"Reloaded"



Some spectacular vistas of New Zealand

Some spectacular vistas of New Zealand
These are just a tiny sample of the views I experienced during my last visit to New Zealand in late December '05 and January '06. So it is easy to see why I am drawn back to this beautiful country ...

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

During the night the weather depression’s associated cold front passes over and I awake to a bright morning’s sunshine. There is, however, the threat of an occasional shower at any time later throughout the oncoming day.

Soon I’m tucking into a “Rumours” Big breakfast, accompanied by another fine cup of ‘bleak ‘n woite’ coffee. Then I notice that there’s an internet caff just across the road. This is an excellent start to Thursday, December 28.

Later I shall return to the Mangamukas.
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Late evening of Thu-Dec-28

Well, during the afternoon, I finally got my ‘on-board’ video record of a run through, (up-and-over) the Mangamuka Gorge. I only had one whole non-stop go at it. I pressed the bike and my own riding skills almost to the limits, bearing in mind that, by then, we have only known each for three weeks and had covered just over a thousand miles (1,600+ km) together.

The ascent was reasonably straightforward and great fun, with plenty of traction running through onto the rear tyre; and of course very little need, if any, to apply braking (going uphill). But the descent gave me more cause for concern.

During the run down the ultra smooth tarred surface – by Kiwi standards at any rate – in certain sections was a slippery as glass. Adrenalin was rushing me towards the oncoming bends just a little too fast for my ‘average’ riding ability. The resulting right hand grab and foot stamp on the front and rear brake lever and pedal respectively made the wheels lock-up on two distinct occasions. I’ve now discovered that sliding towards a crash barrier – just a bit ‘side on’ – with locked-up wheels, simply isn’t my cuppa tea. Nevertheless, I got away with it all. These mishaps will be edited out of the final video posting. After all, some of my folks back home (Mother & Daughter-Melanie in particular) wouldn’t be too impressed if these couple of misfortunate events were put on public display!

To explain further, unlike my ST1300 Pan-European, this little Honda is not ABS assisted, which is something I must constantly keep reminding myself about, perhaps more especially when I encounter wet and/or slippery road conditions. I have indeed become too complacent over the last couple of years when grabbing and applying tons of brake, because with ABS, a locked-up wheel or two is never going to happen.

In short, I decided that I just didn’t want to push my luck any further, so it was the solitary run through the Gorge only.

‘Sensible’ riding all the way from now on, particularly as Ellen arrives from England tomorrow morning, Saturday the 30th, and for the next four weeks her life will be in my hands too.
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Later in the evening I end-up at a local disco gathering located no more than just a couple of hundred yards down the road from the Motel. The noise banged-out by the Band 'Chase the Ace' would have kept me awake in any case, so I thought '... and why not?' , as ya do.

I make a new chum called Fred – p*ssed as fart he was too. We discover that we’re more-or-less the same age – he being just a year older than me.

Over the din, Fred loudly asks me what I did for a living.
“NOTHING” I answered.
“YOU RETIRED THEN?” he replied.
“NO, JUST TIRED” I said.
[him] “TIRED OF WHAT?”
[me] “BLOODY WORKING FOR A LIVING”.
[him] “HOW CAN YOU AFFORD TO RETIRE AT FIFTY-TWO?”
[me] “DUNNO”
[him] “... YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A POLITICIAN ..??”
[me] “NO, ACTUALLY, I USED TO WORK-OUT AND FORMULATE OTHER PEOPLES’ EARLY RETIREMENT PLANS !!”

(.. just a pair of daft ol' buggers, at the end of the day! .. :o)

… and so it went on like that for a couple of hours. Nice 'nuff bloke an'all, but I was glad to get back to the unit and into bed.

So another good day – with some valuable lessons learned along the way.

Head North

Wed–Dec–27

The Christmas Bank Holidays are now out of the way, during which time I did very little, apart from:

- Thoroughly wash my riding jacket – which needed it, as this chore had been neglected since the start of the British summer and there were some very grubby black edges forming around the cuffs and neck-line areas, plus it was starting to smell a bit, well, ‘pooh-ey’ too;

- Plan my travel itinerary for the whole of next month (Jan ’07), with more than a little gratefully received help from John J who lives in Otematata, South Island, during a couple of extensive late night Skype-telecons; and

- Again watched the new 2005 version of ‘King Kong’ on Sky Movies (TV), with Mark, precisely 359 days – almost to the hour – since we first saw it together in a Whangarei cinema multiplex on News Year’s Eve last year.

