If you are looking for details about our roadtrip around New Zealand, please click the NZ Tour 07/08 menu item, it is alot easier to step through it in there.

We loaded up the panniers for the last time and clipped them to the bike, before wheeling it out of the courtyard I had hidden it in. Kawhia is a lovely place and its unfortunate we came upon it so late in our journey, I am sure if had gone there earlier we would have enjoyed the remote bay immensely. As it was though, as I pressed the starter and the engine caught, we were already half way home in our minds.

The ride was uneventful, a nice relaxing route we spent in near silence, both reflecting on what had been a fantastic three weeks in places we never thought we’d be. There would be plenty of time for sharing our own favourite personal memories later, but at the time we just enjoyed the road and the weather.

Once we hit State Highway One and started passing the familiar motorway exits it started to sink in that we were back in civilization. The Bombays passed under our wheels and then it was into Auckland proper, and home to our abode. It was a very quiet return, everyone being at work and the cats were hiding. As soon as we stopped in the driveway Myra dismounted the Sprint and lay sprawled on the ground, such was her joy! These are the only photos we took of this final leg, and I think you will be able to see how happy she was.

Myra’s done a fantastic job on the back of an unfamiliar bike, in unfamiliar surroundings, in sometimes extremely hostile weather, all without the normal comforts she takes on holiday and with no previous pillion experience. I really think her experience was probably a lot tougher than mine, and she really did guts it out through the tough days with minimal complaint. There were some very difficult rides on the trip, and I was really proud of how she handled them.

So that’s a wrap, 21 days of traveling around New Zealand’s coastline, 17 of riding and 4 of resting. It’s been fantastic, it’s been an achievement and it’s been something we’ve had to work for and plan for a large part of the year. We met some really great people, and some really rude ones. We were very lucky with other traffic, and didn’t encounter too many dangerous drivers. The weather was a mixed bag, but we expected that and were pretty well prepared for everything. We had a couple of close encounters, but we always traveled within the safe parameters of the bike and the weather, so survived those in tact. If anyone that is reading this is thinking about doing something similar, please by all means contact us, we’re happy to give you any advice we can.

For me, well I think I’ll sit on this for a month or two then decide what the next one will be. It’s tough to balance work commitments with the time these things take to do properly, but I already have the map of Australia up on the wall and we may start sticking a few pins in it soon

Thanks so much for reading, I doubt I will post much more here in the near future unless we do some more motorcycle adventure type things, but keep an eye on it. I hope to tidy it up, and maybe edit some of the content now I have time to think before I write. I’ll also keep it up to date in terms of planning the next road trip, but I doubt there will be much to come in the next few months. I’m really just looking forward to enjoying the summer and having a couple of camping trips with friends.

Having people read this site though really gave us some motivation to experience things and really remember them, and to not take shortcuts when the riding got hard, so thanks again to every one of you who gave us some encouragement or just browsed through.

Roadtrip 2007/08 completed, over and out.

Mike & Myra

�

We had a brilliant breakfast of muesli, then packed up the bike and said good bye to Hawera. The weather really was fantastic, hardly a cloud in the sky and temperatures to roast a stationary motorcyclist. Everything began innocuously enough, with a very pleasant journey around the coast, snow tipped Mt Taranaki keeping it’s watchful eye on us. We went through New Plymouth which was the first time for me. My estranged Grandfather lives here and I can see why, it’s very picturesque and on this sunny day looked very inviting.

Once you pass through the Taranaki region you move into the Waikato, home of Hamilton and several thousand cowbells. A very memorable incident was a massive two trailer truck fully locking up in front of us and partially jackknifing, we were metres from the rear of it and covered in a cloud of its tyre smoke when everything came to a stand still. The driver had failed to notice a car turning right in front of it, parked in the road waiting for oncoming traffic. It was a very close incident for the poor car, which would have had a terrifying scene playing out in the rear view mirror. Everyone unscathed though and a sheepish wave out of the truck cab, and onwards we went.

