Beatrix pottering: 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.