Whakamaru , lovely
3000km or so ahead , in glorious weather down through the sun-dappled back roads out of Kihikihi , past the various lakes to Turangi , where I stay at the AFAC lodge . Here , I should point out that all plans are really only taunts to the weather gods ( and a bit doomed ).
DECEMBER 18 1am the sky fell on the roof with a tremendous clamour , rain hammering straight down . 2am rain . 3am rain . 4am rain . 5am more rain . 6am spitting . 6:28am saddled , lodge locked , and off across the Desert Road . There are a lot of things you remember you forgot to pack when riding as light as possible : toothpaste , shampoo and painkillers , all remediable at the nearest gas station in Taihape . Unfortunately , I did not think to bring a Pinlock for hot summer riding . Nor is this fixable . And it was Central Plateau cold ... and fogging up badly inside the helmet . This became a bugbear on my trip . My Shoei GT Air 3 has a very firm clip to seal down the visor , requiring a lot of force to click it closed – thereby preventing rain entering – and equally - to push on a small button with great force , to open it . Closed - fogged up in seconds ;
open , even a sliver , meant a blast of gritty , road-washed rain blew in through the crack with every passing truck , of which there were hundreds . I happily discovered the new wet weather jacket was utterly brilliant , however the muchvaunted Scott overpants , not , and my boots were possibly water ‘ resistant ’ ten years ago . A grim passage ensued , as I fought with the bloody helmet . In Taihape , the only place open was the Wild Bean gasser , where I discovered that the outer layer of the RevIt jacket was a holding tank for water , but the Goretex liner and quilt layers were dry and warm . Nevertheless a considerable pool , a metre or more in diameter , formed around me as I leaked all over the gas station floor . A charming woman mopped , as I sat eating breakfast . A Facebook post of the time recorded the service level , as 9 out of 10 on the ‘ why are you bothering me ’ scale ( beaten only by riotously amusing horrors at the Whakamaru Dam Café the day before , where I assume they were filming the discomfort of their patrons for some cruel comedy gig ). I moved on and the weather lifted , as did my humour . Arriving in Wellington I stayed with old friends and had the sort of lovely catch up that happens so rarely , but one remembers for years .
KIWI RIDER 101