TRAVERSE 60
channels and bursts into the air in geysers of white spray. It ' s nature’ s exclamation point.
Riding on this section of the West Coast was a meditation where I’ d settled into a rhythm: throttle, lean, crest, repeat. Each corner peeled away to reveal something new, a waterfall cascading beside the road, a rimu tree reaching through the mist, or a weka darting across the
TRAVERSE 60