Island hopping in Auckland

I am quite the neglectful blogger, aren’t I?

A thousand apologies for my absence of late.  I have no excuses beyond general laziness. It happens.

What have I been up to these days? Well, I spent ten days in sunny Auckland going for long walks, catching up with some mates, eating great food and drinking far too much wine.

One of the highlight of the week was that I managed to visit three of the islands in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf.

Leaving on the ferry from Auckland harbour.

First on the menu was Rangitoto island which, atop of sporting a name that is oh-so-fun to say, is really pretty interesting.  The 5.5km long island formed some 600 years ago after a series of volcanic eruptions. 

From afar, the island’s volcanic heritage is apparent thanks to its conical peak.  Up close, it’s fairly obvious too.  The terrain is littered with dark, jagged rock and the vegetation (of which there was more than I had expected) is of the hardy and stunted variety.  It took me about 45 minutes to walk to the island’s summit and I enjoyed the beautiful views along the way. 

Yet another awkward pose thanks to the ten-second timer.

mmmmmm...old lava

What was less enjoyable was the teeming mass of young teens lounging noisily at the top. It appears that it was a 70-student-strong school group on a field trip. They were well behaved, as far as teens go, but the decibel levels (think giggling, screaming, cell phones playing music) were a bit off putting when all I was hoping to hear were birds and the occasional passing plane.

I shouldn’t have despaired, for I was soon to get that solitude and silence I craved.  Within the hour I had reboarded the ferry (thanks to its handy hop-on, hop-off service) and was deposited on the much grassier Motuihe island. Though the island was far from deserted (a few dozen people alit from the boat at the same time as me and yet another school group was enjoying a field trip on this island), it was much easier to distance oneself from the pack than on Rangitoto thanks to a wide variety of walking tracks.

With nearly three hours to kill before the ferry returned to collect passengers, I quickly set off to explore. Not really knowing where I wanted to go, I decided to wander about and see what the island had to offer.  Turns out it had a fair bit: grassy fields, pretty trees, huge plants, secluded beaches, and lots of birds. Other than the boats drifting by in the distance, I didn’t see another human for over an hour.  It was glorious. 

My own little secluded beach.

On the weekend my friend Inky (whom you may remember from Christchurch some six weeks ago) and I headed out to the most popular of the Hauraki Gulf islands.  A mere half-hour boat ride from Auckland, Waiheke is home to some 8,000 people, and during the summer months, some 3,000+ cottagers, and countless tourists and daytrippers descend on its pretty shores.  It’s not hard to see why. 

From the sky, Waiheke looks like a big ol’ inkspot, which means it boasts dozens of picturesque bays, a number of swimming beaches, and plenty of fishing spots.  Its enviable climate lends itself well to wine production, and as such many small vineyards produce some decent (if pricey) whites.

It was a nice weekend. Inky got to partake in his rugged outdoorsy pursuits (sleeping in the bush, spearfishing, rock climbing, cliff jumping), while I enjoyed the calmer side of island living (sleeping in a hostel, lying on the sand, floating in the sea). An activity we both enjoyed was drinking wine on the beach (wish this was doable in Georgian Bay) and eating a delicious meal at the Skinny Sardine (stuffed chicken breast and sinfully buttery garlic mashed potatoes for me – I’m salivating just thinking about it). 

Setting sun over Auckland.

Sun setting over Waiheke

My last two days in Auckland I didn’t do much beyond tying up some lose ends, repacking my bag, and visiting a friend I’d made my first week in the country.  It was pretty chill.

As many of you have likely see via Facebook, I now find myself in soggy Sydney. It's apparently been raining here an extraordinary amount these past few months (which explains why I’m inside writing rather than enjoying Bondi or Manly beaches). I’m here until the 16^th at which time I’m hopping a plane back to Canada for Christmas and some rather important nuptuals. I’m looking forward to it.

