Australia, the first few days

It took ten days to get my bike through customs and a quarantine inspection, which was longer than I hoped or planned for .  I was rather surprised that when I attended the inspection and the officer found some small amount of dirt tucked away, which he said would need to be cleaned off, when I asked if I could do it there and then, one he said I could just wipe it off with a rag and two when I asked what to do with the now "contaminated" cloth, he said "just take it with you". Umm so much for bio hazard!

This was all done on Friday 7th April, however due to the inefficiency of the system, I was unable to collect the bike until after the weekend. So on Monday 10th rented a van, drove to the warehouse, removed the bike from the crate and loaded both up. Once back at Nina's house I had everything unloaded and the bike ready for the next leg of the trip by 5pm. 

Tuesday 11th April at 7am I ride out of Sydney, crossing the world famous harbour bridge and getting glimpses of the Opera House. There are few city scales in the world that are so synonymous with a countries identity, but this is one. I take the main hwy towards Canberra and I have covered the 400km to Cooma by 1pm, where I stop for lunch and warm up, as it has been a bloody chilly ride, something that I wasn't expecting. From Cooma I head to Jindabyne in the mountains of Victoria. I punch in the next destination of Buchan which will take me through the Kosciuszko NP and home to Australia's highest mountain at 2229m, more a hill than a mountain ;)

The GPS says its 170km to Buchan, which as its now 3.30pm and it gets dark at 6pm is doable, the map shows this road as small and through the mountains, just the kind of thing I enjoy. It doesn't however show it as a dirt road, which it turns to after 20km. Now that isn't a problem, apart from its slower, which put my hopes of getting to Buchan before dark in doubt. I push on as it is beautiful gum tree covered rolling hills and the road is in great condition. I have my first sightings of wild kangaroos and a few emu. To see Roos hoping around in the forest and some with their baby Joes, it's a truly Australian sight, and is a highlight of the day.

I'm about halfway along the route when the sky darkens and it starts to rain, which puts pay to my idea of camping up by the river. The one golden rule there is in motorcycle travel is never travel at night, it's simply too dangerous, especially when there are large animals bouncing around the place, that when the light fades, are almost impossible to see. Yet this is the scenario I am now left with, ride on in dangerous conditions, or camp up in the rain. Perhaps foolishly I ride on, but at a very slow pace, even then a few times I catch from the corner of my eyes the movement of one of these large marsupials which can stand 6 foot tall. I finally pull in to Buchan at 7.30pm, exhausted and slightly annoyed with myself for misjudging the length of the day and leaving myself in a vulnerable position, I know better.

I quickly set up the tent, ate a small meal, enjoyed a hot shower and was sound asleep by 9pm. I woke at 6.30am the following day, and on my way the the loos almost fell over a kangaroo who was minding his own business in camp, quietly chewing some grass, I'm not sure who was more surprised, but it was a lovely start to the day.

I'm on the road by 8am and heading towards the coast, not that the road really touches the sea, but I weave from small country town to small country town, each Main Street lined with a collection of Utes , while there owners go about some business in town, picking up sillies for the farm, having breakfast with other country folk and chewing the fat of life. The towns do have a similar feel, being built at roughly the same period, they all have a bank, a church, a lawyers office, a general store and now days a cafe. No town regardless of how small is complete without a flat white refill station!

Again the weather is chilly and there are intermittent light shower, but no Roos to hamper the speed. I arrive at Antony's house at 5.30pm, he is one of many fri nods I made while in my two months residency in Mendoza back in 2009, after my accident just outside the town. He's a good lad, despite being from the north of England, no ones perfect I guess. We have a couple of cold beers before heading out for a steak dinner and a good catch up. The following day is a whistle stop tour of Melbourne, which strikes me as a nice town it live, but not a tourist must; but then I'm a hard man to please.

