Cycling NZ26 - Day 13 - Letting Go

I think the Zulus have finally gone. I am starting to sleep better. Still a bit wet with fevery sweat. But I think it is easing. Finally. 

Nonetheless today’s ride was deliberately kept short. Losing 1000 ft from the top of the mountain. Greasing along like only a fat man can.  Only 25 or so miles away I arrive at my destination early. 

However the day did not start well. No need to rush off today, Wayne as it’s mostly downhill. I catch the young Bournemouth lass who is here on a 3 year work visa who says excuse me sir is this your plug?

I let out a cough very similar to the ones I’m suffering with cos of this cold and say no, no sorry my dear my ears aren’t that big. I’m walking away and then realise she was talking about one of the ear plugs given to me by Kathy Pathetic to spare me the pain of the sounds that babies make when they are being depressurised and not the pacifier Hairy Melon occasionally likes to suck.  I go back. 

Yes I think that is one of mine actually. Oh dear. Too late Sir it’s in the bin she says with a lovely smile on her face. A smile that could have been designed by the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation in exactly the same way as they do with their personal people transporters..

This left me with a bit of an AWWW feeling. Such a tiny thing given to me for one purpose only but to lose it… Wayne old boy.  In the scale of significant events in your life this is right at the bottom huh?  Losing something of no value left you feeling a bit down did it?  

Well the other thing almost had me stuck here for the rest of my life so hard was it to deal with. 

My bike lock has died. Somewhere in the belly of the rain God some important part of her locking mechanism must have dissolved. The key turned but like two dogs mating there was just no way I could separate the spigot from the flange. I get a glimpse of my Ogre bike looking back over her handlebar shoulders at me with a fecking only you look on her face. 

Oh no. My lock. She’s died.  Oh no! Oh no!!

There I was with every spanner and emollient available trying to wrought her back into life. No, she remained limp in my hands. I cry at the rain God. Why!?  Why oh why!!  Why have you done this to her. She’s mine!  

I have no choice. A hacksaw blade is placed in my hand. You have to do it, Wayne. It feels cruel. But it is the right, no, the only thing you can do. 

My tears begin to flow washing her fine metal particles away with every stroke. I’m sure she would have fought if she could have knowing that once through that was the end. No more could she travel with me. No more joyous days riding the west coast of Scotland where the wind would play with her golden Kevlar hair. No more to the shops with me or summer evening rides to the pub. 

With a crack I break her free. I hand her limp body to the mortician, a jovial old man who also runs the Adventure Lodge here in Waimarino who promises me that she will get a recycling burial on a par with any given to York’s best Viking warriors. For she has been one of the strongest and has held her ground on many an occasion just for me. 

What is it with me. I’m not a classic hoarder back home but for sure I have way too much stuff. Things that have served their time are kept on shelves and are hidden away in back rooms. Items that should have as much meaning to me as might a piece of intergalactic rock yet I place them in my heart as something to be treasured and not lost.  Memory holders. To be perhaps reborn and reused again one day. 

How some folk just positively have no problem at all throwing stuff away. London Alan will recall my howl of angst the day he threw his pedals in the bin. His tuna sandwiches too. Oh how I wish I could be like him. 

She is now gone. I ride away with a determination to be a different man when I get home. To quickly do the clearance that has been waiting on me for over 30 years.  She has shown me the way. 

I arrive at my next destination. I’ve not seen a fellow cyclist for 4 days or more. So far am I off the recommended track. I’ve seen things that others would only dream of. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion!  Sorry wrong segway there!

I arrive in Dodgy City. A lawless sheep town without a sheriff . Bereft of tumbleweed but covered with sheeps hair floating high in the breeze.  People travel down the main street on a different type of 4x4 here. I spot the locals huddled together with their metal box straight 6 horses just outside of the Four Square Saloon. 

I decide to go in and approach the bartender. I order 4 bottles of sody pop. Hello stranger says the man wearing a black merino wool Stetson.  What you doing here?  We don’t like your type here. You’re a sheep rustler ain’t ya mit?  

I say nuthin. Slowly I back out of the bar.  I cock my bottle opener just in case. 

Little Joe runs up. Wayne, come with me. There’s too many of them.  C’mon Wayne!

On my way out I’m hit in the back by a cork!  I turn and let him have both Pepsi diet cola. He crashed through the bannister and lands face down in the chicken and chips. 

I exit the bar and say sorry little Joe, I have to go. One day you will understand. My home is a long way away and I have things still to do.  Say goodbye to your mum for me Little Joe. Grow up big and strong like your father. 

I set off on the back of my bike shaped horse into the rugged hills. I do not look back. 

Little Joe shouts :

He’d never been able to shoot you if you had seen him!

Bye Little Joe…

He’d never have cleared the holster would he, Wayne…

Pa’s got some sheep shearing for you to do!

And mother wants you. I know she does!

WAYNE!

Wayne!  Come Back!

I disappear over the ridge…

Bye, Wayne!

Story of my life, huh. 

To finish, a vid of my ride yesterday from Waimarino to Raetihi. 

For a man with a cold on a bike in these hills, well - it was tough going. 

Ciao for now. 

Ps folks. No I do not have a pacifier for Hairy Melon. She has to use her thumb!