Waikuku 10 May 2008 - size does matter
An eclectic mix of members for this run! From Dr. Land Rover (aka Brian H) through to Tristan and Sally in their virgin Disco and the lone Leafer of Andrew & Indi plus a rort of Rangies and a nucleus of 90s... with a couple of 110" coilers.
In spite of dire warnings against being late at the start, guess who was late... yes, Francis our organiser. He had some feeble excuse like he had forgotten a map so we forgave him of course.
While we waited for Francis, Hamish revealed his true colours by whipping out his tool and using it to see if he measured up against others.
Needless to say that Hamish did discover that his own equipment did not compare favourably but everyone gave him expert guidance as to where and how he could improve his stature....
With all fuelled up vehiculalry, fed and watered there was a quick briefing and we headed off on the highway (queue Steppenwolf). Instantly we were on the highway, of course, the briefing was forgotten and some almost missed turning off at the first exit...!
After some totally boring on-roading Brian H led us up the garden path and onto the first unadopted road. This one (Bothwell Park Rd?) has no bogs but has some interesting washouts where wheel placement is critical if you want to avoid feeling like your truck is about to tip over or slide into the banks...
Up on the tops, there's great scenery out to the coast before dodging back into some bushy stuff and a seemingly easy but actually gnarly rooty slippy downhill (or up, if you're going the otherway of course) section before reaching the other end. It's a great warm-up for the main event.
Then some gentle tootling along the tarmac roads to find Motion Road - the good one!
We did it from the top down this time - over the farmer's electric fence wire and straight into a gorsey gut with a deep washout on one side. If you were prepared to nestle your panels down the left side (scraping the gorse bush) you could idle through as if you were on level ground. But if you were scared of the gorse then you faced a wobbly, on-yer-side, slippy slidey ride.
And then onwards, downwards into the Valley of Mud... you could see it in the distance, beckoning - several deep ruts, a pond and then a gnurly bnurly washout exit up a bank. Whoopee! (sorry - that was a typo - we are much more circumspect about such things in real life - we rejoiced in the slow and gradual progress along a delicate track)
The Pond had that enticing air about it - it beckoned, even pulled - there could have been sirens calling us in - the Waikukuan equivalents Charybdis & Scylla... and we were enticed!
This paragraph was Censored by the Gruen Party - due to excessive eco-violence.
And after all that we climbed up and out - with water streaming from every door joint and very sad faces realising we had possibly disturbed the E. coli and H1N1s lurking in the depths.
But there was more - a beautiful, smooth-bottomed puddle of axle washing depth on a blind corner - very satisfying to drive through.
Back on the tarmac all to soon and onwards to the verdant silica glades.
The group gathering under the trees was brief but we decided to stick together for whole day. The guiding light (Brian H) set off and everyone - wait a minute - almost everyone moved off. Francis was having a non-progession moment! His V8 spluttered and rattled but would not run. Everything was dry in the engine room so the Sherlock Holmes group, which of course had zoomed in like the proverbials round the proverbial - deduced "lack of fuel".
Sound of fuel pump? - No - nothing. Oh dear... Search begins for electricity - fuse OK. Locate wires to pump and gauge sender - decide which was which wiring and lo! there's a plug and socket. Spare wire appeared, teeth stripped ends and within a few seconds we had pump wired to someone's battery. WHIZZ! hooray!
Now, how was Francis to get his amps to the pump? - Fix it to the cabin lights of course....
It only took about 45 minutes to be fixed but there were several comments like "this is better than off-roading" and "who's next! and "time for more coffee?"
Finally the repair team and Francis were able to rejoin the trundlers and we set off in earnest (with no complaints from him at all)
Soon the forest was filled with those delightful knocking noises (and some smoke!) from diesels combined with the froaty frumming of V8s as they bounced and jumbled over tree roots on steep sandy hills.
Conway provided some spectacular spectation with his attempt to follow Brian up one bank. It seemd as though his run was a good one - plenty of momentum but then - at the last hurdle the Disco did a pogo jump... landing with his right rear in a deep hole and his left front - well - distinctly not in touch with anything at all but fresh air.
With judicious control , he wangled his way back out and down and then... had another go! This time the ruts were left to one side but unfortuanately the sand didn't want to give him any support and he bogged down near the top. Probably this was just as well because, in the meantime, a tree had nipped into his path and would have been the ultimate stop to the top.
Round and up and down and round and then on to the coastal section - the one with grand ocean views and the very, very steep downward track over the dunes. All managed the descent with aplomb and Brian on someone's bumper...
Lunch and good chats for half an hour before wending our way into the trees again.
Windy, sandy, hilly tracks, trees, slippery needles, lookout, wild waves, 2toes and a magnificent bare, clay surfaced section of about 100m - wonderful!
This proved to be the undoing of those without the experienced eye of where to put the wheels - and - Tristan's Disco on road tyres...
Nevetheless, with multi-people power they were cajoled up said track much to the delight of the spectators who alos had to watch one or two of us "kissing" (as was said in a group mail recently) the ground where Landies had been!
And - we traversed- downhill - the super-gnarly washout at the top of the clay track. This had steep dropouts at the beginning which were 'easy' but half-way down was a super-mega washout, which, without careful wheel placement would have seen one diving into the depths of a multi-axley-twistery pit.
More sandy tracks, trees to be sawn up across tracks and then, The End.
Someone was so excited about reaching the end that even the confines of a Series truck cab did not deter some ZZZZZs happening.
Many aired up and went home but a few diehards stayed on to do the P-roads on the way back.
Now, such return runs, with those keen enough to do such things at the end of the day, tend to proceed at the higher end of the speed spectrum... and so off we went. Well, boy, oh boy, did they (we!) 'enjoy' The Pond? Oh yes indeedy! There were grins a mile wide on that track...
Sadly, the sun decided to disappear from the sky and rains came down as we reluctantly hit the tarmac for the run home. After such adrenalin rushes and carefully placing our trucks on precarious tracks, having to face and deal with three lanes of vehicles doing 70k on the straight and wide motorway in drizzle was not easy...
Thanks to Francis for organsing the run and for Brian leading us up the garden path.
~~ Neil ~~~
