Eager to get out of the CBD as early as possible, we hit the road before 6.30, Auckland bound. Despite fairly regular stops for gas, breakfast in Hunterville and coffees along the way, we made fairly good time due to judicious use of my radar detector, although I suspect the "Ticket Gods" may have smiled on us once or twice.
The Desert Road provided a couple of interesting sights, the first a rental car 50 metres into the scrub on a dead straight stretch of road, wrecked, no doubt having rolled many times, the second a policeman loading his rifle, about to sort out an errant sheep which was causing traffic mayhem. Anyway, nearly 5000kms on Beyoncé's speedo, a love affair in full bloom, with several hours of washing and pampering to look forward to tonight to restore her to pristine condition, ready for the next ride - perhaps Whangamata this weekend. As a final note to this great trip, I'd like to recognise and thank each of the guys that made it so much fun, Butch and Mel, an inspiration to us all, Jeff, the bright light in my mirror in more ways than one, and never far away, Mike C, a laugh a minute, ready for anything, Mickey, getting faster every day, Craig, whose choice in bikes leaves a bit to be desired, is a top bloke and keen as mustard, and Chris, steady, great over a pinot, and keen to mix with roughies , As always, the Colraine provided great accommodation - I can't blame them for the road painters making a racket outside my window between 2 and 4 am. An early breakfast, then back on the road just dawn broke, quite a long ride ahead to catch the 2.45pm ferry.
we knuckled down and clocked up some quick kms, only stopping long enough to gas, coffee, and to avoid wet pants... More terrific riding as we thundered diagonally from Greymouth to Picton, enjoying the mix of mountain passes and long straights, although from Murchison onwards, the road works are certainly an issue. Since the September earthquakes ruined the Kaikoura route this stretch of road has been called into service and taken a hammering from big trucks and is subject to multiple sites where repairs are underway. The ferry crossing was relatively uneventful, although only the hardiest of smokers ventured out into the howling wind. there were dozens of bikes on the vessel, and none toppled over so top marks for excellent lashing . Accommodation in Wellington was at a premium (and a lot more expensive than the previous night - we'd mistakenly booked rooms on the wrong date, so two nights rather than one). First job, the daily ritual of binning sweaty gear, socks, jocks and T shirt, with one clean set remaining for tomorrows final leg. While Mike C caught up with student son and part time Wellington resident Hamish, Jeff and I enjoyed dinner at Cin Cin Italian restaurant - after 2-3 fairly decent drinks in the Hotel bar, where the young barmaid had been instructed on how to make the perfect Moscow Mule - very refreshing.. Whilst I'd been hankering for a pizza and cheap chianti, we had a referral and decided to check it out - a busy establishment owned by an eager young professional restaurateur and fellow biker - top marks and well worth the visit. After two nights and one day in Queenstown, it is time to head home, our original 6 buddies now whittled down to three, Craig already in Rarotonga, Mickey flying home with the ladies (pressure of other commitments, another holiday booked) and Chris, celebrating a wedding anniversary with wife Mary, flying in especially. Hard men Mel, Butch and Moth planned depart Queenstown in the predawn, and to blast through to Nelson today, booked on tomorrow's first ferry. After some thought we decided that since we only had 550 kms to cover, we'd opt for a slightly later departure. Imagine starting a ride with the hairpins on the steep side of the Crown Range, then coasting through to Wanaka for a bakery breakfast and coffee, making sure that no early morning Policeman was going to get the better of us - spectacular (including the bakery!) The views from the road across a glassy Lake Hawea were surreal, and no wonder people want to escape the rat race of city living - probably pretty cold in the winter, but I guess that's why God gave us the Gold Coast. Might have to come back and have another look... I've never experienced Haast Pass in the dry (I don't think it happens very often) and it was just magnificent - we'd left reasonably early and the roads were not too busy, allowing us to make good time, stopping only for gas and the obligatory whitebait fritters. we hooked into a long line of fast moving Harleys for the last 80-90km into Greymouth and really enjoyed a quick transit, although one impatient rider took off, and we later passed him by, stopped on the side of the road by a young cop, blues and reds flashing, looking very embarrassed, an ignominious way to pass the day. Despite the temperature being quite warm Jeff anticipated a cold night and lit the fire at the Constables Cottage-a precaution proved unnecessary, and perhaps we should have sat outside under a cloudless sky and enjoyed the stars. After a great dinner and plenty of wine, no one was really looking for a late night, particularly after a solid week on the road, so cups of tea, then bed. Morning arrived with the anticipation of another big day ahead, the Mike's respective wives keen to be bikie birds, dressed in leather and Harley sparkle for the weekend. We enjoyed a magnificent country breakfast back at the Vulcan, before taking in the sights (a regular treat for those of us fortunate enough to be annual visitors), Kim being entrusted with the key to St Patrick's Catholic Church (apt as today is St Patrick's Day). A purposeful and quaint old building, its glory days of many parishioners long since past, but together with the adjacent graveyard (and each grave stone telling a story, all too often of an early and miserable passing) a solid reminder of St Bathan's more prosperous past.