Our main goal for the road trip was to circumnavigate New Zealand, which has meant keeping as close to the coast as we could if there were roads available. Today this meant we would go to great lengths, through poor trip planning and some very bad luck. After you pass through Awakino the main highway heads inland towards Te Kuiti and Waitomo, but we took a left turn to try and take the more direct route to Kawhia. What followed was roughly 100km of the most remote farmland I have ever seen, most of it over gravel roads. Many parts of the road which were tarmac had been baked by the sun and had a top layer of black liquid, so the going was dusty, sticky and slow. This wasn’t really too much of an issue however, with the speeds down so much Myra found some new entertainment on the rear of the bike by taking moving snapshots, some of which will make it to this site. Even I enjoyed getting to grips with a Sprint on gravel, something we had not though we would encounter at all.

After a grueling couple of hours of this type of riding, we came to the bridge that leads you to Kawhia feeling very pleased with ourselves, only to find it was closed. It was a horrifying sight which materialized as we rounded the final corner. It was definitely shut, and there was no way we were going to be able to sneak over. After consulting our GPS, the only alternate was to backtrack and go all the way into Waitomo and up past Otorahanga, the very way we had purposely avoided, and then back to the coast, a detour of nearly two hours and another hundred plus kilometers. After over five and a half hours riding time, you can imagine the feeling, we were gutted. This was especially so because Kawhia was only about 10 kilometers over the bridge! We could practically smell it!
So we reluctantly turned around and made our way into Waitomo. Myra declared an emergency stop and we wandered into the café there. Her eyes had gone blood red and her contacts were moving around, she could hardly keep her eyelids open there was too much irritation. Considerable time was spent trying to rectify this but in the end she decided to ride without them, which meant she’d be riding in fuzzy ignorance. We also discussed cancelling our Kawhia plans and staying right there in Waitomo, but it was only another hour to go and we were up for it.

Eventually we did pull into Kawhia, tired, sore and fed up! This place is very off the beaten track, about fifty kilometers south of Raglan. It is a bay with a low tide that reaches right back towards the ocean, and a sandy bottom which exposes itself as the water recedes. Apparently it is similar to Hot Water Beach, and you can dig into the sand and have warm water fill the hole. It’s something we intended on trying but were just too exhausted to do after nearly eight hours riding. We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and were starved, so after checking in to our very spartan accommodation, we wandered into the small cluster of shops overlooking the harbour.. All that was available from the various places serving food were fish n chips, something that does occur in many of the smaller towns. Not exactly nutritious, but we did not complain, and the fish we were served in the Kawhia boat club is without a doubt the best deep fried battered fish I have ever eaten. So fresh and cooked to perfection, it just melted away in great chunks. It was absolute perfection, far too good to feel guilty about eating.

We wandered back to our room and stared at the TV for a while, but were so tired we were both asleep by 10:30pm. An end to a very long day, through some of the more beautiful farmland we’ve ever seen. There is hardly a soul in the parts of the Waikato we traveled through today; it was even eerie at times. We spent more time passing lambs and sheep that had made bids for freedom and wandered the roads with us, than we did other vehicles. We saw more four wheeled motorcycles in transit than cars. You can tell not much traffic comes this way by the way the livestock in paddocks are alarmed at the sound of us, something more urban beasts do not flinch at.

So I awake today to begin the final leg. After twenty days of traveling through all sorts of weather and climates, we are less than three hours from home. I have mixed feelings about this, but Myra is over the moon. We were planning on striking north to Raglan before coming inland, but from the looks of it that may be 50km of gravel, so will instead backtrack towards Ngutunui before turning north for the final run home. It will be great to see our friends again, and to give the bike a very deserving wash! Auckland, we’ll see you soon.

Unfortunately by this time the rain had started up again and we wound our way through the central city in steady drizzle. Once we found an entrance to the Beehive, we pulled in and got as close as we could without arousing suspicion from the posted security. Such a historical building deserved a special photo shoot we thought, and once some snaps were taken we put our heads down and headed north in what had become atrocious weather.

