.Beyoncé is now just over a week old, and together we need to get 1600kms on the clock and the first service completed before heading southwards to the Iron Run on 10 March. Having an excuse to rack up quick kilometres is great, but historically it just seems to happen, with Sabrina showing 27000 km after 18 months. With no Hog rides organised for the long weekend I rounded up a couple of buddies, Craig on his new flash new Indian and Neville and the lovely Yvonne on their Classic for an impromptu ride. We met at Z Pakuranga Highway, very unfamiliar territory for Westie Nev, then headed to Whitford, around a very busy Maraetai coast, the lovely sunny afternoon drawing half of South Auckland out to enjoy the beach, Clevedon, Kawakawa Bay and to the pub. A few bikes were all ready parked, instantly recognisable as bad company, black and menacing, with extremely high and aptly named "Ape Hangers", so our bikes were parked slightly to one side, leaving the rough trade to themselves. A beer and a bowl of fries later, we were back on the road, enjoying the quick straights the large groups of camper vans congregated well out of our way along the coast enroute to Miranda. Like me, Craig is running in his new bike, but Indians are apparently more fragile than Harley's and he often became a distant speck in my mirrors, not wanting to push things too hard (as if). Obviously, my usual and preferred style of "Ride it like you stole it" doesn't apply just yet, Harley's apparently don't require too much nursing. The agapanthus are in full bloom, alternately purple and white and very prevalent, not permissible on any rate payers property, but seeming ok anywhere public. The hay making gangs appear to be working every daylight hour, big wrapped bales sitting where they were baled, awaiting collection after everything else is finished. Home via the great windy back roads of the Hunuas and 220km to the good- fabulous. Mel called to encourage me to ride on Sunday and between us we put the word out for a 1pm departure from BP North. The motorway traffic was extreme, stop start from Albany to Silverdale, an annoyance for all but not too much of an impediment for skilled riders prepared to trust Lady Luck and head straight up the middle. After coffee and a quick catch up, about 10 bikes left, swinging by Kaukapakapa to collect Doc & Barb, before heading to Wellsford, the traffic hardy an inconvenience for the most part, at least for those of us at the front. Mel stopped for a pee knowing that his incredible riding skills would soon seen him back in the fold - but only if he went the same way as us - unfortunately he misunderstood our plan and ended up at Shelly Beach - quite the opposite direction. Rather than push our luck from Wellsford, we decided to head back the way we came, planning to finish at the Kaukapakapa Pub, to enjoy a quick drink before heading our separate ways. Butch lead this leg, a very experienced, fast, safe and smooth rider, and a real pleasure to follow, showing real moxy and making short work of the 4 gang guys on their Harley's traveling a bit too slowly for our liking- an obstruction many would choose to accept. Off Butch went, quickly (very quickly) followed by Beyoncé and me.... The Kaukapakapa Pub is still one of the few traditional country pubs about, but I suspect that the big supermarket under construction will inevitably change the landscape to the detriment of the existing community. Safely home and another 250 km on the clock. The third ride of the weekend started well before dawn as I eased Beyoncé out of the garage and out of the neighbourhood as quietly as possible (perhaps a test too far for a Harley at 515am). I was keen to see how good the lights were, so back into the country, away from street lights and any traffic. So, I now know that whilst adequate, the standard Harley "Daymaker" is not as good as 7 LED I am used to, and another project to get underway. It was quite cold (opting for my mesh jacket, I anticipated this), so I stoped in Whitford to put on my hoodie. I was surprised by a very inquisitive chicken than trotted to within a metre, (her jockey the rooster not quite as keen), determined to suss out what all the racket was - amazing. Also surprising was the number of early risers around the Maraetai waterfront, cameras on tripods , awaiting sunrise. The only others about, (apart from a rowdy on a Harley) were a few bods asleep in cars and small tents near the beach, and a solitary cyclist enjoying the best part of the day, thankfully lit up like a Christmas tree. I'd decided to head to Pokeno, and ticked off Clevedon, Papakura, Ramarama then Bombay all of which passed quickly - and I now know that the bunny population between Bombay and Pokeno is of almost plague proportions. Destination reached, I turned for home, stopping for a quick coffee and gas at BP Bombay, a quick blip along the Old Great South Road, before joining the motorway at Drury, looking forward to the morning paper and a cuddle with puss. Another 160kms, about 80km in total since new so we're looking good! Don Today I picked up Beyoncé (so named because she's black, with a big bootie...). A new CVO with the Milwaukee 8 engine and all the bits and pieces.
