KIWI RIDER 10 2018 VOL.1 - Page 26

WANAKA TO HAAST The ride from Wanaka to Haast remains one of the greatest highlights of my life... I penned this on my phone at the time, “Holy hell, I have just been driving the greatest motorcycling roads in the country. And I just cannot stop! From Queenstown To Makorora and Haast was utterly sublime. I really have no words to specify the joy. But travelling alongside mirrored navy blue lakes, vast mountains and alpine meadows, just after dawn, is worth every piece of crap one lives through. I was melting into the roads and corners, and then at one point after a long bush beech- canopied section I burst out beside the misty, emerald waters, mirror smooth and dimpled, of the Haast river. At that exact moment Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile came through loud in my helmet headset, and I just screamed - at the sheer magicality of it. I’m almost in tears describing how happy it has made me, and even riding with a wet crotch (from the rain...) has not dimmed the experience. I will continue on and stop where sense dictates. Wow. Fucking wow.” Over the last couple of hundred metres as I entered the tiny township of Haast, it was pissing down. But nothing could dampen my spirits, so I rode on. And on. In bucketing west Coast rain, and with some caution, as visibility shortened to a few bike lengths. Nevertheless those exceptional roads up the Coast wended and unwound with alacrity. I was in my own world, happy - wet as a shag from the waist down, and not in the least concerned. I had no plans, nowhere to stay, - I was just there, once again, in the moment. I passed through town and village, bridge and picnic viewing area, and saw only what was ahead of, and immediately beside me. It didn’t matter. It was the West Coast, I was as wet as I was going to be, and I had not a care in the world.