We’d decided before getting too pickled the night before that an early departure would be best, just in case any of the many road works caused major delays, so it was into the rising sun that we departed Kaikoura, everyone loaded up and ready 15 minutes before schedule.
The Kaikoura Coastline really is very rugged, even on a benign day like today, with dozens of early surfers looking to catch a break on big waves, surf crashing and boiling. The people employed to wield “stop / go” signs were on the job early, cheerful and ready for another big day - not sure that it would be my career choice, but most of those doing it seem happy enough. Our preferred breakfast spot at Ward was still closed up tight when we arrived at 8am - the sign indicating a 9am start on Saturdays, so on to Seddon to try again. Whilst offering a very limited breakfast menu of only pies or sandwiches - the bacon and egg pie being rated highly by those who made that choice, and soon we were off again. Through Blenheim and on to Picton where we hooked up with another group of Harley friends in the ferry queue. Talk about the Inter-Islander crew being organised - we were loaded and ensconced in the lounge fairly quickly, with departure 10 minutes early - great. As usual, the cost of the lounge proved to be money well spent, snacks, drinks, no riff raff (other than us), and an opportunity for a quiet snooze (although several rather cruelly mentioned than my snoozing was not altogether quiet). There appeared to be a fairly brisk blow as we entered Wellington Harbour, a strong wind that would stay with us for the next few hours - great as a tail wind, not so good from the side, but there are times when extra weight is a bonus, those skinny riders paying a price for their virtuousness. Off the ferry fairly quickly, although half our pack were caught at a train crossing so had some catching up to do, bound for Sanson and our next tank of gas. It was on this leg that we saw cops a plenty, marked Highway Patrol cars, and one mufti cop who tried unsuccessfully to trick us. We knew from the forecast that heavy weather was inevitable mid afternoon and almost on the dot, what had been fine mist turned into heavy rain, culminating in an absolute torrential downpour as we arrived into Taupo. Bike riders know that when the rain starts just about every road sign carries the message “Slippery when wet”, a message that should be taken very seriously, with those slick and shiny patches becoming like an ice rink. Whilst wet, the Desert Road caused few problems, (Mel pointing out a the corner that caught him out on the trip down, bent Armco barrier and all), but between Turangi and Taupo, conditions became quite treacherous. Neville watched as I aqua-planed uncontrollably over a long and wet slick patch then did exactly the same thing - nothing quite like a bit of a tank slapper to remind the unwary that there can be very little between vertical and horizontal. With the rain comes the acceptance that you just have to plug on, the minutes and miles taking you ever closer to destination, albeit that destination may be a long way away. Anyway, we all arrived at the motel at 715pm, safe and sound, if soaked, but happy to be there. A hot shower later, we began to clean up the remnants of our left over booze before heading around to the bar / restaurant recommended by our hosts for what some claimed was the best meal of the tour - a big call! Tomorrow, home, and no raid forecast! I don’t ever recall being asked to leave a pub before, and I guess in the strictest sense, we weren’t - after several hours in the garden bar we were told that there would be no more drinks served unless we stayed for dinner. The owners, apparently recently arrived from India, were disappointed when all 20 of us up and left...
Fish and chips at the Chipperie next door to aforementioned pub proved an excellent choice - quite possibly the best greasy meal (burgers were 10/10 too) we’ve come across, in fact the best ever - a big call. Mickey shuffled off to try and get to the 4 Square before they closed, a couple of bottles of vino in mind, but fortunately was too late. Instead Nev produced a bottle of scotch for the die hards, and was disappointed to find some still remained in the bottle as the last boozer left for bed. My early walk around this quaint wee place saw a cruise ship arriving in the harbour as darkness gave way to dawn, apparently one of many that calls during the “season”, disgorging thousands of old Americans in various stages of disrepair, shuffled on to coaches to visit tourist hot spots within a couple of hours range - can’t think of too many! Breakfast at a genuine French cafe / bakery (citrus crepe for me) before gassing up and leaving Akaroa, looking forward to the tight, twisty and technical ride over the hill and towards Christchurch - alas, partially thwarted by roadworks, and at one point a 30 minute delay while trucks were loaded. We suffered a disappointing Lunch at a cafe in Cheviot - lack lustre food from a list offering very few options, which lingered far too long after consumption... no wonder the place was for sale. Onwards to Kaikoura for the night, a few drinks in the afternoon sun before walking into the township for dinner. Tomorrow, an early start to ensure we get to Picton and our ferry back to the North Is. With the exception of Chris who is taking a day off to catch up with his son in Christchurch, we were all ready to rock and roll at 8:30, with a relatively short day ahead.