Wade is on holiday and with lovely girlfriend Nikita living in Wellington, occasionally finds himself at a loose end, and what better way to deal with this than encourage Dad to get our Harley’s out and go on a road trip.
Not too much arm twisting required, a couple of fine days forecast, and off, Coromandel bound. A leisurely ride, with the very limited range of Wade’s 7 litre “peanut” petrol tank, and about 120 kms between fuel stops front of mind. He now knows first-hand the location and price of gas at quite a few Service Stations on the Coromandel peninsula. It is great riding on roads that for 7-8 months a year are perpetually damp, some with a pronounced green mossy coating, inevitably greasy and waiting to claim victim any rider showing too little respect for the conditions – something we didn’t need to worry about at all, the afternoon progressing from almost dreary to very hot, perhaps the promise of a long hot summer. Just before leaving home, I opted for my leather jacket in preference to a summer, vented jacket (much cooler) – a decision I soon regretted. I noticed whilst spending 3 weeks riding in in the European Alps was an absolute lack of “road kill” – I don’t recall a single road pizza, which is a very significant contrast to New Zealand. Possums, some fat and fresh, others, flat and almost worn away, some grey, most brown, a few almost black, with the side dish of bunnies and birds, and in particular Pukeko’s, birds with very little road sense. Something I have never seen before was a litter of baby stoats (more correctly, a “gang” or “pack” of stoats), 3 long skinny and furry kits, each the size of an artist’s paintbrush almost shimmering across the road and into the scrub, destined to become ferocious killing machines. For motorcyclists, the roads on the Coromandel Peninsula are as good as just about anywhere, the main bug bear being motorists (most in rental cars or camper vans), who chose to ignore the build-up of frustrated travellers eager to pass. Having said that, the midweek holiday traffic was pleasantly sparse and mostly accommodating, certainly off peak. We stopped at the ever welcoming Bugger Café, as much for a pit stop as a late afternoon coffee, a great spot that pretty much marks the transition from Hauraki Plains to the Coromandel proper, a last stop before destination for the day, Whitianga. The final leg was icing on the days cake, more fabulous roads, tight corners taken leaned over until the scrape of foot pegs on road surface signals there is no more lean available, but not travelling at speeds that would concern attentive traffic cops. We checked into our motel, taking what was just about the only twin accommodation available online the night before, at a price that should have included a penthouse apartment with a baby grand, (alas, no piano or penthouse, just an expensive room). A call to my brother Wayne saw him and Mr Ted, (his constant companion and work truck security system), arrive with a much appreciated 6 pack of beer. Wayne wisely abandoned the rat race of Auckland for what he describes as the paradise of Whitianga 15 years ago and has never looked back. We only catch up once or twice a year, and it was great for Wade to spend some time with his uncle, listening to stories from our misspent youth. 6 pack gone, Wayne left for home, so we wandered across the road for dinner, the nearest restaurant offering an eclectic mix of Greek, Italian and European fare, of which we tried a little of each together with a nice Pinot – exceptional. Unfortunately our expensive room didn’t provide a good nights’ sleep. In lieu of aircon, I had a pedestal fan that didn’t work, and Wade found that he was kept awake by every noise (and in a big motel with noisy external staircases, thin walls and open windows). First world problems. The two buddies who’d readily committed to joining us to complete the circumnavigation of the peninsular had both withdrawn, so we left earlier than planned, headed for Luke’s Kitchen in Kuaotunu, 15 kms of nice windy road hence. Half a dozen lean backsides pointed skywards indicated that we’d arrived, a ladies yoga group complete with carved wooden Buddha statue doing their thing on a reserve across the road from the café obvious to the arrival of two rowdy Harley guys. The closest I could get to yoga would be as the Buddha, sitting with tummy exposed, watching the exertions and efforts of the practitioners with a good humoured smile. Coffee, a homemade muffin and a bacon and egg croissant later and we were off again, looking forward to the next 85 km, winding and climbing up the ranges, then down the other side, conditions perfect. This route can be quite dangerous, with wet corners, errant tourists and logging or mussel trucks cribbing more than their fair share of the road each adding to the fear factor, but today was ours, and we enjoyed every moment. Reality hit home at a gas station in Thames – a father fuelling up while his son, obviously quite handicapped rocked back and forth in the front seat, oblivious to we two leather clad road knights , spoiled by opportunity and the roll of the dice. Back to Bugger café for a cold drink and obligatory pit stop before the final run home, again, little traffic and no traffic cops to hinder our progress. A magnificent couple of days, father and son. Time to get Andrew on a Harley! The annual Fish and Chip run to Tauranga has a keen following, particularly by those Harley people who for whatever reason have forsaken holidays in exotic places to remain close to home, and who look forward to the opportunity for a day on the road on the second day of the New Year.
