Campervan: Day 4

In keeping with the Camper! theme, every time I've gone to use the showers in whatever halting site we've found ourselves, my thoughtful wife prepares a little bag with shampoo, conditioner etc. A petite pink bag. Not unlike a handbag. I've had to make the walk of shame from the camper to the showers, pink bag swinging in my hand, greeting anyone I meet in deeply compensatory tones. At this point, Nina and Sara are taking the piss out of my 'borsa rosa' and saying what a girly-girl I am.

We left Nelson City for the middle of nowhere, also known as Saint Arnaud. This was to be Duncan's fault, or Duncan's kudos, depending on how badly or well things went. We had no idea if the place was even equiped with a powered site for the camper, or indeed if there was any reason to be there in the first place, other than the fact that it was approximately half way between where we were and where we next needed to be. Duncan had told us that there was nothing there but it was a beautiful nothing (Bel Niente). Sitting on the edge of Lake Rotoiti, Saint Arnaud has one hotel and a camping site. What the hell - we were up for it.

Before we left civilization, we stopped off in another of Duncan's recommendations: WOW. The World of WearableArt. About 20 years ago in Nelson, a show that combined art and fashion was born. The only requirement of the work presented was that every piece had to be wearable. The idea took off, and after another few years it grew so popular that it had to move to Wellington in order to cater for the ever increasing audiences. It's improbable, odd and if I'm honest not entirely enticing at first. But it's really worth visiting. The shows themselves, which can be viewed in the mini-cinema at the end of the gallery, look like a fantastic evening out.

An unexpected side-effect of our visit to WOW was the aquisition of a work by a local artist. Che Vincent's workshop is very close to Nelson, just off the road to Abel Tasman we had taken the previous day. One wall of the gallery's foyer was covered with these little creatures. We had to have one - we're already working on the next parcel to send home (number 5!).

We stopped off on the way for another Irene Safari, which in the camper now includes hot coffee!We made our picnic on a little bench at the top of a hill in the middle of logging country, where the scenery was dominated by planned and orderly conifer forests, and some closely shaved peaks that didn't look like they were going to produce again any time soon. How odd it was then, from this height that didn't offer much beauty, to come across the following work of philosophy carved into our picnic table:


I can subscribe to that. First talk, then trousers.

The Bel Niente turned out to be accurate on both counts. Other than the fabulous Lake Rotoiti, a takeaway/shop and a small motel, there was only the campsite and its resident sandflies. The lady running the DoC campsite told me that the sites were indeed powered, but due to the cold weather, the hot water was switched off.

How's that now?

Yes, I had heard correctly. If it's very cold, then the pipes might burst, so there are no hot showers in Winter. I did the spoken equivalent of a double-take (think of Porky Pig, but without the keen intellect) and - fair dues to the woman - she kept a straight face while running this logic past me a second time.



After a small walk around to check for kiwis (nope, no kiwis here), and a brief tour of the main road (nope, no Kiwis here), we settled in for the night. The kids watched Ghostbusters II, we ate some dreadful pizza, and then all fell asleep listening to the wind, and the noise of the branches overhead scratching the top of the campervan. At least I think thats what it was...(who ya gonna call?)

Campervan: Day 3

Abel Tasman Park, in the northwest of NZ's South Island, is accessible from a number of points, one of which is a town called Marahau 60km from Nelson City. There's a coastal walk that leads from the Wainui at the tip all the way back to Marahau which takes about 3 days to complete. Some day I'm going to do that. But for now we were content to do a half-day walk, facilitated by Aquataxi. More like a bus service these guys will take you to one of 5 or 6 points along the coastal walk, and pick you up from another. The walks are all well maintained and marked. It couldn't be easier.

When we set off from Bark Bay, with a 7.7km walk to Torrent Bay, Nina was in bullish mood. "This is too easy!" she insisted. The trail was mostly covered by the canopy of the trees above us, but it did follow the coast and climb up above it too. Every now and then we could look out over the water, or down to an inlet, and curse the fact that you didn't pack your swimmers - or to hell with swimmers, at least a towel! One hour later, when the gradient had asserted itself a little, Nina's attitude had changed: "Why does the trail have to go UP?", she asked in pained tones. Where do you start with a question like that? Poor Nina and Sara. We've calculated that since we left Cork, they have hiked around 75km. Those are real hikes, not including city walks and general traipsing around. They have both had plenty of practice of hiking in Cork, and plenty of notice about what might await them on this trip.

Why does the trail have to go up?

Oh my wonderful little Nina, the trail will go up, and the trail will go down. And sometimes it will wind around on the level for so long that you will forget that you are even on a journey. And at the moment when it gets really tough you might be surprised by a stupendous view afforded only to those who put in the effort. The trail goes up because that's what the trail does. And when it goes down, it goes down because it already went up. Make your peace with the fact that sometimes it will be harder than others, and that all you have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and know that sooner or later, it will get better. We all know that the good stuff doesn't last, but not even the bad stuff does.



On a less chocolate-box philosophy note: The temperature has improved tremendously - enough so that Letizia was able to sleep without her beanie! There's an unconscionable and irresistable provocation if ever there were one.

Campervan: Day 2

We woke up early in the freezing morning in Blenheim, with various extremities suffering from exposure. In the daylight we could see that our corner of the 'Holiday Park' wasn't much more salubrious than a supermarket carpark. Duncan joined us for brekkie before heading back to Christchurch for a 2pm flight, eventually attracting the unwanted attention of the New Zealand police due to the rush he was in. (Very unlucky, when you consider we had covered more than 2000km a few weeks ago and seen exactly two speed traps).

We unplugged the campervan, as if it was just a big toaster (well fridge, really) and headed towards Nelson via Picton. Picton is the place where the ferry between the North and South Islands leaves from, making its way thorugh the spectacular Charlotte Sound. We'll be passing that way again at the start of June when we leave Christchurch behind for good, and go check out Wellington and beyond.

Just outside Picton we saw an enormous logging shipping facility with what looked like around 100 tips of 3 or four hundred logs each. Moored alongside was a ship with all its hold doors open wide, and specialized log-moving vehicles buzzed around in front of it - looking tiny in front of the ship, but at the same time dwarfing the logging trucks that they were unloading. Those logging trucks look plenty big when you share the road with them. I know that the logging industry here is probably being run along sustainable lines, but the sight of this enormous appetite for timber is still unsettling. It's made worse by the fact that there are signs all around the top end of the South Island of deforestation.



Despite all that, the road between Picton and Havelock is not to be missed. The road rises and falls along the coastline, which looks out onto Charlotte Sound. The views from on high are magnificent and the peace and quiet when you pull in and sit at the shoreline is something that oddly, up until now, has been hard to find during our stay so far in New Zealand. For once, we could hear a variety of birdcalls coming from the trees. And fern trees - the first we've seen since Queensland.



I finally saw a tamed version of the Pacific thanks to the insular and peninsular complex of Marlborough Sounds. Warmth at last - all of this scenic experience was blessed with sunshine as warm as you'd find on an Irish spring day, and that sunshine lasted us all the way to Nelson, where we found a campervan park within walking distance of the city centre.

We ate the best homous and falafel I've tasted in, well, perhaps ever (if you're ever in Nelson City, call in to Falafel Gourmet - they make from scratch with carefully sourced ingredients). Things were looking up.