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<\/a>The beach at North Head. So far, so breathtaking.<\/p><\/div>\n
In the spirit of this guideline, the renting of a vehicle shortly after getting off a plane would also probably not be considered a great idea. Most would probably advise travelling only short distances, and only if it were absolutely unavoidable. Even fewer would likely counsel the hiring of motorcycle. And the vast majority would strongly discourage all of the above when doing so also involves driving on the other side of the road. Apparently I fit into none of these categories.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Million dollar views, and no doubt housing prices to match.<\/p><\/div>\n
My hotel room was ready and waiting for me when I arrived, and I took advantage of the situation to have a shower, get changed and catch up on where the world had landed while I had taken off. I had arranged a BMW R1200RT for 11am this morning, which gave time enough to dig out my riding gear (not the easiest thing to travel with across entire hemispheres, I have to say), find a taxi and make it to the rental place \u2013 called Te Waipounamu, which is the Maori name for the south island of New Zealand. Carefully disguised at the bottom of a steep driveway between two completely unrelated business operations, you have to really want to rent from these guys. Nonetheless, they were there, they were friendly, and they had my bike ready to go. And they were happy to release said vehicle once I had bequeathed them an astonishingly large deposit to cover potential damage, and commit no fewer than seven signatures and five initials to paper saying that I understood what I was doing, I knew the risks and I really, really wanted to still do this anyway.<\/p>\n
<\/a>A view towards Auckland, off in the distance.<\/p><\/div>\n
Given that the rental location wasn\u2019t actually in Auckland, I actually found myself close to one of the destinations proposed to me by Roland during the flight. At least, conceptually I knew I was close. While I had a general sense of location, and an approximate sense of direction, I had no actual understanding of where exactly I was or how I should proceed forward. The only travel specifics I had available to me were an understanding that there was a gas station up the road, which was more intended as guidance for returning the bike but was my one remnant of certainty that I could actually work with. When in doubt, go with what you know. In a strange country on a strange motorcycle, it didn\u2019t seem wise to just head out and hope for the best. I have no doubt it would have been interesting, but I am quite sure it wouldn\u2019t have been wise. And in that many readers are likely at this point questioning the wisdom of this entire enterprise, establishing some boundaries at this juncture seemed entirely appropriate.<\/p>\n
<\/a>The view from Devonport.<\/p><\/div>\n
Stocked with maps and water, I was far better prepared to tackle my day. The first destination was Devonport, an older settlement across the harbour from Auckland. In fact, one of the oldest in the Auckland area, having been founded in 1840. Along the way, I visited North Head. According to the guidebook, it is a lava plug that represents all that remains of a long-dormant volcano. Apparently, the magma in this area is incredibly thin, and as a result volcanoes pop in with the frequency and abruptness of really annoying relatives. This relative long outlived its welcome, but was eventually put to good use as a fort providing strategic defense of the harbour. It was never actually used for such purposes, however, and the only actual attack in Auckland harbour didn\u2019t occur until 1985, when the French sabotaged Greenpeace\u2019s Rainbow Warrior (again proving that just because you have a fort doesn\u2019t mean that the other side is going to play nicely and let you use it).<\/p>\n
<\/a>Mecca, the restaurant. Time for a pilgrimage.<\/p><\/div>\n
After North Head, some lunch was in order and I headed into Devonport proper. It had been raining off and on at this point, and the opportunity to get some food and wait for the weather to pass seemed like a win-win proposition. Finding a restaurant in proximity to a bookstore (never a bad thing in my world), I found some Kiwi reading material and settled in for a pleasant Sunday brunch at Mecca on Victoria St. This afforded a tasty lunch, an entertaining read and some fabulous people watching. Given that the sun had also been shining gloriously through the entire meal, I was also looking forward to some rewarding riding as I headed back into Auckland.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Fabulous people watching, and the promise of sun.<\/p><\/div>\n
