Gold and green

09:44. That was the time on Jemima's clock when we all finally woke up - we really were tired. A quick scramble to leave the campsite (departure time is 10am), and we settled for the morning in the car park down the road, right next to a brilliant playground. Jemima and Kevin climbed and swung while I did some cleaning and made lunch; and then it was time for our trip.

Kaiteriteri is one of the gateways to the Abel Tasman National Park, a Department of Conservation-controlled area that is reknowned for its bush tramps with glorious views of the gold beaches that fringe the greeny-blue coast. A five day hike being out of the question, we did the next best thing: saw it from a boat. The light wasn't the best for photos, unfortunately, but IRL it was lovely. 

After an enjoyable cruise up the coastline, we got off on the way back down at Anchorage Bay for a swim and a play - cruising is not the best fun for Jemima, but splashing about where a gentle curl of river cuts through the sand into the sea, definitely is. It was a beautiful beach, with rich yellow sand, water almost more green than blue, fringed by bush, no houses visible, completely unspoilt. Jemima's favourite was definitely the little river (and joining in with two slightly older boys trying to dam it with sticks); but Kevin and I were both impressed by the setting - if not by the pesky sandflies, which appear to be an issue in these parts. But nothing's perfect, and this was pretty close.

We even got Jemima swimming in the sea briefly - it was pretty cold; and then I launched myself in with predictable shrieks (they do help). But, as usual, it was amazing once you're in ("you never regret a swim", copyright Richard Klein, a maxim for me now); and weirdly, freezing water then warm air leaves you feeling invigorated rather than chilly. Then back on the boat to Kaiteriteri, past the fur seals, and an hour's hop to a lovely (much more civilised) campsite in Nelson, which we had liked on our way through. Great fish (tarahiki apparently) and chips at the camp cafe, and another day's adventure was over.

 

On the boat:

 

Split apple rock (it's a granite coast, which is apparently why the sand is so yellow, and it creates features like this):

 

 

 

Anchorage Bay:

 

 

Jemima being a seagull:

 

 

 

In:

 

And out:

 

And on the way home: 

 

Seals:

 

 

Back on Kaiteriteri beach:

 

Kaiteriteri Beach to Tahuna Beach Campsite (the cruise was along the green bit above Kaiteriteri):

 

 

A day off

No action today - we were all shattered after so much excitement. A leisurely two hour drive across some forested hills, then past pretty Nelson (three Thai restaurants within 5 minutes - our kind of town), to Kaiteriteri and its Motor Camp. A bit of a contrast to last night - and in fact everywhere we've stayed (the so-called Holiday Parks are more accurately small, landscaped campsites). But this really is a Holiday Park - rows and rows of caravans, motorhomes and tents, with gazebos and barbecues and canoes/kayaks and even motorboats in between. But we have a view of the pretty golden-sand beach; and have had a recuperative afternoon of lounging and sand castles. Back to the action again tomorrow. 

A day off photos too - our phones were out of battery all day after a night without electric hook-up, so stayed in the van. But I have managed to get up-to-date with the photos for "A winery in our finery" and "Messing about in boats". We've just run out of wifi so that's it for photo uploading for now, but I'll carry on when I can...

 

Messing about in boats

New Zealand is known for its outdoors activities: mountain-biking, bungee jumping, hiking (although they call it tramping, which I love), and kayaking. This has been evident from Auckland's plethora of outdoors-y shops onwards; but none of these activities are particularly three-year-old-friendly. Or so we thought. But today, we took Jemima kayaking down rapids.

Ok, they were small. And we were in inflatable, stable kayaks. And, in fact, she was in the instructor's boat, so safe from Kevin and my efforts. But still, today, the Goodwin family kayaked down rapids.

We'd seen a poster for Pelorus Eco Adventures in Havelock, and its emphasis on "no experience needed" and "family friendly" was appealing (and necessary - we have literally no experience) . They did a pick-up from our campsite, so we booked ourselves onto the 1.15 session, drove across to the main site in the morning (parking up on a beautiful river front spot), and readied ourselves for the adventure, slightly nervous (or me at least).

