Galdor, at the Council of Elrond

Does this count as name dropping? Nathan, who I met at The Street last Sunday and who was one of the excellent welcomers, turns out to have been in Lord of the Rings. Not just seventeenth elf from the left, but a partaker in the Council of Elrond.


Whatsmore, his girlfriend is Raewyn (who was in Bristol 10 years ago) who I thought I recognised but couldn't work it out. After getting to know them more, we realised the connection was that she was friends with my NZ girlfriend I met at Christ Church Clifton and we would have met way back then in 1996. What are the odds?

Grant Access to Secret Roads

"...To boldy go where no man has gone before..." or rather to go adventuring where most tourist motorcyclists probably never explore. Hmmm. I have discovered that some of the coast roads, whilst marked on the map are owned privately, and cannot be accessed without permission. Is that an obstacle or a challenge?

After heading for Ocean Bay, only to find the way blocked at Turakirae head, I rode along the volcanic shale beach, looking forlornly at the adventurously rough track disappearing round the coast. I turned to retrace my steps, and glimpsed in my mirror a red pick-up coming out of the farmstead. My only hope. I pulled over, removed helmet and earplugs and pulled out the map and an 'i'm a lost tourist' expression. I motioned to the driver who stopped level with me. I innocently asked if the road was rideable, and after a few seconds of conversation, the passenger had written down for me the number of Grant, the man to ask about the track. Intriguing. I will save that for another day.


Then I headed back over the same route, back to Upper Hutt then over the Rimutaka mountain range to Featherstone. I came into Wellington on this route 2 weeks ago, the twisting roads even more beautiful in the day light, with tyres that grip properly too. It was biking heaven. Except for the car drivers. With few overtaking spots, the dream ride can be frustrating. Keeping calm, and resting quietly on my condescending laurels ("car drivers don't have a clue when it come to bends" etc) I made it through to Featherstone, back to the cafe I visited previously.

There, after a sandwich, I discussed the coast road to Rocky Point. The owner was able to tell me that it too is locked, but that I could contact the landowner who sells keys to surfers for $100 a year. That looks like a pretty good daily rate to me. I intend to plan a ride which explores both tracks. If I can persuade the keeper of the keys for the secret roads, I will truly be going where not so many Eurpoean bikers have gone before.

Devil's Gate

I ventured down to Owhira Bay. (o- fira) A rough 4x4 coastal road leading through an old quarry, round the rocky shore to Devil's Gate. Few road bikes would get this far, which is why I want to ride places like this. The rutted, shale track with patches of pebble and rock had me imagining in my small little brain that I was accompanying Ewan McGregor on the Long Way Round.

Thankfully, this neck of the woods is less threatening, with no gun toting mafia, and civilisation only a short walk away. That is why I am in New Zealand and not Outer Mongolia. He had a support crew, GPS and load of backing. I've got a cheap ratchet kit, some WD40 and a Buzz Lightyear mascot. To infinity and beyond is dangerous without backup, so I have to play it safe.

Or do I? Where is the adventure if I don't take risks? I faced this question at Devil's Gate. The narrow passage through jutting rock is passable just in a four wheel drive. The incline from the east is manageable but just too stepped for my liking. But maybe I could make it...


I stopped the bike 30 metres from the passageway, like a cat waiting to pounce, summing up the target. Inspection of the ground showed me that the exit slope was easy and I would easily get back, but reaching the other side would require some modifications to the lay of the land. I gathered the surrounding rocks and filled the small crater to try and make a causeway,

returned to the bike rather sweaty and got back on, eyeing the obstacle like Evel Kinevel before a jump. I rode up to the rock pile, the incline making me feel keenly the gravity of the bike. Some power, pop the clutch, up and over, toppling slightly but pushing through... the mental pre-vision ended with a cheering crowd. In fact I bottled it. The victory ride-past of my imagination quickly changed to the more likely reality of toppled motorcycle, cracked plastics, bent handle bars and a strained back from picking up my hulk of a supposed go-anywhere bike. Had this been the middle of Mongolia where the only way was forward things might have been different. Ewan would have done it on his heavier BMW. If I had had back up I would have given it a go. Truth be told, I had left Buzz behind so it was a no brainer. I live to ride another day. It has so far proved impossible to find a used speedo drive, I hate to think how long it would take to get hold of mirrors, indicators, bar ends and replenished male pride. But I will be back. The family in the 4x4 on the other side of Devil's Gate got there somehow. I intend to ride this route from the other direction. The gates of hell shall not prevail...