First Days in New Zealand

I arrive in to Auckland , New Zealand on the afternoon of Friday 10th February and I'm pick d up by Brenton who I met while riding the TAT across the US. After a long over night flight I'm keen for a cold beer and a shower, in that order. Brenton and his wife Maria do me a sumptuous dinner and far too much win is consumed,  as should happen when old friendships are reacquainted.

Over the weekend I'm given the tourist treatment and indulged in far too much good food. Sunday I prep the bike and get all my gear ready as we are leaving early Monday morning. At 6 am we are both up and packing the bikes, a small breakfast and then we hit the road, for a full 2 miles; a man needs coffee in the morning 😎☕️

Tanks and caffeine topped up, we ride off on a damp and drizzly Auckland morning to do battle with the dense traffic. By 11am we have encountered the first dirt road and the Im reacquainted with how badly the GS handles on dirt, and vein with the right tyres. It's big, ponderous and a handful when it's wet and it's very very wet. I slither and slide up and down the tight twisty hills of the north island, as Brenton effortlessly, well actually skilfully, handles his old XTZ750 through the densely wooded terrain. 

The rain is now coming down in sheets and the hill tops are mist shrouded, making visibility poor and the going slower than we would like. After 2 hours of constant rain we eventually find tar road again and set the GPS to fastest route to get us to our destination, this is not enjoyable. We make good progress and enroute find a warm cafe to pull in to, a bonus of traveling in NZ is the abundance of such establishments, where a flat white can be knocked up in no time.

We arrive at a small roadside motel in the middle of the north island (the name of the town escapes me, it was not exciting) for the night and meet up with three other lads that are riding down with us. It's an old school place, which would not be out of keeping in a 1970's American film, which might actually be much of NZ, there is a slightly behind the time feel here, not in a bad way, more just quaint. 

I'm up early the following day, but Jenny the motel supervisor isn't not, breakfast starts at 8am! By 8.30 we are all on the road and it's raining. We pull in for gas after half an hour, it should be routine, even with 5 riders, but on of the KTM's won't start. After an hour we have it running, but without really identifying what the problem was. I don't like Orange.

The rain clears and we start on to a dirt road that leads us through beautiful grass covered hill, with the obligatory sheep and a fast flowing river in the valley below. 

After several days on the road we arrive in Fairlie to register for the Dusty Butt adventure riding, a three days gravel road ride through what is I hope spectacular country side. The previously day I experienced my first trail bike sections, with a couple of stream crossing, which on the fully loaded GS was a challenge, as it weighs a ton.

We over night in the town of Methven a small ski town that is full of gap year students from Europe thanking a year out from the stress of study. The boys arrive an hour after me , as I have taken the tar option, so I have the JD and coke ready in the fridge for when they arrive. It's the gentlemanly thing to do.

The following day is going to be a relaxed affair, so we have a lay in and a relaxed breafast before  taking a slow ride to Fairlie. Once here we settle in to our motel, then grab some previsions for breakfast, as it's going to be an early start. 

To the South

Sometimes a man has to know his limitations and his bikes! I've been entered into an adventure ride called the Dusty Butt, a 1400km ride through some of the most beautiful scenery the South Island has to offer, which sounds great, but after hauling my bike over the Rainbow Road and now faced with trying to ride along with guys mainly on either enduro or light weight trail bikes, I have to realise I'm out of my depth, even with all the luggage removed. I do a section called the Densey Pass, which is relatively easy dirt road, but I'm not here to be a hero and fling myself and the bike in to a big hill or canyon, I bow out gracefully.

The following day I head for the South Land and the Catlins, a rugged and weather beaten part of the world, where the world end and the next stop is Antartica. Many of the place names have their roots in Scotland, as many of the settlers heralded from there and the similarity to the west coast of Scotland is striking, perhaps the place names such as Dunedin help with that thought.

