Hog Club Director Doc had organised a ride to New Plymouth over ANZAC weekend - despite the forecast being fairly unpleasant, 15 riders, some with pillions, were ready for a 9am departure from BP South. As is usual with Doc's rides, Joe 90 typically leads, following a route that only Joe knows from a guide book that is yet to be published - a sure way to see parts of the country well off the beaten track, usually untroubled by anything other than local traffic. Off the motorway at Rangiriri, and into the hinterland, first stop Pirongia to hook up with Waikato riders Jean-François (Frank), his lady Linda, and Cuddy from Rotorua, very good coffee from the most impressive copper coffee machine, huge and polished. The route to lunch at the Whangmomona Hotel would take us deep into the hinterland, but our progress was hampered slightly by an unscheduled stop in Ohura - one of the guys had is bike slide out from under him on a fairly slow bend entering the small township, closely followed by Frank & Linda - wet roads, poor surface, 3 motorcyclists into the turf, getting covered in freshly mowed grass as they slid, and quite a bit of mud in the process. Joe assumed the role of MacGyver getting both bikes mobile, bent handlebars and foot boards the worst damaged (and a wee bit of pride). Linda was in pain, and later found to have broken ribs - hardly a murmur though - what a trouper. Ohura is fairly much a ghost town, all the buildings on the main street boarded up or deserted other than the community hall - having said that, there were probably 100 camper vans, big and small in town for a rain trail adventure, and our arrival provided a diversion that was a real bonus to those braving the inclement weather. The road to Whangamomona included 12kms of unsealed roads, and we knew that the rain would have made things pretty interesting, fortunately very muddy bikes being the worst outcome, everyone treading carefully and not taking any risks. The highlight of this leg was a bunch (perhaps the plural should be "an optimist') of scooters heading the other way - they were about to hit the metal section just as we left it, and it was going to be fun. We arrived at the pub after the kitchen had closed for lunch, but managed on bar snacks, toasted sandwiches and chips, accompanied by a singer, and a rather unfortunate and feral local woman who disliked JAFA's, both of who provided entertainment, a different ends of the scale. Also at the pub were riders from all over the country who'd assembled at a campsite just out of town for the weekend - and judging by the big wheelies and burnouts as they left, they'd been there one or two drinks too long... The rain had passed, and Joe lead us ever closer to our final destination, but never to disappoint, via a route that was both scenic and circuitous, but never boring. Top 10 Motorcamp in Fitzroy was a bit of an enigma, very expensive by Top 10 standards, very small rooms, clean and tidy, but extremely frugal on the things like soap (one slither), shampoo (none), milk (ask at the office). Not to worry, we'd all arrived intact, albeit with the odd scrape, Dinner at a local pub before a fairly early night for most of us - Digit excepted. Travelling with his new girl friend, his reputation as a Lothario was greatly enhanced by the noises she was making during the night - impressive. After a great breakfast at a local café, (pleased for the spike in business 20 odd riders brings) Joe lead us around Mt Taranaki / Egmont, a slightly dreary day brightened by the magnificent scenery of the Taranaki countryside, with very little traffic to impede our progress other than a Mercedes who at one point decided to take a few risks with riders near the back of the pack. A late lunch at Mike's Brewery at Urenui as a great way to celebrate another great day - a selection of great beers and even better pizzas - worth a stop. We headed back via the Boardwalk along the New Plymouth water front - a magnificent facility that makes the most of the wild west coast - boulders for miles in both directions a reminder of just how rough the Tasman can be, but seabirds hard at work within a hundred metres of the shore line indicate that all is well with the ecosystem. A case of beer and a couple of bags of chips soon disappeared as a precursor to an interclub 10 pin bowling tournament Doc had arranged - taxis soon arrived to ferry us into town, Linda and I opting for a quiet dinner of Peking Duck at the Laughing Budda restaurant over more beers and takeaways at the bowling. Dawn parade for those ex servicemen amongst us, then packed and gone by 8.20, the Fat Pigeon café in Pio-Pio our stop for breakfast, 90 minutes closer to home. So, another weekend of camaraderie with great people, great rides (thanks Joe), and all home safely! Every day the mindless media bang on about the "Housing Crisis", yet I am struggling to see that a crisis really exists, at least for many.
