Leaving Palmerston North with clear instructions to take SH57, we pointed the steed south and followed the tarmac. The weather had turned, and while the rain was not a problem the wind was significant, and even with a fully mounted Sprint we were being blown about quite badly. The wet roads, the wind and Myra’s new found reluctance to lean into a turn made the trip quite a wrestling match between me and the bike. At times I really did have to muscle the bike over and take the buffeting as well as I could. We’ve been in windier weather but Palmy has to rate right up there. Ironically enough as we got closer to Wellington the wind died down, and became a lot more manageable.
We reached the ferry in Picton with plenty of time to spare, and apart from the frosty harbour breeze while we waited to board, had no problems checking in. I had been quite apprehensive about the whole securing your bike process, because, well you know, no biker wants to look like a dick in front of another biker, but it turned out to be a pretty simple process that was easily picked up by watching the bike next to me.
The Interislander is not a particular comfortable ship, but they had Sky Sports on so I watched the cricket for a few hours while Myra had a sleep. I did in the back of my mind keep going over how tight I had tied the bike up ever time we pitched and rolled, but a strong Kiwi performance against Bangladesh kept me occupied.
About two hours into the trip we hit the Marlborough Sounds, and tiptoed our way at reduced pace through the landscape over fairly glassy seas. The photo opportunities here were fantastic as long as you could brave the cold. At one stage while I was out on the front deck, completely by myself, I thought it had started snowing but on closer investigation it turned out to be very light hail. The wind chill was face numbing and while I took as many shots as I could, I did not have the fortitude to stay out too long in the open! It is a great testament to my BMW jacket and pants though that no one was out there with me.
We debarked the ship with no dramas, and were very glad the ride to the B&B we had booked was only 30 minutes. The rain was so bad at this stage that I couldn’t see very much at all, my boots were soaked and the cold was really making the trip difficult. It was a huge relief to arrive at the base of the famous Wither Hills to meet our hosts for the night, Mike and Cathy. Now Mike has an MX5, which Jeremy Clarkson and I both agree normally means he is a social cog lower than the average motorist, but any man, who gives up a prized garage park in such hideous weather for a visitor, deserves a mention and we shall overlook his motoring feau-pax because he is a genuinely top bloke. The Redwood Heights B&B is a wonderful place and Mike and Cathy have just the right style to be our kind of hosts. They have a leave you to it type of arrangement, and do not impose themselves at all. The room we stayed in was fabulous, with one of the best showers I have ever had, and we ordered ourselves some pizza, had a few red wines and slept soundly.
Morning dawned with all trace of the bad weather vanished. It was plain to see that the day would be brilliant for our traipse down the coast to Kaikoura. Mike and Cathy prepared us a superb breakfast, and Cathy really nails a great scrambled eggs with Pizza Thyme and Parsley from her immaculate herb garden out the back. We spent a good hour getting to know them over breakfast which really was nice, and then packed our gear, said our goodbyes and left the beautiful Blenheim behind us. It has been a real shame we didn’t get more time here, and I definitely think from the little we saw we will endeavor to get back here again.
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