I camp for the first time on this trip at Curio Bay, a rugged outcrop of rock, that gives shelter to the calm waters of Porpoise Bay. One side has crashing surf pummelling the rocks, the other has gently rolling waves coming up the golden sands. I set up my tent amongst flax grass, which is not like grass I have seen before, it stands 8 feet high, so offers excellent protection from the stiff sea breeze. It's a glorious sunny afternoon and I take a walk along the headland and sit to watch the relentless motion of the sea doing battle with the rock. I take the opportunity for a snooze as the sounds of nature fill my head, and all of life's worries evaporate.

Of course this all sounds idilic, until the very cold and damp sea mist rolls in and shatters my utopia. I wake in the morning to a sodden tent and a long wait for the sun to get rid of this ghostly monster. I brake camp and ride up to Slope Point, the southern most place in New Zealand, except for a couple of islands. It's a dramatic scene of jagged rock pointing out to the South Pole in one direction and to the east, America, many many miles away.

My guide book leads me past Invercargill, to the town of Rivington, which is famous for something, but right at this point all I'm thinking of is my stomach and I head to the recommended pit stop of the Beach House Cafe, to sample their excellent and well worth the wait, seafood chowder. I remount my bike with the sun in my face and satisfied belly.

The northern most point; Cape Reinaga

I catch the early morning ferry from Rawene to Kohukohu and ride through the the small back roads to the start of Ninety Mile beach and the settlement of Ahipara, where I grab a quick coffee and take a look at this vast expanse of sand that takes up the last of the west coast. The sunshine state down as I ride up Hwy 1 and eventually come to Cape Reinga, the most northerly point of NZ (at lease without taking a large hike). A lighthouse watches over this treacherous stretch of water where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean and boils away as both bodies of water struggle for dominance.      

I spend about an hour just wonder around this beautiful spot and feeling the ocean winds blow strong on my face and breath in then fresh raw air, before mounting the bike for quick stop at the giant sand dunes at the north end of Ninety Mile Beach, which are very reminiscent of Namibia, then a slow ride down to Pekenui which I reach just before sunset. The following day I contained on Hwy 1 until Awanui , where I h ad east and towards Doubtless Bay, so called because Cpt Cook noted in his log, "doubtless a bay"! Here there are a collection of small settlements and upmarket hotels, which all enjoy the calm waters of the blue hour our which is protected from the ocean winds. I stop in the final of these places in Mongonui, where is buy food in the only supermarket I have ever been in that stands on stilts over the water.

My destination for the night is off the Hwy at Matauti Bay, with a large stretch of beach to one side and a jutting headland to the north. This is the final resting place of the Rainbow Warrior, that was sunk on the ord rs of the French government in Auckland harbour on 10th July 1985. It was refloated then scuttled just off of Matauti , amongst the 17 Cavalli Islands that sit just off shore.

I wake early and take a long walk down the beach and enjoy the sunrise and the crashing rollers that come in from the Pacific, it's the perfect way to start the day. I'm in no hurry to leave camp, as my next destination of Russell in the Bay of islands is only70kms away.  The small settlement of Russell with a population of 720 is now a calm backwater, but in 1850 it was den of iniquity and debauchery, where whaling ships would set anchor for the crew to go ashore for some R&R "root & run" 😉. Sadly these times have passed and I had to resort to just a couple of cold beers in NZ's oldest fishing club, The Bay of Islans Swordfish Club, where I simply enjoyed the view from the balcony.

The next morning I wake to rain showers, but who cares it's my last day on the road in NZ and nothing is going to stop my enjoyment. 

I ride off on the small back roads that litter the way to Cape Brett, turning south through Ngiotonga and through to Helena Bay, where I enjoy a coffee with a view, before join Hwy1 for a fast ride down to Auckland and the home of Brenton and Maria.

Over the weekend I get the GS cleaned up and ready for shipment to Australia, then on Monday Brenton helps me load her in to a crate that he has scrounged from a local bike dealer and on Wednesday 22nd we take her down to the warehouse for shipment to Syndey.

