I was facing the dilemma of having a 9:30pm flight and a bonus late checkout of 12pm.
What do?
Hire a car is what š
Meet, uhh… Jenny the Camry. Ugh, Iāll rethink that.
Jenny (cripes, thatās going to stick) and I are going to Akaroa!
At the peninsula war memorial
I decided to do some more random exploring to relive the glory days of when I used to ride a motorcycle around the South Isl- wait, have you heard this story? Sorry.
Iāve got so much more to post, but Iām now at Christchurch airport, awaiting the call to board.
Not long now and Iāll be back on home soil.
Very much looking forward to seeing you all and telling you ALL about my two week motorcycle trip around the South Isl-… sorry.
It was a bit strange to wake up around 7am as I have been, then get to roll over and go back to sleep again.
No checking out? No checking if Iāve left a charger in a socket before… where are the panniers and how the heck is this huge suitcase going to fit on a bike?!
On the agenda today is a visit to TÅ«ranga branch library to return a certain stray magazine.
I dropped in to TÅ«ranga library in the cityās centre. Itās gloriously shiny and oh so new.
They have a tech room with VR and a 3D printer.
The first thing I saw when I walked in, though? Motorcycles.
There were about eight different bikes on display, owned by people showcasing them as part of a collaboration with the Menās Shed. Theyāre on a mission to make people aware of menās health issues.
At the other end of the first floor, some women were knitting, chatting and handing out lollipops and orange pins as part of a Zonta Says No to Violence Against Women club display.
I visited Quake City, a Canterbury Museum showcase on the effects of, response to and lessons learned after the twin earthquakes of September 2010 and February 2011 that truly devastated Christchurch. The city has done well to recover, but itās shocking to still see so many abandoned buildings and flattened blocks used as carparks nine years on.
The biggest surprise was the cityās much loved cathedral, which is still fenced off and in ruins.
I have a certificate floating around somewhere, for having climbed the 133 steps to the tower when I was a child.
The cathedralās ruined spire, on display at Quake City.
After a lengthy period of debate about whether to demolish or repair the cathedral, I understand reconstruction is now the chosen course and will begin in early 2020. The estimated completion time is 18 months.
For a country with a population just over five million, the loss of 185 people was deeply felt. Still, for a city that was New Zealandās second most populous at the time, I must admit wonder at the fact that the toll wasnāt higher.
Incidentally, Christchurch is now NZās third most populous city after Auckland and Wellington, with people having moved away after the 2011 disaster.
Aside from those things, I just wandered about the city, admiring the natural beauty and general quiet, even during the day on weekends. Strolling along the banks of the Avon, watching people punting (being punted?) is quite pleasant. Big city look and feel, small city noise and congestion. Iām loving it.
Avon river, duck, bridge, tram. Boom! If a building hasnāt been levelled for use as a carpark and isnāt current being repaired, it just stands walled off and abandoned. A riverside stroll discovery
I sent my family a few Japanese language vids and didnāt seem to record any others, so uhh… enjoy?
Clouds were starting to creep over and the temperature dropped noticeably. I donned my jacket.
As I continued to wander about, I passed by an ice cream truck, which had a fairly long line of customers.
The children in line were all wearing shorts and Tshirts. Theyād each receive their treat, thank the āice cream manā and run off with wide grins on their faces.
Such joy for $4? I had to give it a try.
It was a pleasant tasting vanilla ice cream and the topping was subtly tart. Iām sure it wouldāve been exceptional on a hotter day.
Iāve handed Rubyās keys in and Iāve checked in to my room at Breakfree on Cashel in the heart of Christchurch.
Many, many thanks to Kim and the whole crew at South Pacific Motorcycle Tours for a smooth and memorable experience. This entire trip was painless thanks to their level of customer service and their professionalism.
I didnāt have to worry about carrying too many bags or too much gear, because I could leave things at the base while I was away.
I didnāt have to worry about the state of the bike, because their fleet is well maintained and their insurance plans are spelled out clearly from the beginning. Hah! I didnāt see a single Kea parrot š
Finally, they offered to pick me up from my accommodation when I arrived and they dropped me off once I returned. These are touches I did not expect and am extremely grateful for.
Iāll be throwing down a glowing review once Iāve had a shower and looked at my dinner options.
My trip back wasnāt without drama… more later.
Final mileage: 3808.8kms
You know what? Iām going to let the return trip go at that. I had an amazing time.
After two weeks straight of riding, Iām a better motorcyclist and a more considerate road user, though thatās easy to say when the next vehicle is more than a few hundred metres away at the very least.
