Free Wheelin - November 2000

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We're off, flight from London to Rarotonga 11:15 am Tuesday 7th. Arrived in Rarotonga on Wednesday 8th November at 6:30am (local time). The airport was tiny, the sort of airport you would expect on a small south pacific island. As soon as I stepped out onto the tarmac, the heat hit me; it was already 23 degrees with about 80% humidity. As we entered the arrivals lounge, we were greeted by one of the local entertainers playing his guitar and squealing some local ditty. At 6:30am after being on the road for 32 hours, the guy was just making a noise Aarrrgh! Lilly, my Host for the next two weeks was also there to greet myself and 2 other visitors from the UK, Kate and Cathy. After being bundled into the mini bus, we headed towards Tiare Village. Lilly started to get all excited, I thought she was having an.... well, you know what I mean! There was a plane about to take off, Lilly took a sharp right onto a gravel track and there it was, the Canadian 3000 flight ready for take off. We were only 20 odd feet away from the engines. Another few locals drew up, one on a moped. The engines fired up and almost blew the guy from his bike. By this time, Lilly was squealing with excitement. Within seconds the plane shot up the runway and was off, it was all over. I found out later that they call it 'the jet blast' Any time there is a take off from that end of the runway people, mostly tourists, clamber to the fence directly behind the jet engines waiting for the jet blast which almost lifts them off the ground. And Yes! Naturally, I had a go at sitting on the fence. Rarotonga, my first of many destinations, is a small scorching and humid pile of rocks in the middle of the south pacific, it's nearest neighbour is about 220 miles away. You couldn't class it as an exciting island; it's one of those places where you just HAVE to chill out. How frustrating! Once you get used to the relaxed pace, you begin to appreciate the island. Rarotonga has a center of jagged peaks covered by lush jungle, and is surrounded by an almost continuous beach of golden sand and clear blue lagoons. It's hot, Damn HOT! And humid. My routine every day was to cycle the 21 miles around the island at least once. It usually took me two or three hours depending on how long I decided to laze on the beach. I would then head to one of the bars, strike up a conversation with the locals and forget to go home. Top of Page Friday 10th After my early morning cycle around the island, I decided to tackle the "Cross Island Walk' (photo's will be added soon) I like to think of myself as being reasonably fit but, this walk was tough. It starts with a short walk that meanders through small patches of farmland, then suddenly its straight up 700mtr towards the Te Rua Manga (The Needle). The climb is hard going using tree roots as your staircase and to pull yourself up. It took me an hour or so to get to the Needle (a large pointed rock that marks the top). After a knackered half-hour to recuperate, I had to make a choice, take route one that a notice board informed me was steep! Alternatively, take route two, which follows a pipeline across the island. I, chose the pipeline, it wasn't until I arrived back at Tiare Village that I was told that the guide book advised not to take the pipeline route, I now know why! In places, I found myself walking along very narrow paths with shear drops both side and another time hanging onto the pipe and traversing the side of the mountain. The highlight of the walk was to be a massive waterfall with a clear cool pool at the bottom to swim in, but due to the lack of rain over the past few weeks, the waterfall was a mere trickle and the pool was empty and very dirty. I gave it a miss. I had to make my way back to camp rather dirty after falling down the last few meters of the descent. The rest of my stay on Rarotonga was rather uneventful, most days just cycling around and visiting a few beaches and bars. On one night, I got the urge to go to the cinema. The 'cinema' a pink shed like structure at the end of the main street, was an interesting experience. As I wandered down to the building the rain came on, all of a sudden it was chucking it down. My ticket cost me $5 to see Jackie Chan in Shanghai Noon. The place was empty apart from half a dozen locals and me. The rain hammered off the tin roof. Around the walls hung black sheeting to hide the structure of the building, and I guess to cushion the noise from outside. The seating would put a few cinemas in the UK to shame; they were large comfortable armchairs with plenty of legroom. The biggest shock came when the film stopped half way through; this was to let every one have a smoke break. I was kind of glad when the day came for me to leave the island, I was getting bored. I was also keen to start proper cycling. Top of Page Thursday 23rd November Arrived at Auckland airport at 10:30am, I spent 2 hours putting my bike together and trying to fill my panniers. This task had to be carried out on the busy pavement just outside arrivals. I finally got things organised, I just had to pump up the tyres, I don't think so... The pump blew a gasket and didn't make enough wind to blow up a balloon. I hailed a cab. I told the driver to take me to a reasonable hotel near Auckland center. What a mistake. After driving around several hotels, no vacancies. The drive suddenly had a brain wave, the 'Grafton Oaks' why didn't I think of that sooner, he said. Anyway, after paying him $100 I booked a room $75 per night. It wasn't a bad hotel and it was near the center of the city. I spent 4 nights in Auckland, trying to do a few touristy things but I just couldn't arouse any enthusiasm for the place. It was just another city. Monday 27th November Time to move on, I headed South east out of the city aiming my bike towards Thames. I had asked a few people for the best and quickest rout out of Auckland. Everyone had a different idea. However the girl at the reception in the hotel sounded as if she knew what she was talking about, I took