To the North Island

I leave the South Island from Picton on Friday 10th March, and have to comes I will miss the South Island greatly, she has been a most rewarding travel partner and I'm sure in the future we will become reacquainted. I arrive in to Wellington at 5.45pm and ride up hwy 3 for two hours and stop at the one horse town that is Foxton. The motel is uninviting but clean enough and I settle in for the night, noting rain is coming in. I wake at 3am to rain hammering on the uninsulated roof and resign myself to a very wet ride and a poor nights sleep.

By morning the rain has not abated, so I make a slow start and head for the town of Whanganui where I stop for a coffee before taking the Whanganui River Road. This follows the valley cut deep in to the lust hills by the river of the same name and even in good weather is known to have high rainfall, but I'm dress for rain so what the hell. It's a worthy if misty detour and I pass through small Maori settlements and St Joseph's Church, a catholic mission built in 1892 and still in operation as a nunnery. I dropped in but no salvation was to be found! 

I rejoin hwy 4 and continue until I reach the small sky village of National Park, where I make the tactical decision to find a dry room for the night, it's pissing down. I should be able to see Mt Ruapehu standing 2792 metres above me at this point, New Zealand's highest volcano, but she is being shy today and hiding behind a thick vale of cloud.

By morning the rain has not eased , so after a quick visit to some hot pools to see steam and mud, I make a break for Auckland, the forecast for the next three to four days is exactly the same, so I won't see as much of the north island as I wanted, but you have to bow to nature and time, I need to get going and start preparing for Australia.

I arrive in to Auckland after an extremely blustery ride at around 6.30 , loaded with some cold beers and some wine, it's the least I can do in exchange for a hot meal and a warm bed for the night , also the good company of Brenton and Maria, my hosts.

The following morning I head out on the hwy 16 following the western shoreline, rejoining the 1 briefly and then the 14 to Dargaville where I stop for coffee and fuel. Heading north you encounter the Waipoua Forest, the last bastion of the giant Kauri trees, the largest of which is Tane Mahuta, a whopping near 14m across, she is a majestic giant. Simply sitting in the presence of such natural wonder fills you with energy and peace. She is possibly 2000 years old, it puts our own lives and human times scales in to perspectives; our lives that we can feel are so important, are just a blip on this planet.

From the lust rain forest at 350 metres, with in half an hour I reach the settlement of Opononi on the Hokianga Harbour, where opposite there are giant sand dunes. How you can go from rain forest to what is ostensibly a desert, is find unfathomable, I'm sure it can all be explained, but it is a wonder to behold. I camp up at a small holiday park and take a walk along to beach. The sun slowly sets over the bay and behind the sand dunes that are protecting the harbour from the ravages of the Tasman     

Sea behind.

Fjordland, Wanaka and the West Coast

 From the far south I head north west towards Fjordland and as soon as I turn from the coast the weather turns for the better and I am treated to a glorious sunny ride through the foot hills of the southern Alps. I arrive in to the town of Te Anau, which is the jump off point for Milford Sound, one of the most visited places in NZ, so accordingly it's a busy little town, full of camper vans, coaches and the obligatory Chinese, who are omnipresent as tourists.

The following day is taken as a rest day, as I have broken my golden rule of motorcycle travel which is, five days on, one day off. When you are on extended trips, I find this gives the right balance of not getting fatigue with the trip and keeps you hungry for the next stage. Of course having somewhere that's interesting and not in the middle of buttfucknowhere is preferable. Rest day consists of a long breakfast, laundry and a 5 miles walk around the banks of Lake Te Anau and I book a trip for the following day to Doubtful Sound. Bigger and much quieter than Milford, Doubtful is so named after Captain Cook when he passed this way, thought is "doubtful " due to the westerly winds, whether he could get his ship out once he had sailed in.

Words , I do not think are able to sum up such beauty, so I will simple let the photos do the talking.............I return to my tent satisfied with my days touristing and have a simple dinner as I 

watch the sun go down in a cloudless sky and feel the hot sun turn to a very chilly night.

