It was the wild dogs that bothered me most. If my wife and I were to cycle around the Samoan Island of Savai'i, would wild dogs snap at our legs as we pedalled?
A website called samoadiaries.com said dogs were a "serious problem" in Samoa.
"There are dogs everywhere ...
"Samoans usually carry a couple of stones with them just in case ..."
I could already feel the pain and on the strength of these scraps of information, I was ready to call the whole thing off. But, my wife was not.
We stayed at Aggie Grey's Hotel the first night. It seemed only proper to chose Apia's best known, if not altogether most modern, hotel for a night or two.
Websites had led us to believe finding bicycles for hire in Apia would be simple. But, Aggie's concierge, the German jeweller, the shop selling children's BMXs and the Apia tourist office all considered it would not be possible.
We had brought pannier bags but no bikes and, for that matter, no plan B.
Between tropical storms, we trailed around Apia; on foot and despondent.
A man in a large four-wheel drive called Wayne made himself known and drove us to his home.
Wayne owned two taro plantations, a shop at the airport, a new restaurant, a transport business and two mountain bikes of dubious quality.
We paid a king's ransom in advance and pedalled off through the puddles to Aggies.
The bikes had hooters but no carriers and therefore could fit only one pannier bag each, which we tied to the handlebars with lengths of bright yellow clothesline rope.
The road from Apia to Mulifanua - the departure point for the ferry for Savai'i - is sealed but narrow and quite busy.
Some of the famous Samoan buses take wide berths around cyclists and some do not. But the road is reasonably flat and there are fruit stalls, and shady trees to rest next to. Allow half a day.
There is a small extra charge for taking a bicycle on the ferry.
Most passengers on our trip were Samoans, tidily dressed and talking quietly among themselves.
A thin, dishevelled man from Christchurch with his two young children warned of bee stings and ringworm and suggested we stay away from dogs, pigs and cats. His children had obviously not.
On the other side of the Apolima Strait, a policewoman wearing white gloves and a crisp uniform directed us and eight or 10 vehicles off the ferry.
Salelologa was rather gloomy for the main town of an island paradise, but it was probably just the weather, which was grey and sticky one minute and lashing rain storms the next.
The "fale" we found, through the Blue Bird mall, had a ceiling fan which did not keep the temperature down and mosquito screens that did not keep the mosquitoes out.
Concerned at the prospect of catching dengue fever, we had taken foul-tasting garlic tablets for several weeks in advance to ward of mosquitoes. They were of no help.
In a car, the 280km drive around Savai'i's single sealed road would take about three hours. We had allowed ourselves seven days - at 40km a day.
We were ushered out of Salelologa by a torrential downpour and were soon steaming through fields of black lava broken up by forest and villages and small patches of cultivated land.
We were on the weather side, and travelling the island clockwise.
The road surface was a thick, smooth layer of tarmac. It carried little traffic - mostly slow-moving buses and utes and speeding tourist rentals.
Dogs lying prone in the shade sometimes looked in our direction.
Children waved and shouted "bye bye" but we got blank looks when we shouted back "talofa".
"Malo" seemed to work better although, according to my Google dictionary, that means congratulations.
By lunch time, banana time, the sun had broken through the grey and it was clear we had finally entered leisure-cyclists' paradise.
At the village of Sala'ilua we stopped for the night at a beach where fale had corrugated iron roofs and mosquito nets.
Dinner of grilled fish, chips and Samoan ice-cream was included in the price along with something fried for breakfast.
Our second day ended at the point where the sun is last seen every day - Falealupo.
At the "resort" on the beautiful coral sand beach, we had palm trees and fresh coconuts at the door, and a gentle breeze and a spectacular sunset almost to ourselves.
Our fale was a weathered, wooden platform with blinds of woven palm fronds - perfect for drowsy, Robinson Crusoe-style dreams.
The only let down was the food; buckets of New Zealand-made lard next to the open air kitchen - the base ingredient of everything.
Aside from an American studying the relationship between the invasive yellow crazy ant and a particular Savai'i plant, we saw just six tourists on our first two days on the island.
Those in cars seemed to tire of the island quite quickly because after one loop there is really nowhere left to drive.
Others using the local buses were envious of our independence and the cooling breeze we could stir up on the downhill stretches.
Cyclists from Dunedin will scoff at the hills of Savai'i which, apart from one, are no more than undulations.
At the top of the one hill, as we rested in the shade, a woman brought us drinks of hot chocolate made from the local cocoa bean once considered, apparently, the premier bean in all the chocolate world but now just one of the little-known charms of Savai'i.
Vai Moana Resort, near Vaisala Bay, provided a marked step up in food quality - the young Australian-educated manager away before the dawn each day hunting barracuda for tea.
Our fale, built so close to the sea shore that waves broke under the floor boards, was too idyllic to leave so we stayed an extra night. But even here we were frequently bitten by mosquitoes, despite using insect repellant containing the supposedly magical ingredient of "deet".
One of the other guests explained he had previously been laid low by dengue fever for three weeks during which time he could "barely move" his eyes for the pain.
As we lounged limply around the bar, another guest suggested it was possible to drown when the temperature rose to 45degC and there was 100% humidity.
Walking up the steeper hills to spare the bike chain, and down the steeper hills because of a lack of brakes, it did seem possible.
Yellow clothesline rope was now holding the broken pedal of my wife's bike together but as we trundled slowly through banana plantations, past gardens of tropical flowers and alongside gleaming beaches we congratulated ourselves anyway. Cycling is the perfect way to travel through an island paradise like Savai'i.
The people were seriously friendly.
The weather, after the initial rain, was perfect for escapees from late June weather in Dunedin.
The food was great when it was local and fresh.
A fale on the beach was way cheaper than it needed to be.
Oh, and the dogs. Never had a problem.
Disclaimer: This trip was funded entirely from the remains of the Price family fortune.
Savai'i
• Largest of the Samoan islands.
• Population: 43,142.
• Less developed than Upolu, home to the capital, Apia.
• Only town, Salelologa.
• No shortage of beach-fale accommodation in late June and prior booking was not necessary.
• Rumoured to have, but no evidence of, a bike-hire business.