If youāre here about today, letās rewind again…
The mission was to blast around the old roads again and to retrace my original steps.
Last time, I missed Cave. This time, I was determined to see what Cave was all about.
In this next video, Iām at one end of Cave and you can see the other end, right where the street stops.
Also, please note that I may have done something that some of you will find highly offensive.
WARNING: Seriously, the following video may be offensive to some viewers.
Look, a doggo came up to me and…
I didnāt pat it, okay? š
I keep watching that last bit over and over and it hasnāt stopped making me crack up.
I took a left here and a right there. Up this winding mountain road and down there.
Then it all started coming back to me.
The air turned crisp and cool. It smelled of pine trees and wild flowers. The wind turned from a pleasant, steady presence to a gusty, insistent shove.
On a whim, I pulled off the main road at a sign that read Dog Kennel Corner and was rewarded with some stunning mountain views, far superior to the roadside lookout a few hundred meters away that was awash with tour groups.
I just love this view. Itās inexplicable.
Thereās something about the fresh mountain air that makes me want to bang on for hours about how Iām feeling.
I sense something deeply emotional out here. Some sort of connection that I donāt understand.
So thatās all well and good, but itās now nearing midnight.
That just leaves the question about where I ended up this evening and why Iām still up.
If you know me well enough, thatās hardly a mystery. Iāve probably done a bad job of keeping it a secret anyway.
Another impossibly beautiful morning to kick off the day and another dig about the weather.
It wasnāt in 15 minutes and it wasnāt those clouds, but boy did the weather change…
I had one thing to take care of this morning before I left; I had to locate and dine at the World Famous Seafood BBQ stand by the water.
Why not make it second breakfast, right?! Pippin style.
There you go, ābroā. I did it! Thanks for the suggestion.
Despite not being much of a seafood eater these days, I dove in with an order of garlic scallops and half a cray.
It came on a bed of rice, with a side salad and looked a lot like this:
Mysteriously, this little BBQ stand on the side of the road gets a lot of negative reviews (Check out Yelp!) with many complaining about the lack of flavour and the portion sizes.
There was plenty of flavour in the dish that I had and it all came from super fresh, simply cooked seafood. No creamy or sticky sauces in sight. The only condiments on the table were salt and pepper and Italian dressing for the otherwise unflavoured salad.
It was bloody delicious.
In a time when every muesli bar in New Zealand appears to be chocolate coated, when Maggi noodles have portion reminders (ā1 cake is 1 serve!ā) yet still appears to be fried, not baked, I can imagine why some people may think itās bland.
If you want to try some locally caught, simply prepared seafood, give the Seafood BBQ truck a try.
Time to hit the road again. My destination was a big fat blank. In truth, I was aiming for somewhere like Oxford. Little did I know that within the next three to four hours, I would sincerely wish I had picked Oxford and stayed there…
An hour and 40 minutes later, I pulled over for a coffee and to stretch my legs.
The weather was fine, the birds were singing and I was having a grand old time.
I ordered some pancakes to go with the coffee.
I see Iām chubbier in these latest clips. Damn my inability to resist these cafe snacks! I was certain I was going to lose weight on this trip š
In any case, ya boy needed some eats š
Recharged, I rode onwards. Ruby purred away beneath me and all was right with the world.
On the horizon, darker clouds were beginning to show over the range. I was hardly surprised. Iād had an absolutely magnificent run with the weather already, so we were due for a change. The random weather generator had clearly chosen ādownpourā.
An hour passed. By now, rain was smattering down. My optimism and bravado were diminishing rapidly as the road I was following continued turning towards the core of the storm.
Light grey and silver turned to slate grey. The rain began to hammer down. The cacophony inside my helmet began to irritate me as did the cold and the gusts of wind. I was getting distracted.
Half an hour later again and I began to see lightning on the horizon. I chose to take the next possible opportunity to stop and get out of the worsening storm… but there was nowhere at all to go.
By choice, I was on some unknown back roads.
My phone, now wet as well, wouldnāt respond to the inputs from my freezing fingers. I couldnāt wipe it dry enough to load maps. I chose to ride on in search of a sign to any nearby settlement.
Yet another half an hour went by without a single bus stop, house, township or makeshift shelter in sight.
The slate grey clouds had by now taken on an ominous, greenish tinge. Iād not seen such colours in a very long time, but I knew they were the portents of a hailstorm.
