Coastal cruising is undertaken with aplomb , the eastern coast is beautiful , but suddenly we are riding amongst real estate signs and new housing projects . The new bridge at Taipa reflects the recent injection of capital works into the area , but I ’ m not convinced the new engineering style fits well with the area ’ s history and the familial seaside-holiday dreams of kiwis . Maybe it will soften when generations of kids have jumped off it into the river below . We tick them off , as we pass - Cable Bay , Coopers Beach , and Mangonui . We eschew fish and chips today , tea and biscuits it is . A table filled with pretty , thirty-something women looks interested as they see us approach and park , and the instant disinterest as our helmets come off is cold and dispiriting , but understandable these days . Sprightly we may be , but our combined age is nearing 180 , hardly the stuff of secret , naughty , biker fancies . We head south on 10 to the Whangaroa turn , enjoying the scenery and the superb weather . We zip through country sweepers , and then climb the tight hills onto misty-looking tops overlooking Wainui Bay . The broken and isleted coast of northland , in dark blue seas , with whitefringed wash and steep , green , ferny hills steals your breath away .
But again , weather is looming . It looks like rain . To stop and don wet weather gear before the rain , or chance it ? We decide to let experience guide our choice , and wrap up like mummies . By Matauri Bay it is baking hot and off it all comes again . No rain . By lunchtime we are in Paihia . We lunch at a waterfront bar where Wayne explains the fault in his lamb salad to a bemused Irish waiter . Cam and I ordered Caesar with chicken – which was without fault . Sidling out , in case of cleaverwielding fury from the chef , we moved on to Opua , and , without stopping , drove onto the ferry and almost instantly departed for the Okiato side . The ticket-man recognises me from previous trips , and we banter a little , and he introduces me to his step-daughter driving the car next to us . A scant minute or two later we nose flatly ashore and zoom away heading for the Holiday House at Orongo Bay . Atop the hill we notice a run-over bird , dead . It looks like a small brown kiwi , praying it was instead a local weka , but seeing a live one running around the accommodation later , Wayne confirmed the worst fear . Sad .
50 KIWI RIDER