A gentlemen’s agreement – an informal and legally non-binding agreement between two or more parties. It is typically oral, but it may be written or simply understood as part of an unspoken agreement by convention or through mutually-beneficial etiquette. The essence of a gentlemen’s agreement is that it relies upon the honor of the parties for its fulfillment, rather than being in any way enforceable. It is distinct from a legal agreement or contract.
This gentlemen’s agreement in question harps back to a time where, arguably, the world was considered a more normal place than it is now in 2020. If you’re an avid fan, you might remember our adventures through Tongariro and the Molesworth back in early 2019, if you’re not, it’s well worth heading back for a read, and in doing so you’ll find out what gentlemen’s agreement occurred and why this story has come about. You’re welcome!
This adventure framework is based around the highly infrequent, yet vitally important (A)GM of the highly acclaimed, yet weirdly unique, Gentlemen’s Devonshire Tea and Whisky Club (GDTWC). If you want any more history then I’d suggest taking the link above and going and reading about why Devonshire Tea and Whisky are key elements of this gathering of gentlemen. I hear you snigger, thinking that GAS members could be considered gentlemen – well, I hear you and understand many may concur, yet you can’t argue with the evidence.
So it might have been 18+ months in the making and my family move to Dunedin to change the picture, but nothing was going to stop us. Months and months of “planning”, and by that, I mean vaguely reminding each other that we’d made some type of hazy agreement fueled by the excitement of our last (A)GM and a whole bunch of limited responses and apparent lack of commitment. Ultimately, when saying farewell at the previous meeting, we’d agreed on a location and to do it on Labour Weekend 2020 or before, so surely we could actually just make it happen. So, once I’d confirmed the availability of my family bach/crib/holiday house in the Marlborough Sounds, things starting falling into place.
Once the other GDTWC members had confirmed their plans Steve and I jumped into action. We’d already planned to take a week to extend the meeting at either end and make a GAS adventure out of it. Now with the timing set we had to develop a plan, and we did – in fact, we’d been discussing possible options at our weekly gym + drink catch up for a while, so nothing much extra was required except locking in the days.
Given we had to travel the length of the South Island twice, and we certainly didn’t want to have to ride the mega boring and straight Canterbury Plains both ways, we headed north from Dunedin on a sunny Wednesday afternoon before quickly changing tack. Off we went up the Pig Route, heading west from Palmerston, up through Ranfurly and on into the wonders of Central Otago. The main road would take us through Alexandra, past Lake Dunstan, and up to Wanaka – a road we’ve travelled many many times – so when we spied a “short-cut” (less kms but more time) we didn’t have to think twice. Thompson Gorge heads from just north of Omakau, through the mountains, coming out just south of Tarras, and as we found out there’s a superb public gravel road that runs all the way through.
We set off with whooping and hollering on this first real part of the adventure, but not before we stopped at the Dark Horse Brew Werkz in Omakau for some dinner and a cheeky drink though. We had arrived in Omakau and the sun was blazing down, and we spied some people sitting around drinking – our rubber arms were twisted and we stopped. We partook in a delicious local brew and some super slow cooked meat, we’d certainly recommend stopping here if you’re on your way through, it was fabulous!!
So on to Thompson Gorge; just down the road from Omakau we could see the road twisting off into the hills but were stopped by a shut farm gate, stating the road was closed for lambing. We were perturbed and curious, so popped into the isolated farmhouse right next to the gate to see if we might just be able to pop on through. It turned out the house had nothing to do with the gate, but the lovely lady who lived there said they often had people pop their heads in to ask what the go with the gate was. Her view was that it was a public road and the farmers had no right to “close” the road. She suggested we just go for it, we had that inclination anyway, so off we headed and we’re so glad we did.
What a fantastic road through a fantastic bit of country, especially stunning in the late evening light. We had a bunch of fun, especially when we came to a creek that had found a new path straight down the road for maybe 100m. We also spend plenty of time dodging sheep and their lambs, while trying to cause as little disruption as we could.
