"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 ...

Saturday, December 30, 2006

The Silver Bird lands at last

Saturday, December 30

Today is the day that I should have collected Ellen from Auckland International Airport at just before 12 noon, her flight being scheduled to land at 10:45am (+ an hour or so’s allowance for her to get through the Customs & Immigration Authority and reclaim her baggage).

But due to a mid-air cracked Air-NZ 747 cockpit windscreen, which had to be replaced in Hong Kong, her flight’s arrival has been delayed by seven hours; and for this reason we were not going to meet-up until later that evening.

Literally just as I arrive at the Airport at 6:40pm, pull-up and park my little steed somewhere convenient, I bump into Ellen walking out of the Concourse doorway. It is indeed good to see her again.

This is THE kinda woman that we're all after fellas!

After 24 hours of sleepless near non-stop travelling at 33,000 feet (10,000 metre) from the other side of the world, delayed for a further seven hours; unaccompanied, with the exception of a bunch of complete strangers, Ellen is more than happy - eager in fact - to climb into her riding gear and pillion with me out into the dusk for over two hours before we finally arrive back in Ruakaka in total darkness.

I’m am sure there are many - maybe hundreds, if not thousands - BUT I only know of one other bird that would almost certainly have the same keen-to-ride attitude, and that is my mate Peter’s gal, Fi [Fiona], who lives up in Devonshire, England ... yunno, the place where those poor misguided souls actually believe that placing the jam ON TOP of the cream, is the best way to eat a scone!

The following morning Ellen hands me a belated Christmas prezzy, which I eagerly open with much anticipation - as my more than suspiciously Gorgonzola-smelling and grey soled socks have seen their best days ... here's wishing?!

... BINGO! I get the jackpot prize - THREE pairs of delicious and strangely-new pristine white socks. Life just doesn't get any better than this!

Incidentally, shortly afterwards we then have a Skype video telecon with the folks back home in Cornwall. Sporting my new whiskers, my muther and daughter reckon that they might have just hung the wrong guy up there in Baghdad!

Friday, December 29, 2006

The Northern Capes

Friday, December 29

What with all the excitement of yesterday’s main events I really wanted a quiet extra lie-in bed this morning. But I was woken-up by the familiar sound of a local refuse lorry’s diesel engine and powerful whining rear hydraulic crusher gobbling-up some of its merchandise for the day; totally recognisable noises that we can all relate to, I’m sure.

And as it’s such a bright morning, I decided to abandon the lazy start to the day and get up then anyway; pack away my belongings onto the bike; settle my account with Rose or Dave – GREAT hosts BTW – and grab some brekkie from one of the cafés down the road.

Just over a couple of hours later, I'm tucking into some more DECENT BLEEDIN' GRUB!
- al fresco style

The Northern Capes are just over a 100km (62 miles) away - no more than a two hour leisurely ride, at most - and as I'm this far north I decide that it would be a shame not to visit them again

Predictably after some deliberate, near text book perfect riding style and manners, the first of the three big capes comes into view; (a) North Cape (Otoa), which is technically the northern most point of New Zealand.

Then I remember! from last January’s visit, just what will be in store for me shortly after I reach the next tiny hamlet of 'Waitiki Landing', which is now just up the road from here … as from that point on I’ll encounter 21 km (13 miles) of my favourite riding surface … the [formerly] DREADED GRAVEL, which will run right through to Capes (b) Maria van Dieman; and finally (c) Reinga (Te Rerengawairua)

Here we go then, my first BIG unsealed road test on the Trannie. I think over what I’ve read lately:

– Shift my weight lower, and therefore our combined CoG, by standing on the pegs in difficult situations

– Always seek the line of path that puts the tyres on the best surface

– Mainly use the rear brake

– Use the front brake rarely

– Use liberal throttle to assist steering; thereby powering out of any essential tricky manoeuvring and tough corners.

‘Course, what the experts don’t tell you is that, in dry conditions, there’s gonna be a ton of dust thrown into your face - and nice clean jacket too! - by oncoming and overtaking traffic ...

Here's a couple of more pics from last January, taken from the inside of Mark's cage, as further evidence. As you can see, it's an almost total 'white-out' on occassions



... but I make it through, to literally, the end of the line. Here's Cape Maria van Diemen ... a fabulous view by any standard

... and Cape Reinga, with it's famous lighthouse to my right, guarding and guiding safe passage to the many ships and boats, which must sail by here during the night time, against this notoriously treacherous stretch of coastline where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean.

