The clock is ticking with just under 8 hours until the New Year signals the “Cleaning of the Slate”, an opportunity to start afresh, resolutions made with the best of intentions, many to fall by the wayside within hours or days, but probably not forgotten, others to be embraced and possibly life changing.
Entering the “20’s” seems particularly memorable, a new decade offering a fresh start, particularly for those who ended 2019 with hardship, tragedy or simply exhaustion. In short, something to look forward to, for some marriage, others kids – the next generation making their mark. From my office window looking over the marina, I see many of the boats that remain after the wave after Christmas Day being loaded with sufficient provisions to see in the New Year in traditional style, and in deference to the favourable weather forecast, enough for a few extra days, and good luck to them. In acknowledging that not everyone has a boat, it is timely to remember just how tough some people do it, some because their income simply is too humble to even think about such things, others because of choices made, perhaps preferring latte’s and lifestyle over mortgage payments. One of the many great things about this fabulous country is that ability for anyone to “make it” – work hard, work smart, take a punt or two… Perhaps I’m fortunate enough, now in the autumn of my career, after a lifetime of taking risks, working 80 hour weeks for so many years, and having everything on the line for so long to now be further up the financial totem pole than many, to the point where even thinking of boats and marinas no longer registers as being anything special. Having said that not a day goes by where I take success or the view from my window for granted. So what will 2020 bring? Inevitably, and to some degree or other, more of the same, with the curve balls of opportunity and chance playing their part. To benefit from opportunity will require the contribution of effort and risk, whereas chance maybe as insignificant as buying a lotto ticket. Some will seek out opportunity with enthusiasm and determination and may benefit accordingly – others will sit, wait, foregoing action or risk, listening for a delicate knock, wondering at “opportunity’s” reluctance to appear… In any event, it is now time for me to wander home, with a big steak in the fridge to look forward to and a bottle of something special to see me through until the clock proclaims the page has turned. I wish everyone special to me all the very best for 2020! Not quite sure why, but the urge for a ride, a long ride, had come over me in recent days and with a favourable forecast in the offing, today was the day, with a “Round Coromandel Loop” in mind.
Being an early riser, and keen to miss as much holiday traffic as possible, I was up at 4.20, and wheeled Anastasia out of the garage at 0515 (scratching a pannier on a planter box in the process), trying not to annoy too many neighbours with my departure. Predawn is actually a great time to ride, but the sun soon rose and that phase of the day was gone, as I was topping off my tank at BP South – plans for a "pre-departure" coffee were forgotten in my eagerness to be on the road. Heading towards the Coromandel is to head into the rising sun, so a bit of a nuisance at times, but in the best possible way. As usual at this time of day, cresting the Bombay Hills is to pass from being reasonably warm (jacket only) to having to stop to put on a hoodie to cope with the rapid and considerable drop in temperature – I know that it is likely to happen yet the severity of the changes surprises me every time. The cone fairies had been busy overnight, blocking off all passing lanes (miserable buggers) , but fortunately the other early risers had places to be, at a pace was not too excruciating, with most seemingly utes towing boats. On the odd occasion where necessary, I dropped down a gear or two and made short work of any mobile obstacles – ever mindful that the light mounted on my screen would flash red (bright and fast) should any traffic cop try and ping me – having a laser jammer is icing on the cake. Having decided that heading anticlockwise would probably work best (a good choice), I made great time on roads that can be very slippery in the wet, but on a mild morning like today, were a dream. A quick trip to Tairua, then a brief stop to text my brother Wayne who lives in Whitianga to arrange a coffee – I have not caught up with him for a couple of years, so long overdue. Wayne and his best mate (and ute security officer), Mr Ted met me at the prearranged café and we slipped into easy conversation that guys seem to manage despite the passing of time since the last meeting. Wayne and wife Diane moved to what was a still fairly sleepy and remote Whitanga nearly 20 years ago – and whilst it now boasts a Warehouse and Placemakers, they still love living there, far from the pressures of the big smoke. Sounds pretty good to me…. On to Kuaotuna to catch up with another mate, more coffee, bacon and egg pie for breakfast and another pee, then homeward bound, up one side of the Coromandel Range, then down the other, a quick clip with few tourists to frustrate me reward for the early start. Prudence paid dividends, so whilst making good progress I managed to avoid the attentions of the many police cars on the road, and the breath test check point at Kaiaua caused no consternation at all. We woke to a lovely morning, most seemingly up and about before the sun climbed over the hill at our backs – time for the first coffee of the day and to wipe the bikes down of overnight dew.
