Aimless 600
From our roving country correspondent and her co-driver:
Two series trucks (on A-frames behind their less venerable brethren) and two modified Disco 1s mustered at BP Papakura on Friday afternoon and set off in convoy for the King Country FWDC's Ngaroma block in deepest darkest Pureorashire. Arriving at beer O'clock, tents were swiftly erected, deflatable flatresses rolled out, and a 90TC load of highly combustible firewood decanted into the resident turbo-blaster fire pit devised by the KCFWD guys. A superadundance of gastronomic delights (and some sausages) ensued, much to the amazement of our (2) KCFWDC hosts.
Springing from the solid ground upon which some of us had spent a sleepless night at sun-up (the grey, liquid sort) we feasted on all manner of porky goodness and were out on the trails by 08:00 with our Suzuki-pedalling guide Steve. And what trails! probably too tame for the sort of gnarly bush trucks that frequent the park, they were pleasingly overgrown and under used with none of the 35" deep Simex-shaped craters we would encounter later. Plenty of water and squishy bits, but all drivable and enough to keep us entertained until returning to base for lunch at 12:30.
There we found many more KC members had materialised in an assortment of horse trucks and the like, bringing Christmas trees, mains power, sofas, and the wherewithal to construct a new solar shower! Ivan commented that his Disco had developed a persistent knock, which much scrutiny and trundling up and down the car park identified as coming from the new front radius arms, which appeared to be short on washers and so were slowly working their way backwards through the rubber bushes.
Ivan decided discretion was the better part of getting home alive, and set off gently for Auckland. Back on the trails at 14:00, this time without the benefit of local knowledge and only 3 in number, we enjoyed a burst of hot sun in which we didn't enjoy stripping the carb of Lanndy to unblock the main jet. The novel solution to this problem was Brett Baker's toolbox syringe - every truck should have one!
Following an entertainingly washed out trail, we found ourselves getting tipped further and further over in a steepening gully, until only the bank prevented us from rolling over. A quick winch out of the sheer end, and onwards - to doom!
Dropping down to a low and wet point (which we recognised as the scene of a major stoppage 2 years previously....too late by then) we had to straddle deep and increasingly slippery ruts to make our way out of the valley. The soil was easy enough to dig, but there were remarkably few trees worthy of the name from which to rig a winch pull, and the going got slower as the grade got steeper and the ruts deeper. After perhaps 4 hours of creative winching and digging, we were back in business at the top of the hill and lurched onwards in the general direction of camp, only for Brett's (ex-Leith Jackson) Disco to lurch a bit too far and come to rest precariously on its side. Luckily, the KC stalwarts had got to wondering where we were, and come in timely search. A super-gnarly Supra powered device launched unbidden into the bush and winched the Disco back onto its wheels, and then towed it back out to safety. A few leaked fluids and one broken window, but happily no harm done to driver or passenger.
We trundled back into camp at 20:30 where the locals were bemused at how we could possibly have taken 6.5 hours to travel a 2km trail! We redoubled our culinary efforts at the gastro-grill to prove that we were not just a bunch of woosie JAFAs and despatched Simon in sarong and armed with a glass of a cheeky shiraz to reinforce this point.
Not wishing to risk another half-day epic, we discretely packed up and headed to TK for a barely needed brunch the next morning and were home tired, filthy, 10kg heavier, but jubilant and unbowed by 4pm.
So who's up for next year?
~~ Rob Parker