I look out towards the horizon, where lies the far distant Equator and the Northern Hemisphere beyond, and think to myself: ‘ … this is the closest you’re gonna get to home, matey-boy, in your beloved County of Cornwall, before next April the 8th, 2007 ..’

Now then, just a casual 295 km (183 mile) ride back to Ruakaka; the first 21 km’s of which will be on that good ol' nice-and-dusty gravel stuff ... again!

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.
______________________________________

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.
______________________________________

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 café 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.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

The next morning, Sat-Dec-23, I awake to a loud dawn chorus of native wild birdlife singing for suitors. Can you believe it? - less than 48 hours before Christmas Day and the sky is alive with the sound of early summer birdsong. I'm curious, so I get up to feel the first early morning rays of sunshine; then see, not for the first time, this huge palm thriving in our next door neighbour's garden

Mark's self-maintained lemon tree is in full fruit and shedding windfalls. It's still just a little too dark in this shady corner for the camera to receive enough natural sunlight to capture a decent picture, so the flash sensor automatically cuts in

The peaches alongside are ripening nicely too. Incredible, but I suppose an entirely reasonable sight up in these almost sub-tropical latitudes at this time of year on the opposite side of the globe from the UK. Indeed, in this northern area of NZ, the inverted European parallel might typically be compared to southern Portugal.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Time to say 'Good bye' to Auckland - The 'City of Sails'

The time has arrived to leave my temporary oasis stopover in Howick, SE Auckland, and say good-bye to two lovely ladies that, by pure chance, entered my life; my superb hostesses, Donna Pengelly and Mum-Val. My word, did I fall on my feet that day back in early October when I made that fortunate reservation from 12,000 miles away … and all because the main lady is called ‘Pengelly’. A proper Cornish name, which seemed to me at the time to be a good omen … and it certainly was. The completely refurbished (in 2005), and shortly thereafter opened-up for business, Cockle Bay Heights B&B could be the best gateway stopover into New Zealand anywhere in Auckland. Better than a ‘home from-home’ experience for me, because the CBH B&B is by far a much better place than my own home back in Cornwall, by a very long way. A multi-million [pound sterling] private dwelling with just two – perhaps three on a good day – bedrooms, and more than enough reception rooms and a huge kitchen/diner. Each is kitted-out and equipped with the best furniture and hi-tech gadgetry money can buy; all on offer, with unrestricted access and usage thereof, for the very lucky few.

So now all you potential NZ visitors know the best kept secret in the Southern Hemisphere. But hurry, cuz it won’t stay that way for too long. The number to call is: Phone/fax: 00 64 9 535 6713, or email: donnapengelly@cocklebayheights.co.nz

And it all comes with verandas and stunning views too :o)

I leave Auckland, again via State Highway 1, and for the first 10-15 km in a very cautious manner. You see, the TransAlp is loaded to the gunnels with all my gear, including a near full hiker’s backpack strapped onto the rear seat – and I need to get used to all the extra weight. What’s more, it seems that everyone in Town is escaping up north to their countryside or seaside ‘Batch’ (a Kiwi name for a second/holiday home) for the Christmas & New Year holiday period. The road network in and around Auckland is extremely busy as a result. No fancy lane-splitting today … well not too much anyway! ;o)

But eventually I’m heading out into the countryside on a glorious summer's afternoon. I take in the views along the way:



SH1 isn’t especially renowned for it’s natural scenic beauty; it’s viewed more of a ‘utility’ trunk road, especially by Kiwi bikers, but I’m not being fooled! This is my 9th trip, up-or-down, this stretch of road within the last three weeks, and you’d think by now I would be getting bored with it all – but not so, how could I be? ...

... with plenty of curves to negotiate ...



... hell, I can even stop for a natural hot tub bathe in the beach sand if I want to

But after an hour or so, I need to get refreshed with a, for me, newly-discovered cold isotonic drink called a “V”. So I pull off-road and up a steepish – GRAVEL mind you – 200m-long escarpment track to a small café that’s about to close its doors for the night. I buy a cold “V” energy drink from the pretty cashier; it's a type of ‘Lucozade’, but much tastier. Then I look over the TransAlp whilst I contemplate what I’m really trying to achieve here in New Zealand? I think to myself, ‘what a lucky chap I am?’ I now own two of the finest motorcycles ever engineered. Each built with a different yet specific purpose in mind: (1) A super-missile-type Tourer in the UK; and (2) a dual-purpose Adventure Road Tourer* in NZ, that wants to EAT GRAVEL before breakfast.