First leg saw us dive deep into charted territory between Timaru and Fairlie, roads whose “berms” were unmown, providing an almost “tunnel” effect that proved curiously unnerving for one or two. Plenty of tight twisting turns to start the day, too early for some. Breakfast in Fairlie (I am now officially over meat pies and cro Nuts). We decided to add a bit to the ride so off to Methven for yet more coffee, then Nev took over navigation duties and we really went off the beaten track, with my GPS getting very confused. Another day of great riding, great scenery, and great guys with whom to shoot the shit - now showered at the Criterion Motel in Akaroa, about to have a wander around town. Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 Having left my bike in the care of Russell and Andrew (our hosts at Beaches Motel) and flown home from Nelson to deal with urgent business matters, I’d fortuitously managed to avoid a couple of days of fairly bad weather.
Having dealt with matters at work I caught Wednesday’s early flight back to Nelson, and arrived soon enough after final rains to have a few puddles to contend with - timing is everything! The guys at the motel were great, even providing a big fluffy towel to wipe my mirrors and seat, and then I was off, with 650km to cover, with Timaru and my buddies today’s goal. Those areas fortunate enough to get a good soaking over recent days were showing immediate relief, and those that didn’t were a reminder of just how desperate the situation is - small hills looked desert like, almost sand dunes, with their woolly residents looking fairly miserable. Another resident, being a feral goat grazing on the side of the road, caused me a moments concern = to unexpectedly hit a freshly dead possum is like running over a bag of cement, to clobber a live goat could only be worse. At a reasonable clip the kilometres and hours quickly passed, with stops along the way for a drink and a sandwich, to put on more layers as it got cold (very cold), then take them off again when the sun came out and I soon started to cook. Whilst making good ground I remained ever vigilant, knowing that a local cop would make a meal of an old Jafa going too fast on a flash Harley. There were cops about and I saw all except one - fortunately I was in “slow mode” and only rated a wave of his finger. Foregoing lunch until Oxford paid dividends, stopping at one of the fantastic pie shops (photo above) seemingly unique to the South Island - my steak, mushroom and garlic pie well worth the wait. In an effort to avoid the monotony of SH1, I opted for the longer (but faster) Inland Scenic Route - very long straights through the guts of Canterbury, untroubled by much traffic. I arrived in Timaru during their rush hour, which meant taking an extra circuit around the block before finally arriving at the misnamed Harbour View Motel - SH1 is a couple of metres from where bikes are parked, with any view requiring a crane. Dinner and a catch up with the guys - stories to be told, with plenty of heavily embellished details and expletives added for good measure. Today, Akaroa via Fairlie (and it’s world famous pie shop) Don Malcolm +64 21 924 114 As expected it rained in Hanmer overnight, although not nearly enough to satisfy the desperate needs of the farming community or to upset our plans. Perhaps the Valentines Day plans of others were dampened, but not our enthusiasm to get back on the road, bound for Nelson. The forecast suggested that by mid morning what rain there was would be long gone, and this came to pass - no need to struggle into wet weather gear. Mind you, it was much colder than we’ve experienced on previous mornings. A Highway Patrol car cruised by as we completed loading our bikes - not knowing where he went caused us to be super cautious for the first 30 minutes, anticipating a speed trap around every corner. Fortunately, a false alarm, and eventually, as usual, caution was thrown into the winds, and we were off. The road between Hanmer and Murchison is great, plenty of magnificent scenery, pretty good roads, and lots of opportunities for those among us who enjoy fast or tight corners (or a mixture of both) to practice this many times. As the day progressed, temperatures rose, to the extent that to stop quickly became very uncomfortable- the secret is to ride faster! Mike C has a commitment in Picton over the weekend and peeled of at the St Arnaud turnoff, and will catch up with us again on Sunday at Karamea - weather gods permitting. We have arrived at our lodgings for the next two nights, and the party has started, old Harley friends together swapping stories and winding down the day. Morning in Blenheim was cooler than we’ve experienced so far, especially once we got under way.
