Day 10 Part 3/6 Taumarunui to Pipiriki continued...
I digressed slightly with the reconnaissance story but am back on target.
I left National Park after a massive feed and serious blog. I am up to 825 metres from about 180 at Taumaranui. The mountains are old friends after years of your driving and ski trips. Ngaruhoe comes up on my left and I am in the Grove and the tyres are singing.
It is about the third perfectly still day. " A day so clear, so bright it was like the earth had stopped, astonished at its own beauty,". Apologies to K Mansfield.
Often there is no sound except the hum from the tyres, twang of the odd spoke, click of the gears as I change up and down trying to keep the cadence up, which is against all my instincts from my distance running background. The custom seat I bought last minute, to the astonishment of the pros who would wear theirs in for weeks first, creaks and groans. The panniers are the bane of my life. I'm convinced they hate me. They dislike the bumping and banging of the dirt tracks, the corrugations, pot holes, nasty rocks they have endured. They hate my constant unpacking and rummaging around I do in them for things I can't remember where I have put them or glasses cases and phones and guide books which have a habit of sliding to the bottom of the bag. They don't fit through the ridiculous gates in the middle of nowhere or being taken off and unceremoniously lumped across nasty wire swing bridges. Thank goodness I elected to do the road trip from Taumarunui instead of the bush track and jet boat to Pipiriki.
I was so underdone for the trip. The front carrier had been on order for weeks but the back one turned up weeks after being ordered the very day I panicked and arranged for another time at Myride Westgate. When they were in place they didn't fit properly and rubbed against the tyres when jostled around. The stays to hold them in place were useless.
I loaded them up and carried on. On the ferry from Poutu another pro kirted tactfully around the issue but the message was clear! Only a mug uses a back pack because it is more weight on the bum. What a revelation. It was the first thing I abandoned in Auckland in my frantic overnight pit stop. I had 5 pairs of glasses, two reading close up, prescription sunglasses, long range prescriptions to act as windshields in rain, all in separate cases. The glasses had to share plastic cases. Out went the sleeping bag for a polar blanket. The pot and plate and gas can and cooker gone. I kept waterproof matches and buy at least one rip top can for eating and cooking in. The spare coins went. Credit card and folding paper only. Underwear, no need in cycling pants. It was panic, abandoning jetsam before the ship goes down. The front carrier went.
Another pro later kindly noted that Cycling 101 was distribute your load evenly. Too late now. The rear careers around like those 5 ball bearings on a frame work to demonstrate kinetic? energy as the force moves from side to side , click, click, back and forth. I tie an extra stick arm across after various attempts to prop them out with sticks and foam. We lurch and roll through the bush tracks and I come off as we slide in soft pumice and sand on the BMX path at Mangakino 5 minutes into the day. I pull out the new gloves and decide I'd better start wearing them and eventually pick the remaining stones out of my palm at Taumarunui. Mcdonalds the first chance I'd had to see them in daylight for two days. l'm ok Sam. The hands have healed now. They seem to be better but each days packing disturbed them further. The bike gets unceremoniously turned upside down when I stop and take some River photos today. I leave it upside down when I notice a bee swarm on a post. They don't like being on their head so play up again at Jerusalem. The extra cable ties come out and more cross supports go in. I finally subdue them.
No comments:
Post a Comment