Here's a philosophical question. Are the positive events of our life more richly experienced as they occur, or in our memories? I've thought about this often. Sometimes, in the moment, I have found it difficult placing myself there and savoring it for all that it is. In memory, however, this difficulty fades and only the positive remains. I recall thinking about this when driving across western Canada and Alaska at the beginning of this trip. I know for fact that the kids hated every second of the driving. So did I probably. Their back searcsquabbles and bickering seemed, at the time, to be taking all the fun out of the sights and experiences we were being gifted. As time passes, those annoyances dull in the memory and only the rich and happy parts remain. I'd draw a parallel to child birth but for the scorn that I know would be rained down upon me by the mothers in my life.

I was "grumpy cat" when I awoke today. Another day of driving this big, bloated tourist mobile around from one hyped-up site to the next. Paying too much to be herded by a "guide" half my age who didn't even have a GD knife when I needed one for a minor gear fix. Cooking breakfast for a couple of overtired, unappreciative kids. Where was the authenticity of the experience? Were we not doing "independent travel?" Why the hell can't we hike out onto that glacier by ourselves?

I decided to drown out these negative emotions by putting miles behind us. No stopping at every bleeding waterfall and lookout today. We'll make up time while the bad mood persists and drive less when it's passed. By 6:30 pm I'd had enough (even though the kids were doing fine). We'd gassed up in Greymouth, half way up the west coast of the South Island and took the turnoff for the longer, but more scenic ocean road. The sun was blazing in on Shannon as its northerly track stalled and began to sink down into the Tasman Sea. We'd been talking about freedom camping for a week or so and straight ahead of me was a little picnic site, right on the west facing beach. "You guys ready to stop?" "Yeeessss," they answered from the back. Shannon just continued to snore from the front seat beside me.

We pulled off into the basic little parking lot with nothing to offer but a beat up picnic table with one of its benches missing. Deb and the girls went to check out the beach while I got supper going. I was feeling better after a beer and making progress on a pork stir fry when they all returned to the camper in a state of excitement.

"Guess what we found on the beach?" they squealed. "A body?" was my first morbid thought. "Mussels!" they replied before I could inject my dose of sarcasm.

"Are you sure they're mussels?" I asked skeptically. "Yes," they assured me. "There are two local fishermen down there picking them off the rocks and they said they are delicious!"

Ten minutes later the girls retuned with a bowl full of fresh-picked mussels. Feeling my mood improve instantly I chopped up some fresh garlic and ginger, fried it in butter for a few seconds to release the flavour and piled the beautiful creatures on top. I then poured in an inch of seawater straight from the Tasman, and an inch of sauvignon blanc from the Watago Peninsula. The sweet aroma of the freshest of fresh seafood overtook the camper van as soon as the broth began to steam. In three minutes the shells were open and their contents ready to be devoured. We hadn't eaten for 5 or 6 hours so devour them we did. Even Shannon, who is our picky eater, couldn't get enough. Immediately we began calculating the timing of tomorrow's low tide so we could fill our fridge with more for the drive to our next destination.

As if on queue, the sun began to hover over the western horizon as soon as supper was finished. We walked down to the beach for a front row seat on a deserted beach. We chatted about why it took longer for the disc of our star to sink into the sea in New Zealand than on Hawaii or Rarotonga. "What do you mean the earth travels faster the closer it is to the equator Daddy?" Where are the celestial pumpkins, grapefruits and plums when I need them.

This was the authentic experience I'd been aching for this last week or so and it came at just the right time. Don't get me wrong. New Zealand is nothing short of extraordinary. Since leaving Dunedin we have been exposed to the most incredible scenery there is on offer. From the dizzying cliffs and waterfalls of the UNESCO World Heritage designated Milford Sound (not a sound at all but a genuine fjord) to the massive, crunchy and gurgling surface of the Fox Glacier, to the deep gorge outside Queens Town where A.J. Hackett invented and popularized bungie jumping and where many of the scenes of Lord of the Rings were filmed, we have been seriously humbled by this magical island. Having driven nearly two thousand kilometres of its roads, I can honestly say that there is no boring corner of this land. No yawn inducing stretch from Indian Cabins to Grimshaw, or Prince Albert to Montreal (jk boys). It is all magnificent.

But it is a wildly popular tourist destination. And we are not used to being tourists. We are used to finding our own way through nature's wonder and not having them handed to us on a silver platter like they do so well in this fabulous land. That's why tonight felt so special. We stumbled onto an authentic experience that none of us will forget. As I write this entry, the waves of the Tasman Sea are pounding the shore of the west coast of New Zealand right outside our open camper windows. This no longer feels like a lanky tourist contraption. It feels like a space ship that has just touched us down on a strange but wonderful shore.

Tomorrow morning we will sleep until the tide is low and fill our LPG mini fridge to the bursting point with mussels. Then we'll merge back into the tourist traffic on our way to Abel Tasman National Park - a "must do kayaking and hiking destination sure to stir the senses." Bring it on. There will be more grumpy cat days on the road ahead. After a night like this one - I'm up to the challenge. In fact, I might even buy one of those "souvenir photos" that they try and sell you as you exit through the ubiquitous gift shop. It will provide for great memories in years ahead. In the mean time, I'm certain that actually experiencing this night will give it's memory a run for the money when I look back on the photos.