NZ Motorcycling Atlas Test (Part 1)

[vifferman]

We tested this most excellent publication on the weekend. Yesterday was our wedding aniversary, so the vifferbabe suggested we go away for the weekend. So we did, leaving the Three Troglodytes to fend for themselves.

We loaded up the VifFerraRi with minimal luggage (a change of clothes, swimming things, and that's about all), and set off at 10AM on Saturday, just late enough for the fog to have burnt off and the temperature to be in the teens. A shortish drone down the Southern motorway to the Mt Wellington highway, off through Whitford, Maraetai, Kawakawa Bay, etc. What a cracking day! Clear, sunny, the tide was right in, the traffic was light (apart from several gaggles of cyclists east of Clevedon), and life was very, very good.
A couple of repli-racers (an R1 and ZX10?) scared the crap out of us just out of Clevedon, screaming past at getting on for twice the speedlimit. Not a sensible thing to do with all the cyclists around there. Keep your racing for the track, boys.

This was the first time I'd ridden two-up for a long time (since last year?) and I was riding so crappily through the wigglies south of Kawakawa Bay that the vifferbabe commented on how strange the bike felt. The problem was I was being too careful in the corners, not looking through the turns, not keeping the revs up, and everytime I backed off the throttle the EFI went to sleep.

We stopped at Miranda hot pools for a soak (parboiling??) in a tub, which was great for my left leg, but which made us rather damp. There was little ventilation in the spa pool room, so it was rather warm and steamy. Once we eventually struggled back into our gear, the extra airflow through my now open vents cooled me down fairly quickly.

We stopped at Sola in Thames, enjoyed an excellent late lunch (pizza and salad for me, frittata and salad for m'lady) and coffees. Our inner creatures sated, we set off once again. I figured I had enough petrol, and because our route through Thames' town centre bypassed the petrol purveyors, I couldn't be bothered doubling back.

This was the very first time I had ridden the road to Coromandel - what an amazing experience! (once I put the few cars behind us, where they belonged). It was a little tricky to keep from diving into the tide while admiring the stunning views, but we managed to keep the bike on the road.
Peter Mitchell describes it thusly:
Bay after bay, corner after corner, the route follows the sea until Kereta when it begins to climb inland providing splendid views over the Firth of Thames to Coromandel.

The earlier problems with cornering had evaporated, so the bike and rider both had a good workout, especially over the hill towards Coromandel town. All too soon we arrived, although as the flashing blinkie bar thingo (technical term) had been nagging me for quite a few miles, it was a relief to see a service station again (although my wallet said otherwise, at nearly $1.80/litre for Regular!)

So off we went to track down Blackbird's home away from home. Eventually I gave up on my patchy memory of where I thought he'd said it was, and pulled his directions from my pocket. Ah yes - a piece of cake to find, and a couple of minutes later, we saw him leaping around on his driveway and beckoning us towards a parking place next to his own shiny blue steed. In short measure, the introductions were completed, we were welcomed as old friends, and admiring the view from the deck while enjoying afternoon tea.

To be continued...

[vifferman]

So where was I? Oh yes - sitting on Blackbird's deck, admiring the view of the incoming tide, enjoying choccie biscuits, and swapping tall stories and true, from our legendary pasts....

The vifferbabe had intended for us to travel over the hill to stay the night at Whitianga, but unfortunately Blackbird and I were talking so much that it was getting a bit late for that. (As it turned out, this was a Good Thing )
So, we reluctantly declined sharing fish'n'chips but gratefully accepted the generous offer of a bottle of wine, climbed on our bug-splattered steed (how come the Blackbird was so clean'n'shiny?) and headed back towards town.

On the way, we'd passed the Anchor Lodge, so we returned there to see if they had any rooms. As it happened, they had only one left, and the proprietoress showed us to the "front unit" which turned out to be a lovely, fully-equipped two-storey townhouse with beds for six, a proper kitchen, and two bathrooms. A bit of an overkill, but we weren't complaining, especially when we discovered the queen-sized be upstairs had a lovely view of the sea. The motelier offered to store the VifFerraRi in her gargre (although she called it a 'garage'), and I willingly accepted.

After exploring the house, admiring the view for a while from the bed, we both had nice hot showers then donned 'proper clothes' from the few items we brought, and walked a couple of minutes up the road to a local restaurant, where we enjoyed a delightful $25/head buffet dinner which was perfectly accompanied by Blackbird's fine sauvignon blanc.

Sunday dawned disturbingly cloudy for a 'fine' day, but at least it was still and warm. Near the Anchor Lodge was a path which offered a choice of a 45-minute walk, or a 15-minute one, so we headed off uphill on the shorter ramble, arriving slightly warm but by no means exhausted at the top of an old pa site, which afforded magnificent panoramic views of the surrounding scenery. After some discussion, we spied Blackbird's house, and waved vigorously to him, but without binoculars it was difficult to see if he returned our greetings. Behind us, I could see the "slash in the hill' that Blackbird said marked the next stage of our journey, which I was somewhat anxiously looking foward to, as I eyed the glowering cloud cover above it.