By some stroke of luck, a chosen series of turns led me back to Inland Scenic Route 72. Moments later, I rolled up to the Route 72 Cafe and Emporium, just as the rain stopped and tiny white flakes that reminded me of snow, began to fall.
I locked Rubyās steering and ran over to find a lady frantically packing up the curios on her front display tables.
āLooking to shelter from the storm, love?ā she smiled.
I nodded. āYes maāam. Are you still open?ā I pleaded.
She indicated that they were. I offered to assist with packing items away, but she declined and told me to make myself comfortable inside.
Within five minutes, the hail began to fall in earnest.
I ordered a chai latte and figured this would all pass in a moment. This is New Zealand, after all…
Except it didnāt. It got worse.
You can hear one of the ladies telling me to head upstairs because thereās a great view up there. I did as indicated.
As I bounded up the stairs, I could hear the hail had gotten heavier again.
This carried on for long enough to punch holes through the cafeās roof. Some goods at the back were flooded and damaged by the hail and rain, which was beginning to skitter across the floor and into the main seating area.
Throughout this ordeal, I got to speaking to the three other people in that first video, visiting from Christchurch. We discussed veganism and the future of farming, politics and Jacinda Ardern, the world that young people are facing today compared to how we had things āback thenā… it was a wholesome and pleasant conversation.
As quickly as if had come, the hail stopped, but it left me with a new dilemma:
The sheer amount of hail had turned the street into a scene from early spring in Sapporo. It looked like sleet.
Cold tyres and icy roads? No thank you.
Everybody suggested that I sit down and continue the conversation as it would āall be clear soon enoughā. I had my doubts, but they turned out to be misguided.
I stopped just outside of town to check my directions. I didnāt realise that I had gathered an audience:
The trip to Geraldine wasnāt without further difficulty. It rained heavily again and I once again began to get agitated from the now freezing cold rain and wind.
In the end, I just took it steadily and eventually arrived safely at Grumpyās Kiwi Holiday Park just outside of Geraldine.
I sent this to some mates before signing off for the night:
NOTE: I finally went back and updated Day 11.2 to include footage of the seapuppies.
Carrying on with the fantastic mannequin displays and dioramas is the WWII aircraft collection, Dangerous Skies.
Hereās just some of what I saw.
The notched coin
When I bought entry to both collections (for either can be viewed separately from the other), I received a metallic coin, notched along both faces. I received no explanation as to its use.
Although logic suggested it was for entry into an exhibit, to keep the mystery going, I didnāt inquire as to its purpose.
… and sure enough, it was just for a little entrance gate for the second exhibit. I recorded this next video (badly, apparently) because I had kept hold of the coin so carefully for hours:
Bye, little coin…
Nkay, letās move on to the good stuff.
The first thing I saw was a set of four big plaques commemorating female pilots and womenās air divisions.
They also had some prints of old wartime posters in the entrance hallway.
Whatās up, doc?
š³
This next diorama represents the moment RAF pilot James āSpudā Hayter Parachuted into a cocktail party after being shot down by a Bf-109 somewhere over Kent.
He had a minor head wound, which was attended to by a female doctor at the party. With a reputation as somewhat of a ladies (ladyās?) man, he was reportedly nonplussed to have received a bill for the medical attention after the party.
More to come…
There was a hallway after the last segment, that led to a waiting area. It was decorated with prints of posters In Russian and a hanging model aircraft.
I havenāt translated it yet, but it clearly says my name, so I had to take a closeup photo.
A red light on the roof indicated that the door wasnāt to be opened yet.
A clock on the wall had green highlights on each eight minute segment, indicating approximately when the following room could be entered.
The eight minute experience that followed was moving.
It started with a simulation of what it may have been like in a burning, war torn Stalingrad. Enemy bombers stalked the sky and aircraft were dogfighting just overhead. One crashed nearby and I was conscious that it would have contained a person of only about 20 years old. Their life was suddenly snuffed out…
The presentation then carried on with a summary of deaths sustained during the war.
I recorded the presentation with the phone sitting on my lap, pointing roughly towards the screen. I was lucky to have aimed well enough to have captured the image along with the audio.
Iāll trim the video later and post snippets.
The last display was of a Lockheed Hudson, crashed and forgotten in the jungle:
Once again, the detail was astonishing.
I exited the museum, impressed, grateful and thoughtful. I stood outside, shaking my head at the horrors of war, the loss of life and the lessons we clearly havenāt learned.
Perhaps weāre just destined to go around the same wheel over and again after all? Surely not… hopefully not.
