Ben's First Adventure Ride

Last updated: Sun, 12 Oct 2008 20:52:00 GMT

I promised Ben that I'd taking him fishing again, and after weeks and weeks of waiting for good weather and the weekend to coincide, we were rewarded.

Sadly, though, good weather wasn't enough. When we got to the fishing hole we found last time out, we dscovered that the winter rains had changed it somewhat. The kind of changes that only a few thousand tons of landslip could bring. Spinning for trout isn't quite as easy when the water's full of trees and rubble.

Ben had been begging for a ride on the DR200 for a couple of weeks. Since I finished rebuilding it, in fact. Given how well he'd behaved when we were out failing to fish, and how good he'd been with that disappointment, I thought it might be fun to treat him, and myself, to a little muddy fun.

Since learning to ride he hasn't been on a motorbike, his or mine. Bad weather, moving house, a winter clogged with unshakeable colds, all conspiring with my fatally injured DR to make for zero riding. So, with a sunny Sunday ahead, we packed some grub, donned our lids and set off for a local favourite: the Pram Track.

We had a few troubles with gear to start with. Two up riding with my usual backpack on just wasn't going to work; he needed to be closer to me. I know a few folk who ride with the kids up front, but I didn't fancy trying to see around his big noggin -- he gets his height from his mother's side. So, he rode with the backpack on to start with, right the way up to the top of Perham's Road, where we stopped for our first rest, a fun-sized Marsbar and some gear adjustment.

He couldn't believe that we were about to ride through that water. The squeal of astonishment as we hit it was something to hear.

With the bag more sensibly stowed behind us, providing a handy backrest for Ben, we pushed on. The Pram Track isn't particularly tough going. Some rough and rocky parts, interspersed with some smoother, easier track, which Ben was grateful for. His only complaint, for the whole day, was that it was sometimes too bumpy. I was riding slower than normal, 1st and 2nd, where I'd usually be riding in 2nd and 3rd. And of course there was no standing up to soak the bumps up with the legs. I was feeling the bumps, probably worse at the back.

We stopped near the end of the Pram Track, overlooking the valley, and took a break for lunch. Ben was very pleased that I'd secretly sneaked his Spider-Man comic into my bag, and I've got to say that this, the not riding, was possibly the high-point of the day. We ate our chow and watched half a dozen other bikers playing in the valley below. A father out with his kids, nice to see, and intriguing to Ben. He's all fired up for bringing his own bike next time, but I think we've a ways to go before then. And he had some interesting points on the matter of loud pipes killing trails, too.

The last third of the ride, by distance, if not time, follows gravel trail down the Karapoti Gorge and out onto the Akatarawa Road. This was more more to Ben's taste. Less bumpy, and much better views. He even spotted a nice fishing hole on the way out.

There was plenty of splashing through mud and puddles, and some waterfall spotting, very easy-going. A few walkers and cyclists to share the trail with. Ben was taking things in his stride by now, until the last river crossing.

Not a hard one, this one. A little steeper than 1:3, and loose in places, but only 3m descent, 3m across and 3m climb out of the other side. However, as we pulled to a halt so that I could let Ben have a look at it, we heard some bikes catching up with us. Three enduros came past and then, well, made a bit of a meal of the crossing. I'm sure I looked no more cool, calm or collected, but watching those three guys fair put the wind up Ben.

"We're not riding through that Daddy?"

"Yeah, buddy, we've got to."

"No!"

"Well, if we don't we have to turn around and go back the way we came. We could do that, if you want to?"

"Oh. Okay then. But not too loud."

More squeals. Funny, given that the previous crossing was splashing over my knees, and a good 10 metres across. Once through, we were back on the Karapoti Road. We tootled along to the bridge and stopped for some refreshments, and five minutes drinking in the sounds of the river.

And then 30km of twistiness that is the Akatarawa Road. Much faster going, though naturally not too fast. Here, Ben was less engaged. Hardly surprising. We'd taken two hours or more off-road, and he was tired. It still came as something of a surprise when, almost at the summit of the Akatarawa Saddle, I felt him nod off for just a second. Worry? I crapped myself.

We pulled over for a while and had a chat about it. It's good that he feels safe, hard for him to concentrate. Perhaps a little too much first time out. He decided that he'd sing a song to make sure he stayed awake, and I was treated to snatches of tuneful hooting for the rest of the ride. We played at tapping each other on the knee and the shoulder as we wound our way home.

We arrived home safe, to find that we'd been out for four hours. Time had flown. Frosty ice-pops all round, and enough energy for a quick oil change and a jet wash.

Check the matching helmet hair!