South it is then!

22 March 2011
Rain and flooding in Northland caused me to do a quick change of plan. Instead of heading north to the Bay of Islands and Cape Renga I decided to go south to the smelly capital of NZ – Rotorua. Although the idea of staying in the sulphur laced air of Rotorua sounds off-putting it is well worth a visit. To get there I cycled into central Auckland again and went to the Inter-city bus station, next door to Sky City! I was feeling a bit nervous wondering if the bus driver would let me on and I got talking to the kiwi women waiting in the queue. People always want to know where you are from and when you say Scotland they tell you that they have a grandfather from there, usually somewhere in the Borders. This woman was a bit different.

“Where are you from?” she said

Near Edinburgh is my stock reply and if they have been there I usually follow up with, ‘I live east of Edinburgh in a place called Haddington.’

“I was born there,” she said

“Left when I was two and I’ve lived here ever since.”

If I had known as much about kiwi slang then as I do now I would have said ‘sweet as…’ but instead I acted as if these sorts of co-incidences happen all the time on the other side of the earth.

‘My mother is from East Linton, but I don’t think she’ll go back to visit, there’s no one left there now” she said.

The bus arrived and I palled up with the driver (this sometimes works and at other times it doesn’t.) On this occasion it worked and he let me on the bus without having to take any wheels off. When I thought about it I realised it was fair enough to have a rule about bikes because they go under the bus with the luggage and nobody wants a dirty bike on their backpack. But rules should be applied with some common sense and this bus driver had some, there was very little luggage so he didn’t apply the rule… he was a rarity! I found out later that he was also a bit strange. He applied the rule that ‘thou shalt not get on the bus if you have a ticket with the wrong time on it,’ to a young Indian lady and it was only after much pleading that he let her on. For the next half hour he talked to himself about passengers who tell you stories that aren’t true. Every now and again he looked over to me as if I would confirm what he was saying... whoops I should watch out who I should become friends with. When the trip was at least half over, he asked me where I was from and on learning I was a tourist he decided to give a running commentary on the sights as we passed them… not just to me but over the PA. He was keen on the horses and as luck would have it we were in a stud area, so we heard all about the owners of the studs and the horses that had been successful. Every now and again he mentioned a mountain or some other site which, he thought we might find interesting.

Rotorua - the lake and the hills around it are what remains of a volcanic cone

Entrance to Rotorua museum

We arrived at Rotorua and yes it was true the place smelt like slightly of rotting eggs but I liked the look of the town centre and I headed for the Funky Green Voyager backpackers on a bike which didn’t want to change gears again.









Funcky Green Voyager

The Audax tour of East Lothian

Think of something different and do it! That’s what I did yesterday.

On this occasion, it was the Audax tour of East Lothian, a 66-mile trip from Musselburgh, taking in Pencaitland, East Saltoun, Gifford, Whitadder reservoir, Garvald, Dunbar, Haddington and back to Musselburgh.

Although the event is different from let’s say swimming and running, which is what I’ve been doing recently; it was not exactly unfamiliar because I did the event last year. The difference this year is that I wasn’t very well prepared. It’s true that I have done the odd spinning session through the winter, but I haven’t done a 350 mile trip around Arndra Predesh and Orissa in India, which was my preparation for last years event.

The first thing I had to decide was whether to take my race bike which is light and so has thin light tyres or my heavy bike, which has tyres with a better tread. The blurb from the organisers said not to use light tyres because the roads up in the hills would be tricky. I knew that if I took my heavy bike, the gears would leave me struggling on the hills, but I decided to go for the heavy option. I would have been better taking my racer, like many of my fellow Audax riders, and I was right the hills were a real bitch especially the switchback on the way up to the Whitadder reservoir.

Be prepared is a particularly important facet of bike riding and in fairness to me; I did check my bike and oil it, pump up the tyres and generally check it out. But I didn’t check well enough. I could blame Harvey for this because he disappeared for half an hour and I had to go searching for him. This may have contributed to the chain coming off on the first big hill. Luckily, it only happened one other time during the race. Later, when we hit the really big hills outside Gifford, I could have sworn that the brake was on as I struggled up. When I got to the top and was on the road to Garvald I discovered that the equivalent of the brake was on. The back wheel had slipped loose a bit in the frame, with the result that the wheel pressed against the the frame and made a hard hill, impossible These two irritations aside, it was a great event. The highlights were:

• reaching Umberto’s in Dunbar and downing a cappuccino and large chocolate muffin,
• getting to know some of the other guys en route and
• sticking in a group for the final push into Musselburgh.

Near Stenton I witnessed my first bike pile up. I had been in a group, when my chain came off for the second time. I stopped and fixed it and then set off in pursuit of the group. There’s a left turn before Stenton, and as I took it I saw, a cyclist lying on the road and a lot of others standing around her. The group I had been with had come across the local landed gentry taking dipsy, pogo and other assorted dogs for a walk, thereby filling up the narrow country road and causing the pile up. As I approached, I saw a woman cyclist move gingerly from the road, complaining of a sore arm. Fortunately, she was able to carry on and finished the event. I hope dipsy and pogo don’t feel too bad about it all.

Before the event, you have to predict how long you will take. I made a wild guess of between 5.30 – 6.00 hours. I took 6.10,  so considering my lack of preparation I was pleased with that. It has left me with the taste for a few more bike rides this year.