It's cold, bloody cold, and the sky hangs heavy overhead like a slate coffin lid. Turn your face to the low skudding clouds and the occasional light shower dusts your skin like dirt seeping through the cracks of a casket. The wind is just cruel, stealing through layers of clothing and flesh to wrap icy fingers around your bones and chill your marrow. It's one of those grim funereal type days, which is fitting because a funeral is what led to me standing trackside at Ruapuna last Friday, 500km's and a ferry ride from home.
A friend of ours, Claire, had been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease a few years back, but a fortnight ago we got the call to say she'd chosen to go out on her own terms with dignity intact before her crumbling body completely betrayed her. So a trip to Golden Bay was in order and options discussed. We'd never been beyond Nelson, and being beautiful part of NZ we decided it was a great opportunity to spend a few days with her family (who are like our family) and explore another slice of our paradise. So while over that awkward/expensive bit of water and with Andy Stewart mentioning that a great weekend of racing was coming up at Ruapuna, things to pick up and drop off along the way, it seemed crazy not to chuck the bike trailer on the back and keep heading South while my better half flew back across the creek.
First things first, the funeral. My apologies for this bizarre tangent but it turned into quite an inspirational experience. Claire was diagnosed with that bastard disease while nursing her husband John through the last stages of lung cancer. She actually received her diagnosis the same day they found out John wasn't just battling cancer, he was dying from it, so just NOT FUKN FAIR! Two clean living outdoors types who had squeezed more life out their few allotted days than most people could wring out of several lifetimes. From assembling the shields and placards for the anti-Apartheid campaign during the Springbok tour on their Wellington flat lounge room floor, to sailing the world in a yacht they'd bought incomplete and fitted out themselves, to designing and actually building their own home (amazing what you can achieve with sweat equity rather than money), to being DOC rangers living/working on Stevens Island in the Marlborough Sounds, several Summer's in Antarctica etc etc. Just incredible people with an insatiable thirst for life and adventure.
The photo's papering the walls of the small country hall where the service was held (organized by Claire beforehand, along with her own eulogy, and the crematorium etc etc, she was nothing if not organized) had people alternately fluttering hands at teary eyes, shaking heir heads in amazement, and giggling behind covered mouths. A nice motorcycling touch was when John and Claire sealed their commitment to each other: apparently Claire, a young student teacher at the time, had problems with her old Honda 350 Four. Claire being Claire would turn her hand to anything and filled with enthusiasm but a little lacking in skills pulled it down to boxes of bits in an effort to fix it before taking off for another semester at teacher's college. So next break, when John picked her up from the bus station on the repaired and reassembled 350 Claire knew she was looking at a good thing and the deal was done for the next 30-something years.
Claire and John being who they were and doing the things they did also attracted like minded people and the stories of exploring the Heaphy and just about every other NZ track, Antarctica, India etc had me and a few others wondering what the hell we'd done with our own lives. After bad childhood experiences they were devoutly non-religious but somehow the service was all the more meaningful because of it, displaying a reverence for nature, dedication to conservation and a yearning to explore the real world that anyone could relate too .
RIP Claire, gone too young at age 59.
So after some time with "family" it was off to explore the North West of the South Island. The weather wasn't initially kind (those torrential downpours that flooded parts of Welly etc were the day of the funeral) but cleared along the way. What can I say but holy snapping' duckshit that is an awesome corner of NZ. From the surf sculptured Wharariki Cliffs at Farewell Spit to climbing over the Takaka Hill and looking over your shoulder at the landscape below, I don't mean "over there and down a bit" down I mean "face pressed against the glass looking down past the door handle" type down, just spectacular. Then across that alien semi-alpine plateau with the melted looking rocks, and the amazing vista of the Takaka delta unfolding before you on the other side. Did I mention the distillery in Takaka? The gin is pretty good, far more botanicals than Bombay Sapphire etc, but the Murderer's Bay (FYI, the original name for Golden Bay) Golden Rum is even better, definitely my cup o' tea.
And Kaiteriteri is just a hidden gem, with Split Apple Bay the glistening kernel within it. We scored a night at Split Apple Lodge, off-peak rates were virtually half price and we had the whole place to ourselves, spoilt rotten to the point of feeling apologetic we had paid so little for it. Amazing place I can't recommend highly enough, with views, tranquility, food and service to die for, thanks Bert.
All the same, come Thursday we were both keen to head home, which my missus did while I reluctantly headed South. Reluctant? Yeah, after working away I enjoy my time at home just chillin' with the animals and pottering away, so I would have been quite happy to head back, plus it's been a few months since my last race back in early January so I'm feeling a little nervous not quite knowing what I'm in for with the CAMS and BEAR's meetings lined up. But having seen what Claire and John wrung out of life I'm not gonna wuss out know and head on down. And that's how I found myself shivering trackside at Ruapuna, wondering what the hell I'd done: who needs to go to Antarctica when Antarctica will come to a racetrack near you!
