New Zealand is a motorcycle paradise — a country with a temperate climate, breathtaking scenery and roads of seemingly endless twists and curves. This all results in a riding experience similar to that found in Europe – but without the same level of traffic or speed enforcement although, as my travel companion discovered, that element can still be found!
The east coast of Canada is probably best known to motorcyclists for the Cabot Trail. And why not? It’s an amazing section of road and well worthy of the praise, but there’s a whole world of amazing sights, amazing roads and endless eastern hospitality to be found in the whole region. To bypass it all on the way to the Cabot is almost criminal.
Bloody cold it was …
With one eye on the Aprilia’s ambient air-temp gauge and the other scanning the road ahead for ice, I realized that a late October tour in the northern Appalachians was somewhat of a challenging idea.
After four nights of motels and one of camping, I awoke in an altogether more opulent surrounding of the Westwood Look Resort, the launching point for the three-day Edelweiss Tour.
With the madness of Daytona behind me, I found myself riding west towards the city of Tallahassee, where the map indicted that Hwy 98 would fulfill my first American Dream requirement – a ride along the Gulf of Mexico.
If you live in Toronto (of which I am quite pleased to say I no longer do), then you’ll be well aware that good riding roads are few and far between. However, do not despair just yet as there’s a hidden gem just a couple of hours south of the big smoke. We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again – go south to Pennsylvania young man (or woman)!
During the early hours of the next morning, passengers were awoken by the announcement of our impending docking at Bella Coola and we duly arose from Camp CMG and shuffled – weary eyed – out to the front deck. And what an awesome sight!
Way back in the early days of CMG, ‘Arris and Mr. Seck ‘eaded out to BC to do some exploring. Here is that tale.
Returning to the land I’d given up just a few years ago in favour of my new home, Canada, I was given a typical English summer greeting of low overcast clouds and a chilly nine degrees Celsius as the plane descended from its sunny domain at 30,000 feet.
Otago Peninsula had spectacular mountain riding, with lots of sheep dotting the hillsides below us. John thought it was pretty funny to see 100 km speed limit signs on a twisty, narrow road full of hairpin bends and sheer drop-offs on either side, with no guardrails.