The forecast for the marathon journey up to Motueka was poor; the whole of the west coast looked to be in for some heavy rain when we watched the forecast the night before. So when I peeked out of the curtains yesterday morning, to see nothing but sunshine, I was elated.
The ride was estimated at roughly five hours, which on the Sprint is getting right up past a tolerable day. The riding position is too far forward for anyone 6 foot or over for these kind of hours, and the additional touring screen we had put on it does a good job at funneling the air into my face rather than completely over me, so there are definitely improvements that could be made to it if we intend to do more legs like this in the future. Three to four hours is a great day on our bike, anything up around the five mark ends up being a real bum number and wrist breaker. I can’t help but feel a little jealous when thinking of the riding position Louis’ BMW has and the electric screen that provides them a vacuum of buffet free joy for those days when you want to churn out the miles.
We both knew it wouldn’t be the easiest leg, but there were some great things to see on the way that would hopefully balance the monotony. Myra started to show the first cracks of homesickness which is not surprising considering her role in the motorcycle. I can imagine it would be a lot more difficult riding pillion on a journey like this, so in all fairness she has been a wonderful companion enduring all the roadtrip hardships in her stride. It was only a couple of small things, and like she explained later she only said she’d had enough, she never said she wanted to quit, so she’s in it until the finish!
We set out just after breakfast, riding parallel to the Tasman Sea, often the highway taking us only metres from the breaking surf. There was a potential movie scene here and some of the bigger waves left the taste of salt on our lips as we thundered north. The Victoria Forest Park was next with tree lined canopies and wonderful scenes of preserved nature and cliffs for as far as you can see. The west coast is ruggedly beautiful. This is something that is always said and I hoped to come up with a more poetic description, but better minds than mine have tried and it really is the most apt thing that comes to mind when trying to convey it to a reader. We stopped at one point after about ninety minutes on the road at a small calm bay, unnamed I think and hidden from the road, where people can camp for free. You have to travel down past a street named Rotten Row, which I found hilarious. Small things amuse small minds I suppose! You can see the debris of camp fires here and we sat on a hill overlooking the water below us, watching a woman play fetch with her two black dogs in the shallow water. If I could paint, this is the sort of thing I’d be putting on canvas, it was very picturesque and tranquil and it was as if I had only blinked when I checked my watch to see our allotted twenty minute break was up.
Once we made Cape Foulwind, the road turns inland to the East, through an ever winding piece of tarmac that almost seems to strangle itself. The corners are literally a breath apart for what seems hours on end, which was quite tiring at times and had my wrists aching well before I thought they would. This was the only leg so far where time seemed to go slow. Up until now I would check the clock and be very surprised at how long had gone by, but now we were struggling and the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. I’ve put this down to the fact that there are such minimal straights and you are working for such long periods at a time on the bike, you have very little time to relax.
We eventually pulled into Murchison and decided to have some late lunch and refuel. This place is a thriving hive of activity. It’s as if you burst out of sleepy South Island into the middle of an ants nest. There are traffic jams, queues at the petrol station and the café, problems finding parking, and people going in every direction all at once. Such a surprise to see in the middle of nowhere, and there is very little warning. It’s just bang, welcome to Murchison, where the hell did all these people come from? I read later it is the hub for just about any kind of activity you want, from white water rafting to kayaking to tandem hangliding and all sorts of other crazy things. They have all of the natural resources locally situated that just lends itself to all of these things at once.
After just about the best Hawaiian burger I’ve ever had at the local roadside café, we set out again with roughly ninety minutes to go. The ride was slightly easier on this final stage, and saddle-sore as we were we pushed on past our final scheduled break to make Motueka in one go. I can tell you it was with great relief we pulled into the local Nautilus Hotel. Myra had concerns her legs had gone to sleep and she would fall over when dismounting, but managed it with a grace only Myra has as she shuffled off to check us in. The Nautilus is run by an extremely friendly couple, including another gentleman who gave up space in his personal garage for our Triumph. The room here is the best we’ve come across in the whole ride so far, and the centre of town is only five minutes walk up the road so we’re ideally situated for two people that are looking forward to a day off the bike.
Today has been the first day that has been accurate to the weather forecast I can remember. The sky is leaden from horizon to horizon, and the rain has been pelting down nearly all day. We rose at a leisurely time and wandered into town for some of the worst scrambled eggs you will ever see at Hot Mama’s Cafe and a gaze through the rest of the shops once fed. Myra picked up a new book at the second hand book store and we posted her other one home (can’t have the extra weight you know!). Then we made the decision to part with $65 and rent a Toyota Camry to explore the coast to the north, through Abel Tasman National Park. We picked a spot on the map, Totaranui, and headed off, enthusiastically packing swimming gear and all sorts of other things we wouldn’t need in the pure joy that there was room!
The drive up to Totaranui takes you through some very harsh conditions. There are cliffside roads only metres from falls down rocky slopes into the thundering ocean at fatal heights for one, which kept me very interested in Myra’s driving technique. The point to point distance is only about 31km from the Nautilus to Totaranui, but you wind your way up to Golden Bay then turn east through the Abel Tasman, all on roads that coil up and down mountain ranges up to nearly a kilometer high then down again, then ends with 10km of narrow gravel highway. The journey ends up being roughly 90km and 90 minutes long. Something I was glad we didn’t ride on the Sprint in the teeming rain, the Camry being a welcome change.
Once we arrived at Totaranui we saw a fairly busy camp site, with everyone tucked inside their canvas walls taking shelter from the weather. Myra though had other plans, this being our last chance to swim in the South Island, so it was trunks on and a mad sprint down the rust colored sand to take what will forever be one of the more memorable dips in the freezing idyllic bay. This would be another magnificent place to camp and I wish we had places like this nearer home. Unfortunately with the fierceness of the rain, and the extreme limited visibility, taking many worthwhile photos was an exercise in frustration, and we do not have the visual record we wanted of this magnificent place.
After our swim we had the heater on high as we headed back, stopping for lunch at the Penguin Café, before arriving back in Motueka in the late afternoon. It was a nice day spent out, especially made so by the change of traveling lightly by car, and staying dry. Well, at least until the swim.
Tonight we are planning to watch some TV, have a home made picnic tea and rest up. Tomorrow will be a particularly sad day as we say good bye to the South Island and take the ferry to Wellington. Our trip now is nearing an end with only a handful of riding days left up through the West Coast of the North Island. I will be surprised if they will offer as much as we have experienced down here, it truly is somewhere you have to see to believe. That is a tired old cliché wheeled out by anyone who has even sniffed the South Island, and one I was very tired of hearing, but it simply is true. Even the stories of anti Auckland attitudes are greatly exaggerated, at most we have had peoples pity, rather than wrath. I can honestly say this South Island jaunt has been an amazing experience, and one that I would encourage everyone to take, regardless of their mode of transport. We love it, and we’ll miss it.
