Kiwi Biker        

1620 n 23 hours 15 minutes
 

  by Geoff James

The Route

ow it all started

This is not a tale for the faint-hearted, or for those with an overly moral attitude to the words FUN and MOTORING being used in the same sentence.  It’s amazing the lengths that some people will go to for a mental and physical challenge!  In this instance, four friends from Tokoroa in the North Island of New Zealand who share a life-long love of large capacity motorcycles wanted to try something “a bit different”.  The idiots in question are Richard Shannon, (Yamaha FJ 1100), John Patterson, (Kawaka ZZR 1100), Steve Ives, (Suzuki GS 1000E) and Geoff James, (BMW K100 RS).

The “something a bit different” involved talking each other into entering the Rusty Nuts Grand Challenge.  At the time of entering, details were a bit sketchy.  They knew that it started and finished at Turangi in the middle of the North Island, and that the objective was to cover a distance of 1000 miles (1600 Km) in a 24 hour period, over a check-pointed route.  Piece of cake eh?  After all, any idiot with a calculator could figure out that all you needed to do was average 67 km/hr over that period.

With the enthusiasm that only certifiable lunatics can muster, entries are duly sent in, and acceptances speedily returned.  The first nagging doubts set in, on learning that their start time is just before 4 p.m. on Saturday, 13^th of October, which is early Spring in NZ.   Hmm….. that means there are less than 4 hours of daylight riding on day one.  Suddenly, 67 km/hour seems a bit more of a hurdle now that the first rush of enthusiasm is well and truly forgotten.  Hurried conference at Geoff’s place to figure out what gear is needed to take between them, and a sense of unease increases.  The plan is to stick together and just try to finish inside 24 hours.  Notes will be taken en route to stop lies being told about each other later on.  Partners and wives show their normal lack of sympathy, and their checking of life insurance policies is not a good sign. 

Weather forecasts are anxiously scanned in the week preceding the ride, and the results are not encouraging.  Surely the word GALES in the newspaper is a mistake?  Nope, Teletext on TV uses the same word, plus a whole heap of other ones which convey the same meaning.  Shit, pulling out now means a lot of egg on face.  Besides, who has the nerve to raise the subject?  Nothing for it but to tough it out and get a good night’s sleep as the big day is only a few hours away!

he Big Day Out

Saturday dawns moderately fine, at least it isn’t raining .......yet!  Hurried goodbyes around mid-day as Geoff works his way round Tokoroa picking up the rest of the group.  A quick pose for Sandra, Steve’s wife, to take a photo, and then it’s off to Turangi, some 120 Km south. 

A leisurely cruise down the western side of Lake Taupo, a lake with an area of some 600 sq km, is forgotten within a few minutes, and the riding becomes a bit more spirited.  A lucky let-off a few k’s south of Whakamaru.  The group emerge from one corner at speed to encounter a cop about 100 metres away, coming towards them.  The brakes go on, and the cop seems amused at the nose-down attitude of the bikes; he just waves and carries on.  About 10 minutes further on, they find 2 dogs wandering about in the road, but still being twitchy from the Mr Law episode; reactions are a bit quicker this time.  Still, not a good sign with the amount of riding in front of them.

No further problems, and the group find the holiday park with most of the other entrants already there.  Interesting atmosphere of quiet expectation prevails, no loud shouting or raucous behaviour.  Obviously not a place which thrives on bullshit.  This is going to be an event with a difference!  The organisers are well-organised, and when they, and other entrants find that the group are first-timers, good advice and encouragement is freely given.  Scrutineering of the bikes is meticulous, and Steve has to give his rear wheel bearings a tweak.  A quick trip to get some gas, and then it’s time for the rider briefing.

eg 1, Turangi to Taumaranui - about 189 kilometres elapsed.

Richard leads off, and settles into a comfortable (reasonably fast) pace.  About 10 minutes after the start, the group gets passed by an old unfaired Suzuki which must be doing close to the “ton”.  Bloody hell, this is really unsettling. Steve takes over at Whakamaru for the run out to Benneydale.  Weather is sunny and a bit breezy, but the first part of this leg is uneventful.  Group concentrate on trying to relax.  At Benneydale, Steve slows because he isn’t sure where the turn to Ongarue is.  Geoff takes over as he knows the route (sort of, having travelled down it a year or so back.)  Don’t remember it being this narrow, or this twisty, or this bumpy!  Encounter a whole load of riders parked about half way down the road at an intersection and assume they are checking the route.  Only find out later that one of them lost it in the gravel at the side of the road, but is not seriously hurt.