Global village or what?

Well, I recounted the event of meeting people who know people to the girls I am staying with, and would you believe that Sarah here in the flat was actually in the youth group that Richard Brown led in Masterton some 7 years ago. I've been with them almost a week without making the connection. Unbelievable. "That's who taught us to say "Sawd Awff"! [hilarious attempt at a British accent]. If you can't work out what that is supposed to be then all the better.

I went to 'the Street' city church meeting tonight, where newcomers gathered to meet the leadership and hear about the values of the church. There I met Raewyn who was at Christ Church, Clifton ten years ago when I was in the student group there. Also, the girl just arrived from the UK to work with James (see previous entry) happens to be Emily from Christ Church, Clifton who with her Kiwi fiance has come to NZ to do pre-nuptial research on where is the best place to live. Given the state of the UK, I reckon I know where they'll choose (although my criteria are few speed cameras, lower fuel costs and adventurous roads- and they may think differently...)

To top it all off, I spoke to a Kiwi new person, Anna, who is currently working for Toyota selling cars, and is colleague with Nigel who hosted Martin Barrett last week and who took us to the rugby match. Nigel had spoken about his English visitors. She said "Oh, I have heard about you already...". Oh dear.

Welly Belly

I have come down with some kind of bug. Food poisoning perhaps,

after eating some suspect sausages at that BBQ. A new kind of sausage, with cheese bits in. All very appetizing except the melted cheese oozed like pus... the thought of which aided their impulsive (or is that convulsive) reapearance the next morning. After taking most of Sunday to recover, my tentative 4pm breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs decided to encore moments before the end of the evening church service. Luckily I made it out to the gents. What a first impression that would have been.

It truly is a small world. I sat in church last night (and was welcomed excellently by numerous people- well done body of the church!)and behind me was an English accent, so I turned and was introduced to James, who it turns out, is colleague and friend to Jonathan Clarke and other people I know from UCCF in the Midlands. And to top it off, someone else I spoke to (Elizabeth) knows Richard Brown from his work with NZAlpha and a church in Masterton. Someone else from Bristol is about to start working with James... who will it be?... hopefully not one of my ex girlfriends!!

Old School ties make brunch surprise

For brunch today my current housemates invited some friends Ben and Emily

for pancakes, fruit, chocolate sauce, honey and yoghurt - all very civilised and colonial. Now, Emily on the right of the picture is a clone on Nicole Hanniford in Bristol, same mannerisms the works. It is truely uncanny. But it gets wierder.. it turns out that Ben (centre of picture) is of English extraction- interesting. From the Bristol region in fact- small world. Nailsea to be precise. Hmmm. School...? Bristol Grammar School. Jaw dropping, eh? I was a sixth former when he was a first year. He doesn't remember me which is probably a good sign. Today we have been building a false floor for the boot of the car, where three amps and other sound system goodies will be stowed, whilst still giving access to the spare wheel though a hinged trap door. Kiwi engineering genius. Later, a barbeque. Tomorrow perhaps a ride to the coast to explore the beaches - all on two wheels. Aim to find the Brass Monkey cafe. Sounds good.

Always get the best tools

I have had a quiet few days, not been exploring as much, just acclimatising and getting to know people. Have been staying at a new place with some great people. Have been working on my bike in their garage.

I have replaced brake pads and investigated why the speedo is not working, all of which went more or less to plan which is unusual for me and spanners. However I re-learned another life lesson that I really should have learned before. Always get the best tools. I found the equivalent of PoundSaver and bought a 50 piece allen key/hex bolt set for the equivalent of GBP 2.23 - why did I do this? Because it was a bargain. Until of course the first one I used immediately snapped in the brake caliper bolt head. After fishing out the remaining shards I had to reassemble and ride to another store and buy something not made of brittle chocolate. A 20 minute job had become a trek around town. I eventually sorted it and proceeded to free up the jammed speedo drive. I now need a simple plastic gear cog... but you can't buy it separatly. The whole assembly is three weeks away in Japan at 60 quid new. But I am adamant I can find something from a wreckers yard... I sense a Maurice bodge job coming up. My motto: "That'll do"

Happy Birthday! 20 Sept 2006

Well, I almost forgot it myself. Having been on the road all last week I completely lost track of the days let alone the dates. I am another year older sooner that I should be (time difference means it is still yesterday at home!) I am feeling every bit alive as ever and hopeful in the abundance of what God has in store for me here.

