By KAREN GOA
Go bullet, go," I mutter into my helmet. Perched behind my rider husband, I'm doing everything I can think of, short of pedalling, to get us and the motorbike up this steepest stretch of Arthur's Pass. Up ahead, our friend's diesel Bullet spews black fumes through the
fog as it grunts along at a muscly 30km/h.
We'd left Christchurch in a bit of a drizzle, but nothing like this sullen, sticky stuff. At least it isn't pouring.
The two men and their bikes had nearly drowned on their ride down country from Auckland to Methven, where they'd been on display with a clutch of other Royal Enfield motorcycles at the A&P show, alongside the prize-winning chickens. Being shy of the limelight, I'd flown down to Christchurch to start my ride.
SH73 from Christchurch is a straightforward route to Arthur's Pass. It meanders through farmland, past bike-shy sheep and barrows heaped with pumpkins. Once it enters Korowai/Torlesse Tussocklands Park, though, you know you've left the farm behind.
The road ascends through gingery grasses and clumps of tussock tumbled over an open landscape. The higher we climb, the steeper the Southern Alps rise, until the chunky crags surround us. At last the fog lifts.
At Death's Corner Lookout I'm ready to defend our bike from seat-slashing keas, but they're too busy hitchhiking on car roofs and sneering at the "Do not feed the keas" signs to pay us any attention. Maybe the full-face helmet, leather suit, gloves and boots put them off - when I approach them they bowl off at a rollicking waddle.
The view at Death's Corner is wide and high, but it's marred by power lines stretching down the valley and it's too cold to dawdle. We blast off at a brisk 60km/h down the Otira Gorge, looking for sunshine. The gorge may be a lovely spot, but it's all a blur through my foggy visor.
Once through the gorge, though, the sun blazes away the mist. The single-piston Bullets dooka-dooka along at such a leisurely pace I can see every passing leaf on the trees and smell the sun warming the roadside grasses. A sign points to a scenic drive. Always suckers for a pretty vista off the main track, we forego Greymouth and head off yonder.
This back road crosses the Taramakau River and passes the hamlet of Inchbonnie to finish up at Lake Brunner and its quietly astounding views. I'm getting the feeling that someone's keeping secrets from us Aucklanders, and this is one of them. The lake's peace and stillness, quacked over by the occasional duck, seduces us to a standstill. Our motel unit at the little town of Moana overlooks the lake and for the rest of the evening, so do we.
In the morning the choice is a fat red line on the map or a thin one. We opt for the thin one, to Blackball and a sticky beak at the infamous Formerly The Blackball Hilton Hotel.
So named after a legendary tussle with Hilton International, Formerly The Blackball Hilton is exactly the sort of place you want to stumble into after a hard hour's ride. A piano sits in a corner of the restaurant/bar, book-ended by the resident cat and dog. An unusual brick fireplace, embers aglow, spirals skyward.
The hotel's proprietor cheerfully cooks us an enormous breakfast, even though it's past breakfast time. There's locally produced bratwurst sausage and honey. The honey hog among us licks the pot and begs for more.
The hotel's souvenir menu offers the chance to "shoot possums with Bob after dark". We're heading to Reefton, though, so Bob and the possums escape with their lives this time.
Outside Reefton our Bullet topples off its kickstand and cracks a brake lever. We chug into this sweet but small town, doubting the chances of Bullet repair. We hadn't reckoned on the Bearded Miners, though.
Rip van Winkle look-alike Peter Hinton and his hirsute mates are the Bearded Mining Company. Together they run the replica Miner's Hut on Broadway, Reefton's main street. In true "blokes in sheds" style the hut is smelly, dark and barely big enough to swing a fist.
Outside, there's a trough for gold panning, a nod to the West Coast gold rush that spawned the town in the 1860s. Liquid silver sizzles in a ladle atop a coal-fired forge. This is the makings for the dozen or so silver bullets lined up neatly on the side.