I ranted for about six minutes straight outside the museum, about loving the planet and the people around us, the futility of conflict, the magnificence of the displays and my next destination, Kaikoura. I managed to cut it all down to about one and a half:
Mission one for today is to check out the Air Museum.
Iām currently trying to work out how to see it without having to cart my riding gear around.
Unfortunately I couldnāt get this room for a second night, so itās onward to Kaikoura (by recommendation) this afternoon. Just a short trip, because I expect to spend quite a bit of time at this museum.
Knights of the Sky
The Omaka Air Museum opens at 10am. I was in there at 10:10 and only just emerged for a sandwich and a cappuccino. Itās 12:30pm.
Sir Peter Jacksonās collection of WWI aircraft and memorabilia is truly staggering. Adding to the spectacular collection itself are dioramas and displays crafted by Jacksonās own Weta Workshop and Wingnut Films.
I hope my photos can do this incredible collection a modicum of justice. Iāll post them later. For now, on to the WWII portion – Dangerous Skies!
Knights of the Sky – WWI 10:10am – 12:30pm
Welcome note on an A frame at the entrance.
As soon as I walked through the entrance, it was clear that this was no stuffy old exhibit with ratty replica uniforms on roughly made mannequins. It was spacious and clean and very professionally managed.
Immediately, a guide greeted me, informed me that there are information placards on each display and that I was welcome to ask any questions that I may have as I walked around.
As you can see, it wasnāt just a collection of static models on their wheels, skids or floats. Many of them were frozen in a moment of action, some even inverted.
The following picture is of the first big diorama, depicting a Morane Saulnier BB that had skidded to a halt, presumably because the pilot and gunner were heavily injured.
Some ground crew are carrying the gunner out of the cockpit and on the right, a field nurse is pulling up in a vehicle, ready to cart the patient to the medical tent.
Most impressive were the puddles of water in the boot prints and gouges left in the ground by the skidding aircraft, and the spattered mud on the side of the peopleās boots and the vehicle.
I sincerely hope those finer details can be seen in the following pictures.
Other displays included uniforms worn by personnel and pilots, both men and women, along with letters and other personal effects as donated, such as letters, medals and trophies.
The authenticity of each item was indicated with photos of the wearer or by using references from the donor, where possible. Where the origin or owner was unknown, more general information about how the item was used or worn was displayed.
Still more displays contained equipment from aircraft themselves or in some cases, even the cockpits and instrument panels from crashed, captured or salvaged machines.
āHello, yes. Could you tell me how to get to Sesame Street? Hah! No, but seriously, where am I risking my life today?ā
Hereās another great diorama depicting āGridās Great Escapeā.
The story goes that NZ flying ace Lieutenant Keith āGridā Caldwell and a fellow squadron member collided whilst combating an enemy aircraft. Gridās plane took substantial damage to its wing structure and began to spin out of control.
Preparing to bail out over enemy trenches (sans parachute because of a concern that pilots would eject unnecessarily), Lt Caldwell stepped out onto the wing and accidentally discovered that by grasping the frame, he could steady the plane enough to fly it once more.
Standing on the outside of the cockpit, he managed to limp the plane back to safety, rolled off the plane as it crashed, dusted himself off and hit the mess tent for some drinks.
The āI donāt think itās meant to be parked up thereā diorama.
Did any of you read the Biggles stories?
This next picture reminds me of the chivalry, daring and mutual respect between pilots on all sides as depicted in those books.
Cheers old chap! Can I borrow your mobile to call roadside assistance?
A collection in itself of several versions of the legendary Fokker Dr.I (dreidecker) as made famous by Baron Manfred von Richthofen aka. The Red Baron.
Miniature model planes fashioned by PoWs using wood, metal and bits of thread.
Before leaving Westport, I decided to take a quick look around some back streets.
Around one particular turn, I discovered this magnificent monument to the townās fallen soldiers – their Gates of Remembrance:
I hopped off the bike and walked through the right hand smaller gate near the middle arch, letting my fingers stroke the stone as I passed.
Nearly all the towns Iāve visited appeared to have varying displays honouring their dead from both world wars. In retrospect, I suppose the length of the lists determined the eventual size of the monument.
There was a large, grassed area further along the path. I presume they hold their memorial parades there.
Seapuppies
Sea doggos, ocean puppies, fur seals, call them what you will. I had to see the colony.
As promised, a short ride out of Westport led me to the gate at the end of the Cape Foulwind Walkway.