I had planned from an early stage to revisit Foxton Beach as we came up through the West coast. This place has many misty eyed memories I wanted to share with Myra, from the time I spent as a child with my grandparents here. Every school holidays while I was young I would travel here from my mothers to spend time with my beloved Nana and Granddad, who sadly are not with us anymore. It really was a fantastic place to be a kid in those days, long before the gang related violence you seem to read about now. We parked up outside their old house and snuck a photo or two, I pointed out to Myra the driveway I had learned to ride a bicycle and the creek my grandfather took me white baiting. We even rode to the local dairy up the road where I learnt to clock Double Dragon; oh the memories were coming back. It was a very nostalgic detour, and it made me remember just how much I loved my grandparents and I miss them.

After this we carried on through Sanson and then out again toward the coast, after a bite to eat at the Church Café. The weather had fined up by now and while the skies were leaden the rain had abstained and the wind was calm. The roads were a blessing after the torture we encountered on the way to Picton the day before. Great wide sweeping 5th and 6th gear bends to really get stuck into and enjoy the wind in your face.

It was a fairly non eventful trip from that point on, nothing overly spectacular scenery wise but we were very happy with the pace of the roads. A good journey is one where you feel you’re making good progress, something just not possible in some of the wet, winding and windy legs we’d done recently.

Our place in Hawera was on the main route through town, and after checking in we sidled into town to check out the famous water tower and purchase some tea. It was a nice relaxed evening, a better end to the day than Wellington. The forecast is fantastic for our last large trek up to Kawhia, and although the roads do look suspiciously unsuited for Motorcycling, we’re going to stick to the plan and the original route. Hopefully it will be a decent farewell to the West Coast, as after this we move slightly inland for the final trip home. Home life is starting to work its way back into my thoughts, the thought of going back to work, doing groceries, feeding cats, playing the Xbox, all the mundane things you don’t think twice about normally but things I’ve been happy to take a break from. If I could I think I’d just keep riding straight past Auckland, but that may have to wait for the next road trip.

�

The traffic was moderate and a lot of time was spent in the spray of cars, but the road initially was lovely as it ran alongside the coast. The smell of the ocean was very strong along this northern part of the South Island. Once we headed inland things became pretty mundane, and then with a final piece of road that was a constant set of first and second gear curves for roughly thirty kilometers we were well over the ride by the time we came to the ferry. The final section to Picton is highly not recommended by us for motorcyclists, and next time I would head back towards Blenheim to hook up with the main road instead of going the shorter distance! There were also oil patches in some of the corners, of which one nearly unseated us as it pitched the front wheel out a bit. There are also some intimidating vertical drops to your left if you happen to go wide. This is definitely not the kind of road for motorcycles with pillions, and an unhappy end to our southern sojourn.

The ferry was a different ship this time, and one I wouldn’t want to travel on again. We were crammed in front of a contractors van which had been parked in the middle of the motorcycle parks, and had very little points to tie down. This in itself was a problem, but then the contractor came back and went ballistic at us for parking there, and did not seem to care that it was not us that decided that would be the place. After quite a lot of arguing he seemed to calm down and he withdrew his threat of cutting aluminum sheets and aiming all the shavings at our chain. It was all a bit much though for Myra, she really is getting near the end of her romance with road trips, and this altercation really upset her, there were even a few tears. The ferry journey was long and boring, riddled with loud snoring or screaming children, depending on where you decided to take seating. We were very happy to find the bike still in one piece when we docked and rode out into the North Island without a backwards glance.

We are staying in central Wellington at the Marksman’s Motor Inn. It is adjacent to the Basin Reserve, Wellington’s home to cricket. Last night we wandered the one kilometer into town and found a lovely Thai restaurant, where we had some wonderful dishes and some wine, before hitting the sack.

Today we are heading up the east coast to Hawera, roughly four hours of riding away. The weather is again quite foreboding, but not as bad as yesterday, and not cold at all. The morale of the troops is a bit low, so we’ve cancelled plans to spend two days in Hawera, and just booked one night’s accommodation. Myra really misses our own bed and home, and our cats. It’s been nearly three weeks on the back of a bike traveling through coastal routes and small towns, constantly on the move for her. We’ve never had a holiday anything like this so I can completely understand where she is coming from. Hopefully the weather clears and we see some lovely things today, and our endpoint is nice. There doesn’t look to be much to see on the way to South Taranaki though, but maybe I will be surprised. We are going to stop in at Foxton Beach and see where I spent a good deal of time growing up with my Grandparents today, and look at the creek where I used to whitebait as a nipper. This will have some fond memories for me, but
I think Myra is focusing on home so we may expedite the last few legs of our trip and have no more rest days. I am sure if the sun shines and we spend the night by a beach she’ll come right though, so fingers crossed for the weather.