Geoff is now leading about 30 bikes at a good pace.  Something which looks like an FZR slips past - no shame in that as the K 100 is a pig in the tight stuff.  Whilst on the subject of pigs, there is a huge black sow strolling down the side of the road.  Glad that it doesn’t seem spooked, and hope that nobody following collects it.  Megabuck repair bills after hitting one of those!  Steve idly notes that Geoff is approaching a hairpin near Ongarue at what seems excessive speed, then has a quiet snigger as Geoff finally notices it too, and proceeds to lock his back wheel up. A Beemer flat twin nips by, the rider is obviously bloody good.  No more get by though, and the main road soon looms up.  An uneventful run into the first checkpoint at Taumaranui, arriving at about 5.45 pm.  Lots of other bikes about, gas up quickly and get away.  Try and make best use of remaining daylight.

eg 2, Taumaranui to Masterton - about 516 kilometres elapsed.

Richard leads off - where has everyone gone?  With the exception of a loner tagging along at the back, the group are down to the original four.  The western road through National Park is at an altitude of over 2000 ft, and the scenery is dominated by 3 active volcanoes, one of which is around 9000 ft high.  As they approach National Park, a fine drizzle descends, and it starts to get decidedly gloomy.  Geoff, who hasn’t done much wet weather riding, wonders how soon it’s going to be before he goes down on his arse.  No worries, everything is fine, and as Raetihi approaches, the weather starts to brighten.  The Paraparas loom.  Most of the group have never been down here before, but have heard all about it.  Depending upon the exact starting point, a loose description would be between 50 and 70 km of blind bends, joined together by one metre long straights in the bottom of a narrow valley!  A whole heap of other riders are picked up, but passing is a tedious business when they are travelling at an almost identical speed.  What is not appreciated by anyone  are the patches of unmarked gravel which seem to be strategically placed on the exit of some bends.  One of them stretches across three quarters of the road, and some inventive lines are taken to avoid it.

 No major problems are encountered as dark sets in.  Richard has done a great job of giving the rest a good tow.  A quick consultation at Wanganui on the coast, and the decision is made to press on to Bulls and Palmerston North.  The stop was only for a few seconds, but everyone  has zipped past the group again.  Really hard to make progress unless you keep on the move.

Some 20 - 30 bikes are again in convoy to Palmerston North, a university town.  Excellent road, light traffic and cruising at a slightly naughty pace.  The 100 w halogen bulbs which a couple of the guys fitted for the event make high speed cruising a breeze.  Minor panic when red and blue  flashing lights are seen up front.  Has someone displeased Mr. Law?  Fortunately not, there seems to have been a minor traffic accident.  All go past at under the legal limit to show willing, then nail it again.  Mr. Law probably knows what is going on, but has got his hands full.  Palmerston North appears out of the gloom, and a fuel stop and bite of chockie is in order.  The roads are damp, which is a sure sign that bad weather is not far away.  The time is now 8.20 pm.  John grizzles that he wants a hamburger.  Steve says that McD’s is shit and he wants some KFC. (And KFC isn’t?).  Good time is being made, so KFC it is.  A while later,  some satisfied lads think it’s time to move on, and try to find the Pahiatua Hill Road.  Easier said than done  with no local knowledge, and a bit of time is wasted until pride is swallowed and a gas station attendant is asked.  At least it gives some people a bit of time to get wet weather gear on over their leathers, as rain is starting to fall.  Same scenario as Taumaranui, no other bikes in sight. 

John leads off.  No navigational glitches this time, worse luck.  In polite terms, the Hill Road is a bastard.  Foggy, raining, slippery, and the use of brakes on the downhill side are not to be recommended.  John’s clench marks on his seat will attest to that.  It’s way out in the countryside, and totally unlit.  Looks like something from “Deliverance”. Hope that the locals don’t have the same inclinations.  It’s a relief when Pahiatua appears, but not much of one as it really starts to chuck it down.  The wind is getting a bit fresh too.  Those who haven’t put rain gear on, stick it on in a hurry under the shelter of a garage in the small settlement of Eketahuna.  The garage is closed, much like the rest of the place, and the lack of lighting is really depressing.  Through the spray, a few bikes are seen coming back the other way, returning from the checkpoint at Masterton.  It’s a nightmare for Geoff.  His visor is o.k, but his specs are steaming up inside.  Never mind, just look for the tail light ahead, and hope that the medical insurance covers acts of stupidity.

