Getting There:  New Zealand lies some 6,500 miles southwest of California and anchors the southwestern tip of the Polynesian triangle and is considered to be the most isolated country in the world in a geographical sense. Separated from Australia by the weather breeding Tasman sea, the shortest route to New Zealand from "Mother England" is straight through the center of the earth.  "The Land of the Kiwi" is a largely mountainous country with 220 named mountains exceeding 2286 m (7500 ft) in height.

     The two islands that comprise the nation of New Zealand total about the same surface area as the State of Colorado but with a population less than that of the San Francisco bay area.  Located mid way between the equator and the South Pole, New Zealand sits at the edge of the Pacific tectonic plate on what geologists call the Ring of Fire, a zone of frequent earthquakes and volcanic eruptions that rings the Pacific.  Evidence of active and past volcanism abounds on both islands.

     New Zealand is so remote that it was unknown until Polynesians sailed in about 1,000 years ago. These ancient seafarers in their long canoes discovered a land with no mammals and many plants and animals unique on the planet. Not until 1642 did the first Europeans make landfall here when Abel Tasman sailed into Murder Bay and sparked the start of the "Maori problem".

     Today, about a quarter of the 3.9 million New Zealanders who are a mix of European (74.5%), native Maori (9.7%),  Pacific Islander (3.8%), Asian and others (7.4%) make their home in the Auckland metropolitan area. Auckland, know as the "City of Sails", sprawls along a narrow stretch of the North Island, touched by ocean on just about every side. Auckland's lively waterfront is home to the America's Cup village and the city proper lies on the flanks of ancient volcanoes amid remnants of a lush subtropical forest, evident in its 22 parks. The city also boasts a splendid National Museum which houses everything from Maori to Morris Minor.

Auckland Skyline at Dawn
 

     There is the usual hubris at the hotel check-in when we arrive as we sort out snorer from non-snorer and pair up roommates.  We dump our bags in the rooms and start up the street looking for morning coffee. A short walk later I'm holding out a hand full of strange coins to the Starbucks (yes, Starbucks) maid and saying, "Take what you need."

    Back at the hotel I hear, "Say mate, you here for a motorcycle tour?"  It's a giant of a man in a broad-brimmed hat who introduces himself as Al Walker and informs me that he's our assigned tour guide, van driver, and what the Army aptly describes as "general's dog washer" for the 2500 miles tour down the length of New Zealand. I ask about John Rains and am told that John is busy with a family obligation, but will see us when we arrive in Christchurch. I'm a little disappointed at John's absence for we all enjoyed his company when he and Tom led the tour in 2000.

     I invite Al to the room and introduce him to Matt. I call Jim, Dion, and Harry who come down to join us. We make Al a cup of tea and quickly discover that he is about as laid back as a human can be and still be awake. We question him about the arrangements for picking up the bikes tomorrow and Matt asks, "Any chance you could work up a ride for tomorrow?"  Unfazed, Al responds, "Not a problem," and suggests a Sunday afternoon ride to the north of Auckland after we pick up the bikes. This way we'll get a little practice on the unfamiliar bikes in a country whose British heritage dictates driving on the left side of the road . We learn that Al is a native of the South Island.  He promises that on the ride to Queenstown we'll all stop for a visit and tea at his home in Wanaka.

     The four of us spend the afternoon on a walk about the Parnell neighborhood and arrive back at the hotel ready for a cold pint and dinner. In the hotel pub we introduce Jim and Dion to Monteith's Black, a local brew praised as "crisper than sweet darks and smoother than harsh stouts." Fortunately, after a couple (or was it three) of these we have only to stumble to the next room for dinner.

     After dinner Matt and I open the door to our room and are at once alarmed by a flash and boom outside the window . We hurry through the room onto the balcony and trace the commotion to a smoke shrouded backyard below us where a laughing group of young adults is dashing around the small yard among the flashes of exploding fireworks.   It looks dangerous as hell to me, but the merry makers below are having a jolly time. As Matt and I watch, around the city other rockets begin to arc and burst in the evening sky, launched from what appears to be numerous other small parties like the one we're watching below.  "Matt, do you have any idea what it's all about?" I ask. Matt has spent much time in Britain and thinks for a moment,  "Ah, it's Guy Fawkes Day"-- that curious British celebration of the unsuccessful attempt in 1603 by Mr. Fawkes to make a point with his government's bureaucrats by squirreling himself away in the cellar of the parliament building with 36 barrels of gunpowder. Alas, it was damp gunpowder.

Back Row:  Tandy Bozeman  Harry Hauss  Tom Van Beveren (guide)  Dion DeCamp  Vicki Young  John Smith  Jim Breheny   Bruce Niles
Front Row: Al Walker (guide)  Ron Young  John Paul Daly  Jim Kelch   Matt Kelch

    The next morning we meet the other motorcyclists on the tour. We are ten solo riders and one two-up, Ron and Vicki Young, a wonderful couple back for their second tour.  Also in the group is Tom Van Beveren, editor of Free Two Wheel magazine. Tom, who is married to a Kiwi and a frequent visitor to New Zealand, was inspired a couple of years ago to set up a special motorcycle tour to the land down under for the readers of his magazine, many of whom haunt a famous rider hangout in the Santa Monica mountain north of LA called the Rock Store. The place is so well know that I once mentioned "Rock Store" in a motorcycle shop in a one-horse town in Ohio and everybody in the place knew what I was talking about.

