Forgotten World Highway
Where the Journey Began
The first night, a winter thunderstorm found my tent, and I lay there doing the maths on how far I was from anyone I knew. July 2021, the middle of a New Zealand winter, my first multi-day solo ride. By morning the storm had moved on, the CFMoto 650MT started without complaint, and something in me had quietly rearranged itself. Every trip on this site traces back to this one.
The Route
A one-week loop: coastal roads on the way out, the remote middle of the island on the way back.
📍 Distance
⏱️ Duration
🏍️ Bike
The Road
The ride out was all coast: long stretches of tarmac hugging the Tasman, low winter sun on the water, and Mount Taranaki hanging over everything like a rendering error, too symmetrical to be real. Then the road turned inland and the Forgotten World Highway earned its name. Saddle after saddle of empty hill country, a one-lane tunnel carved straight through rock, and hours without passing another vehicle.
I camped wild, dried my gloves on the engine, and learned the small self-reliances that solo travel forces on you. Taupo was the reward at the far end: steam rising out of the earth, and a hot spring that undid a week of winter riding in twenty minutes.
Watch the Journey
If You Go
Ride it in summer if you're sensible; in winter if you want the road entirely to yourself. Either way the highway keeps its promise: remote, stubborn, and worth every kilometre. Every ride I've done since has partly been an attempt to get back to this one.