After a great night, great dinner and perhaps one to two too many drinks (for some), everyone appeared in good spirits and ready for another day on the road. First stop was only 10 minutes away, but first the obstacle of 3 dogs wandering free, up to no good and possibly looking to take out a Harley or two. Our destination a cheap, cheerful (and surprisingly clean) breakfast bakehouse in Kaitaia, where everything on the menu board is accompanied by a photo and a number – meal “3” seemed to be popular (eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, baked beans and toast), produced quickly and efficiently by a small team of hardworking new immigrants. As usual, any visit to this tired and poor town is to be reminded that the further north you go, particularly “North West”, the worse the issues of a low socio economic circumstances appear to become. For the most part those locals who were out and about don’t look to be in good health or wealth – far from it, seemingly with an air of acceptance of what is a universally bad situation. The Minister of Porn’s multi billion slush fund does not appear to have had any impact to date. Mike C had family commitments, so headed in the opposite direction to the rest of us, with home only a few hours south. So, on to the Cape, 120km of fairly quick riding, early enough to be troubled by much tourist traffic, (or traffic cops - my laser jammer and radar detector always on high alert) and in very pleasant riding conditions. Whilst perhaps traveling more quickly than ideal to take in some magnificent scenery, (the trade off between enjoying the ride or taking in the sights, with the bike winning by some margin), the leg passed quickly and soon the dunes and the magnificence of the meeting of the oceans came into view – wow. Over the next 10-15 minutes our crew arrived in dribs and drabs, and as far as I could see, as helmets came off, a smile on every face, each having ridden his own ride and enjoyed the experience. Most chose to wander down to the lighthouse, but Angus and I instead decided to attempt to solve some of the problems of the world whilst sitting in the sun and taking in the magnificent scenery - and in my humble opinion we did a fairly good job of it. A few photos, then back to the bikes, ready for what we’d agreed would be a more scenic ride back to our next gas stop at Awanui, and so it was until Mel’s 128 cubic in, tricked out CVO flew past me like a bolt of lightning – the thought of kicking down a gear and trying to catch him passed in a nanosecond as futile – the fact is if Mel was riding a Honda 50, his skill would hold him in good stead. Instead, I picked up my pace from “scenic” to “comfortably quick”, knowing that whilst I could never catch him, I’d have a ball in the process. I knew that as long as I was not tempted to cross the line of my own competence into the “ragged edge” of craziness, I’d be ok. Headlights behind mine slowly became more distant, but only for a while, as one slowly started to glow brighter as it got closer. Angus can pedal his Road King fairly hard, and it was not long before I acknowledged is superior skills and waved him through, then sat on his exhaust, again enjoying the sheer thrill being on the road with good mates brings. So, gas at Awanui, then (with a slight mis-navigation on my part that nearly ended badly as Craig applied brakes heavily in response to my micro signal) on to the Mongonui pub for a lunch of fresh battered fish and chips, and a couple of beers in the sun – ahh, perfect. A short ride to Paihia saw us arrive at the newly renovated and expanded Dolphin Motel (and a quick nana nap for some), before beers and a couple of bottle of JD in the shaded BBQ area before heading off to the RSA for dinner. Tomorrow, homeward. It was over a few drinks 6 months ago that planning for a Rusty Nuts pre-Christmas Northland Tour was floated, and planning begun.
The idea to reverse our usual course was quickly found to be impractical due to the unavailability of accommodation – crazy. The usual hard core of members signed on, but with the passing of time a few dropped out for a variety of reasons, their coveted spots quickly filled by those on the waitlist. As an “Invitation only” group, there are usually more takers than spots available, with our style of ride having an attraction not always found in other groups. The forecast for the few days preceding departure was for showers, some heavy, but this was forgotten as the day came with brilliant sunshine that saw many of us in fairly light gear – little did we know. Coffee and donuts seemed to be the order of the day for those who arrived early at Caltex Dairy Flat – Angus and Jeff arrived at my place on time and our over generous allowance for traffic (or perhaps enthusiasm to get underway), found us there in very good time. With the exception of one of our number unfamiliar with our rule of “We depart on time, regardless” who arrived with a whisker to spare as we were suiting up to leave, and Chris, who had arranged to meet us 100km northwards, we were off. Up Highway 16 to Wellsford then a brief squirt to a favoured bakery for lunch (brunch) at Kaiwaka – a fortuitous stop as a bit of a shower passed through – little were we to know, substantially more rain was to follow. Once back on the bikes, and starting to enjoy some of the long flowing stretches across the island from the base of the Brynderwyn’s to Ruawai, the sky darkened and I started to look for somewhere safe for 13 bikers to pull over to struggle into wet weather gear. Unfortunately the rain came before an opportunity presented itself, heavy rain that quickly negated any thoughts of staying dry for those optimists among us who’d chosen to ignore the signs. We eventually found shelter and sanctuary at Ruawai, and half an hour later the worst had passed… fortunately for those of us who were soaked, it was warm so not really an issue, and so we continued. Gas at Dargaville, then a quick run to the Kauri forest where damp and twisty roads were introduced into the mix, requiring as yet untested skills to be drawn from the repertoire. Having very competent and capable riders breathing down your neck is a good way to focus concentration on the job at hand, and to ensure that bad habits are not aired publicly – all the while making sure not to push too hard. Coming over the final hill at Omapere brings the mouth of the Hokianga suddenly into frame (almost with a gasp), its sentinel of massive sand dune across the harbour brilliant in the sunshine. While a few of us had stopped to regroup near the end of the forest sector, Butch had blasted on through, with the reason becoming evident when $75 of fish and chips appeared at our stop at Opononui – thanks Butch! We arrived in Rawene just in time to miss the 3.30 sailing, so with an hour to kill and the pub being closed for renovations, a box of Heinekens was procured from the local 4 Square to be enjoyed in the sunshine by those who’d chosen not to wander along to the waterfront café. The final leg of about an hour to Ahipara also offered a mixture of everything – remembering that that we were in the hinterland of rural Northland, this means roads that either require or are under repair, narrow corners where a white line means little if oncoming traffic choses to ignore it, and like anywhere, a moment’s inattention inevitably comes with a high price. Having said that, another opportunity for everyone to ride at a comfortable pace, to test themselves how and when appropriate, and most importantly, to enjoy the thrill of being On the Road Again. And then we were there, bursting from the guts of the northern Hokianga with its mixture of poor and very poor hard scrabble farms and tiny hamlets, and on to the final straights into Ahipara, past a wreckers yard and the school, left at the intersection, past the marae and more very humble homes, then the flash, gated, million dollar holiday homes of wealthy townies on the seaward side of the road as the beach came into view. Our motel was up a side road, and with the elevation came magnificent views – we quickly settled in, showered, then taking the tops off the bottles of spirits that form the basis of reliving the adventures of the day, enjoying the last of early evening sunshine then sunset before heading up for dinner. Another great day on the road – perfect! |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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