Walking and walking and walking near Picton -- the Queen Charlotte Track and others

In the beginning, God created the earth, then after a while he put some humans on that earth.  Those humans lumbered around on their four limbs for a few (ok, many) thousands of years before some show off started to balance on just two legs (probably to impress some chick), and eventually, everyone else decided to copy him (all the cool kids were doing it) and humans became bipeds. 

A loooong time later, a biped known as Nadine decided to put her walking shoes on and get out walking. 

Cause there’s some good walking to be done in these parts.

Picton is known among travellers mainly for two things: its port (the ferry that links the two main islands travels between here and Wellington) and for being the gateway to the Queen Charlotte Track.

Ferry leaving Picton bound for Wellington. The trip takes approximately tree hours. There are two companies who each run four or five crossings a day.

I did a section of the track during my last trip and liked it so much, that I decided to do it again. So on Tuesday, I booked the required taxi boat and accommodation for Wednesday and Thursday.

Since I’ve been fairly inactive lately, I wanted to get a bit of exercise in so that the long walks wouldn’t be such a shock to the old legs.

So Tuesday afternoon, I filled up my water bottle, grabbed some sunscreen and my big hat, and headed out to The Snout, a finger of land that juts out into the Queen Charlotte Sounds from downtown Picton.  

It was a beautiful walk (are there any other kind in NZ? If so, I haven’t found one yet) with great views of  the Sounds and of Picton itself.

View of Picton from the Snout Track.

I hadn’t really looked into the length of the walk, nor at the weather, which was, in retrospect, a bit unwise. Turns out that it was a 12km treck, half of which was uphill on un-sheltered paths, all in blazing sun (have I mentioned how insanely strong the sun is here?).  That lone bottle of water I brought with me was far from enough.  By the time I stumbled back into town more than three hours later, I was dehydrated, dizzy, and weak.  I rushed to the grocery store and bought myself a beverage as quickly as I could.

With that experience fresh on my mind, I packed three full bottles for the Queen Charlotte. 

The QC track runs for 71km along a series of undulating bays. Done from tip to tip, the QC generally takes four or five days to complete. One of the great things about the track though is that you can do as little or as much of it as you want.  A taxi boat ferries you to the point of entry you select, and picks you up on the day you choose at the place you choose.

I opted to do the first 27km since that section offers nice long flat-ish sections (not too much climbing!) and can be spread out over the course of two days with one night spent along the track.

The best thing about the QC though is the logistics of it.  The taxi boat ride in is phenomenally beautiful, and depending on which company you go with, you often end up visiting a bunch of the bays and homesteads since they’re dropping off supplies and mail.  Those boats also drop off trampers’ packs, so you don’t have to carry much on your back, even if you’re doing a multi-day hike.  There, waiting for you by the door of your room or cabin will be your bags, transported here as if by magic! Bliss!

I won’t bore you with the details of the walk.  All I’ll say is that it’s nice. Sometimes you’re on the top of a big hill enjoying stunning views on both sides. Others, you’re nearly at sea level marvelling at the colour of the water. In either case, you’re really happy to be there.

One of the many coves along the Queen Charlotte.

Pretty flowers along the track.

This unidentified plant is among my favourite in NZ. I've seen it up and down the country. It's really cool.

I did 15km over three and a half hours the first day, and spent the night at Furneaux Lodge.  It should actually be called Fur-NO Lodge – the place is an overpriced hole.  I was all alone in a bare and spooky cabin which is set up to sleep 25 people. Presumably these 25 people are simple folk who don’t need such luxuries as entertainment, or hot showers, or a kettle, or rubbish bins, or lights, or in some cases, walls, cause Furno didn’t supply these. Sheesh.

FurNO lodge's backpacker cabin

Oh well.  It was just for one night, and now I can spread the news throughout the land of how crappy a place it is. 