By the time we’d enjoyed ourselves through Thompson Gorge and were coming down into the Tarras side the light was fading, and behind us appeared to be the lights of a ute. For some reason it felt like it was chasing us, for after all we’d gone through a “road closed” gate and probably disturbed a bunch of farmer’s stock, although we tried our hardest not to. When we got down onto the flat we came across a temporary electric fence crossing the road, hmmmmm, was this a sign that we really shouldn’t have come in the other end? We had a ute bearing down on us from behind and a fence in front of us stopping us from going forwards – what are we going to do? Were we going to be heavily reprimanded by an angry farmer? Were we going to be attacked by a madman driving a ute down a deserted dirt road as the darkness drew in around us? Were we going to make it to our gentlemen’s meeting at all?
Suddenly Steve had a moment of ingenuity – he is an idea’s man after all – and pulled out one of the fence posts and laid it down. I rode across the laid out fence and then repaid the favour. I pushed the fence post back into the ground and we took off, getting outta there before that ute caught up – we didn’t want any of whatever they had to offer!! We screamed out to the main road, off towards Tarras, and then turned off towards Wanaka knowing we’d now left that ute in our dust. Whew!!!
Now it was time to find a place to sleep, the darkness set in and we had Makarora on our minds. This would leave us just on the eastern side of the main divide, and the tantalising prospect of a full day on the isolated and fantastic West Coast roads tomorrow. We ended up finding ourselves stopping at the Boundary Creek DOC campsite, nestled right in at the head of Lake Wanaka with the mountains looming all around us – what a spot!! So as per usual we settled in for dinner, tunes and a few sneaky drams 🙂
Day 2 dawned to stunning blue skies, snow on the tops and a light airy feeling bouncing around – we had a day to savour ahead of us! So we packed up and pushed on, with an obligatory stop at the Aspiring National Park sign – if you don’t know why please click this link.
I could start spurting all kinds of airy fairy junk right now, spouting about how amazing and stunning the West Coast is; about how stunning the vistas around every corner are; about how special the Coast is on a sunny day and how incredibly lucky you are to get such splendor; about the pure roads which are smooth and windy and seemingly never-ending; about how the huge waves crash into stunning sandy beaches that reach straight up to mountain tops that are reaching for the stars; about how the locals welcome you with a smile and a chat while also making you sure you’re not from these parts; about how the isolation just draws you into it’s warm open arms; about how the bush surrounds and envelops you in it’s web of zen; about how you just cannot beat the scenery, the roads and the pure awesomeness of The Coast, but I won’t 😉
Instead all I can say is that we just cruised over the Haast Pass and down the Haast River, arrived in Haast for a snack, then headed north through Paringa, Bruce Bay and arrived at Fox Glacier township. Wow, what a morning we’d already had – although surprisingly, given the weather so far today, Fox was shrouded in a layer of low cloud, although it was still balmy. We decided on a whim to pop down to Lake Matheson for a look at one of New Zealand’s iconic views looking over Lake Matheson up towards Mt Cook (NZ’s highest mountain), hoping against hope that the mountain might be visible. Now unfortunately we didn’t realise the walk to the lake was actually a couple of kms and we neither had the time or the inclination to get out of our riding gear to walk to the lake. Instead we were blessed with what we wanted to see at the carpark, Mt Cook’s peak rising above the clouds and towering over us – how lucky are we?
I think it’s something a bit special to be able to not only acknowledge how lucky you can be to have a special vista open up in front of you, but also to acknowledge the luck (or is it fate or destiny?) of you arriving somewhere at a moment in time that allows you to have a unique experience, which can only be highlighted by the next time you arrive in the same place it’s likely to be totally different. You may (or may not) have noticed that we seem to be lucky enough to experience these special moments in time on a fairly regular basis during our GAS adventures, so how lucky or destined are we? Or more interestingly, is it that we are present enough to acknowledge the specialness and uniqueness of any moment in itself?
