Well you best come and introduce yourself to me as they did...KBers get good discounts on gear!Originally Posted by rachprice
Fully qualified Sifter.
Well you best come and introduce yourself to me as they did...KBers get good discounts on gear!
Fully qualified Sifter.
Hey man...great to meet you guys, and glad to hear you got home safely.Yes, you are correct mon cherie! We were meeting up with Crasherfromwayback after Trudes told us to go there. Gremlin needed some more oil for his Scottoiler and lo and behold, a used bottle is produced and topped off.
We were there for a short while - admiring the bikes and doing the yakkity yak! Ahh pity we missed you - but then again, Welly is my home stomping grounds and I'm always pootling down thataways!
Pete
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
Well, just finished mowing the lawns and was about to do some ditch digging, but the heat ... screw that!I ran out of HTFU pills.
I shall now be cleaning and washing and polishing and loving my Big Ol'Hornet and getting it spanky new again. It has a service booked in for next Tuesday, and I guess I better ride lil'ol'hornet to ensure I am not 3000km over the service interval again!
Will process piccies and do write up of the days I am missing from the trip!
I'm sure Gremlin will hate the expose I will be conducting in minute detail about him ...
I has keyboards, now the boot is on my foot!
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
Mallicious Little Gnome
Be very careful it doesnt finish up in your gob.
Nice to see you back in town Justin. Read the story of your travels with great delight.
Glad you enjoyed your brief visit to the city of my birth (where McJim resides). I havent been back the since 1977 and then only for labour weekend. One of my Aunties was up here for a holiday last week and she has insisted I come down to visit all the rellies. Sharron told her we will try and make it for this years Burt Munro rally. I'll have to practice that strange accent again.
Chris
"When you think of it,
Lifes a bowl of ....MERDE"
2 stroke-less no more!
Oh excellent, you work there? Hmmm had a wee look around, I need some new gloves and would also like kevlar jeans...but may have to wait a wee while till I get paid
Fully qualified Sifter.
Certainly do...been here for 15 years!
Come and see me before you buy anything. Even though I'm in bike sales, I'll help you beat up on the spares/acc staff!
Pete
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
Well after the last two weeks of touring the Mainland via two wheels of locomotion, I did a slow come down rather than an abrupt cold turkey of no riding.
Giving the Big Ol'Hornet a rest and onto the lil'ol'hornet! I can hear them both giving sighs of relief!
Pootled around the Hunuas, back block of Mercer, out to SH22, back around to Mercer and the Bombays and then back home.
Guess I should start typing up the missing days of reports and other whatnots ... but ... I feel like I still want to keep riding!
And ride again I shall tonight!There will be much posting and musings from me tonight later on!
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
Well the day was spent once again waiting for Gremlin to get up, this is now day 9 ... or the 9th of January and it seems the plan we each have to destroy the other is now in its final stages.
My compassion for his lack of sleep is sorely tested, but since I know that we aren't going anywhere fast I allow him his little refuge from the full on energy that is my lot in life.
It was most highly amusing when I told him that breakfast was waiting for him, he eventually gravitates to the kitchen with the speed of a snail stuck in tar and discovers that I have lied.
Muwhahahaha! The look on his face when he realised there was no delicious meal prepared by my hands was to be savoured. A lost, forlorn puppy-dog face before it is run over by a large truck. Most excellent
Before long, we are gearing up, aiming to reach Wanaka quickly so we can drop Angel off to her parked car from three days ago. The trip went quickly and Wanaka loomed after a most excellent ride through the soaring twisties and curves that characterises the SI.
The road vanishing beneath the wheels of our sure footed mounts was counterpointed with the illustrious company of the scenery. Russet browns and hues of green in all its myriad guises created a visual cacophony to our vision. I would occasionally tap Angel's left knee now and then to ensure that all was well with my precious cargo. Often, the grandeur and unfolding beauty of the land would take my breath away, snatched glances as corners beckoned their promise consumed my attention.
Gremlin smote those corners. He was master and champion of those lanes and with his KTM brooked no argument as they gave up their treasure to his Faustian handling of his ride. I watched as he glided past obstacles ... cagers and road hazards alike. He was breathtakingly arrogant and humble in repose as he despatched corner after corner with aplomb.
I was privileged to watch this paen of riding par excellence. Honoured I am to be a mere chronicler of this keen KBer, humble in his riding, but girt with steel in his demeanour when he is astride his chariot of war.
All the more galling and disappointing when later events in the evening transpired!
