In that moment, it felt like a drama scene. I looked up across the bridge, and there was a cyclist standing on the other side. My first thought was “Oh no, I’m blocking their path,” but the next second I suddenly realized who it was and shouted “Remi!!!”
That French guy I’d met on day two of the Te Araroa Trail at the 90-mile beach, the first travel companion who’d invited me to walk with him. He’d injured his foot and switched to cycling to complete his New Zealand trip, planning his own bike version of the TA. That meant I never saw him on the Trail again, just the occasional text to check in.
A month flew by, and this incredible reunion had us both thrilled. Even though we were taking different routes, both pushing hard toward the same destination, there was some invisible force drawing us together again!
(Revisiting diary entry 2017/1/18)
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