Oh, and I don’t need a Sports Bike – please go back and refer to (1) above.

Now, as the BritSTockers know very well, gravel is by no means my [eh-hem] favourite riding surface, as I occasionally have been known to fall over on the darn stuff! But with this machine, you hardly notice or even feel the difference between a sealed tarmac surface and the switchover to rough gravel. It’s as if the two surface types are virtually the same.

And I think on ... ‘I can’t wait to get some real off-road work done on this outstanding little workhorse, which the more I ride, the more I’m growing to like.' I am sure that my mate John Jones, from South Island, will have plenty of off-roading lined-up for me when I get down his way in just a couple or three week's time.

* and that's now official, according to the Land Transport NZ Authority

After another 45 minutes I approach one of my favourite stretches of SH1, in the Bryderwyns area of Northland, which is a steep and twisty climb up and over the Brynderwyns via ‘Pilbrow’s Hill’. Just before I arrive there I decide that it would be great to ride this section of SH1 again early morning one day soon, when the traffic should be quieter; this would be a good initial test of the machine's characteristics, and our mutual compatibility. Reaching the top of Pilbrow’s, on the north side of the summit the landscape dramatically changes from rolling hills and dales to a more expansive flattish plateau, but only for a while.

The Whangarei Heads, a line of mountainous costal hills, outcropping from the City of Whangarei (the most northerly city in NZ), comes into view. I always smile when I see this sight, as I know that the Township of Ruakaka is no more than 15 minutes away.

Down on the plateau the final run-in to Ruakaka’s turn off point involves an 8-10 km stretch of often arrow-straight road. Halfway along I spot a cop car lurking in a nearside lay-by, waiting to pounce on his next victim. I’m following a overloaded campervan that is just cruising below the max speed limit of 100 km/h (62 mph). I’m gagging to overtake it and finally complete my journey in good time. I think cool-looking mr plod, wearing his mandatory sunnies, senses this and pulls out of the lay-by like some wannabe gangster as I pass him. The Kiwi cops (also referred to as ‘revenue collectors’) are described as ‘savage’ down here when it comes to speeding motorists. There is so little crime that they seem to have nothing other better to do than haunt and harrass the life out of drivers and motorcycle riders.

I look dead ahead with more than the occasional glimpse into my wing mirrors, mr plod-the-revenue-collector is tailing me about 75 metres behind; we both maintain exactly the same speed. Not wanting to take any chances, I slow down to 90 km/h (56 mph), which seems desperately slow on this long stretch of straight roman-type road. My newest acquaintance, who is clearly taking a keen interest in me, slows down to the same pace. Then I think ‘fcuk yew mate’, so I slow down to 75 km/h (47 mph) – I feel as though I'm almost stationary - any slower and he'll probably think I'm taking the p*ss and might then ‘do me’ for ‘not making enough progress’. After around 3-4 minutes of this silly cat ‘n mouse game, by which time, of course, the struggling-to-cope campervan is nearly out of sight, my new-found friend finally makes the connection that I’m clocking him trying so desperately hard to clock me. So he pulls out, accelerates, and overtakes in perhaps disgust - but maybe not? - he could saying to himself, "well spotted John, lots don't bother to look in their mirrors" - passing by me at, of course, 100-plus km/h. Clearly HE’s breaking the speed limit. Are cops exempt from exceeding the national speed limits? ... I really dunno.

As he leaves me standing, I quietly remove my left hand from the bar grip and lay in on my LH knee and then point my middle finger, with more than a little venom, into the air. I then whisper to myself what a few moments ago I had merely thought, finishing-off with, ‘not yet matey, not yet – and certainly not today!’

Within minutes I’m pulling into Mark’s driveway.

It’s been another successful day.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

The Best Day So Far

Up and early this morning and on the road by 08:25am to deliver the TransAlp across Town via the very, very busy SH1 (State Highway 1) and Khyber Pass Road during the height of rush hour to one of the local Honda Dealers, AMPS (Auckland Motorcycles & Power Sports Ltd). I arrive there at exactly 09:00am and check-in the bike with Shane, the highly efficient – and even more highly tattooed – Service Manager.

