Oct26Sunday Akaroa
The lone biker we met so long ago on the pass said we should go here. Anywhere a fellow biker recommends has got to be ok, so away we went.
The two opposing dark cloud weather systems we’d noticed approaching from opposite sides of the island late yesterday evening did indeed clash overhead through the night. Hail fell a few times, pinging against the truck’s roof, and an actual tornado touched down in a nearby neighborhood, destroying 6 homes. Wild weather. Pulled up stakes.
Left the sprawling suburbs, into the flatlands along the coast. Came upon the 30km long Kaitorete spit, a long flat sandbar with a long dirt road leading to the end. Found out here that yes, indeed, the traction control can be turned off, and the thing spins and drifts quite comfortably. Parking brake does a commendable job of turn assist, too. Denise also took a turn driving, quickly becoming comfortable. It was still odd to sit on the left side of a vehicle without having a steering wheel in front of me, though. Stopped at the junction of sand and rock at the spit’s “base”, to see some powerful surf crash and batter the gravelly coast incessantly.
Got on the road again, Denise relinquishing the wheel as we would soon start climbing the crater’s outer rim. Akaroa is a huge ancient volcano with two craters, now drowned and open to the sea, creating two beautiful protected harbors complete with soaring cliffs all around.
Soon found out why the biker liked this place. The road wound up and around ridges, following the elevation contours as it slowly but inexorably climbed up the steep sides. Stuck behind slow traffic, nowhere to go, I simply enjoyed the cruise(after fuming for a bit, first, of course). Reached the summit, then immediately began the plummet down into the crater itself, the walls green, terraced, and covered in agile sheep. With no choice in the matter, we slowly followed a group of PT cruisers into the town, decided to see where the road ends. Passed the touristy waterfront, into a mini suburbia, then reached a sign stating “Lighthouse Road”. Well, there must be a lighthouse at the end, right?
The road followed the harbor, overhanging sandstone cliffs on one side, steep drops on the other.
Passed a
small gathering of houses once sea level drew near, then the road turned inland and began climbing. The
centerline disappeared, the subsided areas of washed-out pavement no longer fixed, just marked with
spindly 2X2 fences, painted white. The width narrowed as we climbed higher, making me think about where
the rear tires were tracking in some of the tighter curves. One lane now, the old sun bleached pavement
breaking up all along the edges where the moss and lichens were trying to regain possession. Steeper and steeper.
Rounded a turn to see exactly what we’d been thinking about.. .an oncoming car. Mid eighties Honda sedan.
The two asian couples inside didn’t speak much English, and I was in no position to reverse down the hill, as I’d been watching intently for turn around spots, there were none. The road was so steep I needed to hold on the emergency brake in order to rev the engine, giving the turbo the exhaust gas flow it needed to spool and start to make power, then ease off the brake while feathering the clutch to get the whole thing moving upward again without stalling or rolling back over a precipice.
small gathering of houses once sea level drew near, then the road turned inland and began climbing. The
centerline disappeared, the subsided areas of washed-out pavement no longer fixed, just marked with
spindly 2X2 fences, painted white. The width narrowed as we climbed higher, making me think about where
the rear tires were tracking in some of the tighter curves. One lane now, the old sun bleached pavement
breaking up all along the edges where the moss and lichens were trying to regain possession. Steeper and steeper.
Rounded a turn to see exactly what we’d been thinking about.. .an oncoming car. Mid eighties Honda sedan.
The two asian couples inside didn’t speak much English, and I was in no position to reverse down the hill, as I’d been watching intently for turn around spots, there were none. The road was so steep I needed to hold on the emergency brake in order to rev the engine, giving the turbo the exhaust gas flow it needed to spool and start to make power, then ease off the brake while feathering the clutch to get the whole thing moving upward again without stalling or rolling back over a precipice.
She didn’t have much experience behind the wheel. Somehow got the car backed up 20 meters to an appropriate turn around spot.
They continued back down, we’d ascertained they were looking for the lighthouse, too. Just after the slightly wider spot, the road turned to gravel. Enough. We were also disturbing these locals…
Turning around we crawled back down to the town.
Typical tourist trap. Cafes, shops, overly friendly people. UGH. We ate, enjoying the sunshine, then left along the Summit road, a grand series of narrow two lanes that wind ridge top to ridge top along the craters’ fragmented rim. Beautiful. The jumbled coastline and endless ocean on one side, the steep crater walls leading down to the harbor on the other. For miles. And miles. Impossible to take a bad picture….
Nonstop scenery, vistas…..
On our way down, descending the outer wall of the volcano, I saw a couple of sport bikes climbing the route. Finally. Seems what the biker said was true, after work and the weekends bring out the riders. Lots of early 90’s sport bike stuff, slabside gixxers, a few Harleys, many Adventure bikes with full panniers and gear, a few standards, and a few modern bikes, R1’s, GSXR’s and such. Decent mix, but not a lot factoring in the tarmac seemingly purpose built for motorcycles. I admit, a 110kph limit would really become irritating after only a few moments, though.
Also, coming up a little too fast on one of these…
which seem to regularly escape their fences and hang out right next to the road, could mess up your day a bit.
Tomorrow was labor day here in New Zealand, we didn’t know what would be open, so we refilled and restocked our van, including the purchase of ginger and boysenberry wines. Ginger, o.k. in small amounts, boysenberry, not so much. Starting to develop a taste for the peppery Syrah varietal.
Decided to continue south as long as I continued to want to drive. Ended up in the apt town of Timaru, which means “place of shelter” in Maori. Nice campsite, but full of Labor Day people. No matter, we were in a small nook, and tired from a long days’ drive. The ginger wine and the attention required to remain on all four wheels all day conspired against a late nigh….ZZZZ.
On our way down, descending the outer wall of the volcano, I saw a couple of sport bikes climbing the route. Finally. Seems what the biker said was true, after work and the weekends bring out the riders. Lots of early 90’s sport bike stuff, slabside gixxers, a few Harleys, many Adventure bikes with full panniers and gear, a few standards, and a few modern bikes, R1’s, GSXR’s and such. Decent mix, but not a lot factoring in the tarmac seemingly purpose built for motorcycles. I admit, a 110kph limit would really become irritating after only a few moments, though.
Also, coming up a little too fast on one of these…
which seem to regularly escape their fences and hang out right next to the road, could mess up your day a bit.
Tomorrow was labor day here in New Zealand, we didn’t know what would be open, so we refilled and restocked our van, including the purchase of ginger and boysenberry wines. Ginger, o.k. in small amounts, boysenberry, not so much. Starting to develop a taste for the peppery Syrah varietal.
Decided to continue south as long as I continued to want to drive. Ended up in the apt town of Timaru, which means “place of shelter” in Maori. Nice campsite, but full of Labor Day people. No matter, we were in a small nook, and tired from a long days’ drive. The ginger wine and the attention required to remain on all four wheels all day conspired against a late nigh….ZZZZ.
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