We tramped back down the hill with rather more alacrity than the journey up, passing a rather friendly local going the other way (as it turned out, heading off on the 45-minute walk). Perhaps she had some gardening to do...

A couple of fresh apple turnovers from the nearby bakery, and some freshly plunged coffee from the motel, and we were set for a quick breakfast. Yum.

All packed up, we girded our loins and other bits, retrieved the bike from the motelperson's gargre (now reverted to being a motel storage room), and we were off.

What a road! Some many corners so soon! So little traffic! Views? Pah! We don't have time for no steekin' views! (Well... maybe just the odd glance or two...)
Peter Mitchell calls the Coromandel Peninsula "Mecca for motorcyclists" and gives the area 5 smilies, but his description of the road is somewhat terse, and belies the true brilliance of it as a wonderful biking experience:
The usual SH25 motorcycling route climbs steeply into the hills high above Coromandel on a selaed road before descending through tight twists and hairpins to Te Rerenga and Kuaotunu, the south to Whitianga.

That's a bit like saying, "Yeah - it's not a bad road." It's brilliant! Even with nearly 200kg of people and crap on it, the VFR was just so much fun, and there was almost no traffic at all! I think we saw about six cars between Coromandel and Whitianga. Even so, I kept it mostly legal, apart from one brief spurt where the VifFerraRi's speedo said 100mph (but it was lying).

In Whitianga, we stopped at Cafe Coghill House (highly recommended) for a leisurely coffee, french toast and fresh fruit, before asking the waitperson for help. "Yes - can I help you?"
"Um... I need someone to tell me where to go."
"Ha ha... I'll ignore that opportunity to be bad, and assume you want directions?"
"Yes please."
Yes, folks - despite assuring the vifferbabe I had "sussed out the route, so I don't need it", I'd left the Atlas behind, and it would've been useful about now...
However, as expected, local knowledge helped heaps, and we were soon "told where to go".

To be continued some more (unless someone advises me to shut the hell up! ...

[Hitcher]

Isn't this what life is supposed to be all about?

[Biff]

Great write up Viffer - please keep them coming.

[Yokai]

Man - that sounds awesome Viff... Next time you are heading down that way, if you are looking for a place to stay as a base to explore the loop and spend more time around - check www.estuary.co.nz - nice place, nice people too!

(shameless plug over now)

[Sniper]

More more please!

[vifferman]

[Must stick a note in here: I was thinking while I was "descending through tight twists and hairpins" how absolutely amazing an experience that was. Motorcycling nirvana. Corner after corner marked at 25km/h, and ridden in first and second gear. Wonderful, just wonderful. Anyway - on with the saga]

Woohoo! More corners. Not quite as twisty as before but sweepers can be just as much fun, and have the advantage that the vanishing point is further away, and you can see what's coming up. The odd bit of peeling road surface, but once again traffic wasn't heavy, so there was room to move around and avoid the bits noticed in advance.
The vifferbabe noticed the sign going to HotWater Beach, so after a brief discussion, we turned around and turned off. Eighteen kilometres return was hardly going to slow us down much. She declined my offer of a paddle in the sea, so once we'd "been there, done that" and noted with amusement the signs advertising "spade hire" we returned to the main road.

Peter Mitchell says:
After more delightful undulations and twists the road brings you to the towns of Tairua and Pauanui.
Yes, they were delightful, but this is another classic understatement. Our enjoyment was only slightly blunted by a series of trenches cut across the road, and by having to follow some small Toymotor through many of the "twists and undulations". Fortunately, while the car driver was travelling slightly slower than we would have preferred travel, it wasn't much slower, so we still greatly enjoyed the road. Can it get better? Why, yes - it can!

The route back to Thames via SH25A climbs through the Coromandel Forest Park ranges, providing beautiful riding, sweeping corners and impressive scenery.

More superlatives required, Peter! It is a 5-smilie road after all!
Shortly after leaving Tairua, while climbing higher through the hills, you pass through some stunning examples of New Zealand native bush. The sun feels gloriously warm on your back, and because you have eschewed earplugs in favour of an intercom headset, you can hear the growling of the Staintune as the bike climbs up the hill in sixth gear, and the buzz of the well-scuffed Bridgestones as they kiss the tarmac in the magnificently sweeping curves. A snick of the gearlever, and the car ahead is quickly dispatched before realising you're even there. Ahh... life is so good.

