ajft

I've been slack... very slack. So little written in the past month.

News of the day: We have a washing machine. Not very thrilling news I know, but it will lessen the number of trips to the laundromat and could save us up to $AU150 a year.

After months of walking past the restaurant on the way up Bridge road, I've had dinner in Kanzaman, a Lebanese restaurant. Very enjoyable, and a reminder that I should try and visit a few more of the nearby places, rather than just going to the same places every time.

It's getting a bit tiresome, but I think this motorist takes the cake. Or this week's cake anyway.

So congratulations to the driver of the red Mitsubishi Mirage, registration RHW-797, you have qualified for the idiot of the day.

There he was, driving along the Monash freeway in the right hand land, ten km/hr slower than everyone else. Yes, he was on the phone. He did have a hands-free kit installed, however, he was holding the phone in his right hand, credit card in his left, and had his head tilted right back so he could read the number off the card through the lower half of his bi-focal glasses while he typed them in.

Lousy work day. Seems that the anti-virus software update I did last thing yesterday got corrupted as it was propogated out to all the other servers. As a result, I spent most of the day fixing this problem rather than working on mechanisms for deploying the new anti-virus software.

Riding home, minding my own business.... Woops! Here comes a Commodore. Swerve out of the way then I almost laughed when I saw the “Telstra values safe driving. 1800-400-437” sticker on the back. Shame about the guy driving it one-handed while dialling and chatting on his phone. (Vic. PON-524).

[http://codecon.org/]

CodeCon is the premier event in 2002 for the P2P, cypherpunk, and network/security application developer community.

Halfway through the month and only now do I make the first entry for the new year (time-wise), I'll probably go back now and add some previous entries so that I know what I was doing!

[http://sysopmind.com/singularity.html]

the singularity

Saw Monsters Inc. tonight at the Palace Balwyn.

Up at the crack of dawn to catch the mini-bus to the airport, there was much pushing and rearranging to fit the bikes into the bus and the driver was not impressed. Yet again they simply seem to have ignored the information when we made the booking, or not passed it to the driver.

Air New-Zealand flight 121V at 06:45, back in Melbourne by 9am.

Where?

Auckland, Melbourne

Too soon and its all over, its time to go home.

This morning we were at a bit of a loss, finishing the ride in Paenaroa is convenient for Phil, but left us sitting in a one-hotel town with no transport, and nothing to do but organize a way of getting home. In hindsight, it would have been better to have organized transport to Auckland yesterday and have had an extra day in the city.

There are a myriad of little transport firms and mini-buses heading up and down along the coast, schedules and prices seemed arbitrary, and for a while we thought that we were going to have to hire a car to get us to Auckland — bicycles don't seem a popular luggage choice. One company quoted around $NZ400 to get us to Auckland!

Where?

Paengaroa, Auckland

Laziness got the better of me and I failed to write in my journal, hoping that memory would suffice when it came time to write about where I'd been. Unfortunately the days turn to weeks, then to months, and there is never enough time... When it does come time to write, I find that all the little details have faded away...

Much of today's riding was through fruit and vegetable farms, including immense trellises of “kiwi fruit” — the highly successful marketing of what was previously known as the chinese gooseberry!

A jet-boat ride at Paengaroa was included, the park was full of American tourists from the cruise liner berthed off the coast — all wearing spotless white casual clothes and speaking loudly. We laughed at the comments while getting into the jet-boat, people who complain that the life-jackets are wet and might soil their clothes, probably don't realise what happens on a jet boat in a river...

Sure enough, some of them seemed to believe that it was to be a pleasant cruise through the forest — the reality came as a slight shock! Unfortunately Jo and I had picked the wrong boat, we had the older, more mellow driver, the other guy seemed completely wild and must have been having a ball soaking his passengers. Even a mild jet-boat pilot is a fairly wild person to be around, especially when sliding the boat through 360° spins in the middle of the river.

Where?

Whakatane, Paengaroa

We woke to a clear blue sky, all the rain having worn itself out in the evening and overnight, leaving us a cruisy day of riding as we headed towards the end of the trip.

Our internal clocks seem set perfectly, again we were out on the road at almost exactly 9 o'clock for the first experience of traffic in almost two weeks. The first 5km was parallel to the beach along the coast through an avenue of Pohutukawa trees, before turning inland through the dairy country. One milk tanker shot past a bit too close for comfort, but every other driver on the road was as friendly as usual, leaving us plenty of room and giving the occasional wave.

Morning tea was eaten sitting in the forecourt of a closed-up shop in a tiny village somewhere, chatting to two German cyclists who were heading the other way around the cape. Self-supported, they seemed to have mountains of luggage, both carrying front and rear panniers, a large bag across the top of the rear panniers, and bulging handle-bar bags.