The time in Wanaka was spent in the lovely company of Angel and the unfortunate face of Gremlin, we walked a merry caper along the foreshore of the lake, we skipped stones and cheered as we made them dance. We winced as the use of muscles unuse to the skipping of stones made known! Angel had also left her cellphone in the casa of McJim and Chickadee. We made arrangements for this to be passed to Jantar via the tender mercies of NZ post!
Wanaka welcomed us with open arms, a magnificent lake ringed with the protective arms of hills and it's heights. Angel was dropped to her car and through her mistake of putting her gloves and forgetting them on my Big Ol'Hornet, when we rode away they dropped off and she had to stop her car and pick them up. When I looked back I saw her zipping off a road and thought she must have wanted to leave for her next rendezvous early! My mistake!As it turns out, she lost track of us and had to use her ingenuity to find our hostel! Sorted, she turned up when Gremlin and I had sorted out our stuff. We were hungry at this stage and wandered for lunch and found it in the form of pies, burgers and chips
Gremlin has already pontificated about the swings, the playground and our antics on equipment made for smaller beings than us (apart from Angel who was the right size for them!)
And now the crux of the report where Gremlin comes crashing to earth, like Icarus but lacking the trying bit. After Angel had impregnated herself with the bits of bark and dirty water and had to go shower (jokes made about webcams), I stumbled upon two lasses having dinner in the outside courtyard - a lovely conversation ensued after I was offered stuffed red baby peppers with goat's feta cheese.
"Where does a girl go in Wanaka to have a good time?" Egads! I rushed to Gremlin and dragged him out to discuss more of this!
Turns out she was working full time at Franz Josef as a hostel operator and this was her first weekend off in a year! She was entranced and mesmerised by the fact that Gremlin's dulcet voice had tinges of Yarpie (South African).
I watched and listened as they bantered. Ooer
Then I had to outright hit him with a barrage of pointed innuendo and sly intimations that the room would be free for several hours!This was a good wicket and the batting average would be high! So off I tootled with Angel in her car, I following at the first to ensure she got her driving skills out again. She drove well, but took us through the Crown Ranges (which she did not want to do, but twisties? Who was I to argue!) Fuel at this stage was an issue, but I knew that Frankton on the outskirts of Queenstown had ample supplies. We had some small spatterings of rain as Alexandra was reached. I had discharged my duty to Angel, but like a knight finishing a quest, I felt that there was still more to do.
The ride back to Wanaka saw the appearance of more wascally wabbits then you could shake a stick at. I hit and killed more wildlife in that trip then I have ever done in my time riding. At one stage I could smell something delicious cooking. Turns out it was rabbit cooking on the lower parts of my Big Ol'Hornets engine!
By the time I got to Wanaka and back to the room, I listened carefully to the door to see if antics and bedroom shenanigans were on the way. Nada. Zip. Bupkiss. I rustled up my room key and went in nosily in case I was wrong.
I was confronted with the spectacle of Gremlin abruptly poking his head out from under the covers, glances in my direction and promptly goes back to sleep. Aye caramba! The man is a riding legend, but when he steps out of his black scuffed leathers, he reverts to mild mannered IT geeknerd! :slap:
Oh well, by this stage, I shrugged my shoulders, got out of my insect plastered red cammies and slid into the soothing sheets of my bed.
Happy I was. Riding I did. More riding at night. And the prospect of more riding tomorrow. If Gremlin ever got up that is.
He looks so innocent, all I have to do is reach across and take my pillow and ... oops! Internal monologue at this point!
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
Well the opening gambit of the day was a ride out to Christchurch from Wanaka. This was a pleasant prospect as the proposed milage was around 460km. A start for me, but given the low milages I have done so far on this trip, I found it to be a giddy figure (Gremlin's plan to have me think this way was bearing fruit, to think I would be actually grateful to only ride 460km!)
The ride to Lake Tekapo was entrancing, the blue waters was like a drop of heaven, placed there by God. A small reminder that we are but mere motes of molecules given form and an internal intelligence to appreciate our lot in this vast universe we are part of. The shimmering waters sparkled like dancing diamonds, daring us to stop and appreciate their beauty for a while longer yet.
Eventually we made Christchurch and found the home of Trump Lady's parents. They were down to earth and welcoming, our original plan to ride to Akaroa scotched when we found out that the local KBers were all descending to poke and prod the latest imports! A feast of epic proportions was barbequed up by Trump Lady's Dad (Steve), the KBers turned up thick and fast and many a story was told, each layer regaled by another funny quip, anecdote or tale! Bikes were admired, the compulsory HarlyAbleson and Tractor jokes bandied, I felt like a viking of old, around a messroom where legendary stories were told and liquid flowed into cups, loosening lips and paving the way for the vocal cords to give rent to tales of daring-do!