"We're making bullets because the war starts at one o'clock," deadpans Hinton. On cue, his even hairier brother Gavin pops up, waving a replica musket. All this hilarity isn't fixing our Bullet, but Peter knows a welder just out of town, and when the welder can't help he knows a mechanic out at Blacks Point.
Two merry hours later, Peter waves us off. The bike's been cobbled together with duct tape, our big-city attitudes mended with West Coast hospitality.
From Reefton the routes lead north on SH69 towards Nelson or Westport, or east on SH6 to Lewis Pass and eventually back to Christchurch through Hanmer Springs and the Hurunui. A dot on the map at Maruia promises hot springs halfway through Lewis Pass. I whine convincingly. Eastward it is.
The road to Maruia threads along Victoria Forest Park's valley floor. The flora turns ferny and the ranges move further away. It's a gorgeous, too-hot-for-leathers day. My wind- and bug-screen unzips his jacket. Straight away a bee stings him square on the chest. Bee 1, honey hog 0. Logging trucks are not the biggest hazard on the road.
I expect Maruia Hot Springs Thermal Resort to be a modest concrete block with a crumbling, peed-in pool and shopworn facilities. I'm ridiculously wrong. There are restaurants, Japanese bath-houses, private spa pools - it's yet another secret well kept.
At dusk we soak our bike-weary bods in the natural outdoor rock pools among the ferns at the mountain's foot, counting the stars and watching a fat full moon rise over the ranges.
A bunch of farmers sharing our hot pool are doing much the same trip as ours, but they're taking four-wheel-drive trucks over paddocks and along creek beds. The names of creeks along the way - Dry, Thirsty, Devil's, Moonlight - hint at parched prospectors and past shady dealings. Most of the creeks are dry or barely a trickle. Perfect, grins one four-wheel-driver. Great weather on the east coast, fantastic weather on the West Coast, the creeks are low and spirits high.
"Trip of a lifetime, mate," he says. "Trip of a lifetime."
Nobody argues with that. We're having our own.
* Karen Goa travelled at her own expense.
What to do
Around Reefton: Historic Heritage Village walks; The Miner's Hut (46 Broadway); Victoria Conservation Park - walks through beech forests to historic gold- and coal-mining sites. Contact the Reefton Visitor Centre, 67 Broadway, Reefton; ph (03) 732 8391, email
reeftoninfo@paradise.net.nz
Around Blackball: Dragon's Cave Rafting; Jungle Boat Cruising; Whitewater Rafting; 4X4 Gold Rush Tour. Ph 0508 2 86877 or contact Formerly The Blackball Hilton
Where to stay
'Formerly The Black Ball Hilton', Blackball; ph (03) 732 4705, email bbhilton@xtra.co.nz
Maruia Hot Springs Resort State Highway 7, Lewis Pass; ph/fax (03) 523 8840, email enquiries@maruia.co.nz
Moana Hotel/Motel Lake Brunner, Ahua St, Moana, Lake Brunner; ph (03) 738 0083 or 0800 LAKE BRUNNER, email moanahotel@xtra.co.nz
Where to hire a motorcycle
* Te Waipounamu Motorcycle Hire and Tours, 28b Byron St, Christchurch; ph (03) 372 3537; fax (03) 377 3211, email nzbike@motorcycle-hire.co.nz
* New Zealand Motorcycle Rentals & Tours, 166 Gloucester St, Christchurch; ph (03) 377 0663; fax (03) 377 0623
* Adventure New Zealand Motorcycle Tours & Rentals, 29b Bolt Rd, Stoke, Nelson; ph (03) 548 5787, email
enquiries@gotournz.com
To the Coast and back
By KAREN GOA
Go bullet, go," I mutter into my helmet. Perched behind my rider husband, I'm doing everything I can think of, short of pedalling, to get us and the motorbike up this steepest stretch of Arthur's Pass. Up ahead, our friend's diesel Bullet spews black fumes through the
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
