It was a repeat ride from Diamond Harbour to Lyttelton and return … this time on solo bikes.
Ya just gotta love our country …
We had been for a couple of smallish togetherness rides on the flatlands of the city … it was time to return to some undulation to increase the training to get thigh burn. Preparation for the much longer upcoming mountainbike ride adventure next month. Where most sane folk ride the distance over four days … we are going to be doing it in one!
From one side of the harbour Lyttelton to the other, Diamond Harbour we rode.
It took us back to Canada and stirred reflective memories that we still hold dear … stay upright; try not to get collected by metal vehicles sharing the narrow bits; communicate the call when changing gears to be easier or slower; watch for shit on the road; don’t run over dead things R.I.P. on the road; and when you see an upcoming squashed remains – take a breath before you get to it versus when upon it; take the piss out of each other; remember the host and friendship connections made and wonder what they would be doing; return a smile and salutation when passers by look at you like you are two idiots doing what we were on our Fatty; eat a scone and have a cuppa at the destination Diamond Harbour.
Return back to Lyttelton was the same … 58kms around our own terra firma right on our back door step was just magic.
No chocolate bacon today. By the time we arrived back to our car, we had missed the bulk of the Saturday market.
This is our new training ride … everyone welcome for a repeat blat next weekend :0)
Now, where the f..k did we put the butt butter cream?!!!!!!
All those in favour, say “Ru can be the first rider” It’s what happened when I was taking a leak … to arrive back at the Atlas Gentech corporate tent and be told, “Ru, you are the first rider!”
BClaire and I were making up a team of four from Alarm Solutions to participate in a 6 hour relay mountain bike challenge. The other two riders were Richard Jones & Mike Fairbrother. We each took turns to pedal at speed the 11 km route racing against the clock to complete as many laps as we could in the 6 hours.
With 1,650 others sharing the same track, it was absolute chaos as the the bunch started however, as all shapes of size, weight, fitness or not snailed the first lap, riders spread out in a figure of eight to allow for a much easier pump of the metal between the legs.
The last time we were involved in a corporate team wearing sponsorship was way way back in the dragon boat days of yesteryear. This day flooded back thoughts of those we played, drank and partied with … where ever they are on the planet nowadays!
Cripes, have the bodies aged since then too!
Not so the comaradery of fellow bikers today though … it was alive with bragging & banter bullshit like all those in uniform should abide by.
Cheers Gwyneth, Richard, CJ and Mike for allowing the Ru’s to partake.
A great day that tis the start to the adventure season ahead.
Training has started with a blat on the Fatty 29 tandem last Saturday and a blat on the mountain bikes on the Sunday.
It’s been a while since butts rode in tandem … all the technique was still there, yay!
And what better way to be inspired when we stopped for a rest, to be reminded of why we do the adventuring before dementia!
Sunday, minus 2 degrees celcius … the smiles say it all.
Find your purpose, your ‘why’ … and magnetise towards that. Plus 4 degrees in the sun was enough to magnetise toward, ahem!
A couple of weeks ago, we were invited to speak at a Mentee/Mentors evening for The Blind Foundation.
The contact there had heard us speak a month earlier whereby we shared some tools around goal setting and how that contributed to our adventure before dementia travel lifestyle – especially the tandem ride across Canada. She wanted us to share our dream it, design it and do it 3-3-5-3 Best Year Ever tool to help participants focus on their dreams they want to realize. Excuse the pun but they have an amazing sense of humour when able sighted folk mistakenly refer to anything to do with the ability to see things and they can’t!
There was no point in showing our power point image presentation. Instead, we adjusted our narrative to use more descriptive words and worked hard to describe the illustrations we wanted them to picture in their minds. It went well.
Whilst mingling with them and their guide dogs afterwards, we learnt volunteers take some of the group for cycle rides on the back of tandems. This resonated with us somewhat and how easy was it for us to sign up to be a volunteer a couple of mornings a month.
One couple present had a tandem. With Chris (fully sighted) on the front and Nicola (visually impaired) the stoker on the back, Chris was not confident on sharing the tar seal with other traffic. With a goal to travel around New Zealand to ride as many of the off-road mountain tracks as possible, they hadn’t yet taken to some of the mountain bike tracks in our own back yard, Christchurch.
We arranged that we would chaperone them around McLean’s Island mountain bike track and give them some coaching on manoeuvring a tandem with all the bells and whistles of staying up right; negotiating an incline and/or decline; navigate sharp bends; and slalom the natural obstacles of a protruding rock or tree root or stump. Nicola warned that coarse language is sometimes necessary to remind the fella on the front of the pillion passenger on the back.