While it is somewhat unfortunate that we encounter a long line of cars just before the highest part of the road to Thames, it gives us more time to admire the scenery. We manage to sneak past a half-dozen or so before the culprit (a LandCruiser towing a boat) pulls over at the summit. However, this is where some serious twists and turns start, and the dense bush either side means that passing any more vehicles would be very ill-advised. So there we are: stuck behind three cars following some oaf in a Commodore who crawls through the curves, then speeds up to supra-legal velocities on the straighter bits.

Eventually we get past, but this cretin was the sole blight on an otherwise wonderful weekend. I was so busy looking for a way past him, that I forgot to enjoy the ride. Ooops...

Just past Thames we stop. I have notoriusly over-active kidneys (or a teeny-tiny bladder), so while I am draining the lizard, m'lady adjusts her ears or the headset, or summat. We are both comfortable again, and continue on our merry way, but not for long.
At Kaiaua, I'm thinking, "Man, the sun's bright. This visor's not as good as I thought it was!" Then it dawns on me - I'm about to have a migraine.
Nowadays, these no longer mean blinding headaches, just blinding. Visual disturbances, flashy light thingies (sort of like my fuel guage, heh heh) and maybe a dull ache in what used to be my brain. So, we pull over, and I stand in the sun (smart that) outside the Kaiaua takeaways while Karen queues for what seems like hours just to buy a drink (in hindsight, it would've been quicker to stop at the service station). I give up, and swallow a Neurophen dry.

Eventually, I get sick of waiting, and go in to queue with what seems like hordes of hot bikers buying greasies (or is that, "greasy bikers buying hotties"?). The vifferbabe is number two in the queue! Woohoo!
We return to the world, and sit in the shade under a willow tree and enjoy our drinks, while watching bikes go past or into the hotel carpark. The vifferbabe is very taken with the sound of a BoxerCup-replica BMW with underseat zorsts, and was ready to whip her chequebook out when a 2005 Sprint ST, gorgeous in blue, cruises past into the hotel carpark. I drag her over for a closer look - "Wouldn't that be rude, if that guy sees us looking at his bike?"
"No - he'll be most flattered. Guys like you admiring their bikes!"
As it is, just before we get there, he goes inside, so doesn't see my wife practically drooling on his bike. "I'd be quite happy if you traded our bike in on one of these!"
"Ah... the 2006 VFR comes out this month; I think I'll wait. Anyway - I like our bike!"
The trip back throught the winding roads to Clevedon was brilliant. Not only was there very little traffic, what there was pulled over for us! And unlike the trip the day before, this time I was looking through the corners (all that practice in the Coromandel), staying on the throttle, and the vifferbabe was snuggling close up behind me, centralising the mass. So much so, that the centrestand now has a bit of steel missing from the side where we dragged it on the road whilst cornering exuberantly just before Kawakawa.
The tyres are now somewhat cooked looking, so I think a set of Z6s will be spooned on before the next WOF check...

The ride from Clevedon-Papakura-home was, to be quite frank, crap. It's a shame that there aren't 5 or 6 kilometres of twisties just before home, because it was (literally) a pain droning our way homewards, and so we were glad to dismoutn from the faithful blue steed and shed our leather skins. Unfortunately, we didn't think ahead to get the Three Troglodytes to crank up the spa pool. It would've been rather pleasant to have reclined in the bubbles, sipping bubbles from a champagne flute, while listening to some tunes.
Instead, we did the dishes and the grocery shopping....

Now to plan the next adventure.

[vifferman]

If I own a peice of land, do I own it all the way down to the core of the earth?

Apparently not. Nor do you own the airspace above it. At least, not in NZ.

[kerryg]

So where was I? Oh yes - sitting on Blackbird's deck, admiring the view of the incoming tide, enjoying choccie biscuits, and swapping tall stories and true, from our legendary pasts....

The vifferbabe had intended for us to travel over the hill to stay the night at Whitianga, but unfortunately Blackbird and I were talking so much that it was getting a bit late for that. (As it turned out, this was a Good Thing )
So, we reluctantly declined sharing fish'n'chips but gratefully accepted the generous offer of a bottle of wine, climbed on our bug-splattered steed (how come the Blackbird was so clean'n'shiny?) and headed back towards town.

On the way, we'd passed the Anchor Lodge, so we returned there to see if they had any rooms. As it happened, they had only one left, and the proprietoress showed us to the "front unit" which turned out to be a lovely, fully-equipped two-storey townhouse with beds for six, a proper kitchen, and two bathrooms. A bit of an overkill, but we weren't complaining, especially when we discovered the queen-sized be upstairs had a lovely view of the sea. The motelier offered to store the VifFerraRi in her gargre (although she called it a 'garage'), and I willingly accepted.

After exploring the house, admiring the view for a while from the bed, we both had nice hot showers then donned 'proper clothes' from the few items we brought, and walked a couple of minutes up the road to a local restaurant, where we enjoyed a delightful $25/head buffet dinner which was perfectly accompanied by Blackbird's fine sauvignon blanc.