Day two was a bit of a bother, not because the terrain was hard or the road long or the weather bad. Nay, it was an easy 12km over mostly flat land in ideal conditions. My toes, however, had been reduced to bulbous lumps of blisters from the previous day’s efforts. I have no idea why.  I have good hiking shoes and I’ve walked greater distances in them.  In any case, they hurt, and I limped most of the way to the pickup point.

The weka is a flightless wood hen.  As you can see, they are rather unafraid of humans.

Fern shadows

Fun with tripod.

On the ride back to town yesterday we had an unexpected treat.  We came across a pod of about 15 bottlenose dolphins and we watched them cavort around us for a good 20 minutes.  They even chased us for a bit when we started to drive away. I don’t think it’s possible to grow tired of watching those animals.

A synchronized dolphin dive.

Though I was sure I wouldn’t want to take one more step than absolutely necessary, today I set out to the grocery store to pick up some supplies (hair dye, wine) and was so seduced by the fabulous weather, that, on a whim, I decided to go for a walk.

There’s a path that leads up one of the many hills around Picton to a hilltop lookout that a few people had told me about. It wasn’t a long walk – only about an hour in total – and the view was great. I chatted with a retired kiwi couple at the top, then I made my way back down.  Other than a moment when I lost my footing and nearly went ass-over-teakettle, it was pretty uneventful. 

The view from up top.

So I’m back in Picton at the best hostel I’ve ever been to.  Tombstone has free breakfast, a hot tub, awesome hosts, two cute cats, a lemon tree, comfy beds, lots of room to spread out, and no idiotic 18-year-olds trying to impress one another.  It’s great.  So great in fact that I’ve decided to stick around for longer than I planned.  I’m going to take it easy here for the next two days, enjoy the sunshine, the tranquility and try to stay off my feet J

So I guess the last order of business is to let you know that I’ve been accepted into the graduate diploma of teaching programme at Otago.  So that’s good.  I’m leaning towards deferring until 2012 though.  I also have a meeting with the University of Victoria next week, so I want to wait to hear from them before deciding.

In any case, I’m continuing with the work for the prerequisite course for Otago, and managed to submit my essay a full three days early (a hostel is hardly the best environment in which to write an essay, BTW).

On one of the lookouts on the Queen Charlotte.  Note the tan :)

Diving in Picton -- Wetsuits are the "togs" of the devil

So let’s see, when last I left you, I was in Christchurch diligently working on my essay and enjoying the gentle swaying of the earth (felt a second little earthquake my last morning in the city).

Last Thursday (the 4^th) I hopped in with a very nice Spanish girl who was driving up to Picton.  It was a six-hour drive, but the time went by quickly, thanks to her good company.  We stopped once along the way in Gore Bay to have lunch on the beach. 

Lunch stop between Chch and Picton.

Where I am.

I would have preferred a slow ascent of the South Island, spreading the journey over many days, but I was in a bit of rush to make Picton, since on Friday I started my Open Water scuba diving course. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for years, so I was very happy to finally get ‘er done.

The course was really rather informal. I spent two days in the classroom one-on-one with my instructor Brett.  Mainly, I read the manual, watched two DVDs and we did a few skills in the pool – clearing water out of your mask, what to do if your regulator (the thing you breath from) gets knocked out of your mouth, etc. I’d been diving before, and am really comfortable in the water, so it wasn’t very difficult.

More difficult were the actual dives.  Not because of the skills. Not because of the waves.  Not because of the added pressure of 12 feet of water. What made them difficult was the bloody cold.  In the South Island, the water doesn’t get all that hot, especially this early in the season.  It was a frosty 13 degrees down there.  So out came the wetsuits.  And the booties. And the hood.  And the gloves.  And still I was shivering. There are now about a dozen kiwis who think that Canadians are soft when it comes to cold.  Sorry Canucks. I didn’t represent.

Frozen divers in Picton. I was soon among their ranks.

I did the dives with a group of students who had been doing the classroom and pool stuff over the course of a few weeks.  I had visions of bonding with my fellow novice divers over the shared experiences.  Maybe heading out for a beer after the dives.  Alas, the others were all air force cadets who knew each other. 

