Half and half is not a hole

Where does one wander? Where do the shadows go at night?
Actually, I don't have a clue. But least you think I'm going to get all deep and meaningful, you don't need to worry. Instead I shall proffer a few random thoughts from the week.

The road section of the cycling community could do well to take a leaf from the page of the BMX community. I'm not referring to the race scene, I am referring to the street/skatepark chaps.

My Underling and I went to the eastern seaboard of the Coromandel Peninsula for the latter part of the week. We camped at Opoutere, like outlaws, having the camp grounds to ourselves, with the wild weather sending most people home. Unfortunately he has inherited my stubborn streak, and I indulge it a little, so the elements were not allowed to prevail.

Once the weather eased a little, and stopped raining, we headed to the skatepark at Whangamata. There, the Kaos Kreator rode with local riders of varying ages and abilities, and I was banished to the park margins. What he enjoyed was typical of every encounter I have seen at any skatepark. The other riders all greet those who arrive, not in a formal, orchestrated chorus, but in a casual,and friendly manner. They chat, they ride, they encourage, they care, they show respect and are courteous.
There are no written rules, no authority telling them to do this. But, there is a very strong sense of community, of sharing.

Contrast this to the increasing rudeness of road riders, who will studiously ignore others, cut them off, fail to ask if assistance is needed with a roadside stranding, let alone actually assist, and commit any number of other anti-social sins, and you can understand my envy of the BMX scene.

Catching XXXXL sized Kahawai on light tackle is a sure fire way to place a grin on one's face.

Kaka sound like mischief.

Getting slapped by the tent wall due to a decent wind gust is a thoroughly unpleasant surprise.

Lastly, by way of a newt, something jawdropping...