Limbimtimwim rips the face off the South Island

[limbimtimwim]

Kinda makes me miss my dual purpose bike. But the gixxer is actually quite nimble off road. Heh

I fucken hated my K6 on gravel. The front brakes were too good.

How far are you riding limbimtimwim, how long are you taking, etc...

No idea. How long? I am supposed to be back at work on the 3rd.

Today, I think that Rainbow road is in order. Better pack my bags and fuck off.

[Blue Velvet]

You. Lucky. Bastard. Totally jealous. Keep posting pics please.

My leave requests keep getting rejected. Something about workload...

[limbimtimwim]

You are writing in second person narrative today.

You leave dear old Dads a little late, and curse your sleeping in. You go from Picton to St Arnaud via state-snore-way 63 and wish for it to be over. You don't arrive in St Arnaud until a quarter to one. You consider the Rainbow to Hanmer Road, according to your "Hema Maps New Zealand Motorcycle Atlas" takes 3 to 4 hours. But the writer isn't as trigger happy as you are with the shutter button. And probably doesn't smoke as much, enjoy scroggin or have a bladder like a leaky thimble like you do. So you figure it's going to take you 5 hours to do the approx 100km of gravel.

The Atlas also warns you that this road is for experienced gravel road riders. You are not one of those. It doesn't scare you, hell, you've had fun on it. But it's still new to you.

You consider throwing in the towel and stop and take a picture of the start of the Rainbow road, where it is still sealed.

Nah 'fuck it' you think. Motorcycling hasn't killed you yet, and has only given you a scar on your elbow so far.

You put your helmet on and move off. After a while you catch up with a farm quad. He's got a rifle on the front and some small axes. You think he's set up for a murder. 'Stanlake of the alps' you chuckle.

After the quad, you go through a few fords and they are not bad. Some water splashes up you leg and runs down your right boot. Sexytime.

There are apiaries here. Quite a few. And yes, you get stung on the neck just as you are going down a rocky corner and into a ford. You have to keep moving because it's a bit unsteady beneath the wheels and there are lots of bees. Your neck swells up right away against the chin strap and you feel a bit ill. Three minutes later you are not dead of allergic reaction. You now know you are not allergic to bee stings. Bad place to find out. A chatty guy collects your $10 and gets you to sign a waiver. You ask about the state of your neck, he says there is a mark but nothing left behind. Like a sack of poison pumping into your neck. That's how it feels anyway. He opens a gate and says "Have a great day" and away you go. You get a brief flash-back to Manfeild and the wait for that gate to be opened on a race day. But with 3 less cylinders and it's just you here today.

It's pretty cool, the road is better than you expect. There is even a little traffic. The rockeyness reminds of you of hills near Cromwell. Exposed and barren not covered in soil like those not far away in the 'sounds. The grasses are not totally brown here, there is some colour. The river flows with at some effort. There are two sets of power pylons running along this road. You think one set needs a paint, they are turning brown. The newer set has a curious two isolator getup for the top pair of cables. The old ECNZ logos on many of the signs give you a hint at the possible reason for this road. That your satnav does call this the 'Wairau Hanmer Springs Hydro Road' is another clue.

In a thin section of road you encounter a pair of Honda CR-V. Around the corner from them is a waterfall. You stop and take a break. You smoke, have a drink, eat some scroggin. Pollute the river with your disgusting urine. Take a picture. Around the next corner is a guy walking up the road in waders and carrying a fishing rod. Strapped to his back is net. Extreme fishing.

You dispense with the thinking, and begin with the enjoying the ride. There are one bit that is a bit tricky, it's all rocks and steep. The scenery is awesome. The hills tower above while you weave your way below. You come to a gate that welcomes you to Molesworth station. And the 20th warning about didymo. As you begin your way up a gentle slope, there is a odd pyramid of gravel and dirt as high as your axle in the middle of the road. The cause is a grader doing it's thing further up the hill. The driver looks surly and focussed on his job. You ask yourself: Is driver a grader difficult?

The view from the top of Island Saddle looking South is fantastic. The road is steep enough to turn over the engine with you and your luggage on the bike, so your photo is taken gingerly with a foot on the brake.

After this the road flattens out. There is a signpost to Lake Tennyson to your right. You've started late and blown enough time, so you leave it for another time. There is another gate informing you of your entrance to private property and you expect the road to go down in quality again. But no, it's flat and only has a thin sprinkle of gravel.

You cruise along the straights in top gear keeping an eye out for livestock, but there is little. You get a minor zen moment as you see the trip meter roll around to 100km and the cloud rolls in. You smile as you come to the intersection that marks the beginning of Jacks Pass, the road down to Hanmer Springs. As you come down the road it appears that you were in fact so high up, you were in the clouds.

The road turns to seal, and at the intersection before you is a camping ground. You check in and get a caravan and blob out.