Friendly, competent (and reassuring) Chris, 23, from Blackburn (yes, England) and Janina took us upriver in their van with the kayaks trailered behind; then Janina drove off to leave the van at the end point, while we (suitably fitted with life jackets and helmets, and a special short/ broken-handled paddle for Jemima), carried the kayaks down to the water's edge. And then we were off! 

A bit like it's much better being on the sea in a boat than looking at it from the shore, I can now safely say it is much better being on the river in a kayak than looking at it from the shore. Kevin and I were fairly rubbish at going at any speed in a straight line, but it didn't matter: the river flowed gently but inexorably on; we would keep going forwards, no matter what he and I did. And Jemima was very happy sitting in the bow of Chris's boat, chatting as usual (Chris was wonderful with her), and giving instructions about when to go faster so they remained in the lead. It was beautiful: being on the astonishingly clear water, like glass, with thick untouched jungly vegetation either side and blue sky above. And the odd rapid (aka some faster water with white edges between some small-ish rocks) did add a thrill: I found myself whooping, and not just to amuse Jemima.

After a little while, just as I was beginning to get hot (I kept getting over-enthusiastic and thrashing about like I was in the Olympics), we paddled onto a bank near the stone remains of a bridge. Chris, Jemima and I went for a swim - or rather Jemima got up to her waist then shrieked about it being too cold and had to get out (my attempt to get her to swim by launching her to Chris, like we do in the pool, was unfortunately not successful - but she soon stopped crying...). Anyway, I loved it - so cold it made your skin tingle, and so clear you could see the bottom 3 metres down, but with a deceptively strong current - I had to work hard to get out where we got in.

Back in the boats, we continued on, mainly drifting peacefully but occasionally swooping through rapids - or in a few cases, getting out to push because we'd got stuck. Chris very kindly refrained from laughing, just giving us the odd pointer and suggesting the best line to follow (the rapids felt dangerous enough to be exciting, but not too unsafe - although it would have been a lot more stressful if we'd been responsible for Jemima, and we did occasionally have to rely on some Kevin-strength paddles to get us back on track...). We paddled past, and then under, a waterfall; then down the route of The Hobbit's Barrel Run (yes, another LOTR/Hobbit location, like all the best NZ places). And we took a detour up a joining river to paddle under the suspension bridge we walked over yesterday - and it was even more stunning being in the view rather than just looking at the view (although actually quite hard work going upstream). And then, after three hours, just as Kevin and I were beginning to get a feel for it, and I had finally slowed to the speed of the river, the adventure was over. We beached the kayaks, which Chris then manhandled up the slope; and were driven back, soggy but exhilarated - and converted to messing about on rivers. 

Tea and ice cream in the cafe, hot showers, homemade Spanish omelette and salad, sunset over the peaceful river. A good day.

PS Fact for the day, thanks to Chris: kayaks originated with the American Indians, have tall sides, single-ended paddles, and you usually kneel in them; canoes originated with the Inuit (it used to be a seal skin that held you in), have low sides, double-ended paddles, and you sit in them. Our inflatable craft had high-ish sides, the two boats had different paddles, and we sat in it - so canoe or kayak? We agreed it didn't matter. So here, it's a kayak.

PPS The disadvantage to woodland/ riverside peace: rubbish internet. So I haven't made any progress getting my photos up to date, sorry. Hopefully tomorrow!

 

Our new campsite:

 

 

 

View through our parked front window:

 

Getting kitted out:

 

 

 

On the water:

 

 

Stopping for a swim:

 

 

 

 

Back on the water:

 

 

 

 

Stop 2, the Hobbit location (Jemima by this time dressed in Chris's thermal top - now a dress - to keep warm in her wet sun suit):

 

 

 

 

 

The bridge! And paddling upstream, then back down again:

 

 

 

 

 

Sunset over our motorhome river view:

 

Mussels alive alive-o

New Zealand is too big, and too beautiful; and we are not rushing around people; so we  decided this morning to curtail our ambitions and focus our final two weeks on enjoying the top of South Island. This means we will miss some places we really wanted to see, like Queenstown; but it's 800km from here, it's just too much to do. We will have to come back!