her advice. I only ended up going thirty k?s to arrive on the great north road a few miles from the city. Never mind, once I got to grips with my map and where I was, the cycling was easy going. They say that two thirds of New Zealand is mountainous, well, the rest of it is fuckin HILLY!! As I was about to find out over the next few days. My first night camping was in a DOC camp (Department of Conservation) they are quite well looked after and sometimes free, most of them have very basic facilities, like drop toilets, full stop. To get to the site I had to cycle some 4.5km up a gravel road, no I didn't cycle, I admit, I pushed. It took me an hour plus, and, I got myself my first puncture. I wasn't even cycling. However the good thing about going up the hills, is the run down the other side. On this occasion, I had an equally steep 4.5 km down hiller. I pumped the punctured tyre up as hard as I could, and free wheeled all the way down dodging rocks etc. My first night in the tent. In the middle of who knows where. I didn't sleep too much my imagination was in overdrive, it was so quiet out side and pitch black. I heard every branch on the surrounding trees creaking and groaning. Dogs barking in the distance and what sounded like footsteps but were probably just rabbits or something foraging about. The problem is that when you are zipped up inside your tent, you can't see a thing, there are no windows. I just lay there shaking in my sleeping bag, I knew that in the morning every thing would be ok. Well if it wasn't, I didn't want to know. I closed my eyes and drifted off. Tuesday 28th November My next day of cycling went very smooth, about 95km with a tail wind. I passed all sorts of so-called tourist places of interest. However, the road was being kind and I had a good rhythm, I just sailed past. They were probably naff, 'that?s what I told myself'. My destination was 'Thames' the gateway to the Coromandel Peninsula. I reached Miranda at about 3pm, Miranda, was a very small village with nothing but a few houses and a hotel. Nevertheless, it was a milestone for me; I now only had 28km to go. As long as the tail wind stayed with me, I would make Thames well before the tourist information office closed. Ha! I took a left fork over a bridge and BANG! All of a sudden I had a head wind, my pace slowed to just 7km an hour, and I had to push those pedals. My legs decided they didn't want to go any further, but my head was telling me to, just keep going. I had to stop for a breather every few k?s. The final 25km took me over three hours, I arrived in Thames just as the girl was locking the door to the tourist office. I quickly asked directions to the nearest campsite - 10km further on Arrrrrghhh! However, I had no choice, I had to keep peddling. I arrived at the campsite just as the rain was starting. By this time, I'm asking myself, "do I really want to cycle around the world". Naturally, the next day when I woke up the answer was yes, I was having fun, I think... I stayed in Thames for a few days, it was a nice wee town, the people were friendly, the pubs lively and the sun was shinning. Top of Page Thursday 30th November Distance cycled 50km and 20km in the back of a van! I had spent too much time in the bar last night and had a thumping hangover. It was after 9am when I heaved the bike up the small hill that took me to the exit of the campsite, the sun was up, it was going to be a hot day. Heading west on highway 25A over the Coromandel Range towards Tikuai. Although I had a sore head, my pace was good and there was a light tail wind helping me along. I was happily singing a song (as only I could) when I came to the foot of the saddle that crossed the ranges and took me to the West coast on New Zealand's north island. I knew I would have to climb some steep hills on this journey, but I wasn?t prepared for the amount of effort needed. After only 100 meters, the bike felt heavy. I stopped and checked the brakes and the gears, there must be some problem, I told myself; I should be able to move a bit faster. But NO, there were no problems with the bike. I pushed on another 100 meters, I was knackered, heaving for breath, this hill had me beat. I dismounted and started to push my heavy load up the hill. My map informed me that the road was 29km, I calculated that, it would probably mean that I would have to climb about 15km. To me this sounded ok, 'Cycle some, Push some?. Not so, yes, it was 15km to the top but I just couldn't manage a pedal stroke. I also thought that pushing the bike at approximately 5km per hour would see me at the summit in three hours and I would have a long fast down hill. Not so, after five hours of pushing the bike up the hill, stopping every few hundred meters for a breather, the very hot sun beating down on me, I was ready to drop. Cars, trucks and busses whizzed past tooting their horns, I forced a smile and gave a very weak wave "yes you fuckers, I'm really enjoying myself". Just as I was cursing myself and asking where the top of this bleepin hill was, a van pulled along beside me. A cheery bloke called Dave popped his head through the window and said, "Hi, do you want a lift?" All I could respond with was "where does this bleepin hill stop?" Oh, he said, its not far, jump in. I gave in, and loaded the bike into the back of the van and settled in to a comfortable seat. Dave informed me that he passed me this morning while he was on his way to Thames to work. He asked why we cyclists put ourselves through this torture. I said it?s the thrill of the downhill that makes it worthwhile. Just as I said that we turned a corner, only 200 meters from where I was picked up. There it was a magnificent view, DOWN! The other side. 5 hours of pushing and for the sake of 200 meters, I missed the downhill. Dave did offer to let me out, I declined, I would get over it and no doubt, there would be more hills. The rest of the day went smooth. After Dave showed me a few of the sights at the bottom of the hill I remounted my steed and headed in search of a campsite.

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