Waking up was not so easy. We had a long day to go, but it would have been rude to leave before Andrew wakes up, so we had a shower, packed our things, and had breakfast. Finally the others woke up. I borrowed some chain lube from Gavin, to make the bike silent. I got my phone charged with Gavin's charger. Gavin had another charger in his bike, so he lent this charger for us for the rest of our trip. We were supposed to return it to Jenny when we stay at her place in Mt. Maunganui. My phone woke up, and told that I have a message in my voice mailbox. I hadn't used the voice mailbox for two years, and the system to download the messages had changed. I wasn't able to download the message.

I tried to call Bruce Hoult, who was supposed to meet us today, and ride with us next three days, but his handyphone was temporarily disconnected. We tried to find some number for him to Wellington, but couldn't find the right Bruce Hoult. It caused some problems, how we finally could meet each other. Elina reserved us a room from Peacock lodge in Morere, but we couldn't reserve any room to Bruce and Svetlana. There was however some hope to have some cancellations, so we were not so worried. And anyway we hadn't yet heard anything from Bruce. So we thought that everything will be just fine somehow.

Gavin with his VF1000R

When we asked from Andrew, how we could find the straight route from Palmerston north to Pahiatua, Gavin told us, that his chain needs adjusting, and warming his chain before adjusting was a good excuse to have a short ride, and show us the right road out of Palmy. So we said seeyas to Andrew and Jenny, and followed Gavin to the beginning of the Pahiatua Goat Track. The goat track was like designed for enjoyable ride for a motorbike. I wonder, if in the early times in NZ the people who opened the first roads and tracks could somehow sense the future with the motorbikes. So they made the first mountain passes and all the other routes as enjoyable as possible for a two wheeler.

100 kph? Here?

In Pahiatua, we tried to ask people how we could find ourselves to the sh2. No-one understood our question. We wondered why, but then we found the reason. We were on the sh2, but when running through Pahiatua the highway turns to a kind of boulevard for a kilometer or so. We popped out from the goat track in the middle of this boulevard, so we didn't recognise it as a highway. I filled up the bike in Pahiatua, and asked the service station guy, if the road we wanted to ride was difficult to find. He said that it's very clear junction with good signs about one kilometer north sh2.

We turned east towards Makuri. The road ran across a series of gorges between naked hills. The wind was very hard and unpredictable. There, while struggling with the bike, when the wind just blasted behind some cliffs, I very well understood, why the plane and glider pilots stay away from such gorges. The wind doesn't just change from still to blast, but the direction of the wind can change very rapidly, and it was sometimes pretty hard to keep the bike in one's own lane. We rode through Makuri-Pongaroa-Weber-Wimbledon-Porangau-Waipukurau. We also passed a place, that has the longest name in NZ: Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu. I tried to find any kind of roadsign or anything to take a photo of, but there was nothing; absolutely nothing. This was really fun and nice road, and a good choice for the sh2.

The windy valley

Close to Hastings, I dug my phone from the packages, and I had another message in the voice mailbox. This time I was sure it was Bruce, so I tried, and tried, and finally managed to download the messages. The first message was from yesterday, and Bruce asked me to call him. I tried again both his home number and the handy number, but obviously he had left home already. He had also an answering service connected to his handy that was again connected, so we started exchanging voice mailbox messages. Elina also called to the Peacock lodge, and told that we come later than expected. We again asked for cancellations, but there were none.

Pampas grass

We arrived to Napier. We sat in the Pizza-Hut having pizza, and the phone was on. We were waiting any sign of Bruce. Before we left, I called Bruce another time and left a message, where we were. Then we took some fuel, and headed forward. Before leaving Napier, I left yet another message for Bruce estimating when we would be in Wairoa and again reachable. The road from Napier to Wairoa was not promising at all: Extremely windy seashore, and just straight. Finally the road turned to inland, and since it was evening, the tarmac was again firm, and we could maintain speed also in the curves, Fun!

Just before Wairoa I rode for a while my helmet visor open, when I heard a snap from my sunglasses. Then I felt a sudden pain in my jaw just under my lower lip. A bee had hit my glasses and dropped inside my helmet hood. It was hurt but not dead so it stung immediately. I braked vigorously, took off my helmet and shook the bastard off my hood. It dropped between the frame tube and the tank of the bike, so I never saw what kind of bee it was. Only thing I saw was its stinger pointing in my jaw. We stopped few kilometers later in Wairoa, where I dug my cortisone creme from the packages and applied some to the bit swollen jaw. We also were again under the coverage area, so we called once again the Peacock lodge, and told that we are now even more late. There were no more cancellations, so no room for Bruce and Svetlana.

Then I listened my voice mailbox again. Bruce had called, and told he had calculated they were about 130 km behind us, and were going to catch us in the Morere, in Peacock lodge. I called them back immediately, that they should try to find some accommodation in Wairoa, since we couldn't get any room for them in Morere. We could meet in Peacock lodge in the morning. So we continued to Morere. Then we found that we had a room with three beds. We agreed with Jeff, the manager, that by adding one extra mattress, we could fit Bruce and Svetlana in, if they no more check their voice mailbox, and come straight to Morere. We didn't see them that evening, so supposingly they listened my message.

In the evening I once again checked my bee sting under my lip, and applied some more cortisone creme before going to sleep. I was happy not to get any allergic reactions, but only slight swelling, since my insect bite pills were in the bike rental shop, in the same side pocket of my luggage with the phone charger.