We marveled in the moment before heading on, next stop – Franz Josef for lunch and then somewhere further north. The road in these parts is pretty cool in that it swings towards to ocean, away from the mountains trying to find a route past the next ridgeline spurting out from the Southern Alps, and once it finds it’s way around, through, or over, it reaches the next river bed and heads inland again to find a place to cross the sometimes small, sometimes pumping and sometimes bursting rivers that careen out of the mountains. If you’re not aware, this area of the country tends to measure it’s annual rainfall in metres rather that millimetres – the further south you go down the Coast the wetter it tends to get. So these rivers can take a huge amount of water, and the road is crafted to allow for this and it makes it super cool to ride. We passed big river beds at Franz Josef (the Waiho River), then Whataroa (the Whataroa River), then Harihari (the Wanganui River), then Kakapotahi (the Waitaha River) and Ross (the Mikonui and Totara Rivers) before hitting the flats south of Hokitika and Greymouth.
Next was something we’d been waiting for a long time – to again ride the very special Great Coast Road from Greymouth to Westport. Apparently it has been rated as one of the top 10 coastal roads in the world by Lonely Planet, and it’s easy to see why. It is a magnificent piece of road hugging rocky outcrops as the powerful waves build and crash into the base of the cliffs, before suddenly being shrouded in thick native rainforest, and then you might just pop out to some sensational vista with the salt spray giving the rugged isolated landscape a soft soothing tone. There is just something so super special about the Coast in general, but this bit of road is really a crowning glory. And I’ve yet to mention that on a bike it just hits a whole new level, with twists and turns and an immaculately smooth surface made for streams of tourists that just screams of magic at every turn. Riding heaven!!
And what makes this area even more special is that I grew up along this stretch of road – we passed Runanga where Sam used to board while he attended high school in Greymouth before stopping at Nine Mile to catch up with some old friends of Steve’s, but they were away. We headed on to Barrytown where my brothers and I went to primary school (a massive school of about 30 kids in those days and apparently even less now) and where we held my uncle’s funeral service. Then on to Punakaiki and the famous Pancake Rocks, but more in my memory were the Punakaiki and Pororari Rivers where we would swim in the summer and the original Punakaiki store where we’d get an ice cream – memories of a 6 year old 🙂
From Punakaiki you then hit Irimahuwhero Lookout with an amazing view north over Meybille Bay (where some of Perfect Strangers was filmed) and then on towards Fox River, with our old family farm sitting right in the middle there!!
Disclaimer: I took this photo (but not on this trip) and it’s pretty damn good, right?
We stopped at the farm to say hi to my Aunt Kathryn, and the cute little lamb that she was nursing to health. It’s always so fantastic to stop and see the farm and let all those memories of when I was a young fella come flooding back; and it was nice to be able to show Steve where my roots are laid as well. We chatted away over a quiet drink and it was delightful, but we were also aware of the time frame we had left to meet the other boys in Blenheim so we had to head on. The goal for the evening was to enjoy the rest of the GREAT Coast Road before heading somewhere up the Lower Buller Gorge to try and find a camp somewhere by the river.
So, we passed through Fox River and Charleston before heading inland away from the wonderfully named Cape Foulwind. We hit the Buller Gorge with fantasizing memories of the last time we rode the lower gorge, but what transpired was interesting and we discussed it later over the “campfire”. It seemed our riding skills had progressed quite a way, which isn’t really that surprising given the kms we’ve now got under our belt, and what previously had had the perfect flow for our skills now seemed a bit straight forwards and mundane. Mmmmm, the moving goalposts of joy – but don’t worry for us, we were still having a lot of fun!!
On to the campsite, we’d arrived just on dusk and had the insider’s details from Dad about a spot just short of halfway up the lower gorge where there’s a track from the road down to the river, the only challenge was going to be finding a place to pitch our tents. Now you might have guessed by the way this day has been transcribed, that it’d been a pretty good day!!!! Well, what better way to finish it off than by finding a perfect camping spot 🙂
Day 3 – we marveled once more at our camping spot before getting on the road. We had to meet the guys early afternoon at the airport in Blenheim, about 3 hours riding away. Goal number one was Murchison for some brunch, but first to negotiate the Upper Buller Gorge. Now this is where things got a little bit weirder, yesterday we’d been craving the Lower Buller, but didn’t find the sweet spot of riding zen we’d be hoping for, we were not satisfied. Now our memories held nothing special about the Upper Buller, so we headed into it with low expectations – and we got a smack in the face – it was now what our riding skills were screaming out for – we hit the sweet spot and found some ecstasy!! So now next time we ride this road, we’ll have big expectations for the upper gorge – I wonder what we’ll actually find with another few kms under our belts.
