Dear Chris

Thank you for buying us the Interislander and a boat trip for our wedding present. It was very kind and generous of you.

The Interislander is the ferry that travels from Wellington in the North Island to Picton in the South Island. It is known as the most beautiful ferry ride in the world as almost half of the journey is spent traversing the Marlborough Sounds, a series of inlets and islands overlooking a pictureperfect deep turquoise blue water, surrounded by high rolling hills coated in deep green natural forest. If you look at a map of the South Island of New Zealand and notice that the top right of it is a bit of a mess, almost like a small child was trying to draw a straight line and then got annoyed and scribbled all over the paper, that is the Marlborough Sounds.

As I said the Interislander is meant to be a beautiful journey and it possibly is but unfortunately when we took it, it was so crowded that there was a three deep queue of fat people and Japanese tourists between us and the side of the boat, meaning our chances of seeing a dolphin or two were severely hampered by the multiple of Ipads and selfie sticks in the way.

Luckily, we had decided on spending a few days in a gorgeous little hostel in the Sounds so we got to experience the true magic of it all without the occasional elbow to the ribs every few minutes. We stayed in a little place called Anakiwa in a backpackers that surpassed any that we have ever been in before. Owned by a lovely English couple who, on their honeymoon in New Zealand decided to stay and buy a guesthouse (mmm don't tempt us), the love and care that was shown went above and beyond anything we have experienced before. For example, not only did they lend us free towels but there were free towels to have in the showers and additional towels to take down to the beach. Hmmm, that probably doesn't sound much to people at home who are thinking 'so what I have all the towels I need at home' but to us having to pat ourselves dry with a horrible travel towel every day it equates to luxury, ok. What else? How about this is the first (and I am guessing only) hostel we will ever stay in with matching cutlery, plates, glasses etc? No, still not impressed? Ok, how about the setting? Right at the start of the Queen Charlotte Walk, overlooking a private bay with a little jetty out in the Sounds with a 360 degree vista of the hills and valleys and the blue water teeming with tiny little fish and giant stingrays. A place you could while away the hours sleeping in a hammock, sitting on the jetty under the perfect sun-drenched blue sky, jumping off the jetty into the water when it got too hot or playing with the big furry cat they had.

On our first full day there, with plans to do not much at all really, our breakfast was interrupted by Shayne the owner with an offer we couldn't resist. 'Hey', he said, 'fancy learning how to waterski? I am a great teacher and it'll be very cheap'.

With a mouthful of Rice Krispies and an overeager wife, who thought it was a great idea to watch me falling face first into the water at great speed multiple times, I was not quick enough to think up an excuse and so before you could say Snap, Crackle and Pop, there I was dressed up in a skintight (and rather fetching I might add) wetsuit being dragged through the water at forty miles an hour, bouncing off the waves with little semblance of control while Donna gleefully sat in the boat taking photos and the 'great teacher' Shayne repeatedly telling me I need to 'tuck my bottom in a bit more', reminding me strangely of our ill fated attempt at yoga in Thailand.

Waterskiing is bloody hard work. It may not look like much. After all, all you are doing is standing there being dragged along by a boat but trust me it is far more exercise than any self respecting, seven month honeymooning, 'let's get a taxi', 'is it beer o'clock yet?', 'I'm almost forty I'm allowed to be fat' bloke should ever have to do.

I should add that I am still recovering from a bit of a cold and am quite bunged up to say the least. Facesmacking the water at great speed is guaranteed to have the snot running out of your nose faster and in greater quantities than the tiny bit of wet loo roll Donna kindly gave me could cope with.

'You have a large string of snot in your beard,' my lovely wife kindly informed me.

'You definitely almost nearly got the hang of it that time,' said Shayne, 'let's go again. This time, try tucking your bum in a bit more.'

'Woohoo' said I.

Our second day was even better. We went on a guided speed boat tour of the Sounds. Our lovely guide Lester took Donna and me and an 'in no way changed our opinion of Scottish people we have met so far on this trip being miserable b******s' Scottish guy who proved the point for us that an excellent tour cannot be ruined by someone who wants to end the trip as early as possible because he 'needs to get back to Blenheim by four'.

It really was the most fun we have had sober and with our clothes on. There is nothing more exhilarating than zipping around beautiful scenery in your own little speed boat, flying over the waves, gripping the sides with all your might with the boat bouncing around. Donna was a little terrified at first but when Lester assured her that the boats were perfectly safe and there was no danger of us tipping in the water, she developed as big a grin on her face as I had. Although she did keep her lifejacket on at all times. Purely to protect her shoulders from the sun, of course.

Anyway the miserable Scottish guy was determined try and make the tour finish early but us and Lester were having none of it. Lester is a tour guide who loves his job as much as anyone who gets to drive a speed boat around one of the prettiest places in the world everyday should. He could also talk to a chair for four hours if there was no one else around to talk to so there was no way he was going to cut short his endless spiel about the wildlife, trees, economy of the place or any other subject he settled on. We helped in our own way to make the tour last as long as possible by asking as many questions about the mussel farm we visited as possible. Seriously, we are now experts on green lipped mussels, all to the annoyance of the Scottish guy looking increasingly frustrated at his watch.

Tired, happy and with salt encrusted hair sticking up at all angles we returned to our lovely 'matching cutlery' hostel wanting to end our last night in this magical place as special as possible and what better way than to drink a bottle of wine down on the jetty in the night time air. Apparently, the water in the Sounds has lots of that type of plankton which glistens phoroesent at nighttime and the best way to see them is to take all your clothes off, ignore the freezing wind and jump into the water in the pitch black, and watch the water shimmer and sparkle around you (as you hurriedly swim back to jetty to avoid being eaten by a stingray).

As Donna had very kindly come out to the jetty with me on the last night, I returned the favour by getting up at five in the morning to watch the sunrise. As the sky turned all (marlboro) red and gold colours over the misty water, a little stingray floated past our feet and Donna spent a long time getting that perfect photo, there was just enough time for one more swim in the early morning beautifully freezing water before it was time to pack up our things, say goodbye to our lovely hosts and head on our way.

Lots of love

Jim and Donna

INTERESTING KIWI FACT OF THE DAY

Green Lipped mussels are considered a delicacy the world over but are only grown in New Zealand, mostly in the Marlborough Sounds. They grow considerably larger than the black shelled variety we are used to in England and are more succulent and juicy with a more distinctive flavour. They are grown on lines of rope surrounded by old tights in forty different farms throughout the Sounds in an industry worth over $180 million a year.