I left the capital at 1pm on Fri 18th on my just, and I mean 'just' restored '51 Chief . The day was gray, overcast and basically  bleak, very windy and just starting to rain. As I had only 40mi on the motor and had just sorted the heat range of plugs after trying 3 sets the same morning I was feeling a little apprehensive.

The 3 hour crossing between the islands on the Interislander Ferry, the 'Aratira', was very rough and many a green hued face was looking into the supplied plastic bags. I was 'green' also but more from worry about the 20 or so 'other' bikes that might 'domino' into mine if the owners didn't take the same amount of care in tying their rides down.

But as fate would have it, it would turn out to take some 3 hours to complete. The  351 was running pretty well, the scenery was beautiful and the roads well maintained and remarkably free from traffic - a definite benefit of South Island touring 

That was,  until the bottom of Rai Valley, where it started running very roughly and firing on one or the other cylinder, smelling very rich etc due to a very weak spark. My first thought ''damn wish it was magneto'! 

From the onset I knew it wasn't charging the battery but I was confident I could make it on a full charge, and normally would have, however I didn't count on the brake light switch getting stuck on and draining it continually!.

It wouldn't kick start but I crashed it down the hill and managed another 10-15km (uphill) before dark (and guilt, only 100mi for break in before this abuse) set in and I had to get towed 7 km from the outskirts of Nelson. (I have since converted to 12 volts)

I was exhausted from the nights activities and just retired to my unit to change the oil and re-charge both myself and my ailing battery.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of that  v-twin note, the unmistakable Indian din, the popping,  crackling, and gunning of Indians all around me.
 I quickly rubbed it down (the bike that is!) and hit the road to join up with other owners and friends who had covered epic distances  to converge in Nelson for the annual meet.

 Some 60 machines turned out this rally (next year, the anniversary, we hope to have 100+), and the weather held up for a fine day. After a brief for the day's upcoming memorial ride and activities we mounted up and headed convoy style through Brightwater, Waimea, Redwood Valley,  Motueka and into Mapua for lunch and let the tail end charlie's and older bikes play catch up. 

At Mapua we had a BBQ lunch washed down with a few ale's from the local tavern, and then posed for a club photo outside the fire house. One  casualty on the way, a 741 with the throttle sticking open, fortunately both went down on lawn and neither suffered much. 

A few more ale's and then an axe throwing competition (great mix huh!) in which I came 2nd, having to split grass against the eventual winner by throw-off, IORNZ editor, Barry Franklin. 

We mounted up and left to visit Mr  Duncan Rutherford's private classic vehicle collection at an apple packing factory half an hour or so away. 

This consists of some 300 vehicles crammed nose-to-tail in sheds throughout the district. Of the sheds we had access to, they were mostly original, rare and well maintained down to logs such as when the battery was last charged and motor run etc. 

All cared for by Duncan who is in his mid eighties, never married, with no siblings.
His collection was diverse but being a Ford enthusiast I did notice a distinct lack of this marquee, I  think I found only one.  Here,  hidden conspicuously in iron sheds and covered in dust, were Cabriolet Studebaker's, Hudson's, Borgward's, surpercharged Graham's, Buick's, Massaratti's, Rolls Royce's, Vanguard's, you name it.

It was a few hours very well spent, but alas, despite much looking, no Indians were discovered hiding in any of them! 
We eventually stopped drooling, gave up on the idea he was going to give us one each, and dragged ourselves away to make our way back to camp.
A clean up and rest up for the evenings festivities was in order.

The evening consisted of many drinks, an AGM, the prize giving and lots of good company and lighthearted bullshit. ( thanks to all who voted for me, resulting in the coveted Riders/Peoples choice award as well as best Chief) 

The rest of the evening was spent in heapum  pow-wow with the tribe while consuming muchum tonic ( some of which was bootlegged on a reservation and smuggled in for our enjoyment!). 

It was still in full swing when I left, and some forty minutes later I found my unit which should have taken 2 minutes if I had left in the right direction!.

Sunday after breakfast, for those who could stomach it, everyone slowly departed. I stayed an extra day to visit a sister nearby, and had a good trip back both on the road and on the seas, Monday.

Most of the bikes were 741's, mostly, civilianized with fewer military and some rats. Together with a sprinkling of Chiefs '28-'51, a '19-'20 Powerplus or two, a Sport Scout, the single, two choppers, a couple of 101's, several std scouts and a military 841, it was a sight to behold.

Earliest ridden machine 1910 Hendee Single, a little sweetheart, and the Latest ridden machine, my '51 Blackhawk.

A big thanks to David and Debbie, the organizers who made it all happen, I for one, and I'm sure everyone else, had a great weekend.

Page 2, another 6 photos for your enjoyment