We queued up with hundreds of cars, vans, and tractor trailers to board the massive Interislander ferry in Wellington. Cautiously driving Big Green onto the lower deck of the giant cruise liner (think six stories high), we embarked upon the three hour ocean crossing from north to south island.
We arrived in Picton, a tiny village in the Marlborough Sounds (a maze of inlets, headlands, and islands), and then drove along the coastal hillsides west towards Nelson. Darkness fell and not wanting to drive the scenic winding road at night, we pulled into the next available campervan park. It was one of our most scenic evenings yet with mountains looming in the backyard and livestock roaming in the fields near the wooden cabins (very Montana-esque).
Still on our Paleo eating kick, we cooked up a very untraditional meal for Passover/Easter: liver and onions. Yum! (We’re breaking all kinds of mental barriers from childhood: liver, sauerkraut, coconut, meatloaf...). We then jaunted along the Queen Charlotte’s Track, a scenic coastal walk, for a few miles before moving on.
Driving west through the rolling hillsides, we passed through Nelson and then on to Abel Tasman National Park, NZ’s most visited park -- we could understand why with its gleaming turquoise waters and native green bush (however, no cars allowed). We stayed in Marahau where the tides were so extreme (20 feet difference between low and high tides) that tractors had to pull the boats out half a mile to the sea.
We kayaked four hours along the coast avoiding rocks and stopped for lunch on a secluded beach. Maxing out after a long day of sea kayaking, we abandoned our kayaks on the beach and then hiked eight miles back to the beginning of the track.
Our venture continued to (literally) the end of the road (up and over Takaka Hill to the Golden Bay) where we stopped to see the clearest - they claim in the world - fresh water springs. We had to concur as it was so transparent we could view 30 feet down to the bottom of the pond.
On the furthermost edge of the landmass we traipsed across the Wharariki Beach with looming dune formations and jutting rocks. It was home to a huge bird sanctuary with fearless peacocks and arctic-type migratory birds (we swore they looked like mini penguins).
Confession: while this blog portrays us as nature-loving fiends, I failed to mention that Ken purchased several seasons of “The Wire” and we’ve had a few too many TV-marathons in the evenings: seriously, how can you not become addicted to characters like Bubbles, Omar, and McNalty? You know you’re engrossed when you start unconsciously talking Baltimore ghetto slang in New Zealand.
No comments:
Post a Comment