Covid

 Back in April and May 2020, I thought that the Covid-19 lockdown would be over within a month or so. Here we are, months later, and things seem to be little better. In fact, with an Australian State closed down, and now Auckland closed down, albeit for only a couple of weeks, my plans for travel for 2021 are limited by the pandemic. 

There is an obvious belief that travel requires money, time, and energy, but that these are distributed unfairly over lifetimes. The young have energy but, given studies and work, little time and less money. The elderly have time and money but no energy. The middle-aged, and I count myself in this category, have some money but work takes up time and the energy levels are falling. So should I be taking a massive decision to use up my money to travel while I have the energy? I would also have to leave my work, which is not such a bad thing. I feel somewhat tired of being abused by teenagers! 

Due to Covid-19, the potential timing is unclear, and the destinations are also unclear. 

On the positive side, my bike is getting to be ship-shape, if I am permitted to mix metaphors. I put on a sump-protector, centre stand, heated grips and hand protectors. I have panniers for luggage and a possible tank bag. I say possible because it does not fit the shape of my fuel tank. I have researched tents and sleeping bags, and thought about cooking materials. So that is the vehicle. Next, is the financial aspect; I have my money invested and I could use that. Realistically I know I cannot afford to buy a house in this life-time, unless I miraculously inherit money, so should I save the money for to improve my retirement, or head into retirement having done something brave and adventurous? 

My contract is to teach until the end of the year. It is hard going, with several difficult classes that make me question my worth. Still, I can count down; six more weeks this term, then a two-week break, then eight weeks. In terms of dates, that means I finish with the school in the middle of December. I have the rental of my house to think about too. In New Zealand, tenants are poorly regarded and tied up with rules and regulations. One is that if I break my contract before my year is up, I can be charged for the remainder of the year. It is possible to protest and argue about that requirement, which I will probably have to do. Basically, I will truthfully plead that I have no job, which of course means that estate agents run for the hills. 

Meanwhile, I am enjoying the bike. The heated grips have certainly added an element of comfort as my hands are kept a little warmer. I have taken rides out to Morrinsville to the east of Hamilton, to Te Awamutu in the south and to Gordonston in the north. Right now, there is a lockdown in Auckland so there is no chance of going too far north in the next few weeks. 

I am also looking forward to better weather! 

Bike upgrades

 Boyd's Motorcycles in Hamilton kindly lent me a bike while my own was being repaired. In the conversation prior to leaving the bike, I'd been told it was a Suzuki Dr650. There are many codes with motorbikes and I confess I don't know much. I kind of knew that the Dr was adventure and that 650 was the engine size. I was told that this bike had gone around the world. I was right on about the Dr and the 650, but I had not appreciated that the bike was a single-cylinder, effectively agricultural bike, with studded wheels and negligible speed. I was surprised at how small it was, and, when I checked later, it was listed as 160kg as against my own V-Strom at 215kg. 

I could not get the motorbike up to more than 80 km/h and it also only seemed to have five gears. (On a motorbike you use your left foot to flick up through the gears. This bike did not to go up beyond five. I counted, because five gears is pretty old-fashioned!) I got it home and scratched my head. 650cc?

Very narrow, small engine. Only one disk brake on the front wheel. Is this really a 650? Around the world?

Bariloche, Argentina. !Ostras!

?Y que mas? 

Ushuaia, fin del mundo. Ushaia is a town at the very bottom of Patagonia, at the very south of Argentina, at the very south of South America. This bike had been there. 

Respect. 

Rotorua circuit

My plan for the day was to take a trip to Taupo, and perhaps to do the loop around the lake. I was up fairly early, had some breakfast and then tried to get going. Somehow, as I was getting on my bike, it fell. I had taken it off the centre stand, then swung my leg over, and I think I caught the seat or perhaps a pannier. The bike thus fell away from me, and, as it weighs 240 kg, that is too much to pull back. It also turned out to be too much to lift, especially as it was wrapped in the tarpaulin that is the car port's side wall. I tried various methods involving brute strength and failed. I ended up with a sore lower back. Then I checked a few YouTube videos and got some good points, particularly about turning the front wheel to full lock. I managed to get the bike quite high up, but, by this time, my back and legs were sore. My neighbour came out, surprised and concerned, and it took us two seconds. I feel I should be able to pick up the bike, but need to be aware. First, switch off the engine. Then put the bike in first. Then put the side stand down. Turn the front wheel towards me, full lock. Then lift, with my back to the bike, one hand on the front handlebar, one on the sissy bar at the back.

I was still rather sore, and I know that this back pain will last a few days. I have often suffered lower disk problems but know that the cure is nurofen and deep heat. Lucky I live alone!

