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Published: November 2nd 2009
AK47 FOR Sale
New & Unused. Orginal AK47. Current owner planned office massacre unless he got time off. He no longer believes the 'American solution' is the answer. This weapon was purchased direct from the Russian manufacturer, it is not a cheap imitation from Pakistan's North West Frontier. Owner says must sell and end use is not important, but would prefer buyer to be someone with interest in clay bird shooting or similar. Price by negiotiation.
FIRST GOAL ACHIEVED
Zipping down the last three kilometres to the campsite was a relief, even though the road was loose metal and windy and my concentration had long gone. For the first time since leaving Auckland I was exhausted.
90 Mile Beach had been fun, for most of the way. Within the first couple of minutes of setting out, I knew it was going to be alright. The sand was hard, and a tail wind had me nudging 28 kph. The day was overcast but with the promise of sun, the gulls were screeching overhead, there was hardly a soul about and there was just enough of the unknown to provide a small sense
A Number 7 Iron
Here on Ninety Mile Beach, John was practising his technique into a stiff southerly. He reckoned the trick was to hit the ball directly into the wind, and keep it low. Otherwise it would veer off wildly to one side or the other. John said he was almost 70, and when he wasn't playing golf he ran on the dunes and cycled. He was full of energy and seemed to have a real zest for life.
of adventure - perfect.
But by mid-afternoon, I was starting to struggle. I'd been thrown from the bike, become a bit confused about the location of Te Paki Stream where I was to exit the beach and the wind was buffeting me sideways. I was also becoming increasingly uncomfortable stuck in the same riding position - no climbs or descents to break the monotony - just an endless grinding of the pedals in the same two or three gears. When I finally reached Te Paki Stream it turned out to be mostly unrideable with my load, and the last 20 k or so on SH1 was a mess of roadworks and killer climbs. My water was running low and several times I had to stop on the hills just to rest.
So when that sign to the DoC campsite at Tapotupotu Bay came up, it was a wonderful sight. The Beast and I plunged downhill as fast as we dared, and I threw the tent up in record time. We'd done 107 k. It was a cold shower to clean up, but afterwards I felt great!
The wild wind became even worse overnight, so I stayed where
Gannet with Broken Wing
Even if I'd managed to catch it and stuff it down the front of my shirt, it was a long way to the nearest vet and I didn't have the skills to save it. I left it flapping and struggling its way out through the breakers.
I was the next day and did domestics - washing a few clothes by hand, and sorting out my gear. And there was quite a bit of sleeping and reading and chatting to two other cyclists - one from England, one from Switzerland.
The next morning - fresh and rested - it took me just half an hour to climb back up to the main road, where I turned right in the direction of Cape Reinga. My arrival there marked the achievement of the first, small goal in my effort to ride the length of NZ using as many minor roads as possible. But there was no great sense of elation. After half an hour watching the Tasman and the Pacific beating against each other, I turned the Beast around and headed south.
Tot: 2.879s; Tpl: 0.068s; cc: 11; qc: 51; dbt: 0.0396s; 2; m:saturn w:www (184.108.40.206); sld: 2;
; mem: 1.4mb