Alas, good times and company must part, like the sea to the tide, like the day to night and we farewelled our august friends. They tarried a while longer, to burn the revels into their memories, they suited up like gladiators of old, to challenge the threats and hazards of the open road. The throaty roar of Ducatis, Triumphs and other marques careened off the roads, lights spilling onto the black top to guide their riders home.
At this stage I had to keep riding. I suited up and asked for directions for a servo opened at this stage of the night. GXSR pointed me and actually guided me to the petroleum distillate holding facility! Yes, I was getting lost again! I took this as a good sign to come.
The trip to Akaroa was done with the tight twisties and gliding roads in the pitch of night. Black was it's name, with one hand it fanned left, with the other it laid to the right. Bliss. Riding nirvana. I love the feel of riding at night. A pure visceral riding experience where you are at one with machine and the road. As I rode, my mind was filled with classical tunes, Wagner, Mozart, Beethoven - all this was I matched notes with turns, the soaring crescendos with the rise in elevation, the soft notes with the slow approach into hairpin turns. A melody of movement that suppled my soul and lured me with the next bar.
The twinkling of small lights in the distances presaged the small settlements that made up Akaroa. The french influence apparent in the signs as they flashed by in the dark.
Eventually I made landfall in the town. I was an alien presence as my blue LEDs gave the late night revellers pause. The time I spent was appreciating the place by night, four years ago, I had been there.
As I left, I left with the knowledge that I would return again in a few hours in the day! Oh happy musings, that I should be so privileged by the Gods of the Ride to ensconce myself with more travelling on my wondrous contraption of velocity!
The ride back was uneventful except for the speed of its passing. I was perturbed and felt I could ride forever. I settled for cruising into Christchurch city and settled into the Hornet Swarm Night Ride I did in Auckland. Maps? Pfft! I got lost in the best of my traditions. I did every road in a grid, up and down, left and across, I made my way into the Botanical gardens via the walking posts, I took shots in the landmarks, I got looks from the nighttime revellers double taking as a red camo ninja on a blue LED lit motorbike soireed in their midst.
I rolled home around 2.15am and settled to sleep. Sleep was a canker that delayed me from riding and as dawn rolled by I was up again, too early for servos and checking the fuel levels, my Big Ol'Hornet woefully told me that we could only go for a short 50km jaunt.
So jaunt we did.
I rode back to Tai Tapu in Akaroa, turned and did Lincoln to check out the university there. Bemused cricketers up at the crack of dawn saw me wend my way through the paths and buildings of that hallowed place of higher learning. With fuel light on I made my way back and as Trump Lady's parents were up, I volunteered to cook brekkie! The barbie they had was a wondrous implement of culinary preparation. Snarlers, bacon, tomatoes were all sizzled with the griddle and plate. Cackleberries despatched last of all and a meal fit for kings of riding was on display. Somehow a miracle was performed, Gremlin was roused by Steve (Dad) and Mary (Mum) and we fueled our bodies ready for the prospect of riding ahead!
Steve offered to ride his hog to show us the best of the local sights and roads. An offer we could not refuse and grateful for! Steve can certainly ride that hog of his and was smooth handling it around the tight and twisties of Akaroa. He was a wealth of local knowledge and told us stories of his life and Trump Lady's upbringing in the area! Very enlightening!
All good things come to an end alas and we returned back for a late lunch before we made ready to ride to Hanmer Springs. The end of our riding tour looming large. This has been one of the best days on tour so far. Great roads, even better people and fantastic food and sleeping quarters. For hospitality, look no further than the people of South Island, they are the real deal!
The late start to Hanmer made for some interesting riding. Gremlin took up the slack and really rode those roads. I shall paraphrase a certain speech by a King in Lord of the Rings ...
"Forth! Down fear of blind corner twisties! Arise! Arise, riders of the South Island roads! Tyres shall be shaken, rubber shall be splintered! A riding day ... a red day ... and the sun rises! Ride now ... Ride now ... Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending! Death to fear!"