With little to do for the next 2-3 hours, I wander aimlessly into the Newmarket District of Auckland and look for a proper ‘Smokey Joe’ type establishment that will dish me up me a right-full-on English breakfast, ideally by a fat ‘n farting pot-bellied geezer, (with a fag hanging from the corner of his gob); all served up with a black hair-lined cracked and chipped pint mug of dubiously scummy grey-coloured and barely drinkable tea-like beverage made from a solitarily tea bag from a dusty-but-cheap batch of bulk catering tea bags that’s on the third-but-maybe-last time round of use ... in other words, SOME DECENT GRUB and drink! But sadly, there’s not a greasy spoon shack to be found, just the usual Auckland over-the-door signs advertising, “Thai Noodles this” and “Japon Sushis that” … not for forgetting the, "Kebabs & Tapas other stuff”. Then I’m spotted checking-out a windowed menu by the literally fair Nancy, a keen waitress, who’s clearly working on a commission basis. She promises me an English brecky, full monty-style; and soon I’m hijacked into the near empty “Summin-or-Other” named cafe located in a totally unmemorable side street of Newmarket.

Nancy and her associates deliver the goods in less than fifteen minutes, although disappointingly there is a distinct lack of yellow melted lard around the two sunny-side-up soft fried eggs … still, you can’t have everything you want in life, I guess. I take Nancy’s picture … and get the complete ‘naturally delighted to oblige’ smile back from her; she should be in the movies! … ;o)


Thirty minutes later I’m well fortified with bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, baked beans, hash browns, perfectly grilled tomatoes, etceteras – goodness knows how Nancy & Co knew or even found these wonderfully fresh and tasty English fried breakfast ingredients? After wandering for a couple of more hours and two excellent cups of freshly ground coffee and an Brit newspaper later, at 12:10pm I get a phone call from Shane, “Hey Keith mate, yer Trannie’s all done and fixed-up, and a rawnoyce bike it is too … ya can betcha life it’s runnin’ like an Opossum with his nuts on fire that knows he’s about to become the next road kill” [… or words to that effect]. I also take Shane’s pic in the heart of his efficiently run and very busy workshop. He gives me yet another completely natural looking pose back in return – one more movie star in waiting, I fancy … ;o)

I ride down the road for a half kilometre; fill-up the tank and check the tyre psi pressures (29 f – 32 r). Then I find my way back onto the now well familiar SH1 motorway/trunk road and head northwards. After 150 km and a couple of pleasant hours riding I arrive at this junction and take a 90º right hand turn off SH1.

A little while later, and after 11 months since the last time we saw each other, I’m finally re-united with my son, Mark, whose very busy and demanding schoolteacher schedule I have deliberately avoided until the end of the Kiwi academic school year, an event that occurred only just a few days ago.

We hug and smile broadly at each other, then spend the next two hours exchanging and commenting upon each other’s news, life and opinions in general and certain family-orientated issues in particular. Mark notices my new whiskers and reckons the new image looks good. I think he’s just being kind.

Before we retire to bed in the small hours of Thursday morning Mark hands me his spare back door key insisting I should retain this for the next 3½ months, until my eventual return to the Northern Hemisphere next April.

Well now, it’s been the most satisfying day today, which has ended quite perfectly. The ‘Muther’, in fact, of any satisfying day that I’ve hitherto ever had. Soon it’ll be time for me to properly relocate my temporary base to Ruakaka, Northland, in good time for the Christmas and the New Year celebrations. I take to my bed that night with a big grin stretching across my boat from ear to ear. Finally I can now relax and start to properly enjoy rest of this once-in-a-lifetime motorcycling adventure. Within ten minutes I float off gently into a deep sleep, purring all the way, just like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

Monday, December 18, 2006

But I'm not a Duck

Well, the weather, for the time being at least, is against me. During the weekend just passed, an occluded front parked itself right across the middle of NZ’s North Island and is taking its time to clear and dissipate. Meanwhile the darn thing is precipitating its high water content onto us victims below. In short, it started raining from around mid-afternoon on Sunday, 17th Dec, and the heavy stagnant 100% cloud cover hasn’t really cleared, in the slightest, since then.

Apart from some [still dampish] relief yesterday afternoon, Mon-18-Dec, it rained nearly all day. Today is no better; if anything, the weather is even worse. The outlook for the northern half of North Island is for continued periods of rain, with some heavy thundery downpours, easing from the west tomorrow, Wed-20.

It has just occurred to me that my bike is booked-in for a thorough diagnostic check-up and lube change tomorrow morning. If the weather has improved any by lunchtime tomorrow then I might just pop-up northwards on a reconnaissance mission. But it all does depend on the conditions. Motorcycling is no fun when it’s wet; four wheels and a roof is the order of the day in such conditions.

So, another lazy day today awaits me. Time to catch-up on the laundry, followed by a good read is probably all the agenda I’ll manage to get through before nightfall.