Category Archives: history

Asia, city, food, friends, history

Around Kharkhorin

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A rest day spent in Kharkhorin – once the capital of the vast Mongol empire, it’s a lot less central to world affairs these days. Between organising our last week in Mongolia, catching up with loved ones, and bike maintenance, there was plenty of time to walk around and see what was about.

Ger ceiling, not as elaborate as some – but still much nicer than the inside of my tent.

Derelict industrial buildings always intriguing to me.

Strolling down to the old walled complex once home to scores of monasteries – since the Soviet occupation, not so much.

Most of the second ring of new shop buildings still sitting empty. But we did find a good cafe.

Apparently the coffee was good, but the wild rhubarb (of which we’d seen a bit in the hills) pie was of greater interest to me.

Just a small section of the wall of old Kharkhorin.

And a small part inside the walls – was staggeringly vast all up.

Not all the temples were lost, we could go inside some – but no photos.

For big prayers.

Didn’t work out what the occasion was, but good fun watching these guys enjoying themselves.

Finally found some postcards, and a lot of stamps! Back of the cards may have been mostly stamps…

Still loving the meat pockets…

Supermarket shopping a bit challenging – unless one wanted to buy a lot of candy.

We rode ten kilometres or so out of town to stay the night with a family in their ger camp.

First a stop at the big monument to the Mongol empire and Mongolia that we’d seen on the top of a ridge from the other side of the river on our ride into town.

Small empire.

Kharkhorin.

Vast empire.

Heading down there to stay on the true right of the Orkhon.

Yes, another ger. At least the hard beds were less of an issue after having gotten somewhat used to sleeping on the ground when my camping mattress failed.

A bit of wrangling so that we could go for a ride. Turned out to be more of a walk, but one of the adult sons of the family had spent time in New Zealand – so could chat with him a bit easier than most locals.

More homemade dairy goodness.

Ian and I managing to not fall off horses – the first time either of us had ridden one for many years. But as it was so slow, it was very easy going.

Nice evening for wandering the river flats though.

around home, city, history, NZ, vehicles

Art Deco Weekend 2017

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Having missed out on Napier’s renowned Art Deco Festival last year, being off riding the length of New Zealand for a couple of weeks, I was not going to let the same thing occur two years on the trot. So I bought a secondhand three-piece suit, pulled my fedora out from the wardrobe, snapped on some braces and rustled up a stripy bow-tie and prepared to check it all out.

Now in its twenty-ninth year, the festival celebrates Napier’s Art Deco heritage (much of the city was rebuilt in the style after a devastating earthquake, and fire, in 1931) with what seems to be a five-day long dress-up party – the twenties and thirties being the theme. Downtown is crowded with people in all sorts of elaborate outfits, there are vintage cars everywhere, and pages & pages worth of events & parties and more besides.

Thankfully for Hawke’s Bay’s countryside, the drought that was setting in broke heavily with over a hundred millimetres of rain in three days. This did however coincide with the height of the celebrations – most unfortunate. Countless events were moved inside and many cancelled – including the most renowned: all three vintage plane flight shows were done for as the planes couldn’t make it here. But the show did go on, and on it went in spectacular (if a little soggy) style.

Most of the public events centre around Marine Parade and the sound shell – opposite the wonderful Masonic, where many gathered.

Cars weren’t the only historic vehicles out and about.

Saturday afternoon’s vintage car parade was well attended by umbrellas. The Bentley club was in town from all over, impressive.

Beautiful cars, and many of them – those in open-topped ones looked decidedly damp.

There was plenty of opportunity to admire the vehicles afterwards.

This number plate caught my eye.

A few of the cars were originally from Napier.

Bikes even got a look in.

More Bentleys.

Apart from looking at cars, there were plenty of other interesting street scenes.

OK, there may have been more looking at cars.

I bumped into many people from work over the weekend – this time an American visitor, Jody, who I managed to get this photo (and the better ones in this post) from.

Sunday morning was finally dry and the Soap Box Derby went ahead. A pretty tame course down Tennyson St, the pushers had five metres to get their racers up to speed before letting gravity and momentum do the rest. Most of the soap boxes were elaborate and some made multiple appearances as different siblings from the same family raced in various age categories.

Yes, more cars – particularly struck by the body work on this one.

This was probably the oldest car around.

Sunday continued to warm, and was very humid. After a brief walk showing Jody some of the sights around Napier Hill and some lunch, it was time to get the town bike out for a little pootle. I’d foregone the organised bike ride Saturday morning on account of the persistent rain.

I did manage to get another photo of myself from an obliging passerby.

The Gatsby Picnic got moved off the soggy lawn it is always on, most picnicers went down the main street of town – this couple set up near Tom Parker Fountain and seemed to spend more time posing for photos than eating.