Their tenacity to get out and blat the ten kilometres was beautiful. And with only one swear word moment!
They have a re-kindled enthusiasm to get on with their training because they took the leap of faith. In us. But more so in themselves.
Damn those tears of happiness. Now we had impaired vision!
Well done Chris and Nicola. The New Zealand mountain bike trails beckon.
As we walked back out onto the beach off the ramp, a glance to the right in silence with a nod to the skies and under the breath, safe journey today Lasse was spoken.
We met another trekker staying at the camp from Auckland, James. His encounter of 90 Mile Beach was similar with getting a lift after the 30 km stretch. Again, just physically hard. Then there were a number of instances whilst walking along the high tide mark where an incoming wave reached above his waist nearly dragging him out to sea. He came close to flipping the button on his personal location beacon he was that fearful.
When caught short like James was, there isn’t a foot hold to grab onto. Once fully coned sand dunes, some of them are now cliffs due to sea erosion. Alive clumps of grasses lay on the beach where they have tumbled from and tree roots stick out from the face. Fence posts and wire hang like tight ropes along large parts of the coastline to. If you think the oceans aren’t rising, come walk this part of the country and check it out for yourself.
It was a further 14 kms of beach walking before arriving at Ahipara. A clear sky and open sea with a slight on shore wind had gliding sea gulls patrolling from above. Traffic was busier as houses became more detailed. The landscape rose up too. We were too fast for the tide sometimes chasing our feet even though our walking was more of a plod. Coming off the ramp, there was a group hug of achievement.
Just before that though, another glance down the beach in silence.
Ashley, Meg and John headed for the camping ground with arrangements made to catch up with our trekking family tomorrow. For us we had touched base with someone we first met ten years ago, in Ahipara when we cycled the length of New Zealand in the opposite direction – Kerry Rolleston. Her invitation to stay was sincerely accepted and greatly appreciated.
Removing the socks revealed bottoms of feet that weren’t pretty. The raw flesh under the rotting was so sore, a re-think of strategy going forward was on the cards.
For Sale – back pack with full trekking gear (tent with ripped seam; two cooking stoves; sleeping mats and bags; metal pots and water filter; with sundries), boots and poles. Used but in happy condition to a motivated idiot not knowing what the hell they get themselves into. Owners going overseas to lie on a tropical beach as soon as sold. All offers considered!
But the evening conversation had with Kerry over a lovely home cooked meal allowed minds to wander in thought and forget the aches below the table. Ten summers of swapping toasting and roasting stories all ending up with the hatching of perhaps re-walking the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage walk in Spain.
We know of two people who would be keen (Sharon Meredith and Mark Hogan). And now three (Kerry Rolleston).
Games on … 2018.
And for the record, it wasn’t wine talk!
The strategy for where to from here regarding the TA, two more nights of wine bottles to be corked.
Something will eventuate we are sure!
Our eyes were affixed to the mobile phone trying to determine which direction to go to find the streets we drove through last evening. Kevin had sourced us some bikes and we had taken off on them for a blat, the first since we disembarked Fatty 29 (our tandem!).
Just like the good old times, bum on bike seat, rotating knees, firm grip of handle bars, head scanning the ground infront for smooth terra firma, and no weight being towed. Or in Claire’s case, being pushed! Everything was going well until we heard the screech and clunk to look up and see another cyclist in a heap on the road having been knocked off by the car now stationary.
We scrambled. Lifting the bike off the chap groaning underneath was the easy part. Shouting my name and so he was conscious of who I was, it was a flood of A-B-C first aid administration simultaneiously as Claire directed traffic that had slowed to gawk and the driver calling the ambulance.
Once calmed down, the externals were grazes with some claret. His breathing became more regular and every effort was made to try to have him remain lying down to no avail. He got up and rubbed his leg to limp over to his bike now with a buckled front wheel and pleading with the fella to wait for the ambulance went on deaf ears.
He just wobbled up the street litterally, pushing his bike that also had a wobble! Huh … and the driver was dumb founded!
A Police car showed up and we pointed in the direction of the cyclist so off they went in pursuit; then the ambulance and the same thing; and then two more Police cars to question us. Because we didn’t actually see the accident, no statement was taken.
The cop pointed us in the direction we were googling for earlier, we got back on the bikes and pedalled off.
