Disco Dan
6th April 2008, 22:52
Christchurch to Auckland Tour Report
What started off as a simple bike purchase, turned into a sudden panic. The owner of the bike called me on Friday morning in a frenzied panic. He had agreed to ride the bike from Christchurch to Auckland, arriving Saturday morning; but in his last minute attempt at catching the last ferry, ended in red and blue lights and a ‘walking’ ticket. I had only a small window of opportunity, today was Friday and with work again on Sunday I had to act fast. A quick call to my boss got me off the hook but I still had to get to Christchurch, pick up the bike and bee line back to Auckland before work. I frantically begun calling people for advice or help, suggestions flew around of driving down, flying down… you name it! In the middle of this my girlfriend had arrived, and the plan formulated. She drove me straight to the airport complete with bike gear and luggage, I was packing light. Trudging around the airport I felt like a right plonker, for some odd reason I kept hoping that everyone wasn’t thinking I had lost my license and happened to be a long way from home when it happened. The plan was simple, leg it down on the next cheap plane to Christchurch get the bike, riding back. It was already lunch time, and the controversial Air New Zealand came to my rescue with a 3:20pm flight. I would arrive at 5pm and my bike would be waiting.
Unfortunatly not everything went to plan. Upon reaching Christchurch, I switched on my phone to a find a message saying his wife would be there too meet me, then a message describing her and then a third saying she could not make it and he would be him that would be picking me up complete with bike on trailer. Spent about twenty minutes wondaring aimlessly around the airport on the phone, I asked someone where the town centre was but it clearly was not English. Oh bugger it, and a painful $38 cab got me there ( I mean come on, how often would I get to be in the south island!) but with 3 hours to kill in a strange city that felt like the 1800’s with fricking unicyclists and a person very intent with reading the entire bible… I want to know who gave him the microphone. I found an internet café and yes it’s sad but the first thing I did was log on to Kiwi Biker! Put a request out to see if there were any fellow bikers in the area who fancied a beer with the infamous ‘Disco Dan’ (yes, I put myself in italics).
Now a quick mission up the road on the hunt for an electronics shop, my phone was running low on battery life and I was already using my ‘back up’ one. I also had my satnav with me, but no way of charging it since the charger was stolen. So with that came the realisation I was now on a completely different island and getting lost out here could not bear thinking about. Now, it is not a matter of not knowing where I am but a case of ‘which ways west’. You see, it’s the ‘heading off in the complete opposite direction’ that seems to be the problem.
Friday afternoon in Christchuch and expecting something to be open but I had to try. A carefully planned trip up and then back down the street, to ensure I did not walk out of a shop and walk the wrong way. I had no choice but to buy an expensive genuine charger for my phone from the internet café. This was getting expensive fast.
I watched the thread grow rapidly, my phone charging happily nearby I headed outside for a smoke. When a bike pulls up, all shiney and he notices some poor sod sitting on a bench with full bike gear and no other bike in sight! It was Deviant Esq, and he barely got to sit down when a dark sillouete of a motorbike slid accros the road above the car line, she had arrived.
It was dark, but she looked gorgous. The smile on my face not to be missed. A quick perv and a stroke I jumped in, DE in pursuit. We arrived at his house, and I got to sit on her for the very first time, then with more light came more bike porn moments which then predictably went on to an exchange of coloured papers. DE and I made tracks and headed through what to me resembled a scene from Labyrinth, only without anyone with whiskers or giant goblins walking around. Oh wait, there was one woman that clearly had whiskers, the mind boggles. The bike performed well she was in good nick for her age I could not find any signs of a drop or blemish in the paint job. Arriving at DE house I had the pleasure of meeting his other half (nice score by the way mate!) and it was time to re-evaluate the situation. Maps where studied, print outs stapled and beer drunk; they were so hospitable and it wasn’t long before we had a new plan. Now, with a 21 litre tank we had to think about gas stations and it had never crossed my mind that they would all be closed outside the major cities. DE recommended Cheviot be my best bet or there was Kaikoura so we saddled up and he kindly led me through the maze of streets to the start of SH1 where we parted ways.
