Jeff suggested a ride to Raglan a few days ago, and today was the day. It was still dark as Sabrina was quietly wheeled out of the garage, tyre pressures checked and wet weather gear stowed just in case.
There where no lights on around the neighbourhood and I hope my efforts were appreciated, although I suspect I'll never know. A quick rendezvous at Sylvia Park to hook up, then off, first stop a fast fill of gas at BP South, then into the hinterland from Drury, straight into the good stuff, lots of fast corners and few others sharing the road. We waved to a few envious workmen, filling up on breakfast pies at the Tuakau bakery before getting back into their work truck, then over the iconic bridge and onto "State Highway 22", a rather generous description for what is really just a back country road, but one that is in pretty popular, perhaps not if you're piloting a sheep truck or milk tanker, but great if you're on a motorcycle. Another day as an ornithologist, and not necessarily by choice. It is obvious that Magpies are having a bumper season, dozens everywhere, (some flattened), as big and heavy as bricks with wings, to be avoided at all costs. In the space of a few kilometres, we saw and avoided two Canada Geese, a cock pheasant and a large white goose, all intent on waddling or racing the road in front of us, any one of which would have been unfortunate for all concerned. More green and red parakeets and tiny green finches to add some colour as morning progressed. Combine that with the other wildlife, bunnies and hares, one the size of a Labrador, again to be avoided at all costs, and the evidence of possums proving little competition to overnight traffic. SH 22 can be dreary and greasy when wet, (in fact bloody awful on a bad day), but today proved fast and dry, with little traffic and only a few roadworks to slow us down, the ribbon of road that weaves along the narrow crest of the hills occasionally proving too wide for the geography and falling away, awaiting the tender care of the aforementioned road gang to complete repairs. As we progressed further I noted the rusty shipping containers, old caravans and converted buses deep within the bush, destined to remain there forever, quietly rotting away - the question being how they ever got there. All too soon Raglan appeared, and after nearly two hours on the road we were both more than ready for breakfast and to massage some life into sore bums while waiting for coffee, watching locals, couples with kids, others barefoot and feral, cruisey tourists, tattooed girls and would be bikers all enjoying the pleasant morning. Two coffees apiece, bacon and eggs and a pit stop later, we mounted up and did the obligatory tiki tour around town, checking out the waterfront and the wharf before waving Raglan goodbye. We opted for a different route home, fuelling up in Ngaruawahia, marvelling at the eclectic mix of patrons, then back to the quiet side of the Waikato River, next stop Rangiriri. Rather than taking the motorway, we kept going, giving the 3 seperate traffic cops in Te Kawhata little to worry about, the flash of headlights from oncoming locals providing courteous warning of their intentions towards errant motorcyclists. Jeff had the lead and kept us going arrow straight into the countryside, neither of us in a hurry to head home. Eventually we found the main road, and reluctantly joined the lines of great unwashed, travelling at 90km/hr in the "Safer speed area", before stopping at the Red Fox for a pow wow. Bugger this, back onto the deserted country roads, bound for Miranda Hot Springs and the Oyster Bird Coast Road. After a fast blast, more flashing headlights warned of a police checkpoint in Kaiaua, a young cop, (one of half a dozen), with braces on his teeth and a wispy ginger beard failing to offer much to add to his stature, thrusting his breath tester into helmets, ever hopeful of the big bust but falling short in every regard. An early lunch of fish and chips sitting in the garden bar at the pub, (and just one beer), before Venturing back into the fray, mindful that there where far too many traffic cops about to risk fast passage. The windy coastal road provided more delightful corners, slower traffic proving little obstacle, next and final stop the Clevedon Pub for a debrief before the last leg of the day, 400kms for the morning about to tick over. What a pleasure to be on the road with a good mate, great bikes and a ride that is second to none. Sabrina and I crept from the garage long before sunrise, the only other traffic on the road appeared red, tail lights blazing, reindeer shit in its wake.