The Ascot Hotel in Invercargill provided everything we needed on one site, including a bar and very nice restaurant- an opportunity for more that the Pub meals we'd at first enjoyed, then endured over the previous week. So, a few beers, a decent meal then fairly early night. We were scattered all over this very large site so had arranged a meeting point for departure - unfortunately we were one short. Mickeys bike had proven slow to start on previous days , and today was the day that reluctance became final. Whilst none of us are particularly mechanical, we tried the usual first aid before calling on the services of the AA - success, and given directions to Southern Batteries, a $300 fix, plus $200 for the jumper pack we'd bought from Repco prior to calling on the AA. Not to worry, a bit of a delay, but we were all mobile again. An hour or so at the Motor Cycle Museum provided a glimpse into the past but the highlight for me was the Britten bike - what a story!. The coffee and Cheese roll, a real Southern delicacy , were a treat Back on the road, headed northwards for the first time in over a week. having been promised it was an absolute highlight and not to be missed, Mickey took us on a detour to Riverton - whilst quaint enough I suspect someone pulled his leg... Ridding into St Bathan's each year is something I really look forward to, a pilgrimage into the past, as well as somewhere very special - nice straight roads too! Most of us slept well, although all mentioned hearing their respective neighbours snoring through thin and uninsulated walls (meaning all of us were guilty at some point) and everyone was chipper first thing.
I'm sure the hotel was new once, but it was a long time and many renovations ago - reasonably attractive and "as per the advertising " from the front, but certainly the victim of age and neglect in every other regards. Having said that, publican Glenda ran a good ship, clean if not tidy, so no complaints. Overflow accommodation in the untidy "back yard" was a 20ft container, converted to 3 rooms (cells), each with 2 bunks and no ventilation.... We'd woken to Heavy fog which delayed our departure, but depart we did when we felt the worst of the fog had lifted - hmmm, at times we had to creep along like a thief in the night, knowing that eventually things would improve, and knowing fog to be the precursor of a brilliant sunny day. Along the way, just outside the small village of Outram, Mickey stopped at his Father in Law's grave, apparently to pay his respects, before catching us up at the local cafe for breakfast. As is my custom, I paid my own respects at the inevitable and ubiquitous memorial to local lads killed in far off wars, wondering at the madness of it all, and whether we've learnt anything despite the terrible price paid. No matter how small the town or village, even if there is only one deserted store, a memorial will stand, forever remembering the names of young men who died for Mother England.... Balclutha came and went, as did Gore and it's outsize trout, but we were bound for Bluff, and another box ticked, enjoying what had become a fabulous day. We took the obligatory photos, both single and group courtesy of a young French girl, keen to be of assistance. From there, a late lunch of fresh Bluff oysters and blue cod - marvellous, next stop E Hayes and Sons, home of Burt Munro's Indian motorcycle, and an absolute emporium of all things fabulous- worth a visit. We're now at the Ascot Hotel for the night, a massive property, and we now know that several other groups from Auckland are here too - I suspect we may be in for a late night. Tomorrow, St Bathans. It is late and other than a couple of rowdy local cockies, the bar has almost closed- the patience of the landlord of a country Pub cannot be over estimated, the pissed rowdies keeping you up tonight are tomorrow's income. Mickey and I have enjoyed the last of several "roaders" and finally wandered off to our respective rooms, long after our smarter buddies decided enough was enough. That being said, please excuse any errors. We'd decided that a 9:30 departure from Lake Tekapo was the appropriate compromise between a little bit of warmth on the road and the distance we had to travel - probably spot on. We all dressed for the cold, and were pleased to have been so prudent, especially until our breakfast stop at Omarama 45 minutes of quick cruising across the plains. Our High Country breakfast was our best yet, and by a long way - and while we ate, our bikes were surrounded by ever changing waves of Chinese tourists eager to take photos of our Harley's (and perhaps Craig's Indian, now well behaved). [ Layers of clothing removed in deference to the sunshine, bound for Benmore Dam - God smiled and we all enjoyed what was without doubt the most spectacular scenery of our tour to date, the autumn colours, the magnificence of the countryside, and the shear joy of enjoying being on our bikes. Next stop, Kurow, birthplace of arguably New Zealand's greatest ever All Black and husband to Gemma, Richie McCaw - a very small town, but obviously a place where great foundation stones are laid. More kms, and into Oamaru (never mind the lovies on the telly, locals pronounce "Oamaru" not O Armaru"). We enjoyed an hour wandering the Waterfront area and visiting the Steam Punk Museum, weird and wonderful, straight from Mad Max, but quite cool none the less. Mickey had been talking up the Mutton pies from a bakery in Palmerston, but what may have been fabulous at noon was certainly past its best at 3pm...To eat one would be to risk days of discomfort (and worse). Palmerston through to days end at Middlemarch was a bit of a blast, a combination of nice straights and gentle turns, all of which could be taken at speed, with very little traffic (or traffic cops) to impede our fairly rapid progress. So, our accomodation for tonight is the South Taieri Hotel in Middlemarch, and a real contrast to previous digs, probably a one star establishment ($50 per room per night), but clean and hospitable, although