The lights of Masterton come as a great relief, and it’s about 11 pm as checkpoint 2 at a gas station is reached.  Bladders are bursting - must be all the shot nerves over the last hour or so.  The complications of leathers and wet weather gear now become apparent.  This is not a desperate problem for most of the group, but Steve has some stomach cramps which make his visit to the small room a very close call!  Wedding tackle seems to have vanished anyway, another symptom of nerves.  No-Doz, drink and sweeties are consumed.  Everyone is getting a bit fatigued and any sense of adventure is temporarily on hold.  Sudden realisation why people who have previously done the event don’t take it lightly.  However, there is a slight lift in the spirits as the group have gone as far south as the route calls for. 

eg 3, Masterton to Napier - about 770 kilometres elapsed.

Richard leads off, and the weather is still awful.  Problems with Geoff’s specs reappear and the ride to Dannevirke is really unpleasant.  John goes sideways on a wet and oily corner.  If he didn’t see God on that occasion, God certainly had a glimpse of John!  Steve isn’t very happy either.  His 1980’s headlight (a candle would almost be better) is showing some limitations, as the field of illumination stops at his front mudguard.  It is difficult to describe just how diabolical the conditions are.  The riders are really on edge.  The riders will learn on the following day that trees were getting knocked down in this area of the country due to the appalling conditions.

Hallelujah!  It stops raining and with spectacles clearing, Geoff takes the lead near Dannevirke, a farming settlement.  The road is both empty and fast, and the pace is upped to naughty speeds again.  These halogen lights on full beam do the business, and the group are fair motoring.  The term is always relative, and to put the quartet in their place , a blue and white CBR 1000 comes past at warp speed and vanishes in seconds.  No worries though, everyone is pretty happy, although soggy gloves and damp feet are cooling the extremities down.  At about 2 am, the next checkpoint at Napier on the east coast is reached, and a few other riders are in the gas station.  It’s the best gas station so far, well-lit and a good range of munchies to be consumed.  Riders chat amiably, and don’t seem at all uptight.  That word professionalism floats to the top again.  Jaqui Madelin, deputy Editor of Kiwi Rider Magazine, says that this is her 3rd Rusty Nuts.  Riding an unfaired BMW, she looks incredibly fresh considering the battering she must have taken in the wind and rain.  Don’t know how Jaqui really feels, but bums and wrists are packing up among the novices.  Pressure points in a couple of helmets are now irritating ear ‘oles.  How come they’ve  been ok until now?

eg 4, Napier to Whangamata, about 1160 kilometres elapsed.

Richard leads off as he knows the road to Taupo really well.  The road is dry, but the wind is a bit blustery. Going out of Eskdale, another bike is sighted out front.  It takes a while to close on  it, but is finally identified as Jaqui on the BMW.  She isn’t hanging about either, so her earlier statement is taken with a grain of salt.  Richard nips by on an uphill overtaking lane, and Geoff follows.  What Richard has seen, and Geoff hasn’t, is the 55 km/hr bend sign.  This presents a problem  as Geoff is doing around double that speed, and feels a complete idiot as his cornering technique can hardly be described as elegant.  Jaqui hangs in there for a while, but the group doesn’t notice her drop off as they are too busy trying to stop the flying Richard doing the same to them.  More high speeds are reached on the straights, and Taupo comes up in no time flat.  Richard knows a quick way onto State Highway 1, but cunningly manages to head in the wrong direction almost within eyesight of the roundabout near the Waikato river bridge.  Minimal time lost though.

Geoff takes over for the sprint up Highway 1 to Tokoroa.  Fast cruising with no traffic, the trip is uneventful until the last big hill into Tokoroa.  Geoff suffers a power loss whilst going past a truck..........worrying!  The others come steaming past and bugger off.  They think that he’s dozing off and don’t want to see the blood when he falls off.  Geoff worries that it’s the reappearance of a problem which he had a few months ago.  Into the BP station for gas, and a plug change for Geoff.  A few bikes come past as they fill up.  It’s 4.30 am, and the pull of warm beds at home in Tokoroa takes a bit of ignoring.  It would be real easy to quit right now, but who is going to mention it first?  After all, there are still over 600 km to the finish.  John takes over for the run up to the Coromandel Peninsula, and the riding is easy along the straights between Tirau and Kopu, with the rain still holding off.  Nobody is quite sure whether any gas stations are  open at critical locations, so a minor diversion is made to get some gas at the southern end of Thames.

