Isn’t it just fantastic when things all fall into place? No excess planning or trying to lever square pegs into round holes, but nature just rolls on through and things come together like they were meant to be. It’s a wonderful feeling, and it’s especially nice when it’s an adventure that comes together 🙂
So, Susan decided she wanted to take a long weekend in Wellington with Reuben, just the two of them. What a lovely idea!
Step One – have some free time as family is away – CHECK!!
I discuss the idea of a mid-winter bike adventure with Steve – he is keen.
Step Two – have some motivation to get out on a adventure – CHECK!!
Steve mentions that the weekend in question happens to be when the final (in)famous OMCC Brass Monkey Motorcycle Rally is taking place.
Step Three – a reason and destination to go on an adventure is secured – CHECK!!
I’m a little skeptical about a bike rally, I don’t really think it’s my scene – lots of biker type people. I say to Steve I’m only really keen if we go for an extra night and make an adventure of the trip there and the trip home (as it turns out, this is part of the delight of the Brass Monkey!!). We scout a route and find some trails that we’ve been planning to do for a while, we call some farmers and get some permissions.
Step Four – we have a plan – CHECK!!
A friend of ours simultaneously suggests to Steve that going to the final Brass Monkey might be a cool idea. Steve and I commit and buy tickets.
Step Five – confirmation of a good idea and friend may come too, buy tickets, locked in – CHECK!!
Steve and I both realise that riding in winter is a different challenge and need to get some things sorted on our bikes. Steve needs a new tyre and a new clutch lever (see previous post – haha!!!) and I need new hot grips (an absolute winter essential in the deep south!!) and a new tyre too. We book in our bikes at the bike shop.
Step Six – bikes booked in to get sorted pre-trip – CHECK!!
So things are all in place, just like that, they’ve come together and we have a plan, tickets, bikes in order (almost) and we are rearing to go – exciting times!! The adventure now begins……
But before we do you might be wondering what the hell is this Brass Monkey thing – well first of all you need to go back in time to where the phrase originated from – in the 16th to 18th centuries warships used a brass tray, called a “monkey”, to hold cannonballs. Supposedly, in very cold temperatures the “monkey” would contract, causing the balls to fall off, hence “cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey” – but nearly all historians and etymologists consider this story to be a myth. This story has been discredited by the U.S. Department of the Navy, etymologist Michael Quinion, the Oxford English Dictionary, and Wikipedia – so it must be false 🙂
Or you could go here and have a look at what this Brass Monkey is all about. The short version is it’s about a bunch of avid bikers from the Otago Motor Cycle Club (OMCC) deciding that hanging out in the middle of winter in about the coldest place in New Zealand is a good idea.
…..so the adventure begins before we actually get on the road, it begins in trying to get the bikes to the shop to get them sorted.
Steve’s bike – as described by Steve – clutch still not fixed from previous trip. Heading to sister’s farm, run out of fuel in main tank on Mosgiel exit and stall. Think there’ll be plenty of fuel to get to farm and back. Switch to reserve and restart. Go do farm jobs. On way back home, run out of fuel in the middle of Allanton bridge! Push bike to the first tractor dealership up the road – they have no spare fuel. Push bike to next dealership – they kindly fuel up my bike. Make it home from there without stalling, very uneventful outing! Try to fix clutch myself, but the lever I ordered doesn’t suit my bike model despite website saying it did. Take bike to the shop. Get through 5 sets of lights without stalling, but hit a red on the last set before the shop, stall again. More hassle to restart than to walk, so I push my bike the final 200m to the shop.
Amand’s bike – as described by Amand – been starting bike every week or two for the last few months to ensure it’ll go when I need it to. Start bike the night before taking it to the shop. In the morning can’t start bike, too cold. Run battery down. Live on a hill and think surely I can roll start it, get it started but engine dies, still too cold. Get to bottom of the hill without starting again, battery too dead. Car at bike shop as missus has driven it down there for once I’ve dropped the bike off, and it’s got the jumper leads in it. Catch bus to bike shop. Bus driver mad keen biker – lets me on the bus to talk bikes and Brass Monkey without a face covering. Get car, drive back to bike, jump start bike and she purrs nicely after warming up sitting in the sun for 30 minutes. Ride bike to shop. Catch bus back to car. Get on with my day – easy!!!
So we now have two working bikes after some non-eventful preparations!!! We are ready to go.
