Ngaio Island

Wind and rain lashed against us as we walked from our hostel to our pick up point for the bus. Alex somehow managed to stay upright with the weight of his rucksack when his foot slipped on the wet metal of a manhole cover at the end of a steep street. Some expletives and more rain later we sat damp on the bus, making our way through morning traffic for our ferry to the South Island.

The big white ferry with its streaks of orange rust sat in the grey drizzle of the port. We boarded along a gangway, taking front row seats on the top deck. This gave us commanding views across the bow and out over the waters as we left the port and moved out onto the open water. However after an hour it also gave us a rollercoaster experience as the ferry surged up and down and waves sprayed against the windows. The floor gave way beneath our feet and the room swung back and forth around us. We could only stand this motion for so long before we retreated downstairs to the back of the lower deck where it was calmer. Nausea quickly passed as we moved into calmer waters through the rocky outcrops of the South Island's coastline. Rocks turned to hills covered in alpine forests, the greens contrasting with the blues of the sky and the sea. The sun now shone where it had hidden behind cloud back in the north.

We docked at Picton and returned to the bus to drive to our destination, Kaiteriteri. Due to 'hopping off' the bus and staying in Wellington for the last 3 days we had a new driver, Kane, as well as new fellow travellers on the bus (the majority of those on our last bus had chosen to continue travelling on). However the bus was far less full with only 15 of us in total compared with nearly 35 on our last bus (we also heard today that our previous bus broke down today so luck is with us for now).

The sun remained out as we drove through wintering vineyards and the landscape became reminiscent of that in Montana and Wyoming, USA with cattle farmland against a backdrop of alpine mountains shrouded in mist. The mist grew into a fog, masking the sun to a yellow halo against the silhouette of pine trees on the ridges. The fog grew further around us as we wound our way down through the hills but as we past a shoreline the sun re-emerged on the horizon as it set behind a distant mountain range. With only the peaks of the range visible by the sun's glow, it gave the impression of being the spine of a great beast lumbering through the cloud around it.

We arrived in complete darkness and were immediately surprised by the sounding of an alarm similar to a 1940s air raid siren. Seeing our surprise the receptionist at our hostel explained that this was the rural community's alarm for its fire service as two men sprinted from a nearby bar clearly responding to its call. Wherever the fire was we did not know of it again and it was a quiet night in, in what felt like the middle of nowhere.Read more