And rode those roads Gremlin did. His artless guile as he dueled with the cunning of the roads was evident. Not small his speed, great was his lean angle, mighty was his throttle control and away stripped the land. Sundering might he hewed the kilometres away. The setting of time was stayed by his flexing of purpose and his countenance brooked no argument. Spellbound, I watched as he was one corner ahead. I came around it. He was now two corners ahead. I came around them. He was craftily smashing his KTM over potholes, ruts and grit strewn before him, in awe I saw him sidle around decreasing radius up hill blind crests and emerging victorious, time and time again.
Awesome. Bewitching. Compelling. Deftly. Enervating. Ingenious. Finesse. Gumption. Hustling. Incredible. Jussive. Keen. Laudable. Masterful. Nebulous. Orchestrating. Peerless. Quasi-deity. Rapacious. Scylla. Tempestuous. Ultima. Virile. Winsome. Xebec. Yahoo. Zeitgeist.
There are words in every letter of the alphabet that cannot begin to frame the riding spectacle I was treated to. I was content to ride my Big Ol'Hornet in the parameters that it was designed for, by the nana that was commandeering it!If ever there was a rider and a bike that was made to be paired, it is Gremlin with his katoom o'doom. He and it destroy everything that comes into contact with it. My rear tyre. My budget. My sanity. The local flora and fauna.
I was pushed out of my comfort zone and had to extend my skills, in essence, a riding lesson meted out in the fashion of Gremlin's wake. As I slowed into corners and emerged slowly out, I could only shake my head as I wondered how on earth he and his machine zapped through it! When his KTM shook, I took notice - it has twice the travel allowance of my humble steed and the rough juddering and ball-bouncing stacatto on my groin was testament to how well set up the katoom o'doom was.
The roads to Hanmer were paved with the nectar that salves rider's hearts. Twisties and challenges galore. The layering of the land revealing it's treasures to two riders, for the most part alone on those South Island roads. The steady thrum of engines, wind and the sound of rubber on the ground was our refrain.
Ride! And ride we did. Gremlin has related the events of our quick turn-around in Hanmer to fit in more riding. Even more salve for my blistered soul from the lack of milage I keenly felt. This was a red day, a day to ride to ruin! Fuel be damned! The ride out to the coast allowed the smell of the sea to waft over our nostrils, mixed with the unguents of oil, petrol and rubber. The pitiless nature of the sea wearing away at the rock of the earth dared us to emulate its effect on our tyres. We rode home with 10pm showing, the late laying of the sun's rays a salvation to two riders returning from their patrol of more riding roads.
I actually settled into sleep before Gremlin, to dream of those roads and the thought of more to come.
And somewhere in the recess of my mind I hear ... "My precccioussssss". It is my imagination that I am Frodo Baggins, being led astray by Gollum. Gollum being the man-bullying height of Gremlin ...
I finish my thoughts with the prospect that I shall delay killing Gremlin with my concealed string and needle with poison dripping down the thread into his mouth ... for it has been a good riding day.
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
Best Frenemy you could have!
miiiiiiii god you talk a load of rubbish
Rolling Italian Orchestra
crikey Gi Joe I needed the Dictionary for half them words!
L'arte italiana cammina su due rotelle!
Mallicious Little Gnome
Bugger the dictionary I say, give me the Lexicon so that I can even attempt to understand the language
"When you think of it,
Lifes a bowl of ....MERDE"
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
The morning broke to the "Sound of Music" in my head. As I got up visions of big bosomed Bavarian milk maids danced through my head, choruses from "Do-Re-Mi", "Edelweiss" and other such kitsch but entertaining songs got me smiling. I even did some yodelling!
Up at the crack of a brisk dawn, I walked down the road to marvel at the semi-alpine type view from the main road, little chalets dotting the higher points. All post-card picture perfect! There were people wandering around here and there all gusseted up in mountain wear ...I was walking around in a muscle t-shirt and shorts! I took some pictures and then got the Big Ol'Hornet cleaned again.
Since we were riding to Picton on this final day in the glorious South Island, I even had time to do some reflecting. The past few days were so great for the riding for me that I had no time to post on KB. There were moments of magnificent memories making a tear come to the corner of my eyes.
It has been four long years since I last commenced a tour of the SI, albeit in a cage, long before I was a biker. There were roads and areas people told me I had to go and see. I ignored them. "What do you mean you didn't do the Buller gorge? Are you mad?", "Hanmer springs? You didn't go there?" ... they were not aware of my master plan.
I would only see those places for the first time by motorcycle. When Gremlin's GPS lead us unerring to those places, the culmination of a life-long dream played out before me. It was a taciturn and doldrum life I had led, unaware of what biking does for me.