Day 1 – loaded up and ready, we meet at Steve’s and head off towards Hindon, which is in behind Outram, which is in behind Mosgiel, which is in behind Dunedin. We’ve been here before and it’s a magical place not far from the middle of Dunedin, but last time we were here we spied a farm track that we’ve had on our list of things to do – Lamb Hill Station – taking you from Hindon over to Bucklands Crossing, near Waikouaiti. We very quickly settle into this adventure, off the main road, onto gravel roads and then dirt tracks – we are in the mood for adventure 🙂
It’s a beautiful winter’s day in the deep south and the location is spectacular too. We’ve said it before but it’s hard to believe we can be 20km as the crows flies from the middle of a city and be in a place like this. We cross the Taieri Gorge and railway, while dodging stock trucks before heading for the summit of the highest peak around. It must be because there is a new weather satellite installed up there. We stop for a snack and marvel at the scenery, for it is pretty incredible.
I should mention again that this is a mid-winter trip and although it’s been dry most of the week, it still hasn’t been warm enough to dry things out completely after the rains from a week ago, and this results in nice firm patches and other patches that are more like slick mud slides or deep mud bogs.
So as we crest the peak and head down the other side and we hit a gate, is that a padlock? Oh bugger!!! Steve checks it out and shakes his head. Oh dear, what is this? Surely the farmer would have told us if there was a padlocked gate. We search around and fortunately have a bit of cell signal to check out the satellite map but cannot see another way through. I’m quite confused, this makes no sense, we specifically asked the farmer about going through here and he made no mention of this. I feel that gate needs to be double checked and head back. And fancy that, there is a padlock, but it’s locking nothing at all. GOOD ONE STEVE!!!! Just about curtailed our plans, fortunately logic won out and we carried on. Heading down steeply now we negotiate slick mud slides before coming across a particularly daunting looking mud bog.
Steve goes first and finds there’s a deep rut crossing the bog at right angles and bounces to a stop…….almost……..he opens the tap and slips and slides…….and slips and slides……..and slips and slides and he’s out the other side. Whew, that was close. I go next, now knowing the rut is there, I may be fractionally cautious, and bounce through it and come to a stop…….almost…….and I open the tap and slip and slide…….and slip and slide……..and……….I’m stuck.
Dammit, so close but the back wheel has got a bit bogged down and now she’s not coming out. Like getting stuck in sand, getting stuck in mud can be a hassle to get out of. We try getting some rocks in there in front of the back wheel, no go. She sinks deeper and the chain is now getting caught up in the mud, she doesn’t want to turn over easily now. Uh oh!!!!
From here the normal solution is to tip her on her side, drag her over a bit and get the back wheel onto something a little less mud turned to mush and a little more solid, but I’m pretty hesitant given we’re talking about a mud bog and tipping her over means the whole side of my bike would be in mud. We unload as much weight as we can and try to bounce her out of the suction, with a little angle and muscle we make some progress……..and we’ve got her released. We drag her a few feet while keeping her mostly upright and get some rocks under her and in line to get out. I start her up and kick her into gear…….and slip and slide…….and slip and slide………and……….I’m out 🙂
I ride up to Steve’s bike and it’s like riding on ice, the wheels have so much mud in them, there is absolutely no grip at all!!! And the back end of my bike is one big mud pile, the number plate is covered, the back of my panniers are covered and the back of my top box is covered. Oh well, looks like we’ve been on an adventure now!!
We head on down from there and not far on come to some farm sheds and we’ve back in civilisation. What an afternoon mini-adventure. We’re heading towards Bucklands Crossing and find a place for some grand photos and a few minutes to chill in our surroundings. We then push on and at Bucklands Crossing find a gravel road heading back towards Macraes – it’s shorter in distance but longer in time, and way more fun. So we rocket on through the Silver Peaks – past valleys, little streams, farmland and hills – it is majestic and we have found the groove. Riding meditation takes hold and we meander on into the evening. It is cooling down, and boy am I glad I’ve got my heated grips fixed now!!!
We hit the road coming down from Macraes Flat on the north side, follow that down to meet the Middlemarch road and head on to Ranfurly. One final little jaunt through the back roads around Waipiata as the sun sets, that GAS timing working wonders again as the sun shimmers off a pool of standing water leftover from the last rain – anything can be beautiful if you open your mind to it and it is beautiful, even if it’s fricking cold.
