Inside Paper Roads Aotearoa – BIKEPACKING.com

New Zealand has always done things differently. Isolation has a way of sharpening ingenuity. With a small population at the bottom of the Pacific and long supply chains stretching back to North America and Europe, Kiwis have never had the luxury of endless choice. You make do. You modify. You build your own.

• 
• 

That spirit runs deep in New Zealand bikepacking. Compared to the expansive dirt-road grids and desert overnighters of North America, riding here is tighter, steeper, rougher. Trails are often muddy, rooty, and abrupt. The weather can swing wildly in a single day. Summer feels short. Waterproofing is assumed, not optional. Gear is functional first, rather than aesthetic. It has to work. And yet, function doesn’t mean drab.

In a country where most locally available bags have traditionally been understated and serious, Amy Kwong’s Paper Roads Aotearoa stands out. Her bikepacking bags are colourful, sharp, and streamlined. They sit comfortably alongside global brands in their visual confidence, but they are unmistakably Kiwi in their execution: compact, efficient, and race-ready.

New Zealand’s Tour Aotearoa—the Kennett Brothers’ routes, grassroots gravel, and ultra races—have shaped a distinct design language. Riders favour dry bags front and rear. Top-flap and harness systems must be simple, waterproof, and secure. There’s little tolerance for sagging straps or mid-ride adjustments when you’re climbing punchy gravel hills in sideways rain. Amy’s bags reflect that reality. They’re neat. Close-fitting. Purpose-built. They’re designed for riders who want their setup to disappear beneath them; no flapping, no fuss. Just miles.

The (Paper) Road to Making Bags

Amy’s path into bag making wasn’t direct. She studied fashion design but stepped away from the industry when trend-driven culture no longer resonated. Later, she completed a diploma in design for events and production in Sydney before moving into graphic design roles in New Zealand. Eventually, she took a sabbatical from a corporate job to pursue Paper Roads full-time.

• 
• 

“I realised I didn’t want to go back,” she told me. “Running your own business gives you creative freedom. I probably work longer hours now, but it’s different when it’s yours.”

Like many small makers, her journey began during the stillness of COVID-19 lockdowns. But what started as creative experimentation quickly became something more serious. Today, Paper Roads Aotearoa represents both a design evolution and a cultural one: proof that New Zealand’s bikepacking identity isn’t just borrowed from overseas imagery. Rather, it’s being built, stitched, and refined locally.

Many riders come to Amy after frustrations with off-the-shelf gear: broken zippers, poor fit, unstable mounting. Shorter riders, in particular, struggle to maximise space on smaller frames.

“I ride a small bike, so I understand those constraints,” she said. “I design to maximize space and fit properly.”

In a landscape defined by paper roads—public routes that exist on maps but not always on the ground—there’s something fitting about Amy’s work. She’s building tools for riders who prefer the in-between spaces. The lines less travelled. The routes that don’t always announce themselves. And she’s doing it in colour.

Inside The Studio

Paper Roads Aotearoa operates from Amy’s suburban home in Auckland, in a compact workspace accessed through the garage. It’s not a glossy showroom or a light-filled warehouse. It’s practical, contained, and entirely hands-on.

• 
• 

Inside, multiple sewing machines sit ready for various stages of construction. A cutting table occupies the centre of the room, its surface marked by past patterns and careful measurements. Paper templates are stacked neatly nearby. Among other materials, rolls of Challenge Sailcloth ECOPAK—a durable, recycled laminate fabric developed for technical outdoor use—lean against the wall. Webbing, buckles, velcro, and lengths of cords are sorted into bins within reach.

• 
• 

The space is efficient rather than expansive. Every surface has a purpose. Everything happens here: design tweaks, prototyping, cutting, stitching, packing orders, answering emails. If a design needs refinement, Amy alters it. If a particular fabric or hardware is hard to source, she finds a workaround or waits it out. There isn’t a large supply chain to lean on, just resourcefulness.

A Conversation with Amy Kwong

To gain additional insight into Amy’s way of working and the Paper Roads story, I sat down during my visit to ask her a handful of questions. Find a selection of her answers below.