As you can imagine, I became quite hot, sweaty and bothered with the business of picking up the bike. I decided I did not need a jersey and that a waistcoat fleece (or 'vest' as some call it) would be enough for my trip. I headed south on State Highway One and soon realised that it was going to be colder than the weather forecast had suggested. I stopped in Tirau where I admired the sheep. There is also a sheepdog, but I did not take a photo. The corrugated iron sheep are quite lovely enough on their own.

I was feeling a little sore and cold, so opted to go to Rotorua instead of Taupo. I had some vague fantasy ideas about the thermal water creating warmth, but the temperature dropped steadily from 14 degrees C to 13, 11, 10 and then 9. The scenery, as I rode through the Kaimai-Mamaku Conservation Park, was beautiful with fine trees, views of fields and distant hills, and the very attractive Ferguson Creek. As always, the odours of nature are vivid on the motorbike, and entering Rotorua adds to the mix. I do not find the sulphur smell of the area disagreeable and the pungent aroma takes me back to Prince George, British Columbia, which I visited when tree planting in 1985. That was not so pleasant as the smell was related to the Canadian paper and pulping industry whereas Rotorua has its natural smell from the depths of the earth. I took a picture of the lake, which involved searching for a place with a view, as most of the lake-front seems to be under repair, with unsightly construction fences.

Then I wandered about trying to find somewhere to eat. I could not decide. A brunch? Eggs benedict? Something like a steak? I did not fancy a curry. The prices in Rotorua do seem exorbitant and I was just about to give up and go to McDonald's, where the food is a lot cheaper and there is no urge to be pretentious, when I decided to take the simple option of Nando's. Sort of Kentucky Fried Chicken but more expensive. My ex-wife liked Nando's due to her South Africa connection. I ate there with mixed feelings. I had to park in one of Rotorua's motorcycle parking slots. The word 'slot' is appropriate as you can see. There is no room for a friend.

I had hoped to do a circuit of the lake, anti-clockwise. However, I missed the turn west at the north end of the lake, and ended up riding to Tauranga. There was rain, it was still cold, and my back was sore. I was impressed by the sight of Mount Maunganui which I could see from 20 kilometers away, and I could see why it is named twice. Mountain in English, and Maunganui means 'big mountain' in Te Reo Maori. So the name is Mount Mountain Big. Or Monte Montaña Grande if translated into Spanish. There was then a cold, wet and tricky route back to Hamilton negotiating the Kaimai Range again. The temperature warmed up but I was glad to get home.

The trip made a good Sunday. It is back to work tomorrow.

Hamilton Circuit

It is the first of August. Since January I have set myself a monthly target of 1000 kilometres with the motorbike and I have easily exceeded that, and was at 12,209 km on the 31st July. To self-justify; I sold my Kawasaki ZZR 400 in May 2007, and then lived in England and New Zealand. I had no motorbike until I sold my house to move to Hamilton and to be closer to my little son. I am not poor, but my teacher salary is laughable when compared to the price of housing. (I live in hope of either a 50 or 75% housing price fall or a 50% to 75% salary rise for teachers!) I invested my money, which has not been such a great decision, but used some to buy a motorbike, a Suzuki 650cc V-Strom.

Since December I have been improving my biking skills, enjoying my rides out, and frequently taking the long way home just so that I can have the pleasure of riding some more.

Today, 1st of August, a circuit of Hamilton. Although I had been to the town of Ngaruawahia in the morning, to support my school football team (which means trying to encourage them to keep battling despite losing 11-2 to some tough farming lads), I took a spin out north from my house. I stopped for a lovely cup of coffee at Woodville Old Home, or something like that. As this is New Zealand, I was not expecting a National Trust ancient 'home', but it was pretty enjoyable.

There was a cafe next to a cricket pitch. The cynic in me wonders how often the pitch is used, but this was winter. It was a little odd that the stumps were out but they did create a lovely sight. The staff were friendly. I only asked for a long black coffee but frankly, I am a little overweight and hardly need extra food. I took a wander through the gardens and enjoyed the views, before taking a quick tour in the house. As New Zealand is not very old, it is hard to be impressed with items that are 100 years old.

The house and gardens are lovely though, and I recommend them.

I then rode north, to Ngaruawahia, and then turned south to take a route through to Te Awamutu, then via Hamilton Airport back to Hillcrest, in Hamilton. I filled up with petrol. This was not as obviously easily as it should be because I pulled up at the Mobil pump, entered my card, entered my details, entered my "Mobil Saver Con" card, and then discovered that the 91-Octane was not working. I then had to move to another pump and start all over again. There was a sign, a label, attached to the 91-Octane hose, but it was small and only visible when I picked up the pump.

Still, I enjoyed 120+ km of riding, despite a late start. I have not yet decided where I will head off to tomorrow.

I also had to resurrect and recreate a Facebook page. There is no way around it, sadly.

