When Harry and I decided to move back to the UK, we opted to take the long way. After a month riding the North Island section of the Tour Aotearoa, we flew to Australia for a month in Tasmania, popped into Melbourne to see our old friends, then we flew to Casablanca and rode through Morocco, Spain and Portugal, before heading on to London.
Somewhere in Spain, both our sleeping mats failed at the seams and what followed was not a lot of sleep on our slowly deflating mattresses.
We’ve all been there – the heaviest parts of your body sinking first before a brief period being uncomfortably cradled by the last of the air until finally shoulder or hip touches down onto solid ground. A lot of sleeping bag swishing, a little reinflate and then repeat the process.
This went on for the rest of our trip, about five weeks, until we got back to the UK and could receive our replacement mats. Instead of throwing away our faulty mats, Harry thought, as he often does, that would make a great bag.
They were stashed away, as things often are, for many months until inspiration struck. Almost two years later, Harry decided the bag that would be born from the remnants of our mats.