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Thread: All Unpacked. Part 1

  1. #1
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    All Unpacked. Part 1

    If anyone is feeling a bit stressed, or has been working too hard, the only solution I can recommend is a bloody good motorcycle ride with some good friends, magnificent South Island scenery, and some challenging conditions. All of those things are guaranteed to focus the mind on one thing at a time to the exclusion of all the little diamond-hard annoyances, troubles, and downright aggro that grinds you down slowly and surely.

    I cleaned the bike on Wednesday night in preparation for the trip, and made sure that everything was kosher with the bike. I even left work on time to make sure I had some daylight to do it in. So everyone has me to thank for last week's southerly.

    I rode to work on Thursday, and discovered that 200gms of Snowseal does indeed make your boots and gloves waterproof. I also got the bike bloody filthy in the process. News reports filtered in through Thursday about 7-8 metre swells in the straight, and then the Aratere dropped a couple of valves or something and got stuck outside the Wellington harbour heads for 8 hours. Nice. Also nice how Tranzrail (Toll - whatever) offered people free food during their ordeal. Like they were ever going to lose much on that offer!

    Thankfully it wasn't raining on Friday morning and I met up with Mangell6 and his Wife (capital "W" - if you've ever met her you'd know why) in Petone and beetled eagerly off to the Ferry terminal. Our "Original Plan" (tm) had been to head for the Blackball Hilton just inland from Greymouth, but the weather had thrown the ferry sailing times into chaos. We met the rest of the team at the ferry terminal, discussed our plans and then revised them to limit the trip to the Nelson/Golden Bay area.

    The group of people I was going on this trip with requires a little bit of explanation. The group was comprised of people belonging to the DSWMC club, a group of people who have been associated with the Dept. of Social Welfare at some point or other, either directly or by association with current members. I've been associated with the club for coming up to 3 years, but I STILL don't know if I am a full member yet, even though I have been hit in the head with a pink handbag full of rocks. Long story.

    After a long and protracted planning process the participants for the DSWMC MOSS (Made Of Sterner Stuff) run part 2, were whittled down to 6 plus a friend of mine who begged to be included. I was quite happy for this to happen because it subtly altered the group dynamic in my favour. Someone else gets to be the dumb newbie. Excellent (Said in best Montgomeray Burns voice, including tapping fingertips together).

    Our little group comprised: Madam P (P for President) on a Suzuki GSX600F, Mooch, Madam P's executive assistant and husband on a Ducati 748 (Mooch thoroughly and utterly refutes Darwin's theory of evolution - he is so utterly unadapted to a Ducati 748's riding position as to defy the reasonable bounds of perceptive logic); Steve "Gadget Man" on a Honda ST1100 fitted with external temperature sensors, a Palm Pilot with geographic, tide, and weather software; Paul (who became "Snuffles" as the trip progressed), a friend of mine with a CBR600F3, a wicked sense of humour; and almost no good judgement at all; Mangell6 on his FZ1, almost bereft of luggage - one brings one's Wife (referred to as "Effel" for some reason long lost in the annals of DSWMC history) on her BMWF650GS with the biggest damn pack I have ever seen on a bike to carry luggage; and me on the TRX.

    It got a bit boring waiting for the ferry and a bored Paul is a bad thing. Paul had been fretting about buying a new helmet and had been unable to secure financial backing from his Gruppenfuhrer, errr wife, for a new helmet despite complaining about buffeting, noise, and a general lack of comfort. So he left the terminal, headed to Sawyers and bought a brand new Nolan N100E on the eve of departure on probably the longest and most difficult ride he's been on. While Paul was away, another Paul (Paul in NZ, a fellow KBer) popped in to gloat about the weather. I rather suspect he was jealous.

    Madam P rearranged the accomodation just prior to our boarding call. No one felt that the risk of riding on ice and gravel in the dark was really worth it, so we added a night to our stay at the Barnstay, 5 minutes out of Motueka. There were many reasons to be thankful for that decision.