I've got a relativity easy day following, but I'm up at 7am to start getting the bike packed and get the tent in the sun to dry off the heavy dew. I walk to the supermarket for supplies and grab a flat white 

as I amble back. The one great thing about NZ, you can get a good coffee in almost any town and not a Starbucks or Costa in sight, thankfully.

I eventually leave around 10am , as I don't need to be in my next stop of Wanaka until 6pm. I still on 

the banks of Lake Wakatipu for some refreshments, laze in the sun and take a very short but
refreshing dip in the inviting, but extremely cold blue waters. By now it's blisteringly hot, or at least
the sun is. The sun in NZ is intense, in part due to the thin ozone layer that is this part of the world.Which means when your in the sun it's burning, but can feel quite cold in the shade.

I dry off and remount the BM , happily cruising with a full belly through the sun shine and clear Kiwi
air, this country is a delight to ride a motorcycle in. I briefly stop in Arrowtown, which is an old gold mining town dating from the 1850's, as has been done in much of these kind of small historic places, it has been turned in to a tourist shopping centre. That is to say the buildings have been refurbished and modern shops places internally. Someone has to pay for it, but the term "historic" now seems
somewhat out place.

I head over the Cardrona Ridge and pass one of the stranger things I have seen on my travels; a Bra Forest. Now I've seen a tree forest, but not a bra forest. It's all in the name of breast cancer and in good humour.

I arrive at Sophie's house at 6pm laden with refreshing beers, it's been 
ten years since we last met, in eastern Turkey, where she was running a raft trip for Water By Nature. She is quite the spirited women and at only 31, has now 
been a raft guide on rivers all over the world, sat a law degree and is 
now a lawyer and has just finished 
builder her own home! I have to say 

I'm impressed with her drive and intelligence, not expressions you normally associate to raft guides. 

I spent a couple of days with Soph and her partner Darren, a nice lad from Kendal in Cumbria and their extremely loveable dog Moss. Who I have the pleasure of spending a lazy day walking round the banks of crystal blue Lake Hawea and wearing my arms out throwing sticks in to the water for Moss to swim after. I dip in a few times myself, but honestly it's just too bloody cold to enjoy. We finish the day in true Kiwi style with fish and chips, washed down with a couple of cold beers, while the sun slowly slip behind the mountains.

After catching up with Sophie's "Crew" who include Justin Venable who I first meet in Jinga , Uganada back in 2006, leave for the Haast Pass and the wet coast. The ride over is through alpine landscape, interspersed with sapphire blue lakes and when you hit the coast it becomes clear that the prevailing westerly wind is today only a gentle breeze, as the shrubby vegetation is combed up the hillside and tree grow in one direction, bent by the force of nature that is pressed upon them relentlessly.

Further up the coast towards the glaciers of Fox and Frans Josef, the turns to rain forest at coastal level, with the land running up to the highs of Mt Cook where glaciers still cling, but only just about, to their rocky slopes. I take a ride to near both glaciers, but the hoards of tourist being unloaded from their busses and the fact that the most remarkable fact of the glaciers is how far they have receded in 
the past five years, help make the decision to move on to tonight's camp. If you have never seen a glacier, I'm sure it would be worth the hour or so was, it used to be a 10 min walk, that how far they 
have moved back.

Okarito is as small as small town NZ gets, it is best described as a settlement rather than a town, consisting of around twenty houses, some very basic and other bordering on the extravagant, owned by people from Christchurch who want a bolt hole from the city. One house has an extremely large garage door, which seems to make no sense, until I see the sign "danger aircraft". Loving above your own hanger, that's cool! But what this town does have is a great beach  and views back up the mountains to Mt Cook, so you can sit and listen to the surf crash as you look up nearly 4000 metres and watch the snow turn orange as the sun sets.