I have had such a blessed time here already, meeting such friendly people and seeing one of the most beautiful places on earth. I am told that the scenery in the south island is even more impressive which is hard to comprehend given the awesome volcanic landscapes already seen.

I have been facinated by the history of New Zealand, the Te Papa museum has some excellent exhibitions including the fastest motorcycle ever made, built here by a Kiwi, called the Britten V-1000.



"Engine: 985cc, 60-degree V-twin, liquid-cooled four-stroke with eight valves and belt-driven double overhead cams.

Special features: Rigid engine block serves as the main frame. Rear swing arm and girder fork constructed of super-light kevlar and carbon fiber. Rear shock mounts in front of the engine.

This is almost certainly the fastest home-built road racer ever, and it successfully challenged Japanese and Italian marques in the British, European and American Racing Series, and twins events worldwide. Amazingly, the V1000 was engineered and completely hand made by John Britten’s small team in New Zealand. The organically sculpted, way-outside-the-box design not only looked great, it ran great, at speeds over 180 mph. Sadly, the V1000 is the last of its kind as John Britten died of cancer at age 45." (www.motorcycles.org)

Need new boots...

... for the bike that is. The tyres were almost worn out anyway, but the rear is pretty much gone. The speedo has gone too. Probably just a cable. All costs money, which is fading fast it seems. The views from the peaks around the city are awesome. Today was so clear that it was possible to see the south island in one direction and mount Taranaki in the other, both over 200kms away. I talked to a very nice policeman today, voluntarily I might add. Current statistics are : Distance Travelled- 1450km, Altercations with police: None, Tickets: None

Wellington Boots Auckland From Top Spot

I arrived in Wellington after another long ride, this time less dramatic than previous days, except the phenomenal side wides which mean you ride at 45 degrees just going straight. Very tiring.

I met some great people on the route, mostly bikers who were helpful, interested in the Pommey bike trip thing and a couple of whom I may see again for adventure rides and the like. One guy even gave me some contacts for potentially decent project management work. A sliding doors moment? We'll see.

Wellington seems everything I'm told it is, and I got a good feeling about the place. It felt like arriving into a mini New York. Lights across the water, tall buildings compacted in to lively bustling streets. Big enough to be happening, small enough to get to know and love, unlike Auckland it seems. The latter was too sprawling for me. Too much like souless American towns I've been too.

Will meet Martin today at Vineyard. After which we might go sightseeing on the bike. Wellington watch out. Brits abroad. Well, actually Barrett abroad is enough. I might have to disown him...

Taihape. 1970s grime drama

Finding somewhere to stay in Taihape (Tie- happy)was harder than expected. The small agricultural service town was quiet, with pricey motels and no real backpackers hostel. After some help from Ethan in the BP garage, I managed to find a pub with rooms for $15. I discovered a few things. Firstly, you get what you pay for. Secondly that a pub here is very much less the warm cosy pint-by-a-log-fire kind of place, more a working mens club/bar/betting office/doss house. Thirdly, that horse hair matresses in brown (once-white) waterproof pvc coating is never going to be comfortable. It was like walking back in time to a scene from Starsky and Hutch. I confidently expected to put my head out the door and see flare clad undercover cops busting down a door looking for one of Huggsy's henchmen.



As I entered the smoke stained corridor, the sickening waft of recently cooked kippers filled the already stale air. One other room was occupied, the light from within beaming dully from the open door at the end of the corridor. Loud snoring emanated. I didn't need to go further down the corridor, though I envisaged a large balding man asleep with pasta sauce spilled down his string vest, long cigarette ash about to fall from his nicotine stained fingertips. My room was equally stale, the walls didn't reach the floor




and was replete with free grime, cracked windows poorly locked, overlooking a low corrugated tin roof (across which an exciting police foot chase might easily occur - "You'll never catch me Kojak" -steps back and falls into passing garbage truck).
After having returned to the BP station for some socialising, I slept unexpectedly well and left as early as possible. Tiehape, not so happy a place.

The Desert Road...