How did you start making bike bags?

During COVID, I was working from home and exploring creative ideas. I started making bandanas inspired by American bikepacking imagery. Eventually, I moved into sewing stem bags after seeing what was available locally and thinking it wasn’t very fun. I wanted to make something more structured and more colourful. Friends riding Tour Aotearoa became early testers. They let me prototype on their bikes. From there, it grew.

• 
• 

Tell us about the inspiration for your brand’s name.

The name “Paper Roads” comes from a New Zealand term for parcels of public land originally designated as roads but never fully formed. They’re often grassy strips between properties. Legally accessible, but sometimes contested. For bikepackers, they’re adventurous connectors—hidden routes that add possibility.

How would you describe Paper Roads Aotearoa?

Paper Roads provides practical, lightweight bikepacking bags for riders in New Zealand, Australia, and increasingly further afield. At its core, it’s about making gear that works in the kind of conditions we actually ride in here—not just on smooth gravel roads, but in wind, rain, mud, and on steep backcountry climbs.

Coordination matters to me. I’ve always cared about how a bike looks as much as how it performs. When something is thoughtfully put together, it changes how it feels to ride. I like bikes that look great and function perfectly: clean lines, considered details, nothing excessive. For me, efficiency and aesthetics aren’t separate things. A streamlined setup is beautiful.

I also love colour. Most bikepacking bags in New Zealand have traditionally been black—practical, understated, safe. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I felt there was room for something brighter, something with personality. Especially in North America, you see a lot more playful, expressive design. I wanted to bring some of that sense of fun into our landscape, without losing the race-ready practicality that Kiwi riders expect. Colour doesn’t have to mean frivolous; it can still be tough, technical, and purposeful.

You mentioned differences between Kiwi setups and North American ones. What stands out to you?

From what I see in photos and media, North American setups often look more relaxed—larger handlebar bags with flat tops, more overland in style. There’s a kind of expedition feel to it. It’s romantic, and it suits those huge open landscapes and longer, steadier dirt roads.

In New Zealand, the look tends to be more race-oriented. More streamlined. Leaner. A big part of that comes down to our conditions. We have unpredictable weather and terrain that’s constantly undulating. You’re climbing, descending, pushing through wind, riding in heavy rain. Waterproofing becomes essential. We rely heavily on dry bags—front and rear rolls—because if something isn’t sealed, it’s going to get wet. That’s just reality here.

• 
• 

Events like Tour Aotearoa have also shaped the culture. It’s long, demanding, and often ridden in a self-supported, time-conscious way. That naturally influences what people carry and how they carry it. You learn quickly that excess weight and unstable luggage can cost you comfort, time, and energy.

There also simply weren’t many options early on. If you wanted something that worked in our conditions, you either modified what was available or made it yourself. The style evolved around what worked, not around trends. That practicality still defines Kiwi setups. People here want gear that suits our terrain. It has to be tough, simple, and dependable. There isn’t much tolerance for things that look good but don’t perform.

​

Lastly, how do you balance style with performance?

For me, streamlined is stylish. Aero and minimal. Not more than you need. At the pointy end of events, people strip things back even further-no extra pouches, no unnecessary bags. That’s cool too. My bags are handmade and often used in races. Riders want something neat, tough, and functional—especially if they’re putting it on a high-end bike.

Stability is also huge for me. I’ve experienced flopping bags, straps that loosen, and constant micro-adjustments mid-ride. It’s distracting and frustrating. When you’re tired or racing, the last thing you want is to be thinking about your luggage. So I design around that problem. Once a bag is mounted, it should just stay put. No sway, no creeping, no fiddling.

One of my biggest projects was developing a front harness that’s lightweight, simple, and extremely secure. I wanted something that felt intuitive—easy to install, easy to remove, and solid once it’s on. You shouldn’t have to stop and retighten things halfway through a ride. Good design, to me, disappears. You only notice it when it’s wrong.

You can see more of Amy’s work and shop bags at PaperRoads.co.nz.

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info…