I rode on, tuning in to all the noises and getting a bit worried on how poor it was handling low speed turns. I carried on, open roads with no street lighting and the tinted visor was certainly a mistake I regret! I arrived in Cheviot, no gas that I could see but a motel and I could possibly kip for a few hours then get to Kaikoura in time for when the stations open again. It was around midnight and all the lights were off but before I could try the door a man appeared and ushered me inside, I found my room and secured my bike before having a nice hot cup of tea (oh and the end of the Kill Bill movie!).
I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited and about 2 hours later I was gearing up and heading to Kaikoura. I had a phone number that could lead to gas (cheers DinnMuzz!) so took the chance. I started to push her harder through the corners and get more aggressive and really hard time getting the thing to steer. They needed air, and desperately but nothing was open.
Upon arrving in Kaikoura I left the safety of the highway and headed for its town centre only to find darkness and a road leading back to a main road. Not a sign in sight and I had not a clue which way to go, I guessed right and it was not long before I found the main drag. I pulled over near a truck stop, it was so quiet and flob all light around I text the number for fuel but I must have been too late a short wait though and I was inside a nice friendly BP eating pies. By this time it had started to rain, I had stayed out of it so far but I needed to prepare myself for a long ride in the rain wearing a jacket with all it’s liners removed. Only water I thought and continued on, stopping for a quick smoke break in Kekerengu and then Ward. The rain continued, I was saturated and I could almost feel my testicles putting on little armbands and swimming around. Reaching Blenheim I made a quick call to update a friend on progress and I carried straight through to Picton.
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It was nearing 9am and the small town of Picton got me confused surprisingly quickly. Now I found the ticket office but I’d be dammed if I could find where to get on the thing! There were signs for the ferry but I ended up in the same intersection twice, after having done a complete circle. Everything was squelching, the only bits staying dry were my lower legs and feet. An exchanging of directions from the ticket stand I found it, and headed back to find a hot drink. I set up a bit of a nest at a café, even parking on the footpath next to my table (bit lazy to take off the tank bag). Now with four hours to kill and getting tired I was really regretting leaving the motel early, I would have been happily chugging over the straight by now; instead I was drinking large quantities of coffee, much to the amusement of the nice couple sitting next to me. They where on holiday from Australia and were almost finished on their tour of the south island. I had to laugh when a real estate agent tried to parallel park, right next to my table and got himself in a right pickle.
What started off as a simple bike purchase, turned into a sudden panic. The owner of the bike called me on Friday morning in a frenzied panic. He had agreed to ride the bike from Christchurch to Auckland, arriving Saturday morning; but in his last minute attempt at catching the last ferry, ended in red and blue lights and a ‘walking’ ticket. I had only a small window of opportunity, today was Friday and with work again on Sunday I had to act fast. A quick call to my boss got me off the hook but I still had to get to Christchurch, pick up the bike and bee line back to Auckland before work. I frantically begun calling people for advice or help, suggestions flew around of driving down, flying down… you name it! In the middle of this my girlfriend had arrived, and the plan formulated. She drove me straight to the airport complete with bike gear and luggage, I was packing light. Trudging around the airport I felt like a right plonker, for some odd reason I kept hoping that everyone wasn’t thinking I had lost my license and happened to be a long way from home when it happened. The plan was simple, leg it down on the next cheap plane to Christchurch get the bike, riding back. It was already lunch time, and the controversial Air New Zealand came to my rescue with a 3:20pm flight. I would arrive at 5pm and my bike would be waiting.
Unfortunatly not everything went to plan. Upon reaching Christchurch, I switched on my phone to a find a message saying his wife would be there too meet me, then a message describing her and then a third saying she could not make it and he would be him that would be picking me up complete with bike on trailer. Spent about twenty minutes wondaring aimlessly around the airport on the phone, I asked someone where the town centre was but it clearly was not English. Oh bugger it, and a painful $38 cab got me there ( I mean come on, how often would I get to be in the south island!) but with 3 hours to kill in a strange city that felt like the 1800’s with fricking unicyclists and a person very intent with reading the entire bible… I want to know who gave him the microphone. I found an internet café and yes it’s sad but the first thing I did was log on to Kiwi Biker! Put a request out to see if there were any fellow bikers in the area who fancied a beer with the infamous ‘Disco Dan’ (yes, I put myself in italics).