Old photographs along the Ocean Avenue boardwalk intermingled with modern day art. Being a week day, the crowds were sparse and no one was roller blading the boardwalk in stubbie shorts with top off jiggling to the music being played in big ear phone ear muffs! I’ve watched too many movies!!
A lovely time from a bike seat, where city meets the sand and the future has been crafted from the past. It was cool.
Police escort and all.
It’s been +14 days since we disembarked the tandem. Hard to beleive if you say, “it is was just under half a month ago!”
As equally as there has been lot’s of reflection of what was; there has been lot’s of daydreaming on what is to be. The resting of bodies merged into a little lethargy purely because the routine of cycling has gone. The 6-7 hours spent rotating a pedal, poof! Sure it’s been filled up with tiki touring, new friendships and conversations however, we are creatures of movement under our own steam.
Expanding the gut or losing the fitness creeps in and before you know it, plump! A lazy routine is lethal.
We know our inside reflects our outside therefore our mind pictures have had to be reinvigorated with our motto – dream it; design it; and do it.
Walking down the hill was the easy bit as was along the footpath dodging workmen busily doing road construction and pavement construction. The puffy bit was the climb up to our accommodation. And that wasn’t carrying any weight!
It was the motivation we needed to re-frame habits going forward, more movement with perspiration.
The ‘no beer and chips’ has been firmed up in writing with an Accountability Coach. Only for three months as a start as it’s about taking small steps to create a more permanent habit. A tattoo of a french fry or stubbie bottle would not go with one of a hamburger!
Our tourist visit to Lunenburg had movement – park the car up on a hillside out of town and walk; cups of tea versus a coffee + two sugars; and find a nice spot in the drizzle to eat our prepared cut lunch (in the car looking at the dashboard was kind of okay, we had to walk up to it).
Lunenburg is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and home port to the Bluenose II – a tall ship. Although out to sea today, we did get up close to some other pirate ships docked wharfside. Wandering the quaint shops was relaxing and eventful. Our accent continues to solicit conversations and meeting a mother who back packed New Zealand to discover she was pregnant down under had us spend a hour syncronising experiences. No, we are not pregnant here!
The road sign with New Zealand on it had us pull up to stop and stare.
It was a sign! Except, there is no going back.
Off to find some of that gel that burns bum cheeks for the legs! It’s been 12+ hours since the puff this morning.
Mahone Bay greeted us with scare crow like mannequins affixed to a road barrier. Some of them resembled ‘Chucky’ from the horror movie.
However, as we drove into the township itself, front doors, front porches and front lawns had heaps of them on display. It took us a while before we saw a real person to confirm the place was indeed inhabited.
Huge oval and round orange pumpkins adorned a shop roof. They have been harvested for both pumpkin pie or to be carved up with eyes, nose and a squared toothed mouth in readiness for Halloween night.
Yep, shops have stocked up on all the paraphenalia you could possibly imagine to rob you of your hard earnt dollar for the one night show case, Halloween. Sadly it’s gradually taken hold in New Zealand, it’s something we chose to ignore.
I remember once when we owned and operated our childcare business from our residence, all the kids who attended thought we would be an easy sweet or three when they came knocking. Giving them a bunch of silver beet vegetable had looks of bewilderment on faces at the time … grins on ours naturally. We never had as many kids knocks on the door the following year!
What was first a trick arriving into Mahone was certainly a treat to see it’s population at play.
Anyone ever eaten pumpkin pie?
Makes one crave for a good ole fashioned mince and cheese one.
Our homestay hosts had us join a luncheon with an all women motor cyclist group called ‘Motor Maids.’
We got to again meet up with Cheryl (a previous homestay in Moncton) and Pearl.
The MM’s parked up chariots were impressive and their camaraderie a balance of purpose with humourous sisterhood banter.
How we have ended up here was because of a conversation with a fellow Motor Maid Christine we met back in Marathon. She advertised that the Rurus were cycling across the continent and if anyone wished to avale a bed and feed, that would be awesome.
That one interaction ripple effect has exposed us to folk with huge hearts who have.
To meet the extended group of Motor Maids was a bonus of being at the right place at the right time. They are certainly a cool bunch of women in leathers.
For our homestay hosts Sandra and Denise, another fantastic experience of hospitality we are most certainly humbled by.
A huge THANK YOU from us.
When you come visit us in New Zealand, let us take you for a blat across our landscape the Rurus style, on a tandem.
It’ll be a blast.
Everyone gets to peddal!