Most assembled at BP South in plenty of time to enjoy a coffee and exchange New Years greetings and wishes with friends, mostly of long standing. Road Captain Rob led 25 bikes out of the very busy car park, headed for Ramarama, then into the hinterland, country roads familiar to most of us, ticking off Ararimu, Pararimu, and Miranda. At Ngatea we headed into the heart of the Hauraki Plains, reminded that what was once swamp is now pasture only by hard work and drainage, that to glance over the top of the stop bank was to realise that we were actually well below water level... Almost every farm has at least one red shed, some big, most small, dirt floor, corrugated iron painted once during construction 100 years ago, now dull and weary, streaked with rust and showing the ravages of time, the worst collapsed and broken, a reminder of years gone by. Sharemilkers cottages, lonely and damp on small unloved plots, their temporary and ever changing residents unmotivated by short tenure to add any personal touches as they struggle towards their own farm. It is evident that many of these houses are approaching the time where they too will be abandoned and left, the memories of generations of residents, forgotten. The forecast gave odds of 40% for rain, and as we approached Morrinsville, these odds lengthened considerably and the dreary clouds and light rain that had lingered in the distance finally caught up with us, so while stopped in town for a coffee and much needed pit stop, most struggled into wet weather gear, an act that often sees the rain disappear. Alas, other than the occasional brief respite, the drizzle remained with us for the rest of the day, a nuisance more than anything, not cold enough to be a real concern. Prudence encouraged one or two of the group to peel off and head home, perhaps with hindsight the best option! Our long line of bikes was often broken up as corners were over shot and before long, we were in a group of two, unsure what happened to everyone else - at least until we'd summited the Kaimai Ranges in almost zero visibility and were closer to Tauranga. I could see one headlight then two, then many more forming up behind us so as we neared our destination, Rob could again lead us down to the waterfront, parading along the main streets to the delight of kids and dads, enjoying the noise and spectacle. We knew Bobby's Fish & Chips on the Tauranga waterfront would probably be closed, and this was the case - Crads, our generous treasurer and all round good guy, doled out $20 to each of us for lunch so we wandered off in small groups to seek out an alternative, the "official" ride having ended, and most opting to head home as and when suited. Lunch over we mounted up, hopeful and optimistic that the fine spell we'd been enjoying was a harbinger of things to come, alas not, the rain started as we left the car park and didn't stop until we arrived home many hours later. At Linda's behest we stopped at a cafe in Paeroa, she keen for a pot of tea, Jeff and I ready for a coffee and a break from the rain and traffic. I noticed as we enjoyed this temporary refuge that there were puddles around each of Jeff's boots, boots that after many years of sterling service are well overdue due for replacement. He maintains that water (and lots of it) runs down his legs and actually fills the boots up faster than it can leak out through worn out seams around the sole. I was appreciative of a recent investment in new boots, a quality brand, lace up, calf length and polished religiously before every outing to preserve watertightness. No wet feet or me😀 The holiday traffic was unlike anything we'd ever seen, the gridlock heading into Tauranga starting at Athenree, 50km away. Little did we know that the traffic to Auckland would be much worse, reduced to a slow crawl from Ngatea, providing nearly 90km of frustration. Being on a motorcycle offered some benefit, allowing passage much quicker than those in cars (albeit they were much drier than we were!), particularly as we opted to again head inland, a decision which proved to our great advantage. We could again achieve respectable speeds, even when compromised by poor visibility and slippery roads. So, perhaps not the most pleasant of rides, a reminder that motorcyclists are subject to conditions most motorists don't have to contend with, many of our group also reminded that those slick patches of tar seal really are very slippery ! All I need now is a couple of hours of sunshine to give Sabrina the wash she deserves in preparation for the next trip - Son Wade has suggested the Coromandel loop! |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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