A nearby sign proudly stated that the walk would take an hour to complete.
AN HOUR?!
Yep. The seapuppies were 2.9 kilometres away.
š”
What happened to the 10 minute walk from the carpark?!
Adding insult to injury, the gate was chained shut.
Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and fired up Google Maps.
Yes, the walkway would take me to the seal colony. But so would… ah! There was a turnoff further down the road that would lead to the carpark I heard about.
A short ride later, I was in the right place and trekking once again, to meet some fur seals.
Despite my whinge, it really did only take 10 minutes to get to the platform, so, sorry lady at the counter.
As soon as I arrived at the platform, a fur seal fumbled its way out of the freezing water and sat on a rock. If it wasnāt moving, I wouldnāt have been able to pick it out from the rock it was on.
Once I got the hang of spotting them, I realised they were everywhere!
Howās the little guy at the end… CLEANING HIMSELF š š„°
Good morning! Although itās raining steadily again today, Iāll take it over the raucous thunderstorm that woke me up around 5:30.
Letās kick off this Monday morning just right with a little wisdom from the toiletries in the bathroom:
Insist on yourself āš
Todayās mission is simply to get to Blenheim.
Somebody put the idea of visiting Sir Peter Jacksonās Knights of the Sky exhibit at the Omaka Aviation Heritage Centre in my head. Iām going to have to see both the WWI and WWII exhibitions.
Whether I get there today or have to do it on the morning remains to be seen.
8:30am
Iāve just been informed that thereās a fur seal colony at nearby Tauranga Cape Foulwind, referred to by Captain Cook as āa place of foul windsā in 1770.
What if that was just an offhand remark that ended up naming the place?
Lads, this hereās a place of right foul winds, what? No, Banks, donāt write that down. What if it stuck? Can you imagine?
- crew laughs heartily -
Iām also told the viewing platform is āonly a 10 minute walk from the parking spacesā š
First, breakfast. Then seals.
Iām behind!
You know, I thought this would happen much sooner than it did. Iām behind with my posts.
After going shopping for some muesli and fruit yesterday, I decided to watch the last MotoGP race of the season.
I ended up crashing out to sleep afterwards and now, itās already day 12!
Iāll add to this post later this afternoon, because I saw some seadoggos (fur seals!) that made me go š„°
To my library crew and book loving friends, letās begin with one of the coolest features at Punakaiki – a community book exchange box, with seating area. The container is an old Kelvinator fridge:
Other locations painted on the front š
Directly across the road from the book exchange fridge is the entrance to the walkway around the Pancake Rocks.
A short walk through a mini jungle later and I found myself on a paved walkway, heading out towards the sea.
You know what is worth the trouble of taking off all the gear? Not getting dehydrated š¬
Anyway, the point at which the people were gathering at turned out to be a lookout. This is the view they offered.
I was fascinated by the layered rocks to the right hand side of that photo.
As with the glaciers, I canāt help but wonder what mysterious and ancient things may be preserved between those layers.
I continued along the walkway and came upon another lookout. The view was essentially just another angle of the first few rocks.
The walkway continued around and from the third lookout, I could now distinctly make out the pancake pattern on the rocks to the right of this next photo.
At this stage, I began to assume that this was about all I was going to see. The novelty of distant, layered rocks can only hold for so long.
Punakaikiās walkway likes to string the visitor along, ever so demurely giving away only a little at a time.
That is, until lookout four.
Oh my curious heart. I just want to rub a pancake rock and ask it some questions…
Then came the blowholes. Not unlike steam vents, they blow salty ocean mist into the air when the pressure from the incoming waves reaches a threshold.
Iām sorry, but I didnāt grab my tripod for the following shots š
Iāve learned first hand that itās essential for infinitely better quality video.
Incidentally, itās not raining in this next clip. What you can see is the mist from the blow hole behind me.
The walkway turned to the left to reveal The Teapot, the name given to the hole blowing all that mist into the air:
Spectacular.
And so the marvellous views continued.
Another angle of the tide pool from the beginning. From this side, I could make out the caverns that the water was slowly digging out of the rock:
At last, the walkway returned to its origin. I dashed out of there and back to the bike for a much needed drink of water.
Time to finally head onwards to my chosen destination of Westport!
Westsiiiiide!
Westport is a blip on the map, famous for its gold mining past and its coal mining present.
I had a pizza from a local shop called Smileyās which happened to be run on the night by two siblings who only recently moved back home from Logan.
The pizza was okay, but youād go more for the friendly local service š