We ride into Ranfurly and find our first clear signs of the Brass Monkey, there are bikes of all shapes and sizes everywhere – obviously all of these sane people are staying in a warm room tonight, but not us, we’re headed to Poolburn on the Old Dunstan Road. The first signs of the Brass are intriguing – lots of old men sporting various facial hair arrangements, wearing leathers and drinking beer or pre-mix Bourbon & Cola – actually not really a lot of surprise there at all – haha!!!
We stop at the Ranfurly Pub for a great feed before getting wrapped up in everything we have. It is dark as we race up the valley towards Styx and find the gate to the Old Dunstan Road, heading up onto a higher plateau. The sign suggests that the road may be closed already for the winter, but there is no padlock so we don’t look back. It is dark and the DR has a pretty poor headlight, and the road is rough and ready, with snippets of slip ‘n’ slide just for a bit of extra fun. Our speed drops but we battle on, we are getting closer. We’re obviously getting tired as Steve drops his bike just trying to turn it around to give me enough light to get a latch closed on a gate. One final push as we cross a small creek and up an incline, that turns out to be exceptionally slippery and rutted from the recent rains – holy moly, one last slap in the face before bedtime tonight then.
Now, finding a campsite in the dark is not easy, but my memory of being up here around 20 years ago gives some idea of what may suffice, and we find a spot. It seems alright, good enough to put a couple of tents up, set up the TRONOs, drink a bit of whisky, have a fireworks display on the top of a massive rock and sit perched on a cliff over the lake, drinking more whisky and eating fine chocolates while considering the problems of the world!!! Reasonable enough 🙂
Day 2 – morning dawns, and as it turns out, our campsite is just mind-blowing. WOW – this is a spot!!! It is Central Otago meets moonscape meets the Highlands meets Lord of the Rings – it really is something!!!
Now we’re awake it’s Brass Monkey time – we leave Poolburn and race down into the Ida Valley at Moa Creek. We run into a bunch of rally attendees who’ve stayed in a rundown shack and had a few beers last night, not your most conversational types, but they point out where the local pigs (police) are – we thank them and push on – hoping to get there before the opening time of 10am and maybe be one of the first and get our choice of camping spots.
We arrive and it’s pumping – as it turns out a mere 700 people actually turned up last night and all of the prime camping spots are already taken. Oh well, we’re here and the vibe is electric. The throbbing of engines, the buzz of chatter, the energy of a place where people are here to have a good time. We check in, receive our attendance badges and cruise into the grounds. Essentially the set-up is one long meandering paddock down the length of the Ida Burn Dam, with the main bonfire, show and shops all up the entrance end.
We putter around a bit, considering where we can find a slightly secluded spot maybe, away from too many middle aged drunken snoring men (or will be later at least!!). After careful consideration we head to the edge of the paddock overlooking the dam, find a little hollow and a spare drum that is yet unclaimed for a fire, although it is on a bit of a slope. This is what we’re after, we have a slightly quieter spot, not too far from the action but with the ability to just chill around our own fire drum and enjoy the vibe of the occasion. Ideal 🙂
A drum just for us 
So we set up and settle in, we’re slightly removed from things but not too far away and we don’t have anyone set up too close to us. So we head up into the main arena, as people and bikes are milling about everywhere. There is a steady stream of bikes coming into the venue, heading down the main thoroughfare. The collection of people is pretty impressive too, if you consider a wide selection of mid-to-late aged men with motorbikes a wide selection of people – haha!!
There are a few women, younger men and kids around too, but it is certainly dominated by boomers – bloody boomers everywhere – it’d be some people’s nightmare!!!! We get some free soup and check out the incredibly large pile of wood that is being doused in oil, ready to be ignited later for the massive bonfire. There are a few stalls around too, selling food, drinks, coffee, battery heated bike jackets, glass balls and custom-fitted earplugs.
Now recently I got myself a hearing check and was told I had a slight deficiency at one frequency. They asked me if I’d been exposed to many loud noises and I said “nothing I can think of!!”. But next time I got on my bike I knew the answer to this question, so in aid of looking after my aging self, I decided to invest in some custom-fitted earplugs. And then Steve decided to invest in some too!!! And once the process was completed and we had the trial plugs in, it was amazing – we were in the midst of this epic pumping environment and yet the sound was drowned right out, and it allowed you to sit in this little bubble of peace in the midst of the chaos!!! Fantastic!! So I pressured the lady to have mine ready by later in the day so I could use them overnight to drown out the snorers. She promised she would have them ready – whew!!!
