A lazy start with bacon and blueberry pancakes was a gentle reminder of just what a luxury it was to wake up in a house, especially as I'd managed to spend the entire night in the bed and not on the floor. We packed up and after being given a guided tour of Phil's van the beaten up Campervan convoy set off, with Betsy leading the way on the hunt for fuel. Watching Phil grudgingly fill up with fuel costing 6 cents a litre more than at the station he'd just passed proved that he was a man after my own heart and with a tear in his eye we continued North into wine country.

The convoy pulled into Hanmer Springs, a leafy spa town nestled in mountainous foothills and we grabbed lunch from the bakery. We sat in the sunshine and demolished our second portion of carbs of the day, sorry Jono, before heading up conical peak in an attempt to burn them off.

The view from the top was well worth the short steep climb and the breeze was very welcome as we looked out over miles of forested valleys and Phil pointed out the various passes visible. After the descent we had certainly earned an icecream and having cooled off, and with Bob bouncing around like an excitable child we entered the water park/spa.

The NZ equivalent of centreparks was everything we needed. A collection of pools with a variety of temperatures, bubbliness and solid content. There were also slides! The Super Bowl was like being fired into a giant draining sink bowl and dropping through the plug hole in a double inflatable rubber ring, or there was the Black Hole, a fast tube which left your senses and body battered as you flew into the dazzling light of the plunge pool.

After the exhilaration of running up and down staircases like 12 year olds we returning to the spa pools, for some intensely entertaining people watching including the Demi-Werewolf and Mr and Mrs Face-eater.

When suitably pruned we left and checked into our campsite before enjoying drinks and dips as the sun disappeared.

We walked into town for supper, passing under the pretty fairy lights strung between the trees to a tapas bar where we ordered a smorgasbord of food and discussed our various onward journey plans.

A pint in the pub afterwards turned into some man-time for Phil and myself whilst Lorna escorted Bob to get her passport...having been ID'd for requesting a hot chocolate...

Managing to dodge the various raucous hen parties we headed back to Betsy and the Enema and went to bed, very jealous of Phil and Lorna's head room!