We arrived in Murchison to our first cell signal since sometime yesterday and, low and behold, I had a message from my Dad suggesting an alternative route this morning to keep things a bit more interesting, rather than just blatting down the highway – now, you’ll be surprised by this, but we jumped at the idea – hahaha!!! The text said “You can go up the Mangles, then up Tutaki Road North, over the Braeburn Track to Rotoroa, then you MIGHT be able to get over the Porika Road via the power line to Howard Valley”. If that doesn’t sound like an invite, I don’t know what does.
So we scoffed down our brunch and headed off, following the directions which all seemed pretty straight forwards. The Braeburn Track was actually a very cool piece of gravel road, heading up a valley with beautiful native forest and little stream crossings before heading up over a saddle which was equally lovely before heading back down fairly steeply into Rotoroa “township” on the shores of Lake Rotoroa. It is a really beautiful spot nestled in amongst the mountains surrounding it.
Now straight out of Rotoroa heads Porika Road, and in hindsight, we guess we should have known it was going to get wild because straight out of the campground where the road heads it hits dense bush and there is a tiny little opening in the trees which you aim for, immediately being confronted with a rough rugged bump straight down into a big stream. We didn’t think twice, or look back, and following the stream the road started heading upwards, the road was narrow and rough, and it was steep. By steep, we mean STEEP, it was hold onto your handles bars, open the tap and hope for the best.
I cannot remember in all our adventures to date, hitting a section of steep road that lasted for more than a few minutes. Now this just seemed to go on for ever, it felt like 15 mins of going up (it may have been only 3 mins – but I hold by my statement, it felt like 15 minutes!!). The road continually looped back on itself at incredibly tight hairpin bends before heading up again. The forearms were pumping, there was no respite, not even a slightly flat bit to stop and take a break, so up we headed, surely we must be near the top soon, otherwise we’re going to be leaving the Earth’s atmosphere!! It was getting to the point where I wasn’t actually sure that I could continue to hold onto the bars, my forearms were screaming and any modicum of repositioning did not provide any relief.
Now this is when it went from full on but highly adventurous and arguably fun to downright unfortunate. I came around the next corner to see Steve riding into the inside ditch (the outside was a rather steep bank dropping hundreds of metres down to the lake), trying to negotiate his way past two 4WD vehicles that had stopped in the middle of the road (that was no wider than a 4WD vehicle) to admire the wonderful view of Lake Rotoroa. Steve proceeded to fall over so I had nowhere to go, I had no option but to just stop in my tracks. Now remember how I told you it was pretty STEEP!!! Well, stopping on loose gravel on a steep slope is not an easy thing to do, and in this case it was actually just impossible. I immediately started sliding backwards at increasing speed, there was a massive drop off on one side and I wanted no part of that so had no option but to ditch the bike, pushing it over to the inside of the road. It slowly ground to a stop a bit further down the slope.
One of the 4WD guys rushed down to help me right my bike and we found solid enough footing to wait there while the rest of the team helped Steve out. They rolled their vehicles down past me and then righted Steve and had three guys on his tail trying to give him a push start, all the time he was sliding and spitting gravel out at them – well they kinda deserved it – actually not really, it was just one of those really unfortunate things.
To their credit they were super helpful in getting us on our way again as without any help, it would have been another story. Once Steve was off they came down and gave me a push start too, and on we headed, unable to even give them a wave or a horn toot, as we were just hanging on for dear life heading for the top – and we got there after about two more corners!! Now the biggest drama to me in all of this was actually that one of my pillion foot pegs was still out from earlier in the day while we were road riding and it clearly took the brunt of the ditching and snapped right off – dammit!! The pillion pegs are a great place to rest your legs when road riding, it gives your back and bum some relief and helps get it a nice tuck to avoid as much wind as possible. And knowing we still had the boredom of the Canterbury Plains to get home, I was not happy about this. Fortunately I’d seen the broken peg and pocketed it, hopefully we could make some repairs at some stage to make it useable for the journey home.