There were some pros and cons to spending two days diving with that particular group.

Pro: they were young, strapping boys who filled out their wetsuits quite well.

Con: I was all the more aware of how I filled out my wetsuit.  Those things are mighty unforgiving.

Pro: they were spry and strong, and helped me carry my gear down and up the steep track to the water.

Con: I needed their help to carry the gear. I felt weak and uncoordinated.

Pro: they were a lot of fun and the atmosphere was friendly and light.

Con: I wasn’t really a part of that fun.  I really was more of an observer.  It’s always the case with a big group though.  Had I been younger, or male, or kiwi, I might have been able to break into the group a bit, but really, with all that stacked against me, I didn’t really care to try too much.

In any case.  I’m certified!  I can now dive on my own (with a buddy, of course).  So hopefully I’ll get out a few times over the coming months.  I just need to make a bit of money first. L

Next up: Why my toes are gone and why they’ve been replaced by then blister-mounds.

Dunedin to Wanaka

On my last full day in Dunedin (Wednesday the 20^th) I finally did a touristy thing and took a tour out to the Otago peninsula. It was another “return” for me, as I had visited the peninsula during my first ever week in NZ more than six years ago.

My lasting memory of that excursion was a view from Lanarch castle that had reduced me to tears. It was really neat to revisit the same site and discover that little had changed, and that my memory had served me quite well.

The Otago Peninsula

There were only three of us on our little tour (really, this is a great time of year to visit) and we were brought to the above mentioned Lanarch Castle, the Royal Albatross Centre, and Nature’s Wonders Naturally in rapid succession.

In the 10 whole minutes at Lanarch Castle I took a few dozen photos (thank goodness for digital photography) and raced back to the bus.

Lanarch Castle

Cool sculpture in the award-winning gardens in front of the castle.  it brings to mind someone hunched over into the crook of their arm. 

In the 15 minutes we had at the Albatross Centre, I took all of five – one tres cheezy staged shot of myself looking wistfully out to sea, one of the only albatross that I saw, and three of the HUGE flock of seagulls (“meet a girl like you-ou-ou”). It was a bit boring, and smelly, frankly. Apparently if you pay to tour the grounds you get to see them nesting, which I’m sure is much cooler – alas, time and money was not on my side.

Camera?  What camera?

The highlight of the day was, bar none, the Nature’s Wonders Naturally. Owned by a family of sheep farmers, the land occupied by the company is home to stunning views of the sea, a healthy colony of seals and not one, but two kinds of penguins – the little blue penguin, which stand at about 25cm tall, and the very rare yellow-eyed penguin. Squeee!

To navigate the somewhat rugged terrain, we were bundled onto eight-wheel drive vehicles and given attractive green ponchos so we blended in better with the landscape. As we jostled over bumps, splashed through puddles, I was giggling like a little girl. Of course, my enjoyment of the excursion wasn’t hampered in any way by the fact that our driver and guide was an attractive redheaded kiwi (a weakness of mine).

These are apparently a Canadian design.  Who knew?

The seals were cute and chill – some five-month-old pups were sleeping not five feet from the path while others frolicked in the shallow water. The penguins were cute too, if a little inactive. They’re nesting at the moment, and those who weren’t sitting on the nests were out hunting. Still. PENGUINS!

A yellow eyed penguin.  Too bad it's not in focus.  It was a fair ways away.  These little guys are quite nervous and are known to have heart attacks if people get too close.  so sad.

Sleepy seal pup and playful seal pup. they were cute. 

Penguin beach.  The (hot) guide said that no human has been on that beach in 10 years, so the penguins are pretty chill.

A little blue penguin.  He was no more than 5 feet from me.  These guys aren;t too bothered by humans, so we could get really close without disturbing him.

