Ferry Crossing, Picton & Nelson - 2nd March 2009
We're up at 6am for our 8.30am ferry, as it's 7am check-in and a 40 minute drive to the port. I'm worried that we'll oversleep, so much so that I manage to wake up early and for once be really bright and breezy first thing, which pleases a still-trying-to-sleep-because-the-alarm-hasn't-gone-off-yet Dave no end.
Calming Dave by reminding him that the showers here are good and hot, we are both ready to rock, and drive off to the ferry port, getting there in plenty of time, and checking in and driving on to the boat without incident.
We look for a quiet spot in one of the lounges to settle for an hour or two until the views start to get interesting. However, it is not to be - there is a huge contingent of fourteen and fifteen year olds coming our way, all on a school trip and determined to chatter and giggle as loudly as possible for the duration. Resigning ourselves to our karmic fate following our humbugging of the previous Friday's party, and deciding that it's between a rock and a hard place, since every other lounge is seemingly filled with screaming toddlers, we settle in to watching the complicated social rituals and interactions of teenagers take place.
I feel like I'm watching an Attenborough special as Dave whispers a commentary in my ear - the popular girl who wilts and then sulks as soon as she is no longer the centre of attention, the shy girl who just sits and watches her in awe, the post-pubic lads who are content to listen quietly to their i-pods, waiting for something interesting to happen; the girl who gets b****ed about every time her back is turned, who appears to be on a mission to spend all of her holiday money on sushi and postcards. It beats watching the hour-long acne crème advert that's showing on the big screen televisions!
However, just as they start to quieten down, beautiful views of the Marlborough Sounds start to pop up out of the windows. We walk to the deck and Dave is happy snapping away - that is, until his glasses spontaneously fall apart. He puts his sunglasses on as a temporary measure, and we enjoy the beautiful sights for a while longer, until we are summoned to our vehicles.
Giving a lady who feels that it is appropriate to open her 4x4 door right into ours the evil eye (no harm done to the spaceship, and we are later amused when she forgets to avoid eye contact, or that we can see her, and starts picking her nose), we glide off the ferry and onto the South Island.
Stopping briefly in Picton to pick up a cheap glasses repair kit for Dave, and to admire a beautiful example of a mint green split screen VW camper that is parked up next to us, we fix his goggles and we're off, ready to investigate the South Island.
Our first planned stop is Nelson, and we chose the scenic route along Queen Charlotte Drive so that we can start to get a taste for the scenery. It's lush, green, forested hills, very, very winding roads and sharp drops down to bright turquoise waters and brown sands below. We stop off in a few spots to ogle the view a bit more and get some snaps, but after being immediately surrounded each time we pulled off the road by at least four or five other vans and rental cars, we decided to wait until the crowd had thinned out a bit before we stopped again.
A little frazzled but in awe of this lovely country, we arrive in Nelson. Our campsite is just out of town, and very cheap at $16 a night. However, we soon find out where they have made their savings - the bathrooms are very communal and a bit grubby, with warning signs not to be sick in the toilets (?), and it's $2 a pop for a mediocre shower. We do get to park up right next to a field of sheep though, although they don't appear to be too interested in us, and there are lots of long termers camping here - some with trucks converted into house-vans, complete with the prow of small sailing boats used as part of their roof, stained glass, and full-sized wooden house doors at the back porch entrance.
The next morning, we stop by in Nelson. We admire the oldest complete street in New Zealand at South Street: lots of dinky clapperboard houses, most of which are now holiday rentals, and also walk around the cathedral - building started in the 1920's, and finished in the late 1960's, resulting in a real mish-mash of architectural styles. After getting really bad service in the normally reliable Subway (two semi-frozen meatballs, torn bread and wilted salad with your rude and careless service anyone?), we're off to Punakiaki to see the mysterious pancake rocks...