Hanne

The weekend started with a burning tree. Usually when one sees a tree on fire it is a good indication that you should run and hide, lest a giant finger appear from the heavens and decide to smite you too. I mean, if a harmless tree can incur that sort of wrath, who knows what might be heading your way. We didn’t run. The intrigue of smoke combined with the Autobahn’s supplies of underground petrol was too good a spectacle to miss! Luckily the service station attendants were well trained at dealing with fires. When the smokoe began to lap around the chocolate bars at the front counter they leapt into action, and any potential candy-buying customers had to wait. Their BP legs were very speedy as they ran back and forth between the forecourt and tree, dousing the flames in windscreen-cleaning fluid, heroically stifling the ferocious flames. Disaster averted, attendants’ weekly fitness quotas achieved, and the epic journey to Hawera and back was officially launched.

Luckily it was a long weekend and we were not in a hurry, as haste is not a word generally associated with riding two up on an fxr150. I was riding pillion with Andrew, while Danae hopped on the back of Stephen’s DR650. The fact that we left Auckland five hours later than originally planned also turned out to be a blessing weatherwise. Arriving in Otorohanga, were greeted by great booms of thunder and a rather spectacular lightning display out to the west. We had all been avoiding looking to the west, on the principle that if you ignore something long enough it will simply disappear. Due to head west to camp at the coast for the night, five minutes of observing the spinning black clouds convinced us that Awakino (southwest) looked like a better option. The promise of a pub at the end of the tunnel that served Tui beer and offered cheap rooms was enough to persuade all of us students to weather the storm.

As it turned out, we managed to ride between the tendrils of rain and miraculously enough did not actually get wet. Nevertheless, it felt amazing to reach the cost and look out over the bay to a peach-trifle sunset and the silhouette of Mt Taranaki dominating the skyline like a giant nipple. (That description is in no way poetic enough to do the sight justice, but it was nevertheless the first analogy that popped into my head as I gazed out at the mountain’s impression against the last light of day). After picking up staple food of fish and chips we made our way to the Awakino pub to wash it all down with a well-deserved drink. I had never actually been in a rural pub like this before, let alone stayed in one, and it was a most enlightening experience. The brown floral carpet and gauzy net curtains made it feel like we were in a grandmother’s living room. A grandmother with a massive LCD TV screen mounted on the wall and with a penchant for hunting boars, that is. Lined up above the bar were no fewer than 6 boar’s heads, proudly displayed alongside a plaque that named winners of the yearly hunting competition. Of course Danae and I had to pose…

We stayed the night in the guest rooms of the pub before meandering our way down to Hawera to rescue Brown Fury, which was in fact the intended purpose of our trip. Brown Fury is Andrew’s wee H100 that spat the dummy after the Bikoi when Andrew decided to draft behind a milk truck and test the accuracy of his red line. Apparently the bike did not think much of that idea and promptly destroyed a piston. Two months after the fact, all parts had been sourced and Andrew assured us that it would take 20 minutes to get everything in order again. Unfortunately he had not reckoned on there being a plentiful supply of coffee in the kitchen of Action Suzuki. After three cups of the caffeine laden liquid, Andrew and Stephen finally got to work. Bike, check. Parts, check. Focus…. ooooooh, compressed air! At this point we lost Stephen for a good half hour). After locating various gaskets and extracting Andrew’s finger from the piston where it has mysteriously lodged itself, the bike was able to be reassembled. After another two cups of coffee and a bundle of hot chips from the Chinese place down the road, we were back on the road towards sausages, Shakespeare and the legendary Forgotten Highway…

(To Be Continued)