475 km, 10 July 2020
There is a Coromandel Coast along the
south-east of India. The Dutch sailors changed the pronunciation of
Karimani to something easier to pronounce and, as a result, gave a
name to an area of trading importance, which led to Royal Navy ship
names and then the naming of a peninsula in New Zealand.
I rode my motorbike from Hamilton to
the Coromandel Peninsula, New Zealand. While I would love to explore
the east coast of India, I will leave that to the future.
It was -1 degrees C when I left home to
drop off my son at my ex-wife's house. There is a flashing light on
the V-Strom to warn of cold weather. I know there will be some
motorcyclists who have never seen it, perhaps because they live in
warm climates or perhaps because they park the bike when winter
comes. I get a little frisson of excitement when the light is on as I
know that I am dicing with chance and I look carefully at corners and
shaded areas.
As I left Hamilton for Morrinsville the
sun was in my eyes and the damp tarmac reflected, sometimes with a
shiny blackness and sometimes with the harder grey colour of a drier
road. The shiny black worried me as I wondered if it was black ice so
I was careful with the throttle and kept my foot hovering over the
rear brake. Glancing across fields I could see the lovely effect of
the warming sun; where there was shade the grass was white with
hoarfrost but grass in direct sun was green. I could feel the cold in
my fingers despite my winter gloves. I had wanted to install heater
grips the last time I had some improvements done to the motorbike,
but they did not have enough time. Another task for next month, when
the V-Strom needs the 12,000 km service.
The temperature rose slightly from 1
degree Centigrade to 3 degrees. I rode around Morrinsville, admiring
the statuesque cows, then continued to Paeroa, my planned stop for coffee.
Paeroa is Maori for ridge (pae) and long (roa) but it is most known
for its giant Lemon and Paeroa bottles. “L and P” is a lemonade
like fizzy drink, as the bottle labels claim, famous in New Zealand.
I like it. From Morrinsville to Paeroa the temperature warning light
flicked off and stated that it was 5 degree C, but soon after the
temperature dropped and the light came on. I was glad to enter the
cafe and ask for a long black coffee. My fingers painfully gained
warmth as I clutched the little cup. The break gave the sun time to
warm up, and the bike's temperature scale marked first an incredible
19 degrees, then a more reasonable 14 degrees.
I rode on to Thames. I think there is
something special about a town called Thames and I love the old-style
buildings on main street. I filled up with petrol and stared at a
army field gun outside the Returned Services' Association. I thought
about big objects in New Zealand towns; Morrinsville has a giant
painted cow, and many others life-size painted cows around the town,
Paeroa has two giant “L 'n' P” bottles, Turangi has a giant
trout, Taihape has a giant gumboot, Rakaia has a giant salmon but all
I could see in Thames was a field gun, life-size. There are other
giant objects, and perhaps a tour of New Zealand could have a focus
of giant objects in towns. The sheep in Te Kuiti, the giant carrot in
Ohakune, the guitar in Gore. I paid for the petrol and rode north,
wondering what Thames could offer, as the field gun lacked
originality.
The Coromandel Peninsula road north of
Thames is beautiful, but challenging as it is is narrow with often a
sheer fall to the sea or rocks on the left side. The sea views were
beautiful, with the dark blue of the sea, the occasional views of the
distant, hazy hills across the Firth of Thames, the trees clustered
tightly on both sides, the rocks in the sea with perched cormorants
scanning for rash fish, shore fishermen patiently watching their rods
and boats lazily cruising to or from the deep ocean beyond. The
narrow road, sharp turns and one-lane bridges meant continual changes
in gear, from second up to third and fourth, and then drops down, and
I felt pleased at my corner-taking as I was shifting my weight
carefully across, I was counter-steering well, leaning forward, and
gripping the petrol tank with my knees.
Coromandel Town lacks a giant object.
It could do with one. It is a just a little far for the real estate
pandemonium that affects most of the peninsula and it even seems to
have a functioning fishing harbour though the bakery I went to just
offered generic meat pies, chicken and chips, and the usual soft
drinks. I selected a steak and blue cheese pie, then stood politely
while an old lady struggled with her umbrella, the tongs, the pie she
had selected, and the paper bag. I helped by holding her umbrella
while she gave up on the tongs to use her fingers. It was my turn
next. I struggled with the bike helmet, gloves, the tongs, the pie
and, what should have been apparent earlier, a bag that was only
barely big enough for the pie. I put the helmet on the ground, the
pie on the bag on the tray and then also used my fingers to slide the
pie into the paper bag. I saw the amused expressions of people behind
and, shamefacedly, decided I did not want to buy a drink.
Revitalised by the pie, which did
indeed have a taste of blue cheese, I headed east along Route 25 to
Whitianga, enjoying the curves, the sudden vistas of green fields,
distant sea and trees. I stopped to take some photos and a German
tourist admired the V-Strom. He was working near Hamilton, having
finished his university undergraduate studies just before lockdown.
He was with his younger sister, who was studying in a secondary
school. She was very complimentary about the New Zealand education
system, which is unusual as most Germans I have met complain about
the informality, the low level of learning and the excessive focus on
extra-curricular activities such as sports. I continued on to
Whitianga, buoyed by the conversation. After a few photos in
Whitianga I continued to Tairua, and then at the next junction, where
I had a choice of Auckland and Thames, or Whangamata and Tauranga, I
chose Whangamata. It was an idyllic road, snaking through a forest,
alongside rivers and with the added fun of one-lane bridges. At
Whangamata I stopped for a coffee, mostly because I wanted a break
and wanted some water. The coffee and the water were welcome, and I
appreciated the décor which included lyrics from songs. I was
tempted to boast of my knowledge of Pink Floyd, Queen, David Bowie,
Beatles, Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin lyrics to the barista, but,
as she was aged about 19 and ½ years old, I thought she would be
uninterested.
I proceeded on, singing a few lyrics to
myself, south, through Waihi, Katikati and Tauranga. I debated
whether to go on to Whakatane and to look for a Backpackers' Hostel
for the night but I had nothing, not even a toothbrush or a towel. I
was not even sure if, after all the Covid-19 problems, there would be
a Backpackers' open. It also started to get colder, with the
temperature dropping from 15 degrees to 9 degrees. I also thought of
the food I had at home; some bacon, some pesto sauce and spaghetti.
Twenty minutes' cooking, and at no cost, while a stay in Whakatane
would mean spending. So at Tauranga I took the road to Hamilton. This
involved crossing part of the Kaimai Ranges, which meant the
temperature dropped more. I enjoyed the ride up the range, but the
road down was more tricky as the road was wetter and I had a car
behind; on straight parts I could pull ahead but then I had to slow
for blind corners and he would catch up and sit close to my rear
wheel.
The rest of the road home was flat, and
I was able to filter ahead of queuing traffic joining State Highway
One. The sun had set which meant a drop in temperature, but, on the
plus side, I was not riding into the sun. The last time I had been
returning along Highway One I had to use my hand as a visor because I
was riding directly into the setting sun. By Cambridge, Waikato,
there is an exceptional section of the road with a 110 Km/h speed
limit, in contrast to the 110 km/h limit in the rest of the country,
so I was able to increase my speed. I was balancing cold fingers with
a more prompt arrival home. It was good to get home, having completed
475 kilometres from approximately 9 am to 6.30 pm.