I have just had the most unbelievable bike trek ever. The Desert Road runs south from Taupo and it deserves the name. It's a volcanic wasteland of scrub and gullies, and the most... I can't find the words.. yet. I have just this minute got off the bike. Let the pictures do the rest...

Check the Gallery for updates...

Rotorua to Taupo

Rotorua - hot springs and massage

...

I slept badly and awoke with a stiff neck and right shoulder. It just so happens that Rotorua is the mineral spring capitalof the island, and the healing waters are recommended for all sorts of aches and pains. The local hospital offer a range of therapies using the local volcanic spa water, so I made tentative enquiries. Now,it being a hospital gives one the reassurance that this should be all above board, but I nevertheless was apprehensive, that some exotically named nymph might appear to invite 'sir' into the hot water salon. In a way she did. Jocelyn was introduced to me as the one who will be looking after me. Robed in her light blue dressing gown, she looked... professional. Jocelyn was very definitly over 60 and beneath her gown was dressed in Victorian modesty fromneck to ankle in a lycra masseuse suit. Phew. More to follow...

Jurassic Park

The Coromandel Peninsula. The bike was built for this kind of thing. I have been on the road for only 2 days and have already seen some of the most breath-taking scenes and the most exhilirating biking roads.

The mountain gravel tracks were awesome. Crossing the Coromandel hills, the bike was in its element, crossing fjiords, swishing through shale. It is always disconcerting when the front wheel gives in the gravel and your instinct is to brake. The technique of course is to keep the power on and ride through it.


I found muself in a forest area where I could take a gravel off-road route to some falls. It was unreal, the volcanic, Jurassic Park surroundings, with forests of tropical looking trees looming around me. I was the only person for miles around. It was mind blowing. The track descended to an open gate which should have kept me out, but I carried on, riding to the falls. A jungle-like walk down through the trees brought me into the rocky base of the cascade.


After this followed the coast roads leading down the east of the peninsula. Superbly smooth tarmac which curved left and right constantly for miles. It took immense concentration but it was here that I mastered the handling of the bike. Like a dancing partner with whom everything suddenly clicks, I began to rythmically incline into the bends, letting the bike lean, counter-steering, shifting weight into the bend. It felt like a sports bike. I am sure the panniers were near to touching down. Speeds were 45-50mph throughout, third and fouth gear, little braking. Like long, smooth linked turns on a snowboard, the bike just sailed round like a banshee on a skatebaord.

I have just arrived in Rotorua. It got dark by 6.30pm on the way in, the constant curved roads were unrelenting. This makes fast smooth riding difficult, the concentration needed was acute. Your eyes can get confused between the centre line cats' eyes, and the outside markers. The head light beam never shows you wide enough section of road. You are always up against it, focused on the narrow tunnel of light, unconscious of the now veiled scenery. Nothing else matters apart from those white dots in the centre line. It is fun, but it gets tiring quickly. I am glad I am here. Exhausted, ready for bed and it is only 8.45pm.

To Infinity and Beyond...!

Thursday morning: I picked up a passenger today. Goes by the name of Buzz, says he's on a mission from Space Command. I've seen him somewhere before... reminds me of someone I know...






Having arrived in the dark, I had no idea of what Coromandel town looked like, or what surrounded it. This was the view from my hostel room.



There were only three other people in the hostel. One lady happened to be from Barton Hill, Bristol, UK. She was also on two wheels but the more environmentally friendly version. I don't envy her, what with the rain and the the hills.

After an amazing night's sleep, I got up and bought a few tools for the bike, some oil and a toothbrush for cleaning the chain and I was ready to go find some adventurous biking roads.

Why am I still here? I should be in Clevedon

Wednesday morning: Subconsciously, I was planning to potter around Auckland today. I woke up with the realisation that I have all I need to get on the road. So why am I still here?

I packed, planned a circuitous route to Wellington, said my thanks and farewell to James and Dizz and hit the road. Then I remembered why I do this. The bike packed to toppling, everything in its place.. the open road laying just ahead. I need to be in Wellington by Saturday night, to see Martin in the Vineyard Sunday morning.

So I set out. I went north to Helensville through some gentle countryside, bought a new helmet (it was getting rainy). Then back around, then south of Auckland, then across to the Coromandel peninsula. It took the whole day to get used to the bike, how far it will lean, will it grip on the wet roads... I still wasn't 100% relaxed. Those tyres in the wet... I was not fully convinced.