The good news was that the forecast was for clearing weather, which it slowly did. So the good folks at Powerbuilt Ruapuna Raceway showed some heart for the few pitiful souls peering through the wire mesh of the wind tunnel (garage) and let us off with only $40 for a half day when we finally found the cold shrunk balls to head out on track well after lunch. I'd been here before on the GSXR but never on the lil' red tractor (749R) so it was good to start clearing some cobwebs, and get a bit of a handle on gearing etc. I had instructions from Andy that I should be there for 8am Saturday to sign up for CAMS which seemed a bit rude, so I was relieved to get the heads-up from one of the other guys that there was an AGM in the morning and racing wouldn't start 'til lunchtime, rock up 'round 10am: bewdy, that'll be a lie in for me!
Turns out I shoulda bloody listened to Andy, I got there just in time to miss Moderns practice! But Andy being a good bugger dropped everything (had his hands full sorting his newly rebuilt bike) to have a chat with the powers that be and they were equally good buggers, happy to let me sign on late with nary a grumble and I handed over the princely sum of $60 to get myself 3 x 6 lap races at the best track in the country: WOOHOO!
There's no timing, no qualifying, just all in grid-up where ever the hell you like, which suited me just fine, I'm happy as a clam just starting somewhere near the back and seeing what happens.
So I'm finally set up, settled in and have a few minutes to kill so I go off for a wander amongst what turn out to be a paddock liberally sprinkled with amazing bikes. There's just all sorts, from an early TZ350 that sounds impossibly crisp (loud!), like you can hear every single oxygen molecule being shredded as it fires, to a "new" Manx Norton in far better condition than anything that came out of the original factory, to a very nice unrestored CB1100R complete with the period Pipeline exhaust that used to perk up my school boy ears. I'm not really into the whole Pommy parallel twin thing, but you couldn't help but love the old Bonneville that looked like it had been built in a medieval foundry, sporting untold war wounds and a patina of age that can't be faked. The "hand forged" HD XR750 type high pipes finished it perfectly. I also discovered that a BSA Rocket 3 is a very sexy thing indeed when it fires up! Just so many cool bikes, being used as they should be, and so many people with smiles on their faces. Great weather too and if you followed the sun you could just stay warm enough.
So I just grid up somewhere near the back and remarkably given the free for all gridding, all the racers show the most common sense I've seen at a track in ages, lining up roughly as you'd hope for given the huge variety of bikes, well done you boys. The flag drops and I have a ball threading my way through the field. 6 laps doesn't seem like much but 'round Ruapuna with a field of liquorice allsorts it seems like a good distance, enough time to have a good play, not a mad scramble and not enough time to spread out too much. I have no idea where I finished, maybe top 5? Don't really care, was just great fun.
Pretty much the same for the other two races, might have done a lil' better but I just enjoyed chasing down some of the bigger bikes. Overall good experience on the wee tractor, finding a few things to work on now, and some for next time as I didn't quite have the right gearing available once I started finding a bit of a groove.
Sunday for BEAR's was supposed to be fine by the forecast…..but they didn't say how fine. Frikkin' O for orsum is more like it, only betterer gooderer! Just a classic Autumn Southern day, where the metallic blue sky seems so much bigger than anything up North. And warm? Sheesh, from chasing the sun on Saturday I was hiding from it on Sunday, just a glorious day.
This time I'm there plenty early, which is no great claim to fame 'cos racing doesn't start 'til lunchtime. Lunchtime? Yep, means only paying for a half day, so I'm up for the grand total of $40 for 1 x 5min practice, 2 x F1 and 2 x Moto Euro races, all 4 lap sprints, all crammed into one afternoon. Same deal as CAMS, no timing, no qualifying, so I can imagine if you are there for the whole championship that warm up lap would basically be an extra 1 lap dash as folks try to get the front row. But with 6 bikes wide there is plenty of room, and with the long drag to the first corner it isn't the rolling maul you expect at turn 1. Needless to say the 4 lap races are like an espresso coffee, short and fukn intense!
Same again, I'm happy to stay out of everyone's way on the start line and scope things out for the first race. Great fun in F1, working my way forward and scrapping with an S1000RR and basically snookered until we take turns floundering our way 'round the oil and cement dust strewn hairpin until on the last lap I fluke a better line then skedaddle making just enough of a gap so he can't monster me on the run to the checkered flag. Given that the Moto Euro field is dominated by the same bikes as the F1 field there are no shortages of challenges through the afternoon. I seem to find myself trailing home the same stunning 999 Duc from AB's in Nelson each time, getting done for hp and making it up elsewhere but never quite enough to get by. Late in the day and hearing Andy's 675 behind me I prove that no good deed should go unpunished: I stay well wide round the sweeper thinking Andy can go inside and show me the way past that mongrel 999….only Andy was already wide looking for a good run onto the front straight, and I'd pushed him even wider onto the dirty stuff. Sorry 'bout the strained clacker muscle mate!
All in all just a brilliant weekend of no pressure fun where folks seemed to be smiling both on and off the track. Don't get me wrong, many people were obviously trying hard, there's a championship involved after all, but it was refreshing to see folks racing with the big head in charge, not the little head. There may have been more but I only saw one crashed bike and heard of another, both minor and both understandably at the oil soaked hairpin, and there wasn't a single hold up either day worth mentioning.
Thanks heaps to the great bunch of people at Canterbury CAMS and BEAR's, and to Andy Stewart for the invite, I had an absolute blast. Sorry for not mentioning all the great people I met by name, every second person seemed to be called Rob and I just know I'm gonna cock up the names, but you all made a random blow in feel very welcome.
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Originally Posted by Dreama
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