I write this review as I’m months away from cycling the Otago Rail Trail; thanks to Freddie Gillies’ honest account of how gruelling long-distance cycling is, I’m glad I’ll be doing my four-day ride on an e-bike.

Gillies had a dream since childhood to set out on an adventure: “I dreamed of the places I would go, the stories I would create. Just thinking about the trip sparked a euphoria deep within me.” We learn how he recruited his brother Arthur Gillies and friend Sean Wakely to join him in cycling from Bali to London and made sure their interest was maintained until the day of departure in 2017. Some will be inspired by The Big Bike Trip to set their own big goals.

It stands out from previous books in the ‘Kiwis-put-on-their-outdoors-gear-and-travel-the-world genre’ because of Wakely’s excellent photography. According to his social media, he took 35,000 photos and here he treats us to a selection of soaring wide-angles of landscapes and tourist attractions, cycling action shots, close-ups of colourful food and architectural details, smiling and frowning locals, and his cycling buddies happy and anguished. Wakely designed the book with Katrina Duncan and it’s rare to have a page open without a photo. Reproduced on glossy paper, the photos, captionless and poignant, help push the reader along what is, for most of the time, a trying journey.

They fly to Bali to start cycling through Java, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos to the Thai-Indian border. At first, they only seem to seek out the Western comforts of a well-earned beer and a relaxing beach resort. But as the weather gets damper, the roads get tougher and the motels get less and less comfortable. Disarmed by tiredness and hunger, the men start interacting more with locals and Gillies’ gets more perceptive.

Through India and Nepal, the trip becomes hot and dusty and food poisoning becomes the villain of the story. (Actually, there are more descriptions of stomach bugs than you really want in one book.) Gillies’ writing style is uncomplicated and rarely side-tracks from the problems of cycling long days on bad roads in unfamiliar places but he is reporting on life, culture, politics and history through the state of roads, amount of traffic and people’s tolerance for three white 20-somethings on bikes.

As a cyclist myself, I was disappointed that there was very little of the exhilaration and joy I experience when I’m on a bike. The cycling really comes across as painful and desperate: “We just need to get through the next four days without getting sick," and over and over again I found myself willing them on to reach their destination safely before sunset.

A flight from India to Georgia skips the really dangerous countries; the journey becomes cold and wet through Turkey. Gillies doesn’t fall into the trap of keeping a diary every single road and village. He has edited the account judiciously, missing out whole months of what must have been boring slog and not even mentioning the routine of staging photos or keeping a blog. Gillies has not cut-and-pasted that blog, which lent much more heavily on cliché blokey humour, but instead produced a unique manuscript for the book. Though at this point, friend — and unrelenting optimist — Timmy Chen joins the trip and there is a bit more levity.

The group then pedals its way through a relatively comfortable Greece, Balkans, Italy, Switzerland, France, Belgium and the Netherlands before a ferry trip from which they finally get to see the White Cliffs of Dover.

For obsessive bike nerds, The Big Bike Trip only satisfies with a double-page spread equipment list.

In 2021, it’s easy to read this book as a record of the pre-pandemic freedom enjoyed by middle-class Kiwis – when a stomach bug or a long-distance relationship break-up is a small price to pay for being able to literally roll into town anywhere in the world, enjoy the hospitality you pre-arranged on your smartphone, or even have a local beverage or six bought for you by the friend and family members who have flown in especially to keep you company on your adventure.

Reviewed by André Taber