At one point, after stumbling through a portal to another dimension I found myself in Clevedon, but in a parallel universe where things have changed. I couldn't find the pier.

The sun diappears quite early, before 7pm. I found my way to Coromandel town in the pitch dark. I discovered the speedo illumination does not work. Something to fix quick. I need some spanners (whatever they do...)

Africa Twin - deal struck

The scooter eventually got me to the Honda owner's house. I ignored the fact I'd arrived on the Piaggio. So did he. The bike was in immaculate condition, has had only one previous owner, which makes me the third in it's long life. The 15 year old adventure bike rode like it was new, the twin 750cc engine lacking any hint of rattling. I bought it immediately. The seat is high, giving a commanding view of the volcanic landscape. It gives a majestic ride, invoking feelings of superiority and privilege beyond the meagre experience of car drivers. The first chapter of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenace will explain it all.

It is a rare thing to find an adventure bike so well cared for, equipped with metal panniers, a top box and a tank bag. I couldn't have hoped for a better bike. I paid top money, but I can see this one coming home to England out of pure sentimental attachment.

HONDA Africa Twin, XRV 750 cc, in line V-twin, 5 speed, 105mph, only 58hp but it knows what to do with it.

50cc scooter hell

For some reason, this innocent looking, slightly feminine 50cc scared me. It's pink speedo with its marshmallow numbers suggested a bike that wouldn't bite- but I know scooters,and this was no exception. Skittish to say the least, it's half flat front tyre did nothing to keep me in a straight line on the road. Automatic with only one gear it took me from nought to scared in 2 seconds. In fact, I never knew how fast it went because the speedo showed an informative 0pmh at all speeds.
But it gave me the freedom of Auckland's streets, and after pumping the tyres up, I was grinning from ear to ear, dicing with the traffic and only just about managing any incline steeper than flat. It might be a girl's bike but it just goes to show, two wheels, even these two wheels, make life great.




I almost crashed it twice, both times by nearly sliding down sudden steep gravelly cambers into the soft verges. The scooter attracted little attention, except from a Glen Innes yob who lobbed a bottle at me from a moving Holden. I had stopped to check the map, the empty green bottle smashing inches from my back tyre. I thought about chasing after them - but the pink marshmallow numbers reminded me that wasn't a sensible option.

Auckland, NZ

I am staying with James and Dizz. James and I bought our first mobile phones at the same time, over 10 years ago. Each being the only other person we knew with a cell phone, we spoke daily and texted constantly. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship... sort of. Having lost touch a number of years ago, it was good to rekindle that old connection. James and his wife Dizz have already been a huge blessing, collecting me from the airport and giving me a place to stay while I prepare for my travels. They live in a beautiful spot, just outside of Auckland to the south west, in a Kauri wood villa on a 2 acre plot.

I have already visited a few bike shops, walked beaches of black volcanic sand, seen local waterfalls, savoured the local pies and I may have discovered my plan B...

..A Piaggio PGO two-stroke 50cc, 7 bhp, unrestricted top speed of 42mph.

Long haul hell or jet set delight?

Where am I? What day it it? Everyone reaches the future at the same speed of 60 minutes per hour. Yet flying long haul into the east creates a time warp for the mind, a twilight zone of existence. I left on a Thursday, travelled for 24 hours and arrived on a Saturday. I have only seen one dawn, slept three times for 2 hours and seem to have avoided jet lag. It is now Sunday, the sun is up and so am I. I feel good.

Between flights, waiting in Kuala Lumpur, I met a guy called Rino on his way from running Edinburgh festival to orgainse a similar event in his home town, Adelaide. He had been in the queue in front of me at Heathrow. Those fleeting moments were enough to create a familiarity here in the Malaysian melee of travellers. If people looked at us funny, it must have been his thrice pearced nose and twice pearced ears which set him apart from the crowd. Of course it may have been more to do with my pin striped jacket, pink shirt and cream cowboy hat combo- or a mixture of the two. We struck up a bit of a rapport and talked enthusiastically about living life to the full and the reality of knowing God.

The second leg of the journey went quickly. Dawn rose out of the clouds over Brisbane, Eastern Australia, as the Boeing 777 streaked across Pacific skies at 650 mph heading towards New Zealand and, as it turned out, the heaviest Tasman Sea rain storm for weeks.