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.

Motorcycles really are a great leveler, they strip away social borders that are normally in place and put everyone on an even keel. It’s not normally we would be mixing it with two highly qualified professionals in the health industry.

The next morning however was a different story. I was definitely paying for my sins from the previous night with a hangover that would not quit. It was going to be a very tough ride to Hokitika, and it was all self inflicted! I tried to blame the evil doctor for my ailments but I knew that was a cop out. So it was with a splitting headache and an assortment of the famous sand fly bites that we said goodbye to our new friends in Haast.

It was at a leisurely pace we made our way up the awe inspiring rugged west coast. Hugh cliffs rose out of the forests like fortress walls guarding against the sea, of such a scale as to make our presence insignificant as we wound our way over the ancient land. Heading through the Westland National Park was a great experience that not even the pounding behind my eyes could negate. I was reminded a lot of the time during my childhood spent growing up in the Waitakere ranges; it was a very serene journey. The weather behaved itself the whole trip and once past the forest the rest of the journey was quite sedate, the scenery pure rural NZ. I did however get struck in the head by a bird at about 120km/h. I have wondered in the past what this would do, and now I know. There was no carnage, just a loud thump as it hit me in the visor. There was a bit of bird blood and a few feathers jammed in the visor closing, but apart from that it was just a shock more than anything. Terrible luck to the bird, sorry old chap.

I was ecstatic to finally pull into Hokitika, a lovely laid back coastal town with all the basic amenities thrown into a few square blocks right down on the beach front. We stayed at the Bella Vista apartments which were very nice; the owners even letting us park in their garage. After quenching a raging thirst we ventured down to the surf for a wander and spent some time on the massive beach. There was talk of a swim in the ocean, but it felt freezing when I dipped my feet in so that never happened. A stroll through the town for some refreshments and food for tea saw us in the local shops, and then it was back to the hotel for a light nap.

Tea was a quiet affair of chicken sandwiches and fresh up, and a couple of programs on TV, followed by an early night. Tomorrow we are riding a massive distance up to Motueka via the coastal route. I am looking forward to spending a couple of days there before making our way back to the North Island for the final few days home.

�

Queenstown is a stunning city, very compact and set at the base of some magical hills. There is a very impressive gondola heading straight up the middle of one of the nearest, which looks like a scar up the centre of its forest lined slope. It would be a very enjoyable ride. We had other things on our mind however, and popped into the Pig & Whistle for an early lunch. I purchased the most value for money meal we’ve had the entire trip, a Bangers & Mash for $7.00! Myra stuck with the full English, and both were brilliant. The service is great and the food spot on. After that we sent some items home via the very busy post shop, then restocked on some toiletries from the local chemist before it was time to head off.

It was a very slow trip out of Queenstown because of an accident up ahead. It was our first mishap we’ve seen this whole time, and it looked rather minor so fingers crossed we stay clear of anymore. Once past this the traffic evaporated and it was open roads again. Initially we thought we were in for another decent beating from the wind, but after roughly thirty minutes it had either disappeared or we were riding through the local mountain ranges where it was unable to get to us in force. By this time the rain had fully disappeared, the roads were dry and we were in for a fantastic treat up the hill on one of the best rides yet to Coronet Peak. I hadn’t really heard about this ride before so was completely unaware of what we would encounter, it really has to be ridden to be believed. You travel up some steep countryside through several 15km/h switchbacks, there are no side rails so a mistake will see you at the bottom again in a hurry, and this adds greatly to the experience. Once you get to the apex you travel at pace through magnificent rolling roads that are laced between massive vertical faces of rock that could give the claustrophobics among us some cause for concern. I loved every minute of this ride, and unfortunately was very reluctant to stop so we again missed some magical photo ops.

