Grand Challenge virgins no longer: Part 2
Waiting for the call to mount up and depart was one of the hardest parts of the day. By this stage everybody was largely kitted out in a variety of wet weather gear and waiting in the camping ground dining hall for Lee’s briefing (entertaining and informative) and for his call to go.
At 3:30pm we were off out into the rain and away.
It positively persisted down until the Desert Road summit, where the rain stopped leaving high overcast.
Our first gas stop was at Taihape, to avoid gassing with the pack at the Mangaweka checkpoint.
We hadn’t ridden the Rangiwahia road before and will do so again sometime. There were still a few spits around and a building southerly. At this stage we were in a convoy comprising a couple of Dynaglides and a Goldwing. As this was an unfamiliar road, we were happy for these guys to set a good pace through this very windy and hilly ride. There were numerous washouts from recent floods and all manner of shit on the road.
The road straightened out from Kimbolton, shortly after which the pace quickened for the run through to Ashurst. After some brief confusion and conversations with a couple of locals, we found the Saddle Road, crossed the Bailey Bridge and rode up through the new windmill farm. Again, we will return another day to marvel at this feat of engineering. This road was a mess, thanks to a combination of flood damage and heavy traffic transporting windmill components.
Our second gas stop was at Woodville. Mrs H’s Marauder was our rate-limiting step. A 13 litre tank meant that gas stops at about 180km intervals would be required.
Heading south from Woodville, the southerly was becoming increasingly fierce. In some of the cuttings on the Pongaroa-Weber loop it was positively frightening. This is another great winding road for bikers. It would be highly enjoyable in better weather. From Pongaroa, the daylight started to fade. The red sunset from Weber to Dannevirke was gorgeous, although such was the ferocity of the crosswind, eyes on the darkening road was the priority.
We stopped and replenished at the Dannevirke checkpoint. The assembled bikers were in good heart and looking forward to the night stage.
The wind was behind us from here northwards, dropping steadily as we rode to become almost non-existent by Tikokino. The sky was resplendent with stars, and our threesome followed two other riders who set a brisk pace to Napier.
We replenished at Napier at about 10:00pm. The night was warm and calm. We were in good spirits.
From here to Wairoa we had the road to ourselves. All other traffic seemed to have called it quits, in fact from the pulp mill at Whirinaki we met no other vehicles anywhere!
We replenished again at Wairoa at about 11:30pm. Like Napier, the weather was calm and warm.
Shortly after leaving town, a bunch of other riders caught up with us and we with another couple ahead. Mrs H was leading our threesome at this stage. Shortly after Morere most of the bunch decided that they could take the windy bits quicker than us, so moved away. Steve on his Harley stay astern until Ormond.
This leg from Wairoa to Opotiki was the longest stage without gas – about 230km, although there were 24-hour stations in Gisborne, if you wanted to divert. We didn’t take the Gisborne option, trusting to back our previous experience with Mrs H’s Marauder’s economy (predicted reserve at 220km) to see us right.
The night was still perfect for riding as we passed Gisborne. The stars were still out, it was calm and warm. However, by Te Karaka, we encountered a few spits. By Otoko this had become steady drizzle. As we ascended the Uruweras to Matawai, the rain became heavier and the temperature plummeted.
If the ride from Queenstown to Glenorchy is “Died and gone to motorcycle heaven”, then our descent through the tortuously windy and unfamiliar Waioeka Gorge, in a monsoon at sub-zero temperatures in the middle of the night could be described as “Died and gone to motorcycle hell”.
A rider in a bunch ahead of us had collected a rock on this stage, losing his bike down a ravine and knocking himself out in the process. He spent the night under observation in Opotiki hospital.
It was like Groundhog Day. At one stage I thought my trip meter was bust, due to the length of time it spent on 184km. I cheered out loud when 185 eventually ticked over.
There are no such things as waterproof motorcycle gloves. Harumph!
We replenished in Opotiki. Me and my companions were cold, damp (in differing places) and cranky. It was about 2:30am. The petrol station owners would only accept forward purchases, so you had to buy your gas before you pumped it. Very trusting!