The epiphany that struck me as I crested a corner and espied the glory, the power, the majesty of the places I had seen and treasured in my mind's eye casted aside all the time I had been patient to wait.
Riding the roads from Hanmer and out made me feel a keen nostalgia and wistful feeling that I had not tarried enough in these lands. The call of home, the lack of funds and reality making itself intrusive in my riding experience now and then. It was at this juncture that I set myself my next riding goal.
A return to South Island. Doing it Frank Sinatra like, to wit "My way". I will compose my inner being and plan accordingly to make the SI the riding home as I do the North. Now I know what is on offer, I will no longer resist the lure of the Ferry at Wellington. I will now ride on randomly as I desire and just ride. Ride the length and breath of NZ in my random pootles!
But I digress, lurching you my fine reader (egads I have broken the 4th wall!) back to my travels on this last day in the South Island. The road out were almost sullen towards us, resenting us as if it knew we leaving its embrace. Straight roads. To the horizon. Biking hell.
I would occasionally glance around Gremlin in the front, to see if it would change. Nope. Just straight. Every now and then I would lean to the left, I would lean to the right to see if it would change. Not a chance.
The comms were used to say mundane things like "bored, bored, bored" or "are we there yet", the occasional kink in the road was treated like a long lost friend, but gone oh so fast. Gremlin's katoom o'doom seat was acting like a blacksmith's hammer on a heated bar. Getting flattened and pounded.
My Big Ol'Hornet happily rode with me, giving me comfort and the occasional reminder if there were some curves to be rode through. I would pat the tank and tell him that it would be alright. Through a biker's twisty travels, straight roads must be endured so we can appreciate the good bits when they come! (hey, you have to be able to delude yourself if only to stop the voices in your head coming out to play!
As the kilometres fell away the route to Reefton, Blenheim and Picton finally merged into the place of our arrival and thus the place of our departure. The ride to Picton was a microcosm of the place South Island is. Heights studded with trees, resplendent with the foliage of green, hirsute in the golds, browns, reds that dress our fecund and verdant lands. Patches of purple, yellows and snatches of other exotic colours testament to the livery of nature's joy. I rode with my visor up often to enjoy the breeze and the smells of this God's given land.
We were early to the ferry again. I did point out to Gremlin not to break anything in Picton (again) and having a little tete-a-tete with the nice lady in the booking booth, we rode up to the opposite twisties from Queen Charlotte's drive. Nice roads and an unexpected gem after the loutish straights we had endured before. Up and up our motion enablers of freedom took us, oncoming cagers shocked that someone else could possibly be sharing the road with them!
And what a stunning sight. There was a gravel road off to the left and Gremlin and his Katoom o'doom perkily piped up "want to go that way?"
I responded in the negative.
"Pussy" he said.
My intuition giving me little alarm bells this time, I was not ignoring it. I would not be riding down the side of a steep crevasse going "I hate you Gremlin!" at this stage of the ride! I also replied that "I am not going to pull you out of anything that you fall down into!"
relaxed on my iron steed, I drank in the final sights of the South Island. Clear blue skies, green as the grass grows, high as the heights and low as the plains ... gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. With a quick downward run, we reached the ferry and waited for the ship to load. I had a quick word with the workers to make sure they were aware bikers were aboard and Gremlin was disparaging me beforehand that there were no special considerations for filthy biker scum. Oh how I enjoyed the fact that they made sure we were among the first aboard after the large trucks!
As we tied down our mechanical creations of circumnavigation, it transpired that we were the only bikers aboard this sailing. Somehow Gremlin managed to break all the other bikers!
The resulting wait was a farce of epic fail. We were delayed 2-3 hours due to technical issues with an important piece of equipment on the boat. The tannoy at intervals saying things like "due to technical issues ...". What was eventually found out was that the rear doors would not close, thus we could not sail. Then it was found out that they could not open. Thus we at their mercy. They had the temerity to work out that they could offer two screenings of films, the first Quantum of Solace, the second Madagascar 2. In true mercenary fashion they charged for it as well! Choruses of rueful jokes and jeering attended this!
A bloke wandered up and started chatting with us, I espied a KTM logo on his shirt and we spent many a minute chatting about bikes. He had a cage with a trailer of trailies and had the biking passion. Great chatting with him and also Gremlin got to wax lyrical about Katooms and other related details of katoom doomness!