On to Lake Wanaka and I was still having a great time. Myra reminded me we should stop soon so we pulled into a rest stop that was bustled right up to the shore. This is another southern scenic gem; the rock lined coast was bearing the brunt of a lake whipped into a raging froth by a gale that was apparent down here. The wind was fierce at the waters edge, and we were very happy it was not being funneled up to the road.

We could see further on the weather looked like it was going to pack up, the clouds were very heavy and low, but with misplaced optimism I kept my summer gloves on and neglected to do up all my zips. This would mean some wrinkled hands and damp neck by the time we pulled into Haast, but it was of no significance when compared to the scenery we were subjected to as we rode through Mt Aspiring National Park in teeming rain. After the struggles of yesterday we were not fazed by the rain, and the tree lined roads with waterfalls overhead and many river crossing bridges to go through, we were both in awe. It really is a special place here where you would have to be blind to not find something along the journey to not help you put your place in this universe into perspective. To be honest the rain may have been a blessing, I really think it added to the route through the forest, even though it completely ruined the effectiveness of our late checkout plan!

We arrived in Haast in one piece, and fairly dry. After checking in and a hot shower, which I have to rate as second only to the one in Blenheim, we were all ready for a relaxing beer in the bar watching local favourite Coronation St on the 50” television. After this was a three course meal in the restaurant which was fairly expensive and only average food wise, but filled the spot and was just what we needed after a long day on the road.

We slept well last night too, the bed nice and comfortable. The weather today was stunning, hardly a cloud in the sky and I started the day taking some photographs of the magnificent Stags I discovered in the paddock next door. They had a full head of antlers and looked like they could deal to me with a flick of a head, so it was with great respect I treaded, and I made sure I stayed on my own side of the fence.

We had overestimated the size of Haast, so were at a loss of what to do after breakfast in the café at the lodge. We went for a ride to the Haast Township but this is misleading, as the town is maybe two eating establishments and a large dairy masquerading as a supermarket. We’d finished the tour in about two minutes, so decided to head the 7kms to Haast Beach. Once we arrived here the road looked so inviting we just kept on going to Jackson Bay. The trees encroach so much onto the road on this trip that you feel you are riding through a tunnel at times. There are kilometers of dead straight road and finally you break through to some coastal turns that lead you to the end of the road, Jackson Bay. This is a great place to stop, and only half an hour before we were there some yellow eyed penguins had been on shore we were told. The view is peaceful and we spent some time just relaxing and sitting on the pancake shaped rocks that litter the bay.

I had been very optimistic in my fuel watching and it was with some concern we headed the 50 kilometers back to the nearest petrol station. We were well into the reserve by the time we pulled into the Caltex with some relief, and paid nearly $2 a litre for the privilege.

A quick jug of Macs Gold at the Antler Bar and then with the sun still shining we picked up a six pack at the local shop and headed back to the lodge to enjoy the last hour of cricket on the telly and to relax while we waited for tea. It’s been a lovely day, and we’ve been treated again to some of the south islands wonderful rides. I will have to wait until we’ve finished the trip and spent some time reflecting on the various legs before I can truly call a favourite, but Queenstown to Haast has to be a strong contender. It really is a ride that puts to rest any doubt as to why you ride a bike. You would enjoy it in any vehicle, but the roads here seem tailor made for the motorcylist, with a little bit of everything to keep you honest and hone your craft. Pure bliss really.

Tomorrow we are up to Hokitika. I know nothing about this place apart from a vague recollection it was in the McDonalds song a few years ago. It looks great in the accommodation guide we have, and we’ve found a place with free high speed internet and motorbike garaging for the night, 5 minutes from the beach. If the weather is like today, an ocean swim could even be in order.

First on the agenda was to post some purchased items home at the Bluff Post Office. We checked the sign on the door yesterday and it said they were reopening today at 9am, but when we turned up at 10am I guess they’d decided to ditch that plan. Everyone in Bluff I think has followed suit, so there was no local gas and no post office. We had enough in the tank to make Invercargill though, and crammed the items in the rear pannier somehow and headed north.

