This is a stand alone blog. We have done other stuff but this has been the best!

Mike and Patsy have a bach (holiday place) on Lake Rotoiti at St Arnaud in the Nelson Lakes. We decided to go for the day yesterday. Although we have been before we had forgotten how beautiful the drive is. We arrived mid morning and had a coffee on the deck overlooking Mount Robert. We decided the weather was so perfect that we would set off up the mountain and see how we got on.

We set off up Paddy's Track which leads up through regenerating native forest to a series of zig-zags on the face of the mountain. There is barely two feet-I'm talking anatomically, not imperially-of track and much less at times with sheer drops that made my heart pound! Most of you will know my profound fear of heights and if it weren't for Paul's encouragement I might have gone back! The views back over the lake were amazing.

We reached the Bushline Hut at 1300m and stopped for lunch. We'd never seen a 'hut' before and quickly decided that we could never spend the night in one! A trip to the loo was the clinching factor for me. It was, however, a marvellous place to have lunch.

The track continues uphill to within a short stride of the summit of at 1400m. The ridge was just too much for me though and so we continued the circuit which begins to head down again. Nothing could have prepared me for the steep zig-zag descent across exposed cliff faces with drops that would have made anybody pale. At each swithback corner I had to crouch down and with Paul's help, managed to get round onto the next stretch. It was a serious challenge for me. It was made worse by the laying of new stones for the coming summer-loose and lethal!

At one point there was a sign saying 'Please keep to the track'. I practically fell off the edge! It would have been a serious suicide bid to leave the track at all.

When we reached the car again the sense of achievement was huge. It was nothing to do with the climb and everything to do with facing fears. It was a team effort-Paul wouldn't have even gone if it weren't for me and I wouldn't have finished without him.

Later that evening we went down to the lake for a stroll. A couple of teenage lads were there and took delight in showing us the huge eels that live in the lake. Eels don't reach maturity until they are about 90 years old! I feel a life as an eel coming on. 89 years of immaturity sounds about right to me. I took a photo of Paul as he stared whistfully out to Mount Robert across the lake. We drove home in a perfect silence. What could be said at the end of such a day?