So at the top we stopped and regrouped. It had been an incredibly intense last 30 minutes or so, but on the other hand we had just taken it in our stride, our skills handling the intensity without buckling under the strain. Another beautiful example of how far we’d come – we discussed this later and marveled at what we’d achieved on Porika Road knowing that a year ago our skills just would not have coped. Achievement – tick; Adventure – tick; Fun- tick; Pride – brimming 🙂
We now realised after all those shenanigans that we were running tight to meet the boys at the airport in Blenheim, so we pushed on with as much pace at this 4WD track would allow. The other side on Porika Road wasn’t anywhere near so gnarly but it was sensational – riding through the bush, up in the hills, on a beautiful day. As we reached Howard Valley and headed out towards to main road again we passed what appeared to be a tour group of adventure bikers heading in the opposite direction. Now we’d just completed the track on our light maneuverable DR650s, and these guys were heading up on massive adventure bikes – mostly big BMWs. We stopped and had a quick chat and wished them luck, grinning at how game they were. A couple of them asked us what it was like – our PC response was “it was fine”, it was the delay before saying anything to show we had to think about how to word what we’d just gone through that gave them a good old tickle up – get their hearts pumping for the fun ahead! We mused later about how they’d handled the track on their massive machines – we hoped they managed ok, but suspected they might not have!!!
So on we raced, out Howard Valley to the State Highway 63, stopping briefly in St Arnaud for fuel and to let the the boys know we were running late, and then on down the Wairau Valley as fast as we could go without getting into any trouble. We were absolutely flying at one point, I was in the lead, and I had a gut feeling I should slow down some…..and low and behold around the next corner was a cop car. Steve and I have had enough speeding tickets between us recently, we certainly didn’t need another one!! Whew!!
So we met the boys in Blenheim (although a little late so they’d headed to a vineyard – good call!!) and headed out to our family bach in Onahau Bay. It is a special spot – and we were loving being there. We divulged in food, drink, games, music and generally having a magnificent time – except Steve, whose body had been holding off a cold for the last couple of days. Fortunately it hit him hard the first night and by the next morning he’d bounced back with vengeance.
The big adventure for the weekend was to take our boat somewhere out Queen Charlotte Sound, find a place to camp and catch some fresh fish to eat while lapping up the serenity. We managed to achieve this in spades, what a time we had – and what a campsite we found – at Ngaruru Bay in Tory Channel. We’d stopped by the campsite at Wharehunga Bay and ran into the DOC Ranger, who told us about Ngaruru and also about a lovely little Red Gurnard spot just near there. So we arrived at Ngaruru, set up camp and headed out to catch a nice Red Gurnard and a Blue Cod for dinner. We actually caught a whole bunch of Blue Cod, but the size range you’re allowed to keep in the Sounds is pretty specific, and unfortunately almost all we caught were just under the size limit – oh well, we still had a lot of fun. We also had a bit of unusual experience in catching an Octopus, that’s a first, and also a little shark almost immediately after – what was quite amusing is the Octopus had attached itself to the underside of the boat and then it started attacking the shark while it was hooked on the line. Crazy times!!!
Now this was a super weekend and it was great to have another amazing adventure with great mates, but it’s important to point out that the absolute highlight of the weekend was the whisky. Someone had suggested (Brett I believe but I might be wrong) that we should all pitch in and get an extra special bottle of whisky to celebrate such an esteemed gathering of gentlemen – so we did and it was unbelievable. The depth and lingering complexity of this magnificence left us in some utopian world of utter bliss – could life get any better than a moment with a stunning whisky romancing you??
