RIDING THE ISLANDS

Almost a decade ago, Darryl Flack and Mark Watson took a tour around New Zealand’s Bay of Islands

The first act of any big ride is to ensure that the city from which you depart disappears in your mirrors as quickly as possible. With Watto straddling the Electra Glide^® Ultra Limited and yours truly on the Fat Bob^®, we managed to weave our way through South Auckland before heading cross town on Queenstown Road and hooking up to the motorway that links with the one-kilometre Auckland Harbour Bridge.

The peak-hour traffic was heavy and brisk, but it wasn’t too long before we reached Auckland’s northern limits and its vast housing estates bulging with hundreds of cookie-cutter mansions. Rumbling along 10km later, we were clear of civilisation and flanked by steep escarpments bearing lush ferns and hundreds of subtropical plant species. The cleaner air soon flushed out our diesel-filled nostrils and prepared us for our first port of call – the Puhoi pub, 45 minutes north of Auckland, is a must for any Harley rider.

Publican Daniel lived in Sydney for six years in the 1990s and, as it turned out, he watched many of the same Aussie bands as me playing at my local pub. As Watto and I settled down outside with our coffees, Daniel put on a CD, Intensive Care by the Bondi Cigars. I complimented him on his choice and told him that the popular blues outfit would be playing at the Bridge Hotel at Rozelle, Sydney on Saturday night. “Geez, are those guys still playing?” he asked with a mix of bewilderment and longing.

We bade farewell and wheeled the bikes back on to State Highway 1. We entered the Kauri coast and visited one of Mother Nature’s more amazing sights – an 800-year-old Kauri tree. But this was just a young’un; there is a 2,000-year-old Kauri in the rainforest on the east coast. After crooking my neck looking up at the old Kauri tree, we were back on the bikes and soon passing through Matakana.

As we crested the high ridge at Bryderwyn, we were confronted by the beautiful expanse of Bream Bay with its gorgeous aqua-blue waters filling our view to the right. Once we’d hit the flat, we hung a right at Ruakaka on the advice of a sign stating ‘scenic tourist drive’. We meandered through the streets of this quiet beachside town before heading back to Highway 1 to rejoin our route to Whangarei for lunch.

With the sun lowering we made up the last 85km run into Opua and caught the ferry over to Russell and the glorious Bay of Islands. We rode over the Kawakawa River and on to the boat for the five-minute trip to Okiato en route to Russell. The former whaling town is located on a peninsula and you can ride to them, but the ferry ride via Kawakawa is quicker.

We parked the bikes at the very front of the punt and took in the fantastic views. It was great to remove our lids and take in the fresh maritime breeze after a long day in the saddle. We were first off and zipped along the 8km dual-lane road to Russell with the sun slurping into the horizon. Once there, we checked out the boardwalk, and eyeballed some of the restaurants on the vehicle-friendly promenade.

We rode to Flagstaff, a memorial to the end of the Maori wars that raged through the region in the late 19th century. It sits atop one of the highest points on the peninsula, granting a majestic view of the Bay Islands.

A mist hung over the town the next morning, with the promise of light rain as we checked out and headed back to the ferry. The road was damp, but by the time we hit the Paihai Road the fog had lifted and the tar was dry. We filled up at Moerewa and headed west on State Highway 12 with Waipoua Forest our main destination of the day. The traffic was very light, aside from a few empty logging trucks rattling up to the hills to collect their next massive cargo. The nether regions of Highway 1 reminded me of rural Victoria, and the more remote parts of Highway 12 made this comparison all the more vivid.

We struck a bit of light rain, but nothing to upset this almost private ride across the island, save for a wave from a Maori farmer near a rail junction before we reached the inlet town of Opononi that borders a huge sand dune-lined lagoon – it was here that we swapped bikes. It wasn’t too long before we entered the steep vestibule of the Waipoua rainforest, which had been varnished by morning rain. The bikes happily hissed over the wet tarmac and saturated ferns smacked into my visor on some turns. As Watto reminded me later, what is a rainforest without rain?

We emerged from the forest with Dargaville in our sights. We rode into the small town and parked outside a gun and fishing shop, which dot the landscape of rural New Zealand. We spotted a rustic café, named ‘Blah, Blah, Blah’, and ambled across the road to a vacant table. Wattor loved the quirky artworks and cool décor of this very unlikely cultural outpost. His bohemian fervour motivated me to try a chai cappuccino, which he assured me wouldn’t inspire chanting.

Rested, fed and watered, we departed Dargaville, looped back to Brynderwyn and hooked up to Highway 1 for the run back to Auckland. It was an interesting contrast with the rainforests and rolling countryside of the north. Heading south past Puhoi the hills were much steeper, the valleys deeper and the traffic more plentiful as we travelled through Auckland and back to the southern motorway, and our hotel near the airport, without a hitch. We dismounted tired, exhilarated and fulfilled.

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