You write this silly missive and realise you have written wayyy to much.

You hope the two older Australian gay men in the camper next door don't keep you up with gay humping all night.

[limbimtimwim]

You post some more pictures.

[Kendog]

You are writing in second person narrative today.......

That was a great read.

[justsomeguy]

This is living at it's finest.

Thanks for letting us share in your trip Simo'.

[limbimtimwim]

Limbimtimwim is writing things down in the 3rd person today.

Limbimtimwim went to a race today.

[T.I.E]

and wicked photos nice work sir, im throwing in the road towel and thinking enduro. tarseal roads only go so far.
and with my curiosity off road is the key.
bling to you sir.

[Xaria]

Awesome write up. Sounds like you are having fun, and those are some AWESOME photos

[jrandom]

Awesome stuff Simon. I think I need a chook chaser...

[Hitcher]

One is waiting for the fourth-person.

[Madness]

How did the gay humping go Simon?

Sounds like an awesome trip, time for some enduro tyres on the Zed.

[limbimtimwim]

One is waiting for the fourth-person.

I was going to get to that. It was Skelstar's idea. And yes, he suggested 4th person.

Ahh.. Skelstar.

[limbimtimwim]

How did the gay humping go Simon?

Luckily, not a sound. I think they were to exhausted from all the arm waving, moaning, bitching and talking endlessly about flying first class and staying in a 5 star hotel.

Sounds like an awesome trip, time for some enduro tyres on the Zed.

You only need to jack up the suspension about... 20 centimetres too.
No problem.

[limbimtimwim]

Today LBTW is giving it a go in the mythical forth person narrative. But I suppose he has no good example to work off and that's why it doesn't make sense.

The Anglo-Italian motorcycle club members are talking over a beer at the pub at the Ruapuna race track.
"Where is the hairy smelly guy from yeserday who was hanging around with those two on the black and yellow Ducati's"? asks Geoff "Bones" McClean.
"I heard he got into a fight and destroyed six pubs before the police tazered him." reports Harry "Guts" Robertson
"I was told he was going to ride up to Arthur's pass and shag some tourists and then come down the alternate route that starts at Lake Lyndon" says Mary "Mad Dog" Smith.
"That's impossible!" exclaims Bones. "No man could do that! He would have to be a man of steel!"
"Well, I heard he was going to try" says Mad Dog.
They all shake their heads in amazement.
At that, Guts proposes a toast to the awesome legend of the hairy smelly guy and they all down their Coke Zeros (With a twist of lemon) in one gulp.

Sally Smallman works in a little family run Coffee shop that is in Darfield. She's not as pretty as her little sister so she is out the back slaving in a hot kitchen. She gets an order for a long black and to heat up a scone. She does both and gives the order to her mother who then delivers it to the customer she never sees. Because her little sister is better looking. She hates her little sister. Sally does know that her scones are quite fluffy and her coffee is good, and takes solace in that fact. Sally has a special knife prepared for her sister in the bottom drawer.

Gus Cheeseman works at the Caltex in Springfeild. He's in the workshop changing the oil in his car, using works' hoist on his day off. It's pretty much the only perk he gets. Gus hears what he supposes is single cylinder motorbike come in and take what he imagines is small amount of fuel and leave a minute later in the direction of Arthur's pass.

Bob Glen's friend was in the cycle race over Arthur's pass. To help out, Bob was acting as a marshal on the West Coast side of the Arthur's pass. Bob hears at the party afterwards about this loon on a black motorcycle with too much luggage was passing all the cyclist (Safely) and then stopping 5 minutes up the road and taking photos. And then doing it again. Apparently he filled up his tank at Arthur's pass village and then back the way he came. But not after giving the glad eye to all the young tourist women. Bob thought that was rather sexist of him, but then realised the real reason he was at this whole cycle thing was so he ogle his friend in her lycra cycling clothes, and perhaps this mystery erratic person wasn't so bad after all.

Miguel Santos is in a bar in Barcelona. He is listening to a conversation on the other side of the room. The conversation is in English, so he doesn't understand it all. But he gets the general idea of what is going on. The people on the other side of the room are talking about a website they don't read, but their friend an "Ex-pate kiwi" (Whatever that is) does. The Ex-pate read about a encounter one of his buddies from a a place called Christchurch had today in the small town of Lake Coalridge. Apparently he met an enthusiastic young fellow on a black Suzuki. This guy related to him how he had a great day up Arthar's pass (That sounded dirty thought Miguel) but was under-wealmed by the road down. Apparently this guy had gone to look at the dam intake and didn't see much. So he went to the powerhouse, but couldn't see much. So then he had a chat with this guy on a DL 650 under a tree. Apparently his intended destination for the evening was a town famous for taps. Or tap dancing. He wasn't sure.

David White lies awake in bed wondering if, somewhere, somehow, some gimp has tried to write something he didn't have the skill to pull off.