A most excellent weekend of fun and history – even if it was somewhat curtailed by the weather. I’m really looking forward participating more in next year’s celebrations.

family, history, NZ, roadtrip, travel

A little family road-trip to the start

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When I first hatched this plan to ride the inaugural Tour Aotearoa, Dad immediately volunteered to drive me to the start at the very top of the country. Not only that, he also offered to pick me up at the end – should I get there. This was a tremendous help as it took a lot of the planning out from the get-go.

It just so happened that I went and moved far away from my parents – all the way to Napier in the North Island. Nonplussed, Mum & Dad flew north and turned up at my house a few days before we set off on a good Pheasant roadtrip to far-flung parts of the country – wasn’t quite like childhood, as I had a bike next to me in the car not a sister.

We took it pretty easy heading north – as I was in Wave Two of the starters, I didn’t have to line up until Tuesday. So we spent three days making our way the seven-hundred-odd kilometres north visiting family and friends along the way. The highlight was definitely the visit to Matakohe – a place we’ve been many times before. Where the Pheasants settled way back when, there is a little bit of family stuff in the comprehensive and very well-done Kauri Museum. But this time I’d arranged a visit to a much smaller historic building.

Fortunately, David & Sherry were going to be in their small house the weekend we were traveling north. It just so happens that they had rescued their house forty years ago from its fate as a hay barn and faithfully restored it. This house was the house of my great-grandfather at the turn of the previous century and was where my grandfather and his siblings grew up, until the family moved south to Auckland for better educational opportunities. I was thrilled to be able to arrange the visit as Dad had never been inside the house, only looked in the windows.

It was a special visit discussing family history, how my great-aunt helped with the restoration details thanks to an extremely detailed memory, talking of the restoration in general, looking around the house in detail and roaming the grounds trying to imagine what it was like growing up on the edge of the Kaipara Harbour over a hundred years ago. Thanks to David & Sherry for having us – & doing such a thorough and incredible job of saving a bit, probably the biggest bit, of Pheasant family history around. Dad & I managed a walk down to where the wharf used to be – boats from here would have been the main connection with Auckland (boat to Helensville, then train to Auckland).

Leaving Matakohe, thoughts begin to turn more to just what I was about to embark on. This was probably brought on by driving north through, & stopping to buy riding food in, Dargaville – I could see some of the terrain I’d be riding through, up & over in but a few days’ time. At our accommodation in Kaitaia, the bike was pulled from the car and the final pack for 3000 km of adventure was completed with no drama. Ride time!

history, NZ, roadtrip, vehicles

A quicker trip through Canterbury

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It had been a while since a Pheasant road-trip around the South Island and even longer since I’d accompanied Dad to one of his work farm-visits. So Mum, Dad & I set off north to visit Adele in her new home near Westport – stopping overnight as Dad had some of his last farm visits. While Dad visited clients near Cust, Mum and I popped into Oxford – disappointing. But I’d had my eye on the map and was keen to go exploring the Ashley Gorge a bit.

I wanted to see this end of the Ashley River as on the Kiwi Brevet this year we ended up further up the Ashley River in a part of the country I previously had no idea about. But we turned away from the river at the bottom of Lees Valley on to a off-road route and so I never saw the road through the Ashley Gorge.

After driving half an hour up the road, I was glad that the Brevet route didn’t go through there. I was expecting a nice winding road carving through the hills at close to river-level. It definitely was not. As the road left the tarseal/tarmac/asphalt it climbed steeply, working the car’s engine hard and wound its way high above the river as we gazed over the precipitous drop below us. After half an hour of steady, but by no means quick, progress we were left look at this:

I realise just how isolated Lees Valley is now – and am quite glad we got into it on the Brevet through MacDonald Downs Station. Mindful of the time remaining to return to pick Dad up, and Mum’s desire to buy chestnuts from a roadside stall, there was no point in descending to the river to turn around right away. Having collected Dad, it was off again north to Culverden.

Near Culverden are Keith and Jenny, who are in the middle of trying to organise the finer points of moving on from their farm that they’ve had over the last twenty years – there’s an awful lot to do and many things to be moved or disposed of. They must be some of Dad’s oldest clients, of about forty years, so there’s a little history there and I was amused to stumble upon a photo of Dad standing around an open fire near the beach where we lived thirty-odd years ago.

Apart from my fleeting Brevet ride past, it must be about fifteen years since my last visit – so it was good to see Keith & Jenny and hear of their plans for retirement and of some of their travels. While Keith & Dad were out together looking over the farm one last time, I was intrigued by all the things that there were to get rid of after twenty years – naturally I went and poked around through various sheds. I found a few new things, but a lot things that remind me the eighties and nineties – & some that predated my memory.

A good flying visit, no doubt more of Keith & Jenny to be seen as they move much further south. Strangely for Culverden, it was pretty damp – so as we drove on there was a lot of cloud and mist to see, particularly over the Lewis Pass. With a few more stretches of the Brevet route much more easily driven than ridden, it was through the tortuous Buller Gorge to turn up at Adele’s home-for-a-year-or-so at Carters Beach.