As I write we’re on the Interislander, Picton bound. Our departure was an hour later than scheduled, and the reasons really don’t matter.
The Aratere is rolling slightly, but not so much to be uncomfortable, and as is our usual practice, we’re thanking full advantage of paying a wee bit extra to be in the lounge - Jeff and Mike C tucking into a feed of chicken. Our morning started early and with it came rain that was not forecast, actually more of a fairly heavy mist, so wet weather gear was dug out of saddle bags and struggled into. A gentle 100km to Taihape for breakfast, then back into the mist which was by this time, thinning, and we quickly ate up the kilometres between us and Wellington, with the only incident of note being a confused tourist in a camper van who indicated left, promptly moved right, nearly skitilling a couple of our people, but another miss, and we’re all happy about that. Mike C let us to a lovely French cafe close to the ferry, the real deal where you’re welcomed by a delightful young lady and a “bonjour”, and of course coffee and decadent pastries. By coincidence, future daughter in law Nikita’s mum and sister where there - quite remarkable. So, down to the ferry to line up with dozens of other bikers, many of whom were wearing the slightly intimidating red patch of the Mongrel mob, but no dramas. Onto the ferry, bikes tied down then up to the sanctuary of the lounge, the best $50 money can buy anywhere, so best we keep that under wraps. Once settled into the motel in Picton, showered and refreshed, we wandered down to the nearest bar, a quaint Irish pub complete writhing Guinness, lovely, especially when accompanied by hand cut chunky fries. At tipping out time we found a restaurant nearby that was still open, who served pizza (meat lovers voted our favourite) and who played music that appeals to our generation, so just about perfect. In deference to those keen to watch the Ireland vs England game, we have agreed on an 8:30 kick off, heading for Havelock via Queen Charlotte Sound for breakfast The first of February seemed to be a long time in arriving, particularly as ferry bookings had befen made in June, but eventually it did, and we were off.
As I write the clock shows 2241, the end of a great day on the road and time for bed, but an insomniacs sleep patterns are erratic at best, so time to reflect. Through the walls dividing the rooms I can hear the train like snores of a fellow traveller, knackered after a day on the road, but whom may earn my opprobrium before morning if the racket does not subside before I too succumb . As always, BP South marks the official start of the trip, albeit some may have left home an hour or two before. Coffee and comaradarie are an important part of the process, as is the pre-departure photo. Several groups, each heading in different directions left at about the same time, and Craig, busy fiddling with phone, radio, and helmet, had hooked up with the wrong crowd- already committed, we figured that he’d work it out and eventually he did, recognising his mistake and joining his buddies instead, albeit 20kms up the motorway. We left the motorway at Rangiriri crossing the Waikato. With barely a ripple the Waikato was at its very finest, and by its crossing we were into the countryside, happy as a sandboys. First stop was Pirongia for lunch - the first of many great bakeries (and serious bikers know them all). We were not disappointed, and our first meal on the road would probably rate 4 stars. Fabulous riding all day, improving with every km travelled, great roads and little traffic, our biggest worry those super slippery corners where tar became liquid in the sunlight, offering little traction and the potential to trap the unwary. My mirrors showed a line of headlights, some bright, some dim, but each distinctive in its own way, and so I could keep track of our little gaggle. A great day in the countryside, gently increasing the pace as the guys found their groove, so from Otrohonga onwards we were getting along nicely, ever mindful of not attracting the attention of the local constabulary. We stopped for gas in Tauamranui, where Craig, who was finding his new front tyre was causing an issue found a motorcycle shop, who reassured him everything was in order. From there it was a short blast through to Ohakune, and a few beers and vodka sofas on the deck reflecting on the days ride before heading off for showers, before returning to the restaurant for pork spareribs all round, a few bottles of Roaring Meg, then a fairly early night, very pleased with our first day. Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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