I shall never again complain about sleeping in the Enema. Highlights of the night included random swatting of insects at involuntary intervals, the large rodent which ran past our heads and Bob trying to alleviate some of her back pain by sleeping on her arms, resulting in her having 2 dead arms with the obvious entertaining results.

Eventually the morning appeared and a cup of tea brought some normality to the world. Our kayak had not been washed away and very few of the other campers stirred as we decamped and fitted our belongings into the 3 watertight cabins of the kayak. As the rest of the camp began to stir we enlisted the assistance of Jacques Clouseau and his girlfriend who also needed help getting their kayak towards the waters edge.

Excitedly Bob hopped into the navigators seat and locked herself in before I floated us out into the still calm of the bay and propelled us into the low morning sun.

By the time we had paddled the few km to Boundary bay the sun was up in full force and we were very smug about being the only ones on the water. Our first pit-stop was tucked away in a sheltered cove and didn't allow campers so we had a little bit of white sand paradise to explore by ourselves as the rest of Abel Tasman came to life.

For a change of scenery we swapped positions getting back into the kayak. I thought I'd have a crack at navigating and Bob could have a stint in the engine room with control of the rudder.

We made a (slightly shaky) beeline for Adele island which was alive with bird song and we were greeted by a tiny blue robin who hopped along the sandy beach with us. It was at this point that I must mention Mr and Mrs. Extreme, who we had met the day before but hadn't warranted comment until now. By day he was a plasterer North of Aberdeen and by night a fearless adrenaline fuelled midlife crisis, she was his accomplis and biggest fan, we could not get a word in. With his go-pro still attached to his sweaty forehead, having been used to capture the 'rad shots' of the 'meter high swell' which we must have missed on the paddle out, Bob was treated to an exhibition of his more recent injuries and tatoos, sustained during a heady cocktail of mountain biking, riding helicopters and visiting shady parlours in Queenstown. When he had finished exposing his inner groin to the world we made our excuses and scuttled back to our original seats in our kayak paddling to safety.

One final stop in Coquille bay allowed for some sun worship and book reading in yet another heavenly spot, marred only by the presence of some surprise French nudists. After a short swim we launched for the final time to paddle the final leg back to base! The wind had got up, but luckily it was at our back and we surfed the enlarging waves in to Marahau, mercifully at high tide.

After transfer of 'stuff' from kayak to Enema, and a fantastic shower, we were back on the road to Motueka and after an icecream refuel we headed south alongside the river to Murchison with stunning memories of Abel Tasman whizzing round our minds.

Thinking we had nothing to hide, being pulled over at a police road block was not stressful, unfortunately we were un-wittingly missing the NZ equivalent of a tax disc... After being very polite and smiley we were sent on our way with a slap on the wrist and strict instructions to visit a post office asap...

The campsite at Murchison was quiet and its Hawaiin owner keen to make conversation and offer Ironman tips whilst Bob made use of the cheap laundry facilities,washing everything we owned.

We relaxed in the lounge, enjoyed Thai green curry and collapsed, knackered but content before being told off for using the wrong (unmarked) fridge... We managed to orchestrate an overdue catch up with Bob's mum via Skype before returning to the Enema battling Mosquitos! The air bed was fantastical and sleep descended rapidly and heavily, with much deet in the local atmosphere.