Steve takes over for the journey down to the coastal town of Whangamata, as he travels on this road a fair amount.  It’s a bit drizzly over the  Kopu - Hikuai stretch, but spirits rise as dawn breaks.  At Hikuai, the road dries out, and Steve starts to deck his footpegs and clear off.  The others aren’t so familiar with what must be one of the best sections of bike road in the World, but try not get left too far behind.  Wow! what a road.  Smooth surface,  and mostly open, sweeping bends.  Richard’s oil level indicator light flickers on and off, meaning that it’s about time to stop anyway.  That cocky bastard Steve still has time to sneak to a stop on the outskirts of town without being seen, and pretend that he’s been waiting for ages, despite the strong efforts of the others to keep up.  Into Whangamata at just after 7 am, and check in.  One of the lads notices that the hot bread shop just down the road is open, so it’s a quick trip to see what they’ve got.  Tea, coffee, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and toast, all for $10 is what they’ve got!  Still well ahead of schedule, so a leisurely breakfast is taken to offset fatigue.  A few more bikes come past, but only a couple double  back to check out the food.

eg 5, Whangamata to Raetihi, about 1526 kilometres elapsed.

John leads off in dry conditions into the hilly twisties south of Whangamata.  Another rider on an old Suzuki gets on the back of the group, but everyone else has vanished.  John, ever the perfectionist, makes a mess of one tricky corner after over 1100 km of riding, and is embarrassed to think what Richard, who is following, will say.  No worries, Richard doesn’t give a stuff as he is busy making a total hash of it too!

Through the old gold mining town of Waihi, and the wind is starting to get quite gusty, and before long, the rain is setting in.  Traffic builds up on the way to the coastal city of Tauranga and the average speed drops.  A quick top - up in Tauranga, mainly to ease things which hurt.  Come to think of it, there isn’t much that doesn’t bloody well hurt!  The decision is taken to make regular stops to keep the bodies together.  It’s getting really hard for most of the group members, where up to now, a 200 km trip has been considered a decent ride!  It’s really hosing down as they pull into a gas station in the volcanically active city of Rotorua for a pee just before 11 am.  The rain traps all the sulphur fumes - so this is what Hell must smell like!  Gloves are soggy, and there isn’t much point in sticking on overmitts now.  At the nature stop,  John and Steve confirm the worst fears of a gas station full of car owners by doing a burn-out in front of them, then sheepishly claiming that it was to get oil from the forecourt off their back tyres!

Geoff takes over as frontrunner for the Taupo leg, and the weather gets even worse.  The road is well-surfaced, but fairly twisty in the early stages.  It’s still hosing down, but the wind is really bad.  The side-on gusts are unpredictable with all the corners and cuttings.  A wind gust nearly causes Geoff to shake hands with a car driver whilst overtaking.  The rest of the group instantly decide that the car is driving at exactly the right speed, and there is absolutely no need to overtake it!  Two of the riders are fascinated by the different spray patterns coming off the back tyres of the bikes in front.  Good idea to stay well away from them, methinks!  This must be the worst part of the trip so far, with respect to the risk of ending up on the deck.  If the Group don’t keep their wits about them, someone could get really hurt.  Absolutely the wrong time for heroics.

Arrive at Taupo just before mid-day for gas and a Peanut Slab.  John is starting to lose it.  He wrenches off his helmet, and with eyes as big as saucers, shouts “You’re just a big (expletive) James, for getting us into this!  Tsk, tsk, setting another bad example in a public place!  John leads, and the run down to Turangi at the southern end of Lake Taupo isn’t too bad as trees and other natural obstructions provide reasonable protection, although Lake Taupo is white all over.  Looks just like an ocean storm.  It’s slightly disheartening though, to see bikes coming the other way which have obviously finished, when the group still has to go round National Park.