Growing a little bored with doing so little, I quickly decide that it’s time to head north for 2-3 days, and just see what comes my way. With the decision made I’m up early and away on SH1 – yep, that trunk road again – by shortly after eight o’clock in the morning.

An hour later I’m officially in the Far North District of Northland, North Island.

After yet another hour I’m passing through the Township of Kawa Kawa and my groaning tummy reminds me – with a series of internal tickly noises familiar to us all – that I have yet to break my fast; because of course, I haven’t eaten a darn thing since the late afternoon of yesterday, Boxing Day. So I pull into a derelict railway station that has been converted into a charming little just-off-the-road cafĂ© called the “12·03”, which has cleverly managed to retain much of the original station’s authenticity.

I approach the counter, where once the ticket office used to be, and ask the attending waitress for a straight filter coffee, with some cream … please.

“Would that be loike a fleat woite coffee?” – she enquires, looking rather puzzled.

It then strikes me that there is the possibility of a misunderstanding going on here.

So just for a bidda fun, I then conjure-up my very best Cornish accent: “Buggered if I knaw” I reply, “zounds ‘bout the same, l’es gim’n a go.. shell’us? – ‘ere, an’ I’ll ‘ave one a they there gert big choc’lut buns wid’n .. an’all”

Five minutes later, outside in the balmy morning’s summer air, I’m served-up with the most splendid combo of a large cup of freshly ground white coffee, with a still warm-from-the oven chocolate muffin plus a side helping of soft unsalted butter (unusually) thrown into the bargain. Notice how a Kiwi fern, or similar type of foliage, has been skilfully sculptured into the creamy white froth – a nice touch, I thought at the time.

Yet clearer to me still is that we had indeed just overcome a potential language barrier!

After inspecting the Station’s facilities still further I’m back on the road by 10:45am.
(I know – I know, that’s just slightly more information than you actually needed, right?! .. ;o)

Following a couple of hours more pleasant countryside riding, I eventually see the distant Mangamuka Mountains come into my view on the far horizon. This had a special significance for me, as on Monday January 16, earlier this year [‘06], we drove through the Mangamuka Gorge in Mark’s cage on the way to Cape Reinga, the farthest most northerly point of New Zealand. I made a small promise to myself at the time that, one day, I might perhaps return to the Mangamukas and ride through the Gorge on two wheels. Well, my chance to do just this was now staring me smack-bang in the face.

Around twenty minutes later, I had reach the foot of the Mangamuka Gorge; a 13 km stretch of the twistiest tar-sealed curves, possibly anywhere in the world. Inclining between around 10% - 15% on the way up, and 5% -10% down on the other side of this barrier mountain range, which eventually leads SH1 onto the very, very far north of New Zealand’s North Island.

My memory of the Gorge had indeed been spot-on .. wow! – What a 5-star ride!! .. :o) :o) :o) :o) :o)

I think that I need to video tape this super riding experience, just for the record. I hope I get the chance.

But sadly the weather has beaten me yet again, as by lunchtime dark clouds start to form overhead. Another weather front has set in for the rest of the day. This area of reminds me so much of Cornwall ... and why not? – as the geographical features are very similar indeed – both regions being a virtual peninsular, locked on 2-3 coasts by vast stretches of ocean.

I think it’s now time to call it a day. Fortunately, in view of the worsening weather, ten minutes later I’m passing through Kaitaia, which is the last significant township in the far north of NZ. I soon find a motel and book-in for two nights. The ‘Wayfarer Lodge’ offered me my own completely self-contained en suite ‘unit’ for just NZD $80 [GBP £29] per night... AND it’s located on the outskirts of the main shopping drag; AND it’s right opposite a pub too .. ;o). I promptly check-in with my newest hosts, Rose and Dave.

Quickly I then cover-up the Trannie, under the additional shelter of the upstairs units’ veranda-footbridge, just before the rain sets-in for the duration.

Now then, let’s go check out some of the local [a-hem!] ‘Amenities’ … ;o)

I make friends with a few of the native characters in the nearby Sports Bar, one of whom in particular – a voluntarily one-eyed Aussie feller called Roy – just felt the need to show-off his long grey braided pigtail to me.







But by seven PM – and forty bucks’ worth of premium Steinlager later! – I retire to the adjacent Beachcomber Restaurant and enjoy a superb helping of homemade mushroom soup, followed by a huge plateful of locally caught pan-fried scallops, all washed down with two nice glasses of crisp Muscadet.

Suitably fed and anaesthetised, I retire to my motel ‘unit’ and quickly fall into a deep sleep.

It’s been another memorable day.