The next morning I wait for the dew to be burnt of my tent by the early sun, then head up the coast to Hokitika for fuel and food. Hoki is an old gold mining town and has the feel of old prosperity, a music hall a town centre clock, I'm sure it was quite the swinging place in its day and it still retains an air of relaxed confidence. At Kumara Junction I take the 73 towards Arthur's Pass, a pleasant ride up and over the saddle of the southern Alps  and descend in to a stunning broad valley cut out by the ......... River. The sun is shinning and I feel the urge for some wild camping, the terrain and weather are too good to refuse. I cross a small bridge, 1km off the main highway and have the valley to myself, not even a sheep in sight. I pitch my tent next to the river and while there is still heat in the day, plunge in to the ice cold waters. It is a brief but exhilarating bath, by the time I clamber out, my feet are turning blue and I have begun to shake. That's cold!

The freedom to camp up when you see somewhere beautiful is one of the great pleasures of adventure motorcycling, having all you need with you and be surrounding do by great nature. When you are surrounded by nature you feel like you have more in your life, more energy, more richness and the need for material items and comforts are secondary. It fills you with energy and fulfilment. 

I watch the sun set and retire for the night , content with everything in life. I wake at around 2am as my sleeping mat has developed a puncture and requires some air. I take the opportunity to pop out of the tent and take a look at the star filled sky, as I do so two shorting starts fall through the sky,perfect timing. I wake to a cold but sunny morning and watch the mist roll off the far off mountain tops and wait for the sun to climb over the peaks to the east and start to warm the valley.

Life can turn on a sixpence and as I ride down the valley I feel my phone vibrate as I again reach coverage. I stop after an hour to view some lovely rock formations and take a moment to read some of my messages. One stops all my thoughts as I read the news that a close and dear friend has taken her life. I'm simply stunned at the news and the beauty of last 24 hours seems to drain from my very soul. I ride off and find a cafe to try and compose myself and my thoughts and make calls back to the uk to speak with mutual friends and find out what's happened, but nothing seems clear, just a feeling of sadness and loss.

I arrive in to Christchurch and spend a couple of hours wondering the streets of this quake torn city, observing the destruction and rebuilding, the loss and the hope. Clearly these people are not giving up on the city they call home. I meet up with an old friend Julie at her mothers house and we start on the G&Ts, it seems appropriate as she is here for her step fathers passing, there is a lot of life loss in the air.

The Abel Tasman and sea kayaking

Abel Tasman National Park is one of NZ's newest and is its smallest NP. Sitting on the north west corner of the South Island, it is blessed with more sunshine than any other place in NZ. The surrounding area has long been a haven for hippies and artists, plus the odd dope grower, with rolling hills of lush forest and valleys filled with apple orchards and hops, it's an easy place to kick off your ridding boots and take a few days off.

My travel buddy Julie was in a past life, a sea kayak guide in the marine park, so we head off for a three day watery adventure along the verdant coast line. I'm the first to admit that water is not my 

natural environment and frankly I feel uncomfortable on anything other than mill pond conditions. However our heavily laden tandem kayak makes good progress through the slightly choppy early morning sea. 

We stop for lunch on a beach of yellow sand flanked by lush native bush. I say native as the NZ government is putting a great deal of effort in to eradicating introduced species of trees and bushes, that have been introduced over the years. We paddle along the coast entering still lagoons and spot the odd seal lounging on rocks warming up after a long day feeding in the deep chilly waters.

Our camp for the night is in a delightful little bay, know incorrectly as Mosquito Bay, no mozzies, just sand flys! We make camp, then head for a swim in the inviting blue waters, which after a long sweaty days paddle is a delight. With a bottle of red wine opened, we get to cooking up one of my favourite foods, green lipped mussels. And they don't get freshers than these, before entering the marine park, we simply paddled up to a rock in the ocean and plucked off a few. Cooked in just some sea water, they are absolutely scrummy 😉🍷