Over the next couple of hours there may have been one or two late rising country folk awakened be the roar of a Harley, wondering if Santa had traded up. The first half hour on the road was solitary, no cars, no cops, no walkers, joggers or cyclists, probably the safest time of the year, sensible people still tucked up in bed, looking forward to the day ahead Whitford, Maretai then the first few corners of the delightful windy coastal road around to Dudders Beach, in between a quick stop to take a photo of the sun’s first rays peeping over the horizon. The road to Clevedon was deserted, but I was reminded that an element of discretion was still required, a huge “lump” in the road causing a momentary flex of the sphincter and what felt like a bash with a 4x2 across the back – I may have backed off 5kph for 2-3 minutes. Kawa Kawa Bay soon passed, as did more fast windy stuff into and out of Orere Point, again stopping for a photo opportunity at Kaiaua, feeling like David Attenborough. As well as the obligatory Pukako, a turquoise Kingfisher flashed across in front of me, enroute from his Cliffside home to breakfast in the water, a cock pheasant wondering majestically along the road, a few roosters and even a couple of small brightly coloured parakeets a bit later in the morning. A couple of seagulls were enjoying a freshly clobbered hedgehog for breakfast. The wildlife was also prolific, obviously a great season for bunnies, most grey, some black, a few white, and fewer still the glorious technicolour mixture of all, and surprising few spread out across the road, although at one point I smelt something that must have been dead a day or two, the smell of death in the sunshine unmistakable. Inland from Kaiaua, turning from the sunrise into sullen clouds that lay between me and home, relying on the forecast for a day without rain to be accurate (and it was). Over the hill for a coffee and pit stop at BP Bombay, the three young men on duty enjoying triple time and the popularity that comes in being open when everyone else is closed. From there towards Pukekohe, more deserted country roads making for fabulous riding, fast corners, no tractors or slower traffic, even the cows seeming to be enjoying a holiday. So, 2.5 hours and 200km later, Sabrina is now resting and I’m about to crank up the BBQ in anticipation of an early lunch to accommodate those who need to be in two places at once – thinking of those like son Wade, flying travelers to be with their loved ones, working in hospitals and fire stations everywhere. Ray and the team from Auckland Harley Davidson have opened a new outlet on Barry's Point Road on the North Shore last week, and cause for some celebration.
To accomodate many of the HOG members who live north of the Bridge, and to support the new store, the decision was made that every alternate ride would leave from there. I was nominated to lead the first ride yesterday, and those hardy souls who arrived prior to departure knew the weather was always going to be an issue, but were all safe in the knowledge that hard arse Harley guys (no girls yesterday) are not made of Brown Sugar. It seemed that those who arrived in wet weather gear (not required up until that point) decided that whilst they may get wet, it would not be cold so stripped it of and packed away. I've been involved with the club since buying a new Road King Classic in 2011, and met a life member, "Spud", for the first time who'd decided to celebrate the opening - you never know who will come out of the woodwork. About 15 lined up for the start which was fabulous considering the weather. Great to see Club Director, Doc, out for a ride with the boys on his birthday. Rather surprisingly the traffic was fairly light, perhaps a "pre-Christmas" sweet spot, most weekend sport having finished, and mad Christmas shopping far from our route. We headed northwards up Highway 16, and managed 30 minutes before the forecast for rain mid afternoon proved all too accurate- and unfortunately the forecast predicted that the rain would become heavier as the afternoon progressed. I anticipated that Jeff, nominated Tail End Charlie for the day, might have to deal with the odd rain related incident, but Lady Luck smiled on us, perhaps "Fortune Favouring the Brave", or maybe just dumb luck! Even the "greasy when wet" route along Wockcocks Road posed no dramas. After arriving at the Puhoi Pub, dampish rather than wet, we witnessed the weather deteriorate fairly quickly knowing that the ride to our respective homes was going to be very wet. That being the case we were happy to stay a bit longer than usual, hopeful that the rain may stop, entertained by a group of pretty schickered women on a pub crawl, T shirts emblazoned with the statement that ugly men need not apply - we took it in good humour! These girls were taking the day seriously, complete with mini van and a driver with a cap - and it was apparent that he had a hard day ahead of him. Eventually accepting the inevitable, we drifted off in small groups, Nev taking the time to wipe the water from his seat (a forelorn gesture I thought, although perhaps better than sitting in a puddle). The rain increased from that point onwards, progressing through the stages, visibility fairly average, ever mindful of stopping distances and drivers prone to erratic lane changes, but eventually home safe, hot shower front of mind. A wet ride is better than no ride! |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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