    The ferry crossing turned out to be an anti-climax. The first pictures attached below show a fairly mild 1-2 metre swell that was enough for the odd lurch and sway, but not enough to put anyone off their oats. I must say that the ferry food has improved tremendously in the 5 years or so since I last went on the ferry, some of it actually could be called healthy!

    Sometimes in the North Island we get this odd idea that we know what cold is. My current riding gear is good enough to keep out the rain and cold of a Wellington southerly, but thanks to some stern advice from some of the elders of the DSWMC, I bought a couple of sets of thermals, thermal socks, and wool socks, and a balaclava to help seal the neck area of my jacket. The late afternoon jaunt through Picton and Blenheim, and on through the Wairau valley and Havelock got progressively cooler. Wiser heads who had done trips at this time of year eschewed the Queen Charlotte Sound route as it didn't get much Sun this time of year. I have to admit to being a bit bemused by all the grunting and nodding from previous mid-Winter South Island jaunt participants. By the time we got to Pelorus Bridge, and experienced ice and grit for the first time, plus bone-chilling cold in my feet I was really, really pleased we weren't heading to the Blackball that day.


    More to follow....
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    If a man is alone in the woods and there isn't a woke Hollywood around to call him racist, is he still white?



  2. #2
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    Great write-up so far Jim2 (I'm shivering already!!) - looking forward to Part 2.

    Being frustrated is disagreeable.

    But the real disasters in life begin when you get what you want.

  3. #3
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    Quote Originally Posted by Jim2
    Mangell6 on his FZ1, almost bereft of luggage - one brings one's Wife (referred to as "Effel" for some reason long lost in the annals of DSWMC history) on her BMWF650GS with the biggest damn pack I have ever seen on a bike to carry luggage; and me on the TRX.
    Effel = F.L. = First Lady (from when Mike was President)

    I'm sure there's more back-story to it than that but that's the comdensed version.
    Matt Thompson

  4. #4
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    Ah, a good old-fashioned serial. Eagerly awaiting part 2.
    "Standing on your mother's corpse you told me that you'd wait forever." [Bryan Adams: Summer of 69]

  5. #5
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    Quote Originally Posted by matthewt
    Effel = F.L. = First Lady (from when Mike was President)

    I'm sure there's more back-story to it than that but that's the comdensed version.
    Almost as good as Potus and Flotus (President of the United States, and First Lady of the US).
    "Standing on your mother's corpse you told me that you'd wait forever." [Bryan Adams: Summer of 69]

  6. #6
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    Quote Originally Posted by Hitcher
    Ah, a good old-fashioned serial. Eagerly awaiting part 2.
    ... and pictures.
    ... and that's what I think.

    Or summat.


    Or maybe not...

    Dunno really....


  7. #7
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    Great stuff, cracker of a write up!

  8. #8
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    Excelent write up so far! I can't see the pics though b/c you've designated them as 'R Rated'...what sort of a riding trip was this exactly!
    My goal in life is to be as good a person as my dog already thinks I am.

  9. #9
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    I was NOT jealous....

    Well... Not very ....

    Paul N

  10. #10
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    Quote Originally Posted by Celtic_Sea_lily
    Excelent write up so far! I can't see the pics though b/c you've designated them as 'R Rated'...what sort of a riding trip was this exactly!
    Fixed. Issue caused by typing with nose.
    If a man is alone in the woods and there isn't a woke Hollywood around to call him racist, is he still white?



  11. #11
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    Excellent stuff Jim.

    Looking forward to the next issue..
    And I to my motorcycle parked like the soul of the junkyard. Restored, a bicycle fleshed with power, and tore off. Up Highway 106 continually drunk on the wind in my mouth. Wringing the handlebar for speed, wild to be wreckage forever.

    - James Dickey, Cherrylog Road.

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