The ride between Bluff and Invercargill is majestic, made up of long sweeping bends with little traffic and a backdrop to admire all the way. This was our fourth trip on these roads and I’d still like to turn around and do them again.

This was not to be another perfect day to write about though, and it was after we refueled in Invercargill and turned west, to take in the scenic route along State Highway 99 through Te Anau to Queenstown, that our problems began.

It wasn’t so apparent until then, but today has had some extraordinary southerlies blowing, and once exposed on the plains along the base of Southland, we had real problems. This was the windiest I have ever been on a bike by a very long margin, and even the fully laden Sprint would not sit still in these crosswinds. At times we were reduced to 40km/h at pronounced lean to stay on our side of the road. It was quite frightening! All credit to Myra, her hay fever was terrible today and I could hear frequent helmet bound sneezing fits and knew she would be terrified of the way the bike was behaving, but she didn’t voice a single complaint. I cannot describe the way the wind threw the bike around; we felt like kites the whole western leg. We stopped close to Orepuki, and took what shelter we could find in a road side information stand that looked like it was about to blow down. It was at times during the 20 minutes we spent there, difficult to stand up without staggering, and I had to re park the bike to point it into the wind, because it looked like it was about to be blown over it’s stand! Another biker stopped and told us it wasn’t so bad up the road, so we decided to press on.

Once we pointed north and had the wind behind us, things did improve. The hills did funny things though, so now we were battling random crosswind gusts that would shift us a few metres either way. I spent the whole north leg watching the reeds on the side of the road to try and predict the spots I needed to lean us into. My wrists gave me no problems today but my hands were aching from white knuckling the grips and fighting the bike the whole way. It was a very tough ride, by far the least enjoyable so far and extremely taxing on the body. Things got decidedly problematic when we turned back east at Manapouri, the crosswinds were worse if anything and at one stage we were blown onto the wrong side of the road, regardless of the fact we were significantly leaned into it. We could feel the tyres scrubbing sideways as the bike was just lifted up. Scarey stuff! We stopped for a cup of tea along the way and met another motorcycling couple who were looking to park the bike up and rent a car for the day, that’s how bad it was.

Things did improve though as we started to scout through some mountains, as they provided some relief from the wind. By the time we pointed north for the final leg to Queenstown, we were deep in the heart of the hills and could once again hit 100km/h without having feet lifting gusts rock us around like leaves. I really started to enjoy the ride at this stage, coming up past Cecil peak and along the Lochy River to Lake Wakatipu. Unfortunately I think Myra was well gone by this stage, too tired from the constant buffeting and hay fever attacks to enjoy much at all, so we missed some fantastic photo opportunities and pressed on to our hotel. I have run out of superlatives for these roads in the South Island. If the wind had not been up today I think this could have been a joyous ride. As it is, after such a miserable trek five hour trek, the fact that I enjoyed the last hour immensely is testament to just how good it is. It is stunning, simple as that. Every New Zealander should see this road, and every motorcyclist must.

We arrived at our hotel the Sherwood Manor at about 4pm, pretty exhausted. I had a quick shower and tried to book a flight on a Cessna to do a flyover of the Milford Sounds, but missed out, it was too windy for comfortable flights and no pilot was willing to take me! Tell me about it. Our room here is nice; it’s a stock standard hotel. No small town charm here, but just what we needed, comfy beds, a hot shower, a spa pool with pool towels, and a restaurant with gorgeous views over the lake and Remarkables, where we’ll have some dinner soon.

Looking through the brochures in our room and in the lobby, you can tell Queenstown is a mega tourist metropolis. There is just a million things to do. We would love to spend some more time here and get into some of the activities, but this journey was never about the major New Zealand visitor spots. We always planned to spend more time off the beaten track, so will press on tomorrow to Haast. Myra has booked us into a small place for two nights tomorrow, and the leg up to Haast is only three hours, so we should have plenty of time to look around. The forecast down here is not great for tomorrow, but fining up around lunch time I hope. We’ve booked a late check out so can hopefully sit out any morning rain, and fingers crossed we won’t get any wind like today.

All in all, a very tough day and we were ecstatic to ride into Queenstown.