The only hill of the day was just after morning tea before our descent into the valley along the Whakatane river. We were now back within sight of the Urewera national park — just over the river — the forests and pine plantations made for some great riding, but were almost cold in the patches of shade.

The spot pictured was our site for a break, a cup of tea, and a chance to skip rocks across the river, before the final 15km along the valley to Whakatane. This involved a fantastic cruise along the gorge — slightly disconcerting was the 3m vertical drop from road to river, with no guard rail — followed by a tail wind for the final stretch through the farms. We sped along the dead flat road at 28km/hr, grinning from ear to ear, enjoying every minute of the ride into town.

We had dinner tonight in Babinka, a very modern-looking café-restaurant almost on the waterfront. Good food, good service, and a pleasant change from the 1950's-esque fried egg'n'chips type of meals that we'd been seeing so many of.

Where?

Opotiki, Whakatane

The intention had been to camp in the tents this evening, just out of Opotiki at a park on the beach, but the sight of ominimous black clouds induced Phil to book us into a motel for the night. I might have preferred the tent in the rain to the saggy old motel bed we ended up in, but Phil was determined to coddle his customers!

Opotiki is famous for its bacon and pig produce, everywhere we went in the town we seemed to be surrounded by names of pig products or of places that included pigs in their titles.

Where?

Maraehako Bay, Opotiki

  Today: ??km
  Total: 2996.9

This morning the weather had cleared up again and the winds seemed to have dropped. There was a magnificent view from the headland overlooking Te Araroa Bay, unfortunately heavily overgrown with prickly gorse that had no problems in penetrating lycra and skin, and then sticking to us, so that when we got back on the bikes it could attack again.

Unfortunately we found that the wind hadn't really dropped, it had just swung around so that we were protected by the headland, once over the top we had it straight in our teeth, for the first hour of riding we managed 12.5km, over the rest of the day we gradually increased our speed to an average of 15.6km/hr! Some of the gusts were scary, threatening to blow us right off the bikes.

The bracing on the church at ??? showed that today's winds weren't unexpected, out on an exposed headland it seems about ready to slide off into the Pacific ocean. The black clouds in the background are the storm that we raced to Maraehako Bay.

Storms, wind, rain... Maraehako Bay made it all worthwhile! The sign on the road is almost invisible, but once you're down at house and have experienced Piri's hospitality, you'll never want to leave!

Maraehako Bay is a magic place. Its the kind of place that you feel The Beach was written about, a backpackers' on a tiny bay, unknown to the great majority. The driveway itself is frightening enough, after turning off the main road you appear to go across a paddock and then plummet straight over a cliff towards the bay. An old caravan parked at the bottom serves as emergency brakes for anyone who cannot stop in time.

Some brief negotiating by Phil — and a short trip by Piri out in his boat — had us eating a fresh crayfish meal for the grand total of $20 a head! This was for a whole cray each, which was so rich we could barely make it through the first half. Unfortunately I discovered that I had a slight allergy to that much seafood — something I've never experienced before — and later in the evening my lips puffed up as though punched, and my eyes drove me nearly crazy with their itching. It's probably a good thing, since developing a taste for that much crayfish would probably lead to $100 a head meals back home in Melbourne!

Where?

Te Araroa 37° S 178° E , Maraehako Bay

  Total: ??km
  Today: ??km

The weather changed again and we crossed the hills heading north while being buffetted around by strong winds.

Around 2pm we arrived in Te Araroa township, just as the drizzle started. Lunching at the only open shop we watched the waves crashing on the enormous mounds of timber washed up on the beaches — there is never a shortage of driftwood in the areas we visited, on the contrary, getting to the beach can often involve climbing over metre-high piles of timber from the forests. The forested hills are steep and covered in loose volcanic soil, when it rains there is massive erosion, and huge swathes of forest are washed out to sea.

Te Araroa boasts the world's largest Pohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa) tree, sitting in the local school yard. We chuckled to ourselves wondering if the locals sneak out at night into the forests every time there is rumour of a larger one, in order to give it a radical pruning and maintain their claim.

After a morning of battling the wind there was little to inspire us to ride the final half-hour along the beach in the rain, so Jo and I jumped into the van for the five kilometres along the beach to Te Araroa motor-camp, arriving as the rain cleared.

Where?

Ruatoria 37° S 178° E , Te Araroa 37° S 178° E

  Total: ??km
  Today: ??km

Another hot day, probably around 32-33°C, but we took our time, meandered along drinking lots of water. Later in the afternoon we rode past Hikurangi, a mountain sacred to the Maori.

Heading inland today, back into the farming area and to a town that seems to have an interesting, if mostly unknown, part in New Zealand's recent history. During the mid-1980s, the region degenerated into a state of almost civil war, with land disputes resulting in Maori Rastafarian gangs fire-bombing buildings, violent fighting, and culminating in a public be-heading.