whoever is in the adjoining room is snoring! Our accommodation at the Coleraine Motel in Greymouth was fabulous. - as, from past experience we new it would be - probably the best anywhere in the South Island. Craig and Jeff left a couple of hours before the rest of us, heading of into the predawn and rain for Christchurch to try and get Craig's Indian sorted - thankfully a successful mission. The rest of us wandered back to the Recreation Hotel for a simple breakfast, then rugging up, preparing for another day of rain, with the added bonus of knowing it would be cold, before reluctantly leaving the Coleraine. The scenery through Arthur's Pass was spectacular, world class in fact. The wide braided rivers have yet to be impacted by the rain, although there is rarely much of a shortage of rain on the West Coast. The kilometres ticked over as we ploughed on, making the transition from the West Coast and into the high country, first stop Springfield to hook up with Jeff and Mike C. We dealt with both rain and cold, knowing the culinary highlight of the trip was only several hours away - a Pulled Pork and Apple pie, and half a custard Cronut for a late lunch from the Fairlie Bakehouse Jeff snagged the bargain of the day, scoring a new oil skin vest from Farmlands for $70, adding another layer of much needed warmth. As we climbed higher we left the rain behind, and arrived into our Lake Tekapo accomodation (two adjoining holiday homes) ready to relax, and enjoy a few quiet beers. Craig arrived shortly afterwards, his Indian rebooted, no longer operating in limp mode but pleased be have 6 hours of full on rain behind him. Mike C persuaded the barman at the local pub to provide a taxi service in his SS Commodore as another Pub meal before walking back to respective beds. Today Middlemarch. Don As forecast it rained in Blenheim over night, sometimes bucketing down, sometimes just a deluge, so safe to say, the drought that has plagued Marlborough for many months has broken in the most spectacular way.
We had dinner at the Speights Ale House strategically located 100m from our motel, with those who ordered Fish & Chips ruling their choice (and continued to pay a price into the next day) although those who chose more wisely being very happy, washed down with a couple of beers and several bottles of nice Pinot. It had been quite a long day so an early night was on the cards. We'd decided on a bit of a sleep in, and wandered across to a cafe for breakfast before preparing for rain, wet weather gear (dried over night) again pressed into action. Jeff now knows that putting stuff into a hot clothes drier transforms a Large cotton hoody into a Small Men's. Rookie mistake. So, whilst we were prepared for anything, and the forecast was for more rain, we luck d in and hardly saw a drop, enjoying a quick trip from Blenheim to Nelson, having been warned to eschew the more direct route due to congestion, roadworks and camper vans... Craig's Indian has caused a few issues running out of power from time to time, so he may be looking for mechanical assistance in Christchurch tomorrow. Having said that, he and I were only just spared a conversation with a policeman by a belated warning from my radar detector. We've been looking forward to the Iron Run for months and it could not roll around quickly enough.
I'd assumed the role of Road Captain, and with it the responsibility of booking ferries, motels, etc.. Unfortunately enthusiasm and ability are at opposite ends of my scale, but after several goes at checking details and fixing errors, I think we'll be ok. Our crew started assembling well before our 1pm departure, eager as schoolboys to get underway. All the forecasts predicted heavy rain and we dressed accordingly, Bulky and sweaty , ready for anything. The sky was black and heavy, threatening to open at any moment, but we dodged a bullet and never really saw a drop, eventually stripping off jackets due to the heat. We arrived at our motel in good time, knowing that those following half an hour behind us would not be as lucky. So, day one ended on a high, Jeff promising that as long as he wore his new wet weather gear, we'd miss the rain... alas, he spoke too soon. As I write the ferry has left Wellington harbour and has entered what appears to be a boisterous Cook St. We are starting to pitch slightly, and I assume most people will be ok until rolling is added to the mix. Not to worry, we paid a wee bit extra and are enjoying the lounge - a good place for those amongst us, especially Jeff and Craig, whose new wet weather gear has been put to the test and failed - Both have been soaked for hours, but thankfully not cold. We know it is a bit rough because the public address system has called for a multitude of drivers and riders whose alarms don't like the motion. Having learned an unpleasant lesson after my last trip on the Interislander, I know to avoid the curry on offer in the lounge - prudence over temptation. Whilst children are excluded from the lounge, unfortunately whining poms are not and I'm struggling to ignore a pair. The rain started in earnest last night as we arrived back from the restaurant a short walk from the motel after enjoying a few drinks and a great pub meal, making sure not to over do our first night away. It rained all night, big fat and heavy rain, the real deal, and that is what we started with as we departed Taupo in the pre dawn, knowing that we had about 5 hours ahead of us, hence Jeff and Craig being disappointed with their respective gear. The road was certainly wet, sometimes greasy, sometimes quite busy, but always headed in the right direction. Whilst we suffered several minor mechanical issues (who'd buy an Indian?), we arrived in Wellington in good time, and hung around as you do between checking in and boarding, standing in the rain, jackets and helmets on, some knowing they were already as wet as they could get. Tonight, Blenheim . |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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