      Tom worked out an arrangement with John Rains of Te Waipounamu Tours that became an instant success. Tom is back again as co-lead on his third tour, with another already planned for 2003. The tour now draws riders from all over the United States and is recognized as a real value. Tom will work hard on this trip making sure that everyone has a good time.

     The next morning we load into the tour van and a hired taxi for the drive through downtown Auckland and over the bay bridge to Te Waipounamu's Auckland shop to pick up our bikes. The plan is to return to the hotel and then launch for the afternoon ride led by Al.  Most of the group has chosen to ride the BMW F650GS, Tom is on an R1150GS, the Youngs are on an R1100R, and Jim has selected a Suzuki sport bike. John Paul is the odd ball on a Harley clone cruiser. We inspect the bikes, complete the paperwork, and hand over credit cards.

     As Rains notes on his website: "Full Insurance is included in the rental fee and tour cost. This insurance covers accident, fire, theft, third party damage and public liability. Because of New Zealand's publicly funded accident compensation scheme, no fault insurance is provided to users of motor vehicles. This means nobody can be sued by any other party involved in an accident in any circumstances. Normal insurance takes care of damage to the vehicles and the New Zealand health system takes care of the injuries. It's very neat and tidy." 

     Riders must be 21 and are liable for a deductible of $1250NZ ($650US) in the event of a crash. The insurance deductible is waived  in the case of fire or theft. As for other liabilities, Rains says it best, "You can sue, but here in new Zealand we do have our barristers in control."

     At last comes the moment: paused at the curb, hesitant, heart rate elevated, we are working up the courage to launch into the left lane of traffic in a foreign country. Cautious Harry has placed green tape on his left mirror, and red on the right as a reminder that left is the "proper" side. 

     Navigating the left side is easier than I remembered. Traffic is light and New Zealand drivers are more courteous and motorcycle aware than their counterparts in the States. Aside from a minor incident in which a fellow rider, unfamiliar with the wide Givi bags, clips off my right bag, we all arrive back in the hotel parking area . Unflustered by an accident in the first five minutes of the tour, Al pulls tools from the van and repairs the damage to the bags, and then, as promised, mounts his own bike and leads the group out to explore a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Al sets a sporting pace and we are torn between concentrating on the task at hand of keeping up with him, and the strong desire to gawk to the countryside. At the end of the afternoon as we filter back into Auckland through Sunday traffic we are all  more comfortable both with the individual bikes and the left side of the road.

   At the hotel we take an hour to prep the bikes for tomorrow's trip, which for our little group means installing wiring to power heated vests and a Garmin V GPS. Tapping a power source on the new F650GS is tricky because the battery is buried deep in the innards of the machine. Matt and Harry have ingeniously avoided the problem by creating a replacement fuse with a power takeoff added. We simply replace one of the original fuses in the bike with the modified one and run the attached hot wire out to a splitter to power both a heated vest and the Garmin.

     That evening the entire group meets in the hotel pub for a couple of pints. Al then hosts us to dinner compliments of Te Waipounamu Tours.   Over coffee Al lights a pipe and gives the group an overview of the tour route and the details of tomorrows departure plans and destination.  He has already provided us a map book of New Zealand sized for mounting on a tank bag.

     Our 2500 mile journey will take us down through the heart of the North Island, across to the east coast, and south to the capital city of Wellington on the southern tip of the North Island. Following a free day in Wellington we'll load the bikes onto the inter-island ferry for the trip across Cook Strait to the harbor at Picton on the northern tip of the South Island, and onward by the coast road to Nelson where we will remain overnight. Then our route will shift over the mountains and down the West Coast for two days. We will then again ride into the Southern Alps, this time east to Queenstown where we will have another free day, one I plan to use to go fly fishing. From Queenstown we relocate further south to position ourselves for side trips to Milford and Doubtful Sounds. We then turn north again back into the mountains, ride past Mt Cook, and overnight at Lake Tekapo, perhaps the most beautiful spot on the South Island. Finally we will finish our journey by riding down across the Canterbury Plain to the lovely river city of Christchurch.

     
Vicki and Ron                                                          Bruce and John Paul

      Al Walker's "rules" for the tour reflect his laid-back New Zealand attitude: each evening he'll  hold a rider's meeting to brief the next day's destination and route, with a selection of side trips and other such options.  Each morning he'll load our bags in the van and follow along somewhere behind us to be able to assist in the event of a breakdown or, worse, an accident. Beyond this each rider is free to follow the established route, explore on his/her own, and to ride alone or with a group. If someone fails to show up at an appointed place, Al will back track and retrieve the lost soul.