The afternoon tea stop was in Te Puia springs, we decided not to visit the hot springs. Along the way we saw many logging trucks, to our surprise the drivers were all unfailingly polite. A sign on the back had us laughing for hours afterwards:

  How's my driving?
  Call 1-800 LOG TRUCK

We stayed the night on a farm-house B&B with one of the more memorable characters of the trip. “Hewie” seems to have done everything and been everywhere, he has his fingers in more pies than he has fingers, and seems to have made and lost his fortune several times.

Dinner was at the Blue Boar Bar & Cafe on the main road back out through the town, another interesting character owned and ran the place, “freelance security consultant” seemed to be the nearest we got to learning where he made his money. The pub was full of the heads of wild boar, a sobering reminder that while New Zealand has no dangerous native animals, the introduced ones are very plentiful and very large!

Returning to the B&B, we sat outside with a glass of red wine, talking well into the night. His tales and the cicadas made it seem that we were somewhere in Africa, rather than New Zealand, a place we all had subconsciously viewed as rather tame...

Where?

Tolaga Bay 38° S 178° E , Te Puia springs , Ruatoria 37° S 178° E

  Total: ??km
  Today: ??km

Tolaga Bay has one of the longest wharves in New Zealand, or the Southern hemisphere, or maybe its just the longest concrete wharf, or something... A major construction feat, it's building signed its own death warrant — for the short period it was operational, it enabled ships to come in and load up with gravel for the construction of the coastal highway that put the shipping out of business. Now it is gradually falling apart as the salt in the gravel and cement eats away at the steel reinforcing, causing the rods to swell and crack the cement from inside. More and more sections of the railing are falling into the sea while the local council tries to raise money from the national government to preserve the wharf as a national monument...

While it's still standing we can still walk out to the end, the wharf is far enough from the city, and nobody has yet become bureaucraticly paranoid enough over potential insurance claims to plaster it with “condemned” signs and barricade it off. Local kids climb the rails and leap into the bay, older residents fish. Visitors just tend to walk out to the end, then turn and look back at the land, realising just how far it is to get back to the beach!

Tolaga Bay boasts a Cashmere clothing store that is famous throughout New Zealand. We had been urged to visit and peruse the hand-made clothes, even though it was the middle of summer, but since this was New Zealand in the height of the tourist season, the shop was of course shut! Also shut was the only restaurant in town, it was attached to the only pub, had changed owners within the last month, and was in the middle of being redecorated. As a result, dinner consisted of a rather unappetising fish & soggy chips & fried egg from the only takeaway in town.

Where?

Gisborne 38° S 178° E , Tolaga Bay 38° S 178° E

New Year's Day, a lazy day of wandering around Gisborne in the 34°C heat. Julianna decided that the tour wasn't really what she was after and arranged to leave us here in Gisborne — it can't be easy to be the third person to a couple on a tour like this, and at ten years younger, she found she wasn't enjoying our company. There were no bad feelings as we parted, and Phil agreed to drive her back to Rotorua.

In the morning we walked around the town, the parts that were open on New Years Day, and visited the markets and a local musuem. One of the highlights of the museum is that part of the building used to be the wheelhouse of a ship that ran aground in Gisborne harbour — if I remember the story correctly, it was salvaged as part of a dare!

In the afternoon we walked up to Titirangi reserve on the point to the north of the town. While it was stiflingly hot in town, higher up the hill there was a slight breeze blowing, making it bearable, so long as we moved slowly.

The signs at the four or five entrances and parking areas in the park made me laugh. A typical map of the park, showing all the gates, roads and paths — until you looked a little closer. There are four arrows in four separate places, all clearly marked “You Are Here.” Quite a cost-savings for the council, but not very helpful for the tourists!

From the top of the hill there is a magnificent view down the coast of the surf beach — and of the enormous wood-chip stock-pile, all the pine forests we've been hearing people complaining about, chipped and ready for shipping to Japan. I guess its better than chipping slow-growing hardwood forests, but nobody we spoke too seemed to have a good word to say for the industry.

Coming back down to earth, and to Gisborne town, we found a restaurant in an old meat-works — The Works is part of Gisborne's redevelopment of the old industrial docks, and serves some excellent food. Although we stopped in there for a beer in the afternoon, we hadn't been intending to stay for dinner, but when we headed to the Italian restaurant that our hearts we set on, we found it shut, so it was back across the river for dinner at the Works. Finding things shut turned out to be a common theme on this trip — New Zealand has an almost British reputation for closing on the weekends or public holidays — even businesses that you would think would make the majority of their takings at those times.

Where?

Gisborne 38° S 178° E