Sunday dawned disturbingly cloudy for a 'fine' day, but at least it was still and warm. Near the Anchor Lodge was a path which offered a choice of a 45-minute walk, or a 15-minute one, so we headed off uphill on the shorter ramble, arriving slightly warm but by no means exhausted at the top of an old pa site, which afforded magnificent panoramic views of the surrounding scenery. After some discussion, we spied Blackbird's house, and waved vigorously to him, but without binoculars it was difficult to see if he returned our greetings. Behind us, I could see the "slash in the hill' that Blackbird said marked the next stage of our journey, which I was somewhat anxiously looking foward to, as I eyed the glowering cloud cover above it.

We tramped back down the hill with rather more alacrity than the journey up, passing a rather friendly local going the other way (as it turned out, heading off on the 45-minute walk). Perhaps she had some gardening to do...

A couple of fresh apple turnovers from the nearby bakery, and some freshly plunged coffee from the motel, and we were set for a quick breakfast. Yum.

All packed up, we girded our loins and other bits, retrieved the bike from the motelperson's gargre (now reverted to being a motel storage room), and we were off.

What a road! Some many corners so soon! So little traffic! Views? Pah! We don't have time for no steekin' views! (Well... maybe just the odd glance or two...)
Peter Mitchell calls the Coromandel Peninsula "Mecca for motorcyclists" and gives the area 5 smilies, but his description of the road is somewhat terse, and belies the true brilliance of it as a wonderful biking experience:
The usual SH25 motorcycling route climbs steeply into the hills high above Coromandel on a selaed road before descending through tight twists and hairpins to Te Rerenga and Kuaotunu, the south to Whitianga.

That's a bit like saying, "Yeah - it's not a bad road." It's brilliant! Even with nearly 200kg of people and crap on it, the VFR was just so much fun, and there was almost no traffic at all! I think we saw about six cars between Coromandel and Whitianga. Even so, I kept it mostly legal, apart from one brief spurt where the VifFerraRi's speedo said 100mph (but it was lying).

In Whitianga, we stopped for a leisurely coffee, french toast and fresh fruit, before asking the waitperson for help. "Yes - can I help you?"
"Um... I need someone to tell me where to go."
"Ha ha... I'll ignore that opportunity to be bad, and assume you want directions?"
"Yes please."
Yes, folks - despite assuring the vifferbabe I had "sussed out the route, so I don't need it", I'd left the Atlas behind, and it would've been useful about now...
However, as expected, local knowledge helped heaps, and we were soon "told where to go".

To be continued some more (unless someone advises me to shut the hell up! ...

prick

[vifferman]

prick

You could've just said, "Shut the hell up!" then I wouldn't have punished you any more.

Anyways, I've paid for the weekend's motorcycling nirvana with hundreds of weekends of staying at home, working on the house, doing chores, gazing longingly at the lovely weather...

[kerryg]

As it is, just before we get there, he goes inside, so doesn't see my wife practically drooling on his bike. "I'd be quite happy if you traded our bike in on one of these!"

lucky lucky prick

[Lou Girardin]

Another Coromandel convert. Should we be called 'Loopys'?
BTW The Sprint has TORQUE, you'll like those after the VFR.

[vifferman]

Another Coromandel convert. Should we be called 'Loopys'?
BTW The Sprint has TORQUE, you'll like those after the VFR.

The funny thing, Lou, is that when she saw the silver Sprint you had at AMPS, she wasn't too impressed (she liked the Tuono better). I think it must be a colour thing, or maybe the sound + colour. Colour's important, y'know. I have to throw away a perfectly good screen and buy one "like Blackbird's" (a dark-tint Pyramid) because it "looks much nicer with the blue".

[Keystone19]

The funny thing, Lou, is that when she saw the silver Sprint you had at AMPS, she wasn't too impressed (she liked the Tuono better). I think it must be a colour thing, or maybe the sound + colour. Colour's important, y'know. I have to throw away a perfectly good screen and buy one "like Blackbird's" (a dark-tint Pyramid) because it "looks much nicer with the blue".

Ahh, a woman with her priorities in the right place. Of course colour is important...

[vifferman]

Ahh, a woman with her priorities in the right place. Of course colour is important...

Well.... now that I think about it, the reason we have the current bike is partly my fault. I've had three red bikes, and the blue one looked so purty....
Mind you, if it wasn't for the vifferbabe, we'd still be riding the FahrtSturm.

While we're talking about colour - sorry about the lack of photos. There were many, many photo ops, and we did have the camera with us (forgot the Atlas, and a few other crucial things because I did the packing...), but we were too busy having a good time to stop and take any.
My bad...
Perhaps I should do a repeat trip again soon, so I can make this a pictorial review?