The best road trips are inevitably born and take shape around a table of buddies, and usually after quite a few drinks. The more drinks, the more ambitious the plan, sometimes in scale, sometimes in timeframe. And so it was that we decided to cram in a final ride before Christmas, and with the offer of accommodation and the prospect of a party at Pauanui, a date that suited most was agreed on, and a plan took shape. The weather gods smiled and rather perversely we suffered as a consequence, cooking in heavy leather at any stop, the first time being at BP South, when the battery on Richards bike responded to a lack of use and refused to perform - and once again proof positive that despite the best efforts of an enthusiastic group of middle aged bikers trying their darnedest, it is impossible to push start a Harley with a recalcitrant battery. It was agreed that we’d leave Richard to the good people from Harley assist to sort out, but before they arrived he tried once again and quite remarkably, there was life! $300 and a new battery (and trickle charger) later, the fabulous fellas from Drury Motorcycles had him sorted, and he was on his way. By then, we'd made good the time lost, and having taken the inland route from Ramarama across to Miranda, had arrived at the Thames meeting point to hook up with a Wayne and Tina from Taupo. In taking this route we'd avoided the worst of the notorious "Coromandel" traffic, the 90km speed limits (by some margin) and enjoyed the best the countryside could offer, clear roads, great scenery. Having said that we did pass a big manure sprayer that was set up a bit too close to the road, pumping liquid poo in a wide arc under considerable pressure, close enough where the smell was acrid rather than just unpleasant, and could have proved a problem if the wind had been blowing much harder. Thames was chocka, its annual Santa parade obviously drawing large crowds from far and wide, so obviously a big deal. Rather than endure the windy road up the coast, wives and partners were abandoned by the roadside (at the Warehouse actually), to be collected by Jacqui in her flash Jaguar SUV, opting instead for the direct route to Pauanui. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the traffic was not too bad which allowed us to enjoy the ride, and other than the occasional very wide boat trailer or large mussel truck taking more than their share on corners the leg was quite pleasant. Having said that, the windy road over the hump from Coromandel to Matarangi presented a new hazard - swarms of motorcycles coming the other way, mostly going pretty quickly. All too often I noted the frightened expression of those who know they've over cooked a corner, proving beyond all doubt that they were operating well beyond their skill level. Unfortunately this inevitably found a few on the wrong side of the white line in corners, and a real hazard to any oncoming traffic unprepared to accommodate these transgressions. There were also the rental cars driven by tourists unfamiliar with the concept of common courtesy, but by and large, they proved little more than a temporary inconvenience. A quick blast, at least for most of us, through to Luke’s Kitchen in Kuaotunu, a favourite lunch spot famous for classic wood fired pizza and craft beers. An hour later, fed and replete, we were off, with the final leg through to days end to look forward to. Unfortunately for Wayne, his near new CVO suffered the ignominy we all dread, puffs of smoke and an intermittent engine failure that eventually proved terminal. Wayne had opted not to stop at Luke’s, hoping that his bike would hold together, but not to be, and we found him forlorn by the roadside a few Km’s along the road, waiting for a transporter. To top it off, he'd had to hoof it up a hill to get cell phone reception! Good buggers that they are, Mel and Richard decided to stay to assist, so, there not being much the rest of us could do, we headed off. Craig, so often teased for his odd choice in motorcycles, was keen to show us what his Indian could do, and once waved through to take the lead, took off like a rocket - having said that, his mirrors would have reminded him that there was always a Harley close behind. So, after fueling up at Prescott’s Garage at the Pauanui turnoff, Mike C led us through to our destination, Casa Chatterley, otherwise known by its hard earned reputation as “The Party House” within a stone's throw of the beach. Sweaty Jackets and boots were quickly shed, with cold beers used to start the cooling down process, then upstairs to the huge deck, great views, more refreshments, and easing into relax mode. The catering department had provided a prawns to be sautéed in garlic and chilli, a huge scotch fillet rumoured to be over 7kg, and of course the obligatory salads that bring a meal together - a meal of monumental proportions - magnificent. The recycling bin proved that it had indeed been a big night, with one or two having difficulty remembering how it ended, (or being helped to bed) - and there were a few who slept a bit later than usual as a consequence. Fortunately, I'd retired earlier than some, and was feeling in reasonably good shape - although probably better than I deserved. In fact I felt sufficiently well, (and wanting to escape the uncoordinated chainsaws that were competing throughout the house), to enjoy an early morning walk the short distance to the beach as the sun rose. The considerable remnants from last nights' meal provided the basis for breakfast - a team effort, making toast, cooking chunks of steak, bacon and eggs, even caramelised onions - a meal that would last all day. We'd agreed on an 11am departure, so those who were heading home were soon back in leather and on the road again. We'd decided that in order to avoid the motorway, to opt for the Seabird Coast, taking in Miranda, Kaiaua, Kawakawa Bay and Clevedon, and it was more than by good luck than good fortune that those hitting high speeds and looking to catch up missed the attention (other than a wagging finger of warning) of the one oncoming police car who was in the area - phew. A brief stop for a cold drink at the pub, then farewell hugs and handshakes, and off again, just over an hour from home. As always, I am doubly cautious when close to home knowing that the most dangerous 3km of two days on the road is yet to come, and so it was - firstly a new New Zealander, rushing through a very red light who would have collected anyone who'd been quick off the mark. Then, with less than a Km to go, a bongo wagon people mover shot out of a driveway, straight across the road oblivious to oncoming traffic or motorcycles travelling in the same direction. Fortunately both incidents were anticipated, so other than the disappointment of being proven right, no harm came to us. Another road trip complete, more great time with great mates - until next time! |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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