So with satisfaction, joy and sadness we said our farewells, combined with great plans to make sure the (A)GM of gentlemen would happen again in the not to distant future. And then Steve and I set about making a plan to get back to Dunedin. We had an idea to head through the Molesworth again as it had just opened over Labour Weekend – and it couldn’t go much worse than last time, could it? (If you don’t know what this means – head to this link.) But that would mean pushing on as it was already early afternoon and there was still quite a ride up the Awatere to get in and through. So, with more infinite wisdom (we have heaps of that), Steve suggested we head around the Port Underwood road first. Neither of us had been around this road, and weren’t really sure what it was like or how long it would take – but given we were here and it was a road both of us were keen to have a look at, we headed off through Waikawa and immediately hit some incredibly windy, bush clad road with stunning Sounds views. It was well worth it within the first 5 minutes of getting on this road. A good decision 🙂
We wound on up, peaking with a great view of Port Underwood and the Marlborough coast before winding back down into Oyster Bay (yes, the wine). What a spot!! Then the gravel started and the fun grew – we were absolutely loving it. This is a special place – if you look at the map it looks so close to civilization, but once you’re here you realise it just isn’t – it is the wop wops (definition: the middle of nowhere)!! We proceeded through various beautiful bays and over rugged headlands, passing through Ocean Bay before dodging a bunch of bandits at Robin Hood Bay. The last headland then takes you up and down into Rarangi (where I happened to have my first hole-in-one at the Rarangi Golf Club) and the road becomes tarmac again – coming down the last steep bit before a hairpin bend to head into Rarangi, we came across some of the biggest skids marks I’ve even seen – they headed straight off the end of the hairpin – mmmmm, hope that didn’t end up TOO bad!!
Next stop, Blenheim for fuel and then retracing our previous steps over Taylor Pass, into the Awatere Valley and up towards the Molesworth. We were racing – it was getting on, and we knew we had a lot of ground to cover to arrive home tomorrow night as planned. Just to add to it all, we knew the forecast for tonight and tomorrow was for a strong southerly front to blast through, meaning rain and cold. We wanted to get as many kms under our belts as we could before that hit. The repeat ride up the Awatere did not cease it’s impressiveness, there was no boredom here in repeating something we’d done before.
Next we passed the dreaded spot from the last trip (have I made it clear – read the link – haha!!), and redemption was in order. I’d been apprehensive about this moment all afternoon and knew it was coming, but at the same moment a vehicle came the other way saying they had just closed the gate up at the DOC rangers quarters, 10km up the road. Oh shite, that’s right, they close the Molesworth road at 7pm each evening – we’d completely forgotten about that and it was now 7pm and we had 10kms to cover. No redemption today, we’ll save that for another time. We raced on up to the ranger’s hut, only having about half a dozen dodgy moment in that 10kms – maybe we were pushing a bit hard, but we made it in one piece – whew!!!
We arrived at the ranger’s hut knowing that we were in a little pickle, but knew we had to play it cool and see what we might be able to conjure. A lovely older lady wandered out of the hut, a look of sour distain on her face – how dare we bother her 15 mins after the gate had been locked. Her face was saying very clearly there was no way through here tonight. Oh dear – what were we going to do – well, what we usually do – with a smile and a friendly chat we started to disarm that distain, a few jokes and laughs later we had her wrapped around our fingers – then “totally surprisingly” she offered to call the farmer and see if it’d be ok for two bedraggled motorbike riders, who had kms to cover, to be allowed through after lockdown. The farmer complied with the request, the older lady laying on her charm with him and we were through. We showered her with praise (and I’m sure a good dose of stink) and she outlined that we must push on – don’t worry, we’re experts at pushing on when needed. Although tonight, once out of sight we were in no mind to push on. We continued at a leisurely pace, knowing we had a couple of hours of dusk and bliss ahead, cruising through the extra isolated Molesworth, knowing we were the only souls up in the isolated wonderland. What a treat!!
After all our cruising along and faffing about, we finally arrived at the Historic Acheron Homestead in the dark and were happy to be there. It was late and we could see the clouds banking up in the south. Time to get our tents up and under cover and hope it didn’t rain too bad overnight. Firstly a quick chat with the lovely older gentleman in the ranger’s hut at this end. He welcomed us in for tea and a more in depth chat, but given the time and the need to set up camp we unfortunately had to decline, on top of the fact we hadn’t had any dinner yet and the tummies were grumbling badly!