Woodville, New Zealand.

Working day ride

I am committed to some more motorcycle expenses. I was due the 12,000 km service as I had just beaten that number on my odometer, but I have added in heated grips and handle-bar protectors. More money, but I feel I can justify the purchases. The 12,000 km service, well, that speaks for itself. The owners' manual lumps together Oceania and Europe, bizarrely, and tells me that the air cleaner needs to be inspected, the exhaust pipes tightened, spark plugs replaced, fuel hoses inspected, engine oil replaced, throttle cable inspected, throttle valve synchronization inspected, radiator, clutch and drive chain inspected, brakes, brake hoses and brake fluid inspected, tyres, steering, suspension and forks inspected, and finally, chassis nuts and bolts tightened. Phew, quite a list, though I can see that inspection and tightening is perhaps not such a big deal.

However, I added in the heated grips. While I have not especially suffered with the cold either in the winter mornings going to work or when taking trips out, I have read plenty of blogs and seen YouTube postings that suggest they are great. There is also a special offer at my local motorbike dealers. And, of course, who knows? If I get to South America and want to ride across the Andes I want to make sure I can do it. (You will be glad to know I rejected any puns based on cold handies in the Andes. Just too juvenile.) I also wanted handguards which can provide protection from the elements when riding. So I booked the bike in, ordered the parts, was treated very civilly by Boyd's Motorcycles, and even have the loan of a bike while mine is being serviced. Great!

Although the day was cold, and the 4 degrees light was on when I left home, it warmed up to 5 degrees as I left Hillcrest. My teaching day was tough and frustrating, and one of the joys I can console myself with is that I sincerely hope I won't be doing this next year. Will I be riding around New Zealand? Or Australia? Or South America? Or will I give up the daring escape for a logical, rational and financially positive future teaching elsewhere?

I rode home, enjoying the traffic. After seeing riders in Auckland filtering with ability I feel more confident. It is not an ability question but a legality question, since technically motorcyclists are not allowed to filter through traffic in New Zealand. I have tended to be discreet, just overtaking a few cars when I could swap lanes or something. In Auckland I saw motorcyclists putting on their indicators and just heading straight through the lines of traffic. I'll see how it goes. Will I get a ticket?

It was a pleasant ride home. I took a slight detour to enjoy the ride, but the temperature was dropping and I was hungry. My lunch was an apple. I'd like to pretend it was training for a motorcycle trip, but the real reason was that I was heading out of the door of the house when I remembered I had not made lunch, so I grabbed an apple.

Just a spin

We had a week of heavy rain, which, thanks to my decent motorcycle jacket, I do not really mind. Still, I did not get out on the bike much because I had to get some car repairs and then the dreaded Warrant of Fitness for the car. There was also a late-night finish due to parent-teacher interviews, so I was very pleased to take a spin around on the motorbike today, Sunday.

I dropped off the little lad at his mother's and then filled up with petrol at a nearby station. The bike is economical of course. I filled up carefully, enjoying the control of the nozzle and the sight of the petrol pouring in, then bubbling and swirling till it was near the top. It is like the swirling of bath water but, of course, in reverse. Does petrol entering a motorcycle tank swirl in a different direction in the Northern Hemisphere from the Southern?

Then I took the road out to Morrinsville, and turned south along 1b towards Cambridge. The road is, as the name suggests, an alternative to State Highway One. It is single-lane and has no median, but it has good curves, a variety of scenery and all the typical New Zealand smells and features. As a motorcyclist I watch out for muck on the road, such as detritus from tractors. Their tyre treads drop off mud and, all too frequently, the lumpy mud, still with the deep grooves of the tractor tyres, is on a corner as I lean in to turn. When I look left and right I can see the small farms that are the life-blood of New Zealand. Dairy sheds with muddy tracks left by hundreds of cows plodding to be milked twice a day. Family homes, with lights on. Garages and sheds with tractors, utes and other farm vehicles. Fields with Friesian cows contentedly converting grass into food or drink for humans. The fields that are for cows have either barbed wire or just plain wire, sometimes electrified, but, as I approach Cambridge, there are fields with timber fences for the horses.

Cambridge, New Zealand, prides itself on its bloodstock and horseracing and the clearest indicator is that the quadrupeds are mollycoddled with wooden fences, so if they take fright and blunder into a fence, there will be no serious scratches on their hides.

