Ohakune was a working town: pulp mill, saw mill, forestry, market gardening, and, in the winter, skiing. However, there was nothing to do in the summer. At the end of every day, I would watch a busload of backpackers come to town, eat, drink, sleep, and leave in the morning. The town was right on the edge of a fantastic National Park, but the backpackers never saw any of it. So, I bought some push bicycles and helmets, and with the assistance of a lodger, I started driving backpackers 3,500 feet up the Ohakune mountain road, to let them ride back down. When my lodger left town, I got licensed, bought a passenger car and more bikes, installed an intercom, and ran on demand—summer only, the road being used by ski traffic in the winter.
I created another ride, for the more enthusiastic, requiring a bit of pedaling and time. It started at the old historic Horopito Saw Mill Auto Wrecking Yard, and visitors would ride through native bush, two historic viaducts, around a dormant volcanic crater rim, and down an old cobbled road back to town.
I put a submission into the Department of Conservation, a 10-year plan to save the old viaducts, at the same time as the local “Main Trunk” railway enthusiasts submitted their plan. We were successful, and the old road is now the “Old Coach Road,” and the cycleway from Horopito is now an official cycle track.
Around this time, a new young lady, Anna, found and married me. She wanted an art community to live in, as she loved art, so it became time for me to leave Ohakune. The bike business and workshop were sold, and, after looking around New Zealand and parts of Australia, we settled in Whanganui, just down the road from Ohakune, in 2008. Centrally located at the mouth of the Whanganui river, it’s a great, historic little city—colorful, friendly, and with a great climate. We found a great little house that we adjusted to suit us.
Unfortunately, after seven happy years, Anna succumbed to cancer and, my own health not quite 100%, the R80RT BMW was sold to a local farmer.
Anna was always talking about writing her life story, about getting over her bi-polar condition before people really knew, or even wanted to know, what it was all about. She used to say to me, “Ron, get on with that bloody story for your kids before you forget it.”
So, to my three sons, beautiful grandchildren, wives and partners, and to you unknown readers I haven’t met—
Enjoy the story. Good night.