A quick stop at Turangi, mainly to rest aching limbs.  For the last few hundred k’s, the group have been alarming other road users by periodically waving both arms and legs, and standing up on the footpegs without warning.  They’re not cracking up, just trying to ease the pain.  Richard leads up onto the Desert Road.  The road runs on the eastern side of National Park, and is a god-awful place.  Above 2000 ft in altitude, just low scrub growing, and is only fit for military manoeuvres.  This is REALLY BAD. The  wind is doing around 50 - 60 knots side - on, although the rain has eased.  Steve, with his bikini fairing, isn’t having too much trouble, but the fully-faired machines are really getting knocked around.  The bikes are leaned over along the straights to combat the howling gale.  Fatigue makes Richard speculate whether he ought to go back the other way to even out the tyre wear!  Extreme relief as the military settlement at Waiouru is reached, even if the rain has started again.  Good progress must have been made, because the CX 500 rider who followed the group out of Turangi is nowhere to be seen.

Not being sure of the time needed to finish the journey, no stopping at Waiouru, and John heads for Raetihi.  The wind is pretty much on the nose, which helps the hurting bodies.  Wrists, hands and bums have been hurting forever,  and it’s not very pleasant.  John sets a cracking pace, being more than a bit naughty in quite a few places.  When challenged as to the wisdom of this speed in the prevailing conditions, the novel explanation was that he was dying for a piss!

Through the winter ski town of Ohakune (skiing on a live volcano is regarded as FUN by Kiwis!),  and a short burst to the checkpoint at Raetihi, arriving about 2 pm.  Take on fuel, and buy a hot pie to warm the hands as much as to eat it.  The CX 500 chugs into view, checks in, and clears off. Minimising stop times is what it’s all about, if your body is in good shape.  A slight delay in getting away as the checkpoint marshal collates the check sheets for the group to take back to the organisers.

eg 6, Raetihi to Turangi - about 1620 kilometres elapsed.

Geoff is ordered to lead the last leg, it’s his fault for getting everyone to enter anyway.  It’s still wet and bloody windy, but the lure of finishing is strong.  Geoff hits something in the road near the National Park junction and has the back end step out.  Steve hits it too, and red-lines the motor with the back wheel in the air.  Neither of them  have got a clue what they hit, and care even less.  Some silly speeds are achieved across National Park.  When Geoff (I’m shit scared of riding fast in the wet) James was asked how this performance stacked up against his loathing of wet weather, he said “These new Michelins are supposed to be o.k in a bit of damp!”

As they crest the saddle near the Tokaanu hydro power station, the roads dry and the sun comes out - nearly there!  On the straight coming in to Turangi, John, who is at the back of the group lets rip and comes past at what can loosely be described as rather fast, looking super cool.  He soon blows this cool image by turning into a dead end just short of the finish.  The fact that everyone else follows him will be overlooked!  The finish is reached at 3.05 pm, with about 45 minutes in hand.  WE’VE DONE IT!!!  Broad grins and handshakes all round.  The feeling of accomplishment is indescribable.  Both the riders who have done it before and the organisers seem genuinely pleased that the first-timers have finished inside the time limit.  Richard ducks outside the building and puts in some eye drops to help him see.  Christ, isn’t that a bit late mate, after we put so much trust in you up front?  Now we know why you’re so quick, you can’t bloody well see where you’re going!  A quick beer, and a fantastic steak meal as part of the entry fee.  Great way to finish the event.  Badges and certificates are handed out.  The organiser asks Geoff whether they will be back next year.  Intellectual reply : “(Expletive) off, I’ll buy an entry for someone I really hate!”  In retrospect, a bit rude, but predictable under the circumstances.  A few goodbyes and thank you’s, and time to head for home.

Steve having a nervous one after getting off bike.  Has already killed the grass round the tree.

ostscript.

Around 95 riders entered, with about 85 turning up and 15 DNF’s.  Not sure how many newcomers, but the group are genuinely proud to have made it.  It is both mentally and physically challenging, especially when you don’t know what to expect.  A strong bond has been established between the group, with a great trust in each other’s riding abilities.  The title “Grand Challenge” is an apt one.  There is a better understanding of the earlier thoughts about the professional approach of the riders, and it applies to the organisers too. By the time the group get home, they will have covered close to 2000 km in about 27 hours.  Not bad for short-range day-trippers.  Will they be back?  Er, dunno.  The notes taken round the route will allow them to re-live the event and decide later.  Work the next day is sheer hell for all of them.  Some can’t sit down, some have hands that look like claws, and all endure the jokes from their work-mates.  Despite everything,  the quiet pride will stay with them.  In today’s comfortable, automated World, there are still a few worthwhile challenges left when everything gets a bit too much.   Perhaps next year over a different route..........?????