Now a quick mission up the road on the hunt for an electronics shop, my phone was running low on battery life and I was already using my ‘back up’ one. I also had my satnav with me, but no way of charging it since the charger was stolen. So with that came the realisation I was now on a completely different island and getting lost out here could not bear thinking about. Now, it is not a matter of not knowing where I am but a case of ‘which ways west’. You see, it’s the ‘heading off in the complete opposite direction’ that seems to be the problem.
Friday afternoon in Christchuch and expecting something to be open but I had to try. A carefully planned trip up and then back down the street, to ensure I did not walk out of a shop and walk the wrong way. I had no choice but to buy an expensive genuine charger for my phone from the internet café. This was getting expensive fast.
I watched the thread grow rapidly, my phone charging happily nearby I headed outside for a smoke. When a bike pulls up, all shiney and he notices some poor sod sitting on a bench with full bike gear and no other bike in sight! It was Deviant Esq, and he barely got to sit down when a dark sillouete of a motorbike slid accros the road above the car line, she had arrived.
It was dark, but she looked gorgous. The smile on my face not to be missed. A quick perv and a stroke I jumped in, DE in pursuit. We arrived at his house, and I got to sit on her for the very first time, then with more light came more bike porn moments which then predictably went on to an exchange of coloured papers. DE and I made tracks and headed through what to me resembled a scene from Labyrinth, only without anyone with whiskers or giant goblins walking around. Oh wait, there was one woman that clearly had whiskers, the mind boggles. The bike performed well she was in good nick for her age I could not find any signs of a drop or blemish in the paint job. Arriving at DE house I had the pleasure of meeting his other half (nice score by the way mate!) and it was time to re-evaluate the situation. Maps where studied, print outs stapled and beer drunk; they were so hospitable and it wasn’t long before we had a new plan. Now, with a 21 litre tank we had to think about gas stations and it had never crossed my mind that they would all be closed outside the major cities. DE recommended Cheviot be my best bet or there was Kaikoura so we saddled up and he kindly led me through the maze of streets to the start of SH1 where we parted ways.
I rode on, tuning in to all the noises and getting a bit worried on how poor it was handling low speed turns. I carried on, open roads with no street lighting and the tinted visor was certainly a mistake I regret! I arrived in Cheviot, no gas that I could see but a motel and I could possibly kip for a few hours then get to Kaikoura in time for when the stations open again. It was around midnight and all the lights were off but before I could try the door a man appeared and ushered me inside, I found my room and secured my bike before having a nice hot cup of tea (oh and the end of the Kill Bill movie!).
I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited and about 2 hours later I was gearing up and heading to Kaikoura. I had a phone number that could lead to gas (cheers DinnMuzz!) so took the chance. I started to push her harder through the corners and get more aggressive and really hard time getting the thing to steer. They needed air, and desperately but nothing was open.
Upon arrving in Kaikoura I left the safety of the highway and headed for its town centre only to find darkness and a road leading back to a main road. Not a sign in sight and I had not a clue which way to go, I guessed right and it was not long before I found the main drag. I pulled over near a truck stop, it was so quiet and flob all light around I text the number for fuel but I must have been too late a short wait though and I was inside a nice friendly BP eating pies. By this time it had started to rain, I had stayed out of it so far but I needed to prepare myself for a long ride in the rain wearing a jacket with all it’s liners removed. Only water I thought and continued on, stopping for a quick smoke break in Kekerengu and then Ward. The rain continued, I was saturated and I could almost feel my testicles putting on little armbands and swimming around. Reaching Blenheim I made a quick call to update a friend on progress and I carried straight through to Picton.
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It was nearing 9am and the small town of Picton got me confused surprisingly quickly. Now I found the ticket office but I’d be dammed if I could find where to get on the thing! There were signs for the ferry but I ended up in the same intersection twice, after having done a complete circle. Everything was squelching, the only bits staying dry were my lower legs and feet. An exchanging of directions from the ticket stand I found it, and headed back to find a hot drink. I set up a bit of a nest at a café, even parking on the footpath next to my table (bit lazy to take off the tank bag). Now with four hours to kill and getting tired I was really regretting leaving the motel early, I would have been happily chugging over the straight by now; instead I was drinking large quantities of coffee, much to the amusement of the nice couple sitting next to me. They where on holiday from Australia and were almost finished on their tour of the south island. I had to laugh when a real estate agent tried to parallel park, right next to my table and got himself in a right pickle.