I read this morning that Mortgage Brokers (I-refi Mortgage Brokers in Half Moon Bay included) see applications everyday where many couples on good incomes just don't save any money. After the daily flat whites, twice a year holidays to Bali or Fiji, expensive cars and nights out, there just isn't too much left. Add into that the desire to buy into a "nice" suburb close to cafes and Les Mills - hmmm. My generation will harp on how they bought their first home in Mangere or Papatoetoe, Papakaura or Massey, then gradually extended themselves with mortgages of 19-23% and moved closer to better schooling in more fashionable areas as they could afford it. Those who knuckled down, got real jobs rather than faffing around doing bullshit degrees at university or wandering around Europe on their big OE typically managed to make a good start that has come good - particularly if they've resisted the urge to regularly divide assets in half as marriages failed. What the media don't mention is that the beneficiaries of rising house prices are usually hard working mums and dads, who are cashing out, often as millionaires. These people then have the choice of providing for their own retirement, moving to somewhere less expensive, or God forbid, helping fund their offspring with a deposit. Who are the media (or that nasty Mr Little or horrid Twyford) to deride Kiwis who have worked and saved their entire lives from this windfall, Wade and I took advantage of his roster and my availability to shoot out to Murawai. Quiet country roads (although usual Friday motorway traffic to endure first).
The low tide hap provided a canvas for someone to get creative
A bonus for me as Road Captain was to have son Wade along on his Street 500, celebrating his 27th birthday riding with the Old Man
As usual, 20 bikes tend to get strung out,a long line of headlights, some dull ineffective yellow, barely visible in the mirror, others (like Neville's) a brilliant warning not to get in his way. Double-tap to edit.Having dedicated so much time to Sabrina (my beloved Harley), Templar has languished. I set about to change that this morning, and together we crept down the Tamaki River, taking extra care to avoid the flotsam the highest tides of the year inevitably brings, big lumps of tree trunk ready to tear off a propeller, or worse.
The still of an autumn morning was just reward for the early start, the only ripples on the duck pond of the Waitemata were those of my wake. Anchoring at Motuhuie as the sun rose blazing through the few pines that remain. A quick flick through a Sunday paper, the most celebrial section being the Sudoku, before heading home in time to take Dearly beloved a cup of tea as she woke. What better way for a proud Dad to help his son celebrate his 27th birthday. Wade joined the Hog ride that I led, a long line of 20 Harleys, on magical mystery tour that took in country roads from the Hunuas, across the Waikato at Mercer then again at Tuakau, and ending up at Kariotahi Beach on the Wild West Coast. A lovely & still autumn day helped make the day just about as good as it gets.
the love of good friends and a magnificent birthday cake are some consolation for ticking over another year. The cake makers skill captured Lindas passion as an artist - wow!
The weather was kind to us and the Weber BBQ coped very well, together with the contributions of other great cooks, each with the dish they are rightly famous for. An excellent evening. Wade and I went for a ride between showers this afternoon, heading into the Hunua's for some Harley therapy before his late shift, piloting the last flight to Whangarei. We chanced upon an accident scene moments after impact, a motorcyclist injured on the side of the road. While other good samaritans tended to him, we made the scene safe, flashing lights and floro vests, keen to prevent further carnage. Within a minute or two ambulance and police were underway, rider, whilst in quite some pain, managing to call his wife, a broken ankle and other injuries obviously not life threatening. Meanwhile his bike lay ignominiously in a pool of it's own oil, patiently waiting to be put to rights. Within an hour it was all over - a timely reminder. |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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