We headed back to our peaceful little corner to find……..it was not so peaceful anymore. We had parked up away from everyone one, and now everyone had expanded and surrounded us. Well, I guess that’s what you get at a festival right? So we light a fire in the drum, and settle down to a little afternoon whisky and beans, and some chilling out. And the drum starts to attract some of our neighbours over. They all actually seem like pretty nice people, although I guess I shouldn’t be quite so surprised because generally most people are pretty decent once you actually get to meet them.
And once you actually accept that most people are pretty decent and start talking to them, they often have some pretty good stories too. Like the guy at the earplugs tent who’d ridden down from the Kaipara Harbour area with a few mates – for reference, Kaipara is a full 1600km north – that’s some ride for a one night event in Oturehua. Then while sitting around our drum a younger fella from Nelson came to sit with us. He’d come all the way on his own, he wasn’t even sure he was going to come yesterday morning but his wife pushed him out the door saying he’d regret it if he didn’t. Nelson is just a mere 850km via the fabulous West Coast. Then more joined us, a group of boomer friends from the Hurunui area, a miniscule 500km away. They told us about a group of their friends who’d come from the same area all riding CT90s – the old postie bike. As it turns out, the adventure in getting there and getting home is a big part of the fun and we certainly agree that it’s not all about the destination. Steve went on to tell them about a friend of his that rode a CT90 all the way from NZ to London – whoa, that’s next level!!!
You’ll notice all of the stories are associated to motorbikes, but hey, what would you expect? It’s the only reason we’re all here and the obvious thing we all have in common. I loved it that anyone who asked me what I rode, nodding knowingly when I said a DR650, and made some comment on it being a workhorse that goes and goes and goes and they go anywhere – yet, just about no-one else had one. We only saw one other in the 4000 other attendees. Too many boomers preferring a big flash BMW adventure bike that’s way too heavy!!
Then the rowdy neighbours arrived. A family with their teenage kids in tow, with an super old 2-stroke bike with a sidecar carrying all of their gear that made an absolute racket. And it seemed the only thing the dad knew how to say was “burnout, it’s time for a burnout” – then he’d jump on the little 2-stroke and rev the life out of it, blue fumes enclouding him. The kids all looked so proud 🙂 The only thing he promised was that he was going to get drunk and do a burnout at 3am (NB – I didn’t hear a 3am burnout, but definitely the 12am one and the 7am one!!!!).
So we chill out, sit around our fire drum, brew some beans, drink some whisky and yarn with our neighbours (except the burnout dude, he was just drinking and doing burnouts!!). We sat there and watched the weather change – we’d arrived and it was a lovely winter morning, some broken cloud and sunshine and not too cold, then the wind picked up, and picked up and picked up until the tents were getting hammered. One of the little stalls in the main area had to come down as the tent covering it got ripped from it’s pegs and a pole just about stabbed one of the owners. Unfortunately our earplugs left too, although she had promised she’d be back – fingers crossed. Then after the gale force northwesters, it changed and you could see the clouds banking up in the south. They built up and built up and then pushed on through – the temperature dropped and the rain started, fortunately it wasn’t too heavy but it was consistent and it stayed this way the for rest of the night.
But hey, that’s what the Brass Monkey is all about – it’s a mid-winter bike rally for hardcore idiots – just down the road from the place that’s recorded the coldest temperature in New Zealand. And come what may, the Brass goes ahead. We heard stories of the snow year, and the wet year(s), and the frosty year(s). All in a day 🙂
So we chill, meet people, exchange stories and ideas for roads and tracks to check out, and then head up to the main arena for a party. The bonfire was raging, providing a lot of warmth on this chilly evening and everyone was hunkering around it. There was a lot of revelry (drunkedness) going on. And as you’d know, drinking and fire are a great combo – actually I must tell you about the guy in the riding onesie that turned up to our fire drum – he’d clearly had a few drinks – our drum was sitting in a little hollow, it allowed us to sit around the edge comfortably, but it also allowed onesie guy to slip on the wet grass and fall into the hollow and onto the super hot drum. Very fortunately he hit the drum with his back and he had gloves and multiple layers on. He pushed himself off the drum and away from the heat. His onesie was melted right down the back where it’d come into contact with the drum. It all happened in an instant and then he was just sitting there chilling and laughing with his mates again. We discussed it later and he was a VERY LUCKY man, if he’d fallen into the drum and his face had hit it, or he didn’t have gloves on he would have been in a world of trouble. JEEZ!!!!!!