Wednesday was significant for another reason – I voluntarily ate fish. The guide convinced me to try the blue cod fish and chips (or, as kiwis say it “fush und chups”) at this dingy little takeaway shop in town. Lo and behold, it was pretty good. Don’t expect me to be chomping on lobster or oysters anytime soon, but I may indulge in some more deep-fried fishy goodness from time to time.

Thursday began dull and grey in Dunedin: perfect weather for spending in a bus. Luckily, that was just what was on the agenda. I boarded the Atomic bus at 10:00 and over four and half hours, the bus wound its way through a few mountain ranges and much rain. As if like magic though, as we pulled into Wanaka, Mother Nature shrugged off her dark, wet shroud and showed off the bright blue sky she'd been concealing.

I'm here.  You're not.  Neener neener neener.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh…Wanaka.

A little history here. When I was here some 18 months ago, my usual travel companion and I could not stop singing – to the tune of Adam Sandler’s Hanukah song from his days on SNL – “tell your friend Veronica, that I’m in Wan-a-kaaaa!” It’s been running through my head for the past two days.

Anywhoodle. Wanaka. Is. Beautiful. The fact that I’m emphasising this says a lot when you consider the sheer plethora of panoramas this country has on offer. It’s awesome. Trust me.

An oft-photographed tree just casually growing in the middle of a big lake.  No biggie.

Wanaka is often overlooked by thrill and party seekers for nearby Queenstown, the self-proclaimed Adventure Capital of the World. Too bad for those who skip it, cause they’re missing out.

Nestled on the shore of Lake Wanaka, at the base of a bunch of mountains and near skiing and hiking in Mount Aspiring National Park, the town is decidedly a touristy spot, but not in a gaudy, showy way. There are a few chain stores in town – Flight Centre, Paper Plus, New World – but there are no McDonalds, Starbucks, or Burger Kings to be seen. The vast majority of businesses are independent and quaint.

The whole town is dominated by the snow-capped mountains to the West, and I’ve spent much of my time just gazing at them in reverence.

Other things I’ve gotten up to since I’ve been here:

• Gone to see Inception at the kooky Cinema Paradiso where the seats are couches, chairs, and even a car. Great venue. Great flick.

In Cinema Paradiso during intermission.  That brown lump on the napkin on the pillow next to me is the best cookie ever.

• Watched the parade that signals the official opening of WanakaFest, a community festival going on this long weekend (Labour day is Monday).

The wanaka dancers do their thing in this tiny and cute parade.

• Hiked up Mount Iron, which at only 750m in height is dwarfed by the many mountains around.

Mount Iron seen from the other side of the lake.

• Visited the Rippon Winery – the home of some of the best wine I’ve ever had.

At $16.50 a bottle, this is the most expensive wine I've ever bought in NZ (yes, I can be cheap). It's worth it though.  It's delicious. 

• Took a nap by the lake.
• Done my homework K
• Found a job of sorts.  For the next week I'll be spending two hours a day cleaning an old gym that's been converted into a 12-room lodging.  In exchange, I'll have a free place to stay.  Should be OK. I start tomorrow, so I hope it's OK.  I'll be sure to gripe if it's not :)

One final picture: I got to feed an orphaned lamb at the place where I saw the penguins.  How cute is that?

Dolphin swimming in Kaikoura! Yay!

I love dolphins.  I mean, who doesn’t? 

They’re fun, they’re sociable, they’re cute, and they’re unlikely to try and take a taste of your flesh (this is very important to me).

Kaikoura is home to some 2,000 dusky dolphins that live there year round.  They’re not very big by dolphin standards – only 130cm or so in length – and get their name for their grey and white skin.  They’re among the most acrobatic of dolphins and often you can see them doing full summersaults in the air.  I can confirm all this, cause we saw them up close and personal.

How up close and personal?  Try within a few feet. Cause we went swimming with them!  Squee!

Who wouldn't want to swim with us?

I mean, look how playful we are!