Failing to fuel up before we left town caused one or two (those with smaller tanks and Mel’s 128 cubic inch beast which has a voracious appetite for high octane juice) to worry about running out miles from anywhere, particularly as the first gas station at Snedden only had 91 (not good for Harley’s). Fortunately there was gas and breakfast 20km further on at Ward - perfect. So, a bit cooler with some erstwhile weather forecasters predicting rain in the next few days . Being so desperate for a decent downfall, I doubt whether the locals would feel the least bit bad seeing bikers getting soaked in the process. As usual in late summer, Marlborough is a dust bowl, the paddocks seeming growing more rocks than grass, but supposedly grape vines enjoy the paradox of tough conditions to produce the best wine. There is always the strong smell of the sea as the coast draws nearer, the combination of wild water, seaweed and seal poo all add to the mix, signalling that Kaikoura is getting closer. Road work crews abound, some completely rebuilding roads only a couple of years old, so flouro cones and stop-go people are a dime a dozen, with one we spoke to (originally from Auckland) reminding us that most local workers despise Jaffa’s (those of us fortunate enough to come from Auckland), for reasons that are apparently more historical than anything... Lucky we earn enough to pay the taxes that serve to both employ them and to fix their roads. Into busy touristy Kaikoura for a cold drink and to pass some time, before heading out past the old pub to what is apparently a seal colony (we only saw one, asleep on a rock) before hitting the road again. The next 90 minutes were sublime, long straights followed by miles of tight, twisty and technical riding, pushing reasonably hard without exceeding personal limits, and being reminded why we’re here - fabulous. We stopped at the “temporary “ pub at Waiau, the original being badly damaged in the earthquake, with most enjoying a cold drink accompanied by a blue cod buttie, both of which were great. Mike C opted for an ice cream of monumental proportions and his efforts to cope with both size and mess kept us amused. We have arrived at Hanmer Springs, washed the roadworks lime from our bikes and are shortly due to meet for our evening session. Tomorrow Nelson via Murchison. We awoke to a Wellington that belied it’s reputation for being wild and windy, anything but.
Breakfast the the trendy and funky “Sweet Mother’s Kitchen”, served by a very pleasant if highly tattooed young lady in army fatigues and heavy boots. Muesli was a popular option, perhaps something to scour out the insides... Having a bit of time to kill before a noon check in at the ferry, we rode towards the airport then around the waterfront , Past the old Air Force Base at Shelly Bay, around Point Halswell, Scorcher Bay, Karaka Bay, and as far as the Airport , then back the same way - magnificent riding on this cracker day. Talk about a hidden treasure. We checked in at the ferry and hung about cooking in the sun while loading commenced, then headed for the comfort of the lounge (an extra but money well spent). In deference to the anticipated gentle sailing, there may have been those how did not last bikes down as tightly as they normally would, something that may have caused some apprehension a little later. Half an hour into the journey and out of the mill pond of the harbour, plates and glasses went flying as we suddenly experienced some big swells - the smell and mess of delicate stomachs being purged in hallways confirmed that there are those whose sea legs let them down at very short notice, but quickly dealt with by experienced crew - any delay in the clean up resulting in a domino effect affect! Fortunately the combination of rolling and pitching was fairly short lived, and things settled down, sleep becoming the friend of those afflicted. Off the ferry and into an Irish bar in Picton for a cold drink while traffic sorted itself out the onwards to our motel for the night and dinner at the Speights Alehouse. Tomorrow, Hanmer Springs First reservation been made in April 2019, so this year’s annual Rusty Nuts pilgrimage to the South Island had been a long time coming. As seems to be usual, the enthusiasm of the crew increased tempo as departure time progressed, but unfortunately so did the need for many to deviate from the plan which meant many changes, the first highlighted by an extra room in Wellington on night one - thankfully the motel resold the room. Being neither patient or organised, I am totally unsuited in the role of coordinating In order to avoid rush hour traffic, and to ensure arrival in Wellington at a reasonable time, we’d set a 7am departure, a bit early for some, but worthwhile none the less. Whilst a fine day was forecast temperatures took a noticeable dive as we progressed into the guts of the Waikato, with fog and mist causing one or two to wish they’d found warmer gloves - not to worry, by Tirau, the sun was putting things to rights. The run to Turangi allowed us to stretch our legs and cover that leg quickly, very quickly, and we met up with Chris, whose circumstances saw him depart a day earlier. Gassed up, “de-watered”, and looking forward to our next stop, lunch at Taihape, the Desert Road beckoned. I’ve never seen the peaks of Ngarahoe and Ruapehu so totally bereft of snow, and not a cloud in the sky in any direction. Not long into one of the early twisty sections of the sector, one of our number (no names), but a very experienced rider, over cooked a corner, hit a bit of gravel and went down. Although there was damage to both man and machine, fortunately not “trip ending”, and after some fairly rough and ready road side repairs, we were off again, reminded that that can be very little between a good day and a very bad one. A welcome lunch and the opportunity to decompress at Taihape - tables in the shade in a delightful garden, fresh from the oven Bacon and Egg pie being a popular option. Be it by good luck or due to spending considerable sums on technology, we managed to avoid any attention from the constabulary during the day, with a biker travelling in the opposite direction also aiding our cause with a judicious warning of a speed trap a couple of kilometres ahead - whatever works! I guess the biggest impression from today was just how dry the countryside is from the Waikato to the Wairarapa, burnt brown with no hint of green. I’d imagine the farmers and their stock will be doing it tough. The Apollo Lodge provided us with great accommodation close to down town, and more importantly, very close to a trendy pub that served enough craft beer to wash away the road dust. Tomorrow, Blenheim |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
|