Eventually we were underway, texts sent to Kendog and a PM to Trudes keeping them updated of our ETA (no, not the peanuts fool!) The trip passed quietly, Gremlin updating his laptop with its nefarious creations of spreadsheets, he watched me stitch the remaining and new holes in my draggin'jeans, hassling me all the time with "buy some new ones!" Evidently he forgot about my blown budget to hell
Well the journey was shortly over and since we had ensconced ourselves near to the door we were down shortly to the deck and freed our rides from the shackles keeping them upright. A short ride out from the ferry and I breathed in the air that was my birth hometown. Absolutely, postively Wellington! Kendog was very welcoming, staying up late to gather in the lost stray riders and had a quick chat before retiring for the night.
I was sore tempted to ride Wellington by night, but the logistics of keeping the door open for me would be a task too far for this night. Never mind, I am always back to Wellywood and I knew it could wait for another trip.
Herein ends this log, I shall appertain and divulge the finality of our next days riding back up to the residence we call home as Auckland, in the final installment of this ninja log.
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
Comfortably Different
great adventure read
Little ol'Hornet Rides again!
I was up early in the absolutely positively folds of Wellywood. Ironic since I have been using Lord of The Rings analogies and here I am in the home of its making! Almost as if I planned the whole metaphorical witticisms!
I prepared the usual breakfast with the ingredients I located around the Kendog's kitchen. French toast, buttered mushrooms with cooked tomatoes ala the menu I prepared at McJims.
I shall take a small moment and detail the ingredients and cooking practice!
4 eggs, cracked and whipped into a dish with a tablespoon of water (this breaks the molecules and enables the eggs to be beaten to a more delicate consistency)
Paprika, salt, pepper and a bit of garlic added in.
Dip bread slices and onto hot pan, cook with tomatoes to one side.
Slice mushrooms, sizzle on medium heat in saucepin with a small addition of cooking oil. Add in some milk, dob of butter or magarine (if so, will need to stir in to mix well) once bubbling away, add in some flour to thicken, pepper, salt and paprika as well.
The Kendogs were up and about, Trudes is an early morning person like me and we had a right old natter about the other halves that we had to endure, recounting endless consistencies about how they dawdle, take their time, sleep in and basically waste the best parts of a day!Kendog was up next and seemed surprised that there was a cooked brekkie waiting for him (he doesn't like mushrooms which Trudes gleefully pounced on). Work calls and off Kendog rides. Trudes also has things to do so I am left with the white, pasty skin of Gremlin wondering where his brekkie has got to!
Oh dear, I am so bad. Cereal for him and me only!
Eventually we suit up and ride to Wellington Motorcycles, Trudes got us to make sure we talked to Pete (Crasherfromwayback) and he sourced us a bottle of scottoil from somewhere and Gremlin topped up his reservoir.
A bit of a natter, bike pr0n fest, missing Rachprice apparently and off we rode. The late start meant we took the Waikanae route out and we jauntered off to home.
Homeward bound we rode. My comms all running out of battery power as if in silent protest that they would no longer be used upon returning to Auckland. The roads were fine, the cagers abundant. Welcome back to the North Island with its strange driving behaviours. The Wellington sprints in evident as everyone sped up on the passing straights and then coming back down below the posted speed limits
The time passed quickly and as we approached Auckland, large cloud banks with strange phenomena presaged our dreay return home. Large chunks of rain fell with gusto, but as we stopped to don rainsuits all was well. The eventual roads to Auckland were broken up with small interesting detours Gremlin had plotted on the GPS and eventually Taupiri hoved into view.
Welcome home to the two returning bikers, rain washed down as a balm, baptising us for our approach to the Bombays. It seemed like an anti-climax, as I swung into the Takanini off-ramp, Gremlin and his KTM sped by, hand raised in the Vulcan farewell symbol, courtesy of his rain-off gloves "Live long and prosper."
Indeed, we rode long, we prospered. We bickered. We whinged. We moaned. We changed plans. We rode.
I have very rarely spent such a long time in the company of one person, Gremlin is an interesting individual and with all the complexities of being who he is.
This certainly turned out to be a most interesting tour of the South Island. Today, as I sit here typing out the last few words and paragraphs to end this recollection, I am already thinking of the rides I want to do in the future. Planned and unplanned!
I shudder to think of the implications when Gremlin quipped on the ferry offhandedly ... "What about the sequel?"
Herein ends the final log of the travel diary of the Red camo ninja. Watch out for the DVD, posters, mugs and other assorted crapola in the marketing of this trip.
"gijoe1313 and Gremlin invade the Mainland!"
"I like to ride anyplace, anywhere, any time, any way!"
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