Dolphin Encounter was the first company in NZ to offer dolphin swimming.  They’re strictly regulated, make sure that swimmers are well informed not to try to touch the dolphins, and they do nothing to entice the dolphins near us (i.e. no food).  Basically, they somehow find out where a large pod of dolphins is each morning, then head out in that general direction.  Once they spot the pod, they stop the boat, and the snorkelers slide into the water.

It’s not one of those awful places where you pose with a trained dolphin stuck in a pool. The dolphins are wild, free, and if you’re not interesting to them, or if they feel at all threatened, they’d be off like a shot.  Our job as swimmers is to swim out to where they are and keep them entertained so they do stick around.

The way to do that is to interact with them – dive down, make and hold eye contact while they swim around you in tight circles (dizzy!), and make noises.  I opted to alternately hum some of Damien’s songs, and just say inane things like “look at you!  I see you! You’re so cute!” in a high pitched voice.  They seemed to like that.  A few times I had one’s attention for a good two or three minutes at a time.  It really is amazing, since you’re really locking gazes with them and you can feel them engaging.  Wow.

Now let’s give some context here.  It’s early October. It was 9:30 a.m.  We were in the colder section of a country that doesn’t get all that hot to begin with.  Canadians, imagine yourselves taking a dip in open water in March.  Yeah.  It’s cold.

Even with the full body wetsuit – overalls, jacket with attractive crotch strap, booties, gloves, and hood. And no, you’re not getting a photo of that – it was still glacial.  After a few minutes, I couldn’t feel my toes. Poor Nick didn’t stand a chance. He’s allergic to cold, and could feel himself swell up in a matter of minutes.  He soon had to climb out and watch the action from the boat.  Luckily, the action was pretty cool. 

Flippin' cool.



Leap!

There were an estimated 300 or so dolphins in the pod we were with, and apparently this was a particularly good day (or so said the guides) since the dolphins were pretty chill, and stuck around a long time.  Many of them did some tail flaps, some rolls, and most impressively, some flips in the air. 

The backdrop didn’t exactly hurt either, what with the snow-capped mountains and brilliant blue sky. Beautiful.

It was over all too soon.  We reluctantly rode back to shore, passing a few seals and albatrosses along the way.

After a much needed soak in the hot tub at the holiday park where we had stayed (we chose it precisely for that reason), we jumped back in the car and set off for Christchurch.

One last look at Kaikoura.

A brief glimpse of Tongoriro National Park and Wellington

When I last checked in with you folks, we were nestled in the foothills of the mountains in Tongoriro National Park.  I’m very glad we had arrived during daylight hours and had a nice – if distant – look at the mountains, for the view that had so enchanted us on Tuesday was completely obliterated by Wednesday morning.  The mountains were fully shrouded by the thick clouds and fog that had moved in overnight.  Fie!

The forecast had promised the clouds would burn off, so we valiantly headed deeper into the park to Whakapapa village wearing clothing we had deemed appropriate for the excursion – nylon pants, t-shirts, cardigans and rain jackets. 

At the i-site (the visitor’s centre) we enquired about short walks in the area, specifically about the Meads walk – a half-hour walk to a rock wall that was used in some scene in LOTR (still not sure which one). The woman at the counter directed us to head on up to the ski fields, and to take a path behind one of the lifts. 

Let’s remember that it’s early spring here and that we were up in the mountains.  Hence, there was still snow up there, and the ski season was still in full swing (it’s a school holiday this week).  Remember those nylon pants, t-shirts, cardigans and rain jackets we were sporting? Well, we quickly discovered that they were definitely not warm enough. 

We pulled out all the extra layers and cold-weather accessories we could and girded ourselves for a nice challenging walk through the mist. 

Toasty!



We couldn’t see more than 10 feet in front of us for a while, but only for a short while, cause about five minutes after setting out up that slippery, snowy hill, we were in a clearing, and it appeared that we were at the end of the walk (30 minutes my sweet patootie).  The fog suddenly lifted and we were standing in front of a 10-15m high rock wall that we assume was the star of the show.  We took a few quick photos, then headed back to try and warm up. 