We rushed into the camping area, found a site snuggled up again some trees on our south side to protect us as much as possible from the front coming in from that direction, and as our tents went up the rain started to come down. Grit and Sprit timing as always!!! We also found a picnic table, set it up under the trees and had a feast, and a tipple to go with it while staying mostly dry and warm. It was great to be in such a super spot, enjoying one more night of isolation and adventure before making the big effort to get home tomorrow. Little did we know the adventure that awaited us when tomorrow dawned!
While we slept and stayed all snug and warm, the rain really started to come down. And when we woke in the morning it was still coming down. The southerly had come through too, meaning the temperature had dropped massively as well. I realised I’d had nightmares about this day, every previous time we’d headed south down the east coast of the South Island, I’d dreaded the idea that it might be in a southerly – cold, wet and battering into the strong gusty winds all the way. Well, today was the day when I could make my dreams come true – WAHOO – I felt SOOOOOO lucky, what a special day!!!
A morning bright idea emerged (morning is neither of our strong suits), and we pushed our bikes and gear over to the homestead (we might have opened a gate to get there) and tucked up under the veranda cover to have breakfast and get ourselves sorted. Ideal spot, and ideal time to finally go about fixing my pillion foot peg for the long journey home today. We found a bit of wood and some old nails, and along with the duct tape I had in the repair kit, made a very serviceable brace for my foot peg for the day. Happy days!!!
Ironically by the time we’d got ourselves ready at a rather leisurely pace, the rain had subsided – good planning that. So we got underway thinking we might have got lucky and enjoyed the morning heading out through the last leg of this stunning countryside, before a little jolly jaunt over Jollies Pass and into Hanmer Springs.
Time for the final big leg of highway riding to get us home. We pointed our noses south and looked straight into a black gloom – OH NO – this was not promising. Nothing for it, except to pull up the big boy pants and get on with it. We hit the open road and the rain hit us, and a temperature that had not been a problem at the slower speeds on the gravel, became an issue now. We raced on, body temperature slowly dropping all the time, feet and hands becoming increasingly numb. We raced on through Culverden, by now we just about didn’t notice the rain, it had become so constant and the wetness was everywhere!! The coldness continued seeping through us, and finally we arrived in Amberley for some fuel. It had felt like a lifetime (it had been an hour), we stopped, got off the bikes looked at each other and not a word needed to be spoken. I’m surprised one or both of us didn’t break down it tears. It had been absolutely horrible, without a doubt the worst riding conditions I’d ever been in.
The next 40 minutes into Christchurch was a fraction better as the rain eased off quite bit and we managed to not freeze quite so much. We stopped for food, found an Indian place, it seemed like a curry was in order – something to warm our souls. We then opened up a laundry in the back corner and tried to dry out our riding gear and warm ourselves up as much as we could. This was followed by a second stop at the shop next door for coffee and cake. We thought we’d dried and warmed ourselves enough to push on, not realising that the rain had now passed us by. We hit the road and it had just about dried out, whew – the wind was still there, but without the constant rain the wind actually helped us dry out, and then warm up as the wetness left us. We got in the groove and smashed out the rest of the 360km back to Dunedin hardly blinking an eye. We arrived with plenty of light left in the day and smiles on our dials. What had been one of the most challenging mornings on the bike, had turned into a very relaxed and productive afternoon.
So, we were home again, back in Dunedin, having basically circumnavigated the South Island – and just to confirm to you now – it never gets old!!!! We could ride this route again and again and again, finding new and interesting bits and pieces, or just repeating the same bits and pieces we’d done before – and we’d always have fun. Maybe there’s a lesson in that, but who knows, maybe there’s not.
What we had reminded ourselves was that a bike adventure is always a good time, no matter how challenging it gets. And a gathering of mates is also always a good time, no matter how challenging it is to actually get them all together in one place. But this week long bike adventure did create a problem, it created these memories and these feelings of another bike adventure, a slightly longer one, one that went for 44 days and circumnavigated the Black Sea, and there was this feeling of wanting to carry on riding…….