Some things seem too good to be true. Which in general often means they are. No sooner did I leave the restaurant than the skies opened up. Again. Overall, I have to say that the weather for the entire day could best be described as inconsistent. I had briefly fantasized about just throwing on a pair of jeans when I went to collect the bike, but the three downpours that occurred between arriving at the hotel and leaving again 3 hours later suggest that this strategy might be inadvisable. In fact, for the rest of the day the weather followed an all too predictable pattern: Beautiful blue skies. Torrential downpours. Fluffy white clouds. Tempestuous windstorms. Grey dreariness. Sunny gloriousness. If you doubt that this actually represents a pattern, then you clearly weren\u2019t in Auckland today.<\/p>\n
<\/a>First, however, some amazing food.<\/p><\/div>\n
Given that I had a total of just over 48 hours in Auckland, a motorcycle and waterproof riding gear, I was in no way going to let this stand in my way. But it does stand as a testament to the mercurial and temperamental environment I found myself. Of course, any further expansion of this metaphor is only going to get me in trouble, so I\u2019m going to quit while I\u2019m ahead.<\/p>\n
<\/a>If you don’t like the weather wait a bit. It changes frequently.<\/p><\/div>\n
Leaving Devonport, I decided to scope out One Tree Hill, part of Cornwall Park in the southern part of Auckland. Yes, U2 has a song of that name. Yes, there was a TV show of that name as well. They both came after (and refer to) this one. It\u2019s called One Tree Hill because at the top of it was located a single totara tree until settlers cut it down in the 1850s. Since then, trees have been planted in succession and have in turn been attacked or cut down by one faction or another over various perceived and real injustices. The last tree disappeared in 1999. All that remains at the peak is a 35 metre obelisk that to date shows no signs of anyone attempting to cut it down. Some day, however, I\u2019m sure someone will try.<\/p>\n
<\/a>One Tree Hill. Much hill, lacking in trees.<\/p><\/div>\n
From Cornwall Park, my final destination of the day was Tamaki Drive, a roadway along the beaches east of the city. According to Roland, who had so far been unerring in his travel advice, I needed simply to hang a right on Quay Street and keep going. This in essence involved heading through the downtown, which on the map is a fairly straightforward exercise. Nice in theory, not so easy in practice. To date, New Zealand has struck me as combining equal measures of Vancouver, Seattle and Bermuda. An interesting mix of environments, to be sure, but one that absolutely resonates. Downtown Auckland, however, is pure Boston.<\/p>\n
<\/a>It does, however, have an obelisk.<\/p><\/div>\n
For those who have not yet attempted to drive in this fabulous yet maddening city, the roads in Boston started as cattle paths that were ultimately paved over, with buildings thrown up to occupy any and all remaining space. What this results in is a series of winding, curving roads that defy logic, reason and any attempt at navigation by dead-reckoning. The only strategy that I found to be in any way successful was to set out in a direction opposite to where I wanted to go. This would eventually lead me exactly to where I hoped to be. In driving terms, it is the functional equivalent of the time-honoured mating ritual of playing hard to get; there\u2019s no way it should work, and yet it does every time.<\/p>\n
<\/a>One might think there is some compensating going on.<\/p><\/div>\n
After five attempts to breach the downtown core of Auckland and get to Tamaki Drive, I finally gave up in frustration. Auckland: 5, Motorcyclist: 0. Amazingly, every time I failed to get through the downtown, I wound up right back in the vicinity of my hotel. Arguably, I should have taken this as a sign. As has already been noted, however, wisdom has thus far failed to feature strongly in this particular enterprise.<\/p>\n
<\/a>The views are unquestionably spectacular.<\/p><\/div>\n
Tomorrow, however, I go up island to explore a region known by the not-terribly-original but\u00a0 nonetheless geographically accurate label of \u2018Northland\u2019. The cradle of Maori civilization in New Zealand, it is steeped in history. And the roads are windy.<\/p>\n