Quick!  Someone tell me what scene this is in! We haven't figured it out yet.



We drove (and by “we” I mean Nick) to Wellington all afternoon. Along the way we skirted some truly alarming rock faces that were either seemingly on the brink of tumbling into the road, or had done so already.  We didn't get a picture of it, but one section actually had a car-sized boulder that had rolled across two lanes of road to the other side.

Eeek!  And this was luckily a place where there was a shoulder to the road.  Usually it was just sheer rock face jutting out right next to the pavement.

, and arrived just in time for rush hour.  We swung by two backpacker hostels which had come highly recommended by our travel books and quickly rejected them (the first smelled of a delicate bouquet of old hockey equipment, cat pee and cigarettes; the second’s front porch was writhing with at least 20 disaffected youth. They reminded me of a bunch of cats just lazing about in the sun looking entitled and bored with life).

We ended up at the YHA which was so much nicer than any place I’ve ever stayed in Wellington.  When next I’m back in Wellington I’m not bothering looking anywhere else (and if ever you’re there, do the same.  Trust me.)

We really didn’t see much of Wellington.  A short walk along Cuba street and the main drag was about it.  I did point out a café where the LOTR actors had apparently frequented on occasion, and noticed that the piercing studio that had given me the now-defunct hole in my lip six years ago was equally defunct itself.

It was an early night, as we were expected at the ferry terminal at 7:30 to make our way to the South Island. 

Well…it was meant to be an early night, and Christina and Nick, comfortably ensconced in their cosy double room, did get a full night’s rest.  I, on the other hand, was in a six-person dorm and got lured into a long conversation with a kiwi bloke from somewhere on the North Island who was very sweetly accompanying his niece and her friend to a Paramour concert in town the next night.  They were all very nice.

Who wasn’t nice were the other two twits from our room who loudly stumbled in at 4:00 a.m. More precisely, they loudly and repeatedly attempted unsuccessfully to open the door at 4:00 a.m.  When I got up to open the door for them, they proceeded to turn on the lights and slowly and noisily get ready for bed to the backdrop of my passive aggressive sighs.

I so wanted to return the favour when my alarm went off two and half hours later, but I couldn’t do that to the uncle and girls.  So instead, I did what all nice roommates should, and got ready in the dark trying to make as little noise as possible.  I did get one final passive aggressive act in and used the twits’ nice face wash and moisturiser they had left in the washroom – that’ll teach them! (Not that they’ll notice, but whatever).

On a positive note, that morning was clear and bright, and for once, Wellington wasn’t being hit with gale force winds, so the sea was calm. In short, it was a perfect day to take the ferry.

Just look at that brilliant sunshine.

The crossing from Wellington, on the North Island, to Picton, on the South Island takes three hours on the HUGE ferry boat. It’s a great ride that starts off with great views of Wellington – a picturesque city built into a steep hillside, which means that nearly everyone seems to have a view of the ocean. 

Wellington in the a.m.

The middle section is open sea, which is still quite pretty, and then the last hour or so is through Marlborough Sound, which is particularly stunning.  I was hoping to see dolphins as I had during the crossing last time since Nick has never really seen any (don’t worry, that’s a situation that has been taken care of since then – stay tuned!).  Alas, there were none. 

The Marlborough Sounds -- ahhhhhhhhhhh.

We did see thousands upon thousands of jellyfish though.  So that was cool.

A quick tour of Picton – including the cute park on the water, complete with its own ride-able miniature train and affable conductor – and we were off to Kaikoura, stopping many times along the way to get photos.

How much does this man love his job?  So much!  In case you're wondering, a ride on the train costs 0.20$.

Picton from the boat.

The Ferry in Picton.

Coast, train, and plants

East Coast of the South Island

Nick and a sleepy seal.

Self timers are awesome.