The troops were distinctly under-fizzed and meandered through to Rotorua, despite the quality of the roads and the dissipating rain. We had ridden this stretch before, so were familiar with its layout and quirks.
Further replenishment was had a Rotorua. Unique amongst my companions, I had until this stage abstained from caffeinated beverages. However I was now more than ready for something hot and steaming. My usually reliable Alpinestars gloves were sodden, holding about 2kg of dampness each. However the rest of my gear (bless you, Mr Technics and Herr Daytona) was holding up well.
From this point in our journey we added Volusia Glenn to our whanau. Darrel was still with us, but contemplating baling out back to Turangi.
It was about 5:00am. The birds were up and singing but it was still dark.
The sky started to lighten as we headed for Upper Atiamuri and there was daylight by which to see as we reached the Waikato river dam at Whakamaru. Immediately after this we ran through a small patch of fog.
From the Mangakino turnoff we had some great views of the new morning across the King Country countryside.
A feature of this ride so far had been the good signposting of various hazards, such as washouts and road works. However one patch of gravel, leading into a descending sharpish right-hander prior to Benneydale caused some palpitations to be had! No harm done.
At Benneydale we encountered pea-soup fog, which plagued our ride right through to Te Kuiti. Those of us who wear prescription eyeware don’t have the luxury of being able to ride visor-up through fog. Much left-index-finger-wiping was done over this stage. Fog also has a permeating cold dampness about it that did little for the humour of our band of bikers.
Ascending the hill out of Te Kuiti, the day was magnificent! The odd patch of high cloud but mostly blue skies did we see. No wind. Yee haa! There was the odd patch of fog through to the Awakino Gorge and then again between Tongaporutu and Mt Messenger. From there Taranaki turned on a beautiful day for us.
We rode through New Plymouth, replenishing at Spotswood. The comparatively short run down the coast to Opunake was a joy. The sunlit countryside was at its springtime best. Even vast swathes of cowshit on the road could not detract from my enjoyment.
There was a large group of riders at the Opunake checkpoint, including fellow Kbers Mangell and MathewT. It was a pleasure to feel the sun on your back as you waited for your turn to pee. Such are life’s small pleasures!
It was now about 11:30am.
After a family conference (Darrel was still with us, as was Volusia Glenn), we decided to have a longish stop in New Plymouth and have some brunch at a café. This was a great idea, as a bit of physical tiredness was now starting to kick in. The choice of café was accidental but inspired. The food and service were marvellous, and our spirits were invigorated.
However we were now going to have to hoof it back to Turangi if we were to make our 3:30pm deadline (we left New Plymouth shortly after 1:00pm).
Our next gas stop was at Awakino and I had to get off the bike to straighten my knees at Taumarunui. There was little slow traffic through this section and the day was warm and sunny, the road dry and clean.
Highway 41 is a joy. The Taumarunui to Kuratau Junction stage was new to us, but held few fears with its wonderful ascending and descending corners. We had ridden the last section before and I was looking forward immensely to some fast corners on the return to Turangi. I was not disappointed.
We made our date with destiny and were rewarded with certificates and badges. We had "climbed our Everest" and were no longer Grand Challenge virgins! Darrel, who was still with us, had the satisfaction of knowing he had done the distance in the time but had no formal recognition of this.
A lot of riders who had arrived earlier were either sleeping or had left for home. But we had a chat to some of the Rustys and some other later arrivals.
After a beer, we returned to our motel. At this stage the adrenalin stopped and the tiredness arrived. Mind numbing jet lag-like tiredness. We had a soak in the motel’s spa and long hot showers before hobbling into town for some dinner (my right knee was killing me).
My last words to Mrs H were “If I go face-down in my dinner, please don’t let me drown!”
Would we do it all again? Probably!
Many thanks to the Rustys for your organisational skills and general good humour.
To the many riders we met on this event – you’re the best! It was a privilege to ride with you. We learned heaps and will be better riders from this experience. We hope to see you on the road sometime – if not at another Grand Challenge…
"Standing on your mother's corpse you told me that you'd wait forever." [Bryan Adams: Summer of 69]
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Originally Posted by firestormer
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