So bonfire and drinking and live music, followed by an incredible fireworks display, The fireworks were being let off over the other side of the dam on the hillside by a guy named Pyro Dave. Seems appropriate!!! But it was a super impressive show, and it went on, and on, and on, and on, and on!!!!! It was something else and bought this celebration together and signified the importance of the occasion to all these attendees. Then the culmination was the arrival of the Jordan Luck Band – if you don’t know, Jordan Luck is the former lead singer of The Exponents. The Exponents are a classic NZ band formed in the 80s that have provided some timeless hits that have been retained by the younger generations of NZers to belt out and dance to. They have sung a number of classic NZ anthems including “Why Does Love Do This To Me”, “Who Loves Who The Most”, “Victoria”, “I’ll Say Goodbye (Even Though I’m Blue)” and “Whatever Happened To Tracey”.
Jordan Luck was surprisingly not crap, he managed to hold it together and belt out the tunes, and not get too drunk. 20 years ago when I worked at the Function Centre at the Otago University Union, Student Orientation always had an attendance from The Exponents and Jordan Luck was always off his head. So it was actually nice to see him drinking water and belting out these kiwi favourites with some kind of skill and not turning it into a complete debacle. Well played Jordan – how’s that for a compliment!!
Oh, and amongst all that fun and frivolity, during a moment of quiet the loudspeaker came on and read out a few names, including a guy called Steve and a butchered version of something that could have been construed as Amand. It was our earplugs, Sheryl, the wonderful lady from Jaytod Ears, had come through and I was not going to be disturbed by drunk snoring boomers tonight!!!!
Day 3 – morning rose and with it the tired, jaded, hungover masses of the final Brass Monkey Rally. The exodus started early, bikes were roaring from 7am and as I poked my nose out of the tent, it was a hive of activity. I snuggled back in and put my earplugs in – peaceful bliss amongst this very wrong scene – many people up partying very late, then getting up very early to ride their motorbikes home, and as we’d learned, it could be a long way home.
Later when I did eventually get up, Steve arrived back at that minute with coffee and pastries. What a good man he is 🙂 We decided we were in no rush, so got our drum fire cranking again and cooked up some breakfast while the hum of activity continued. By the time we’d had some food and packed our gear, there must have only been a couple of hundred people left. It was incredible how quickly the place emptied out. People had got what they came for, a gathering of like-minded people, some great yarns, a big party with a bonfire and fireworks and some good tunes. Good times!!
We headed off with a plan to make a bit of an adventure on the way home. We just couldn’t help ourselves, our plan was originally to head straight home as Steve had somewhere to be later in the day. But we looked at the map and decided we could find something more interesting than the main road and that we had time, so we did. We found some gravel roads heading back up the valley to Styx and Old Dunstan Road, this was actually a combination of gravel and mud. Mostly gravel which was fine and fast, and then every so often a pile of mud, which was slow and slippery – not a great combo!! One such instance saw my front wheel slide out from under me, which is never a nice feeling, but I came away unscathed except for a bit of a dent to my pride.
Negotiating the slip-sliding afternoon away ends up being a bit more of a challenge than either of us had anticipated, but we manage to stay upright and heading forwards, although it certainly kicks any tiredness from last night to the kerb. Old Dunstan Road ends up being a pretty hardcore mud pit but we push on. We stagger our way forwards while some guy on a little dirt bike flies past us. We stop for a snack and see a couple of 4WDers having some fun on a step slippery slope, but we have to head on as duty calls. The benefit of the recent rains is certainly not the mud, but the gravel roads seem stickier and definitely less dusty so once we clear the mud we fly onwards. We hit the main road again at Clarks Junction, and head back down to Mosgiel, say our farewells and head home.
It was a trip that seemed to fall into place, and with low expectation levels of what the Brass Monkey might be like, we came away glad we’d made the effort. We’d had a fantastic adventure on the way there and the way home, and the Brass Monkey had a fantastic vibe, over 4000 people there to have a good time. Everyone was just happy to be there and we saw no agro even with so many people in close confines. Everyone just got on with the main task of celebrating the last ever Brass Monkey. So, a bit like Jordan Luck, the Brass Monkey was surprisingly not crap, and we managed to hold it together and belt out some tunes without getting too drunk. And although there was no snow or ice, the southerly and rain certainly justified the name – it was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, but we had heaps of fun anyway 🙂
Hey Amand another incredible adventure. Thanks for sharing.