I do like Cambridge. I also like Cambridge, UK, and a possible title of a Round the World Tour would be from Cambridge (NZ) to Cambridge (UK), perhaps via Cambridge (Mass). I have also thought of "From a Thames (NZ) to the Thames (UK)", but with Covid-19 I am not sure of my ability to get further than the South Island! Back to Cambridge (NZ); as well as a fine collection of excellent coffee-shops, and my favourite is a small French cafe, selling over-priced but lovely pastries, the main streets have mosaics on the ground depicting famous horses. I find that lovely. One of Mark Todd's Olympic mounts is commemorated, race winners are immortalized and even successful brood mares and stallions have their busts in a two-dimensional mosaic of carefully arranged jigsaw pieces. Cambridge also has a beautiful village-green-like cricket pitch situated almost in the centre of town. It is surrounded by oak trees and just looks like a village in the Home Counties of England. The kind that probably hardly exists in the Home Counties, but is exemplified here, half a world away.

I rode on through; I wouldn't have minded a coffee but Sunday afternoon is not very lively in this country. I eased myself over the narrow bridge, glancing at the beautiful views of the Waikato River, far, far below, and turned right to Te Awamutu. The road from Cambridge to Te Awamutu does not rank in Mike Hyde's guide to New Zealand's best motorbike rides, but I enjoy it. It has some curves, some changes of direction, the usual ammonia smells of silage, the changes in fresh air temperature and the beautiful sights of the small mountain range of Pirongia and the volcanic shape of Kakepuku. I skirt by Te Awamutu and head north to return to Hamilton using State Highway 3. Just because a road is called a State Highway does not mean that it is much better in width, lanes or straightness than, for example, the road I had just been on from Cambridge. The slight improvement did mean that I was able to move along a little faster, which was pleasing. Once in the Might Tron (Hamilton), I popped into a supermarket to ensure a good meal, and got home, still in daylight.

I have now done 12,000 km with the motorbike since I bought it in the middle of December 2019. It needs servicing, and I will see about getting a date for that tomorrow.

Rainbow's End and, later, home.

The Backpackers' offered a free breakfast, in part because they had closed down their kitchen facilities as a result of Covid-19. So we went down in the morning to have breakfast. I popped out to have a look at the motorbike which I had parked in a car parking lot, to use an Americanism. The Americanism described the place perfectly though; a vacant lot with no buildings, into which Wilson Car Parks had stuck a couple of barriers on and a pay station. The bike was fine, to my relief. We returned to the hostel and went for our breakfast. It was a little shambolic but we were able to get bowls of cereals and some toast, milk and tea.

Soon after, we headed out to Rainbow's End. A fair ride in terms of distance but basically just motorway riding, so little excitement. On arrival, we had the usual gear and paraphernalia issues; I put gloves in the panniers (I remembered that the Spanish word is obscure; las alforjas, but then again, another translation, which seems more mainland Spanish, uses la cartera), carried the helmets and jackets, and carried the day bag. Of course, I wanted to leave stuff in the lockers for the day and I was pretty disappointed to see that the tiny lockers cost $10 and I needed two. They were so small that my helmet did not fit in the left-side opening lockers, but, when I sought help to get the electronic system to give me a right-side opening locker which had more space, a pleasant lady tried to help, but then said, 'Leave the helmet in the office and collect it at the end of the day'. So I cannot complain, because the inherent decency of this woman saved a frustrating situation.

We had fun at the theme park. We enjoyed the rides and risked two more scary ones. One was really quite scary, but the other, called "The Invader," we came back to late in the afternoon. In between those rides, we ate, went on other rides, cried on the Dodgems, raced the Go-Karts and so on.

The trip back on the motorbike was trying. Friday evening traffic in Auckland. Need I say more? While some drivers have learnt to drive, it is always interesting to speculate how many never did a course in driving in their lives. Once again, I parked in the car park for free. And once again, rain teemed down in the evening and I felt for the bike. Perhaps I should have stayed in an AirBnB with a garage.

We left on Saturday morning after another breakfast. This time the lad wanted toast, not cereals. The cheap loaf of bread created a toast that had both a texture and taste of cardboard. I chatted to a few of the more regular people at the backpackers'. In particular, I was intrigued by a man of retirement age, who assured me that it was cheaper to be in a backpackers' than any other accommodation. Is he an inspiration for my retirement or is he the nightmare of retirement; unloved, uncared for, and hanging out with transient travellers on the third floor of an Auckland building?

The ride home went well. We stopped at the Bombay Hills, and the lad wanted KFC. I popped across the road to get a cup of coffee in the petrol station. Then we continued our way. An enjoyable ride on the Waikato Expressway, which has some lovely hills to swoop down through, and also has a number of Maori carvings which give a great impression. We were home without incident.

So some success; although we did not wear all the clothes we took, we did not take too much. I perhaps could have cut down on a book and a notebook for the little lad. Both my laptop and my camera are large and bulky. If I travel next year I will buy a smaller camera and a smaller laptop. My sports shoes were quite large, but I am not sure what the solution is. Perhaps some espadrille type shoes that can be rolled up. We did not need the small towels we brought, though I can see that had we camped, the towels would have been vital.

My first proper trip with C; a success.