So with this in mind, today we embarked on a potter along the northern coastline to enjoy the views of the Sounds. Back to Picton and a left turn along Queen Charlotte's Drive, a twisty-turny rising and falling road with amazing views of wooded hills across the blue water on our right (a souped-up something or other came roaring past us at one point - I think Kevin had a moment of wishing he wasn't driving a motorhome...). Every corner had another view: an isolated house clinging to the hillside; boats at anchor in a bay with a tiny strip of yellow sand; and endless views of the inlets of hills and sea (and, hurrah, SUN!). And then we reached Havelock, the Greenshell mussel (TM) capital of the world.

So lunch was: of course, mussels, plus some tender calamari (Jemima's favourite), in the pretty garden of a restaurant called - unsurprisingly - The Mussel Pot. The mussels did indeed have green shells, but more interestingly to the eater, they were not only delicious, but ENORMOUS, the biggest mussels I've ever seen - and I lived in Brussels, the home of moules frites. Appropriately fed, we headed for the marina to see about a boat trip - after a morning seeing people puttering about on the water, we wanted to join in.

New Zealanders are so friendly. There was no one around at the marina, so I asked in the Slip Inn. A nice chap behind the bar phoned his manager who's married to a man who gives fishing trips. And he, Ryan, said we could tag along on his trip to collect some loggers from across Pelorus Sound. So ten minutes later we were in a sturdy working boat, skimming across the water, really fast, with the sun shining, the wilderness surrounding us, and the spray flying up - I do love boats. We collected the loggers - two men and a boy, in proper working gear, who didn't seem to mind us interlopers. And on the way back, Ryan stopped to show us the mussel farms.

Huge lengths of rope strung between buoys along the shoreline, with more rope going vertically down between them, all covered in the enormous green mussels. Did we want some for dinner? What could you say?! He strung a grappling hook over the side, fished up a rope, and pulled mussels off by the handful. But, said Ryan with a glint in his eye, there was a price: we had to eat a raw mussel. I love sushi and oysters; I've even eaten raw prawns; but I have to admit being slightly daunted - especially when he cut it open and it was revealed - a particularly big fellow. He took pity and cut it in half, then Kevin and I looked at each other, and got it down us. And actually, it just tasted of mussel, just stronger, a bit chewier, and more salty, with a more lingering mussel aftertaste. Surprisingly not bad - but still better in garlic and white wine. We flew back to shore, took our black bag of stolen produce, and drove off (still tasting mussel) to our campsite.

We have stuck to proper campsites so far, with the provision of playgrounds (and potentially other kids); but tonight we headed for a Department of Conservation campsite next to the Pelorus river. Sadly the main, very pretty site on the bank was full, so we ended up across the bridge in a gravelled clearing, but it still felt a bit wilder. And even better, after Kevin had done a recce, he came back and led Jemima and I down a path through jungle ringing with cicadas to a real rope bridge strung high up across the river. Having extracted promises really please not to jog mummy, we went across - Jemima skipping, Kevin walking, me treading rather more gingerly. But what a view - the same green hills around, and in the valley a milky blue-green river winding its way between craggy sun-bleached rocks. Stunning.

Then back to camp for dinner. We'd given away most of the mussels to the campers next door (too many for us after such a big lunch - they came to say thank you, having  eaten them all raw...). But I cleaned and scrubbed, then steamed and grilled, topped with cheese and lemon and butter (as Ryan had recommended), and they were delicious - out of the nearby sea about three hours before, and accompanied by a Sauvignon Blanc from the nearest town. Not a bad local dinner. And to sleep in the absolute quiet of the woods.

 

Queen Charlotte's Drive, starting from Picton:

 

 

 

 

Lunch:

 

 

 

Boat trip:

 

 

 

 

 

Mussels!:

 

 

 

The swing bridge:

 

 

Dinner - before (less fun...):

 

And after! Much better:

 

Blenheim to Picton:

Picton to Pelorus Bridge: