Leaving for the Brass

Be prepared. The experienced motorcycle adventurer knows that it pays dividends to pack light, prepare well in advance and do a shake down run.

Me – well I am a bit different.

Not only was it a mad scramble to finish packing and get to the ferry, but I
struggled to cram my gear into the box on the back of the bike – meaning I am carrying too much. I left behind a couple of bulky icebreaker jerseys (I hope it isn’t cold down South) and forced the lid down.

Then I realized I had forgotten to pack the vital Single Malt – so I rushed upstairs and grabbed a nice little Islay.

That meant I was now running desperately late for the ferry, so off I set.

Only to turn around after 600 meters to go and pick up my sunglasses.

And then I was off again – arriving at the ferry about 20 minutes before departure. Check in was a breeze, but sadly I’d had no time to fill the tank, and I was now on reserve.

So I was late, overloaded and low on gas. Situation normal.

And then I discovered that I was actually early. An hour early. Grrr.

So rather than waiting in the rain, and then eating the traditional pie for lunch, I headed off for much tastier fare at the nearby French cafe.

A great way to start, and then I met up with some disreptuable characters and we boarded.

South Island here we come.