Well rested with the knowledge of sleeping in a free spot for the night we awoke to another luxury, a shower for two dollars. A classic looking old lady with blue candy floss hair sat behind the register to the showers and diligently scrutinised everyone that walked past her, any whisper of a sneaky, unpaid shower and she was on them like an alsatian.

Refreshingly clean we made our way to the library and gave ourselves a quick recap of what to do in NZ's most northerly national park, Abel Tasman. The place looked beautiful and we were both really looking forward to seeing it for ourselves.

Wolfing down a quick apricot muffin we boarded Jimi and departed for Abel Tasman. We decided upon the southern tip of the national park to begin with, Kaiteriteri looked to have a very clean and broad beach where we could set up shop for the day and have a bask in the sun.

Kaiteriteri turned out to be a fantastic shout! It was relatively small but had a white beach with crystal clear water lapping at its edge. We also happened across a wonderful campsite or 'holiday park' as they call them here. It was equipped with a huge kitchen and numerous picnic benches so everyone was happy to mill around and chat to one and other.

It was my turn to cook so I decided upon egg fried rice and sweet and sour chicken. I wanted it nice and simple, just chicken with a pre-bought sauce which is designed to be tasty and appetising but Chelsea insisted that we add weird rubbish to it like mushroom, courgette and onion. Sighing in a resigned way I began to chop things that didn't belong in a sweet and sour.

By the time I had finished dicing everything in a Jamie Oliver-esc fashion the kitchen had worryingly come to life with someone from every corner of the globe: Swedes, Italians, Americans, all of them cooking their own dishes. I automatically felt a vague pressure to do Wales proud and cook something spectacular! Lots was going on around me on the other work benches and I felt like Ainsley Harriet was going to burst into the room at any moment and scream, 'It's a red tomato day!' Fortunately, he didn't because my once beautifully vibrant sweet and sour was now dyed a muddy grey from the mushrooms and courgette.

Deflated and feeling as though I'd let my country down in terms of culinary expertise (I realise that sweet and sour is as far away from Welsh cuisine as you can go), I served up my colourless meal and sat in a far corner. It tasted nice in fairness but looked like something you would feel guilty about giving to your dog.

Sunbathing later was delightful. I ploughed on with my book while Chelsea watched something on her iPad. I also indulged in a 'Double Brown' just to get in the spirit of things. Despite sounding like a lecherous, pornographic title, a double brown is actually a NZ produced lager. It costs pennies and tastes of heaven.

With a day of bronzing and reasonably good food we went to bed ready for a walk in the distinguished Abel Tasman tomorrow.