. Stew and I took lunch at the same time, and over sandwiches eaten from Tupperware, we bonded over our shared love of cycling.
One lunch, he told me he was going to cycle the highest pass in Wales. My eyes widened, “I’d love to do that.” That’s when he told me to join him.
He picked me up that weekend, and we cycled Gospel Pass.
The next lunch break, Stew asked me out for dinner. I said yes. He stayed over and never went home. The rest, as they say, is history, and what a ride it’s been so far.
I joined his 24,000-mile cycling adventure
We were dating for about a month when Stewart said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” He continued: “I’m going to quit my job and cycle around the world. Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes!” I said without hesitation.
Stew had already planned a 24,000-mile turn-by-turn route across 32 countries.
He saved enough money that he could ride around the world for 18 months unemployed. His plan was to carry a tent and stay in cheap accommodations, like hostels and Airbnb rooms.
All I needed to do was save enough money to cover my flights. For a few months, we cut costs, but left ourselves with enough money to enjoy being a young couple; a meal out each month was a non-negotiable.
As we left our jobs, Stewart also organized the bikes: bright yellow steel-frame touring bikes that could manage long-distance cycling, as well as the additional weight of our luggage.
We explored countries together
When we left the UK, we waved goodbye to our families at Stewart’s mom’s house, and we wobbled down the driveway on the heaviest bikes we’d ever ridden.
I will never forget the feeling of freedom. We were unemployed, and everything we needed for the next 18 months was packed into six bright yellow panniers, which fit proudly on our bikes.
I was nervous, excited, and weightless.
There are many prominent moments as you cycle from one country to another. But the first one was leaving Georgia and arriving in Azerbaijan. The gorgeous greenery of Azerbaijan turned into flat desert landscapes.
Courtesy of Zoe Ashbridge
Australia was similar. Across Nullarbor Plain, we rode desert flatlands with kangaroos and Wedge-Tailed Eagles. Service stations were over 100 miles apart. Then we reached New South Wales, home to green mountains and Bulli Pass.
At the top, there was a wedding venue overlooking the sea. We talked about weddings and all the things we didn’t want: first dances, speeches, and the pressure of invitations.
Planning an elopement in New Zealand
After Australia, our next stop was New Zealand. We flew to Queenstown and researched what it takes to get married there. You need a marriage license and a celebrant who will officiate the ceremony in front of two witnesses.
Our celebrant was someone we found online, named Sean. He was a lovely Irish gentleman with a steady voice, a calming presence, and an art for perfectly timed humor. He knew exactly when to drop a joke and when to let a moment breathe. He promised us two witnesses (his wife, Vee, and friend, Chris) for the price of two quality bottles of wine.
After one call with Sean, we stepped out into Queenstown, engaged-ish. We booked a date, bought New Zealand-gold wedding rings, and hired wedding attire.
Stew surprised me with a proposal and a placeholder ring, and of course, I said yes.
Our next bike ride was 500 miles from Queenstown to Christchurch, so we could marry. I’d love to tell you that it was straightforward, but on a cycling adventure, unforeseen challenges arise. At Haast Pass, there was a landslide. Delays meant we would miss our own wedding.
The beauty of an elopement? We only had ourselves to please. I called Sean, the hair salon, and the florist to change the date. The landslide was cleared, and we made our way to Christchurch.
The wedding was perfect
We married at The Sign of the Bellbird in the Port Hills. It was beautiful. Rolling hills with the yellowest of flowers looked stunning against the deep green mountains and gorgeous blue skies.
On that quiet hill, with only us to please, and nothing but birdsong and sunshine, we spoke our vows and became husband and wife.
There were no crowds, no pressure, and no expectations. It was just us, which was all we’d known in the year leading up to it as we cycled from the UK to New Zealand. What followed was an eight-month honeymoon cycling home via South America.
