Thank you to all of you for following along and commenting over the past few weeks.
With the speed at which this year has flown by, I’m hardly surprised that the trip is over.
I’ve never tried to explore my local area as if I had just arrived on a tight time schedule, so I’m going to do some local touristy things and learn a bit more about my home.
My next Aussie destination might just be Tasmania. I’ve heard great things, mostly from Brits and Kiwis, about riding through the mountains there.
I learned a lot about myself and discovered some more of what makes me tick. – I love motorcycling, in all manner of conditions. – Crisp, face numbing alpine air makes my heart happy. – I find wide open spaces relaxing. – When push comes to shove, I’ll chose Indian takeaway over anything else.
And now that I’ve had some experience using motorcycle panniers and a top box, I have a much better idea of what I’d like to do to make Hilda capable of carrying and storing gear.
I’m back, with renewed purpose and drive and a tonne of gratitude. It’s time to wind down 2019 with that energy on show.
As for NZ – I saw a tiny, tiny part of this amazing world and I must say, the people who reside there are doing a great job with it. Please do go check it out.
If you’re interested in doing so by motorcycle, have a chat to South Pacific Motorcycle Tours, who’ll give you a 10% discount for saying I sent you there 👍
Accomplished: New Zealand. South Island. November 2019. One man, one motorcycle and a heck of a lot of discovery, inside and out.
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 😉
Meet, uhh… Jenny the Camry. Ugh, I’ll rethink that.
Jenny (cripes, that’s 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.
I’ve got so much more to post, but I’m now at Christchurch airport, awaiting the call to board.
Not long now and I’ll 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 I’ve 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 Tūranga branch library to return a certain stray magazine.
I dropped in to Tūranga library in the city’s centre. It’s 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 Men’s Shed. They’re on a mission to make people aware of men’s 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 it’s shocking to still see so many abandoned buildings and flattened blocks used as carparks nine years on.
The biggest surprise was the city’s 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 cathedral’s 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 Zealand’s second most populous at the time, I must admit wonder at the fact that the toll wasn’t higher.
Incidentally, Christchurch is now NZ’s 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. I’m loving it.
Avon river, duck, bridge, tram. Boom! If a building hasn’t been levelled for use as a carpark and isn’t current being repaired, it just stands walled off and abandoned. A riverside stroll discovery
I sent my family a few Japanese language vids and didn’t 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. They’d each receive their treat, thank the ‘ice cream man’ 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. I’m sure it would’ve been exceptional on a hotter day.
I’ve handed Ruby’s keys in and I’ve 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t see a single Kea parrot 😂
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.
I’ll be throwing down a glowing review once I’ve had a shower and looked at my dinner options.
My trip back wasn’t without drama… more later.
Final mileage: 3808.8kms
You know what? I’m going to let the return trip go at that. I had an amazing time.
After two weeks straight of riding, I’m a better motorcyclist and a more considerate road user, though that’s easy to say when the next vehicle is more than a few hundred metres away at the very least.
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, I’m 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 didn’t pat it, okay? 🙄
I keep watching that last bit over and over and it hasn’t 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. It’s inexplicable.
There’s something about the fresh mountain air that makes me want to bang on for hours about how I’m feeling.
I sense something deeply emotional out here. Some sort of connection that I don’t understand.
So that’s all well and good, but it’s now nearing midnight.
That just leaves the question about where I ended up this evening and why I’m still up.
If you know me well enough, that’s hardly a mystery. I’ve probably done a bad job of keeping it a secret anyway.
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.
Here’s 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 didn’t 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, let’s move on to the good stuff.
The first thing I saw was a set of four big plaques commemorating female pilots and women’s air divisions.
They also had some prints of old wartime posters in the entrance hallway.
What’s up, doc?
😳
This next diorama represents the moment RAF pilot James ‘Spud’ 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 (lady’s?) 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 haven’t 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 wasn’t 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.
I’ll 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 haven’t learned.
Perhaps we’re 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.
I’m currently trying to work out how to see it without having to cart my riding gear around.
Unfortunately I couldn’t get this room for a second night, so it’s 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. It’s 12:30pm.
Sir Peter Jackson’s collection of WWI aircraft and memorabilia is truly staggering. Adding to the spectacular collection itself are dioramas and displays crafted by Jackson’s own Weta Workshop and Wingnut Films.
I hope my photos can do this incredible collection a modicum of justice. I’ll 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 wasn’t 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 people’s 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.
‘Hello, yes. Could you tell me how to get to Sesame Street? Hah! No, but seriously, where am I risking my life today?’
Here’s another great diorama depicting ‘Grid’s Great Escape’.
The story goes that NZ flying ace Lieutenant Keith ‘Grid’ Caldwell and a fellow squadron member collided whilst combating an enemy aircraft. Grid’s 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 ‘I don’t think it’s meant to be parked up there’ 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 town’s 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 I’ve 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.
😡
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 wasn’t moving, I wouldn’t 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!
How’s the little guy at the end… CLEANING HIMSELF 😍 🥰
Good morning! Although it’s raining steadily again today, I’ll take it over the raucous thunderstorm that woke me up around 5:30.
Let’s kick off this Monday morning just right with a little wisdom from the toiletries in the bathroom:
Insist on yourself ✊😌
Today’s mission is simply to get to Blenheim.
Somebody put the idea of visiting Sir Peter Jackson’s Knights of the Sky exhibit at the Omaka Aviation Heritage Centre in my head. I’m 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
I’ve just been informed that there’s a fur seal colony at nearby Tauranga Cape Foulwind, referred to by Captain Cook as ‘a place of foul winds’ in 1770.
What if that was just an offhand remark that ended up naming the place?
Lads, this here’s a place of right foul winds, what? No, Banks, don’t write that down. What if it stuck? Can you imagine?
- crew laughs heartily -
I’m also told the viewing platform is ‘only a 10 minute walk from the parking spaces’ 😏
First, breakfast. Then seals.
I’m behind!
You know, I thought this would happen much sooner than it did. I’m 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, it’s already day 12!
I’ll add to this post later this afternoon, because I saw some seadoggos (fur seals!) that made me go 🥰
To my library crew and book loving friends, let’s 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 😍
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 😬
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 can’t 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.
Punakaiki’s 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.
I’m sorry, but I didn’t grab my tripod for the following shots 😓
I’ve learned first hand that it’s essential for infinitely better quality video.
Incidentally, it’s 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 Smiley’s which happened to be run on the night by two siblings who only recently moved back home from Logan.
The pizza was okay, but you’d go more for the friendly local service 👌
