Marlborough Sounds and the End of the South Island ~ Derek's Travels

I spent another uneventful day in Motueka with mundane tasks like grocery shopping and doing laundry, but the larger grocery store once again gave me the opportunity to stock up on some rare items in these parts, including some more taco shells and a weak attempt at a meat substitute. Trying to better my previous attempt at ground beef with the can of mince soup, I went with a wheat gluten can that looked promising, based on the picture of the formidable hamburger on the outside of the can. I decided to spend the night back at the same motor camp just South of Motueka where I had stayed in previous nights, so I quickly found my same spot and began the "feast." I found the can opener to pop open the gluten/meat, and I quickly started to question my earlier judgment. The initial smell and look of the light brown clump inside reminded me very, very much of canned dog food, so that wasn't a great start. Getting over the fake meat smell, I dug in to the can and found it to be an odd concoction of somewhat stringy, dry material, so I started scooping away, trying to avoid thinking about the dog food connection too much. Fortunately, I did have another jar of taco sauce, so I thoroughly mixed the two, and it added some flavor and wetness to the gluten, though it was still not the taste that I've been craving. Along with another head of cabbage and the taco shells, it served for two nights of six tacos each, tasting good enough and offering a change from the standard here in New Zealand. So, with the meatless, guiltless energy provided by the gluten, I was on the road again, heading back East across the Northern coastline of the South Island.

I drove back through Havelock, the picturesque, tiny town that sits on a deep green inlet, eventually making its way back out to the Tasman Sea. After a few detours and missed road signs, I passed the town, turned around and finally found the gateway to the sounds of the area, a network of smaller paved and unpaved roads that hug the twists and turns of the sounds and peninsulas that give the area its name. (The Sounds part, not Marlborough - that's British or something) Bending around the tight turns, the road follows the contours of the water, making its way through the side of the verdant forest (partial native, partially pine trees planted for logging) about 50 feet up from somewhat steep, wooded dropoffs down to the water. It is obviously slow going for a bigger vehicle like Willy, but the views are more than enough incentive to take your time and just enjoy the ride ahead. One of the first bed and breakfast hotels that I saw was named The Sounds of Silence, so I of course started singing the song in my head, but I also realized that there were so few cars or anything else around the roads that it was a pretty accurate name for the place. This was away from the main tourist routes, passing by the occasional summer home of well off Kiwis living in other parts during the rest of the year. Prompted by the sign indicating a luxurious hotel down a gravel road, I made my way down to Te Mahia Bay which was a secluded group of coves covered by overhanging ferns and pines, revealing hints of the bright green water and tiny beach below. Following a quick lunch on the serene pier, I moved further down the Kenepuru Sound, stopping around most of the bends for the marvelous views all around. The seemingly endless inlets continued for about three hours before I came to the end of the inlet (and pretty much the paved road) at Kenepuru Head, where I saw a few of the native pukeko birds, which are a navy blue bird with long legs and short, bright red beaks.

At the turnaround, I headed back to an ideal spot that I'd noted along the way. It was a tiny pullout on the edge of the hill around one curve, just wide enough and long enough for Willy to back in between two trees and not hang off the cliff below or stick out into the road, and it had obviously been used for camping before, as you could see hints of tire tracks. The spot was ideal and secluded - a nice place for the second half of my tacos and a peaceful sleep. The overhanging clouds during the evening couldn't hold, and the rain poured down during the night, pummeling the van's roof with large drops filtering down through the branches of the large tree canopy above me. I was also happy that the ground below me was covered with a bit of grass, so that I didn't have to worry about waking up stuck in a mud puddle or anything like that.

The next morning I took my time getting up, enjoying the solitude, silence and beauty of the area before heading to the NE corner of the island for Picton, the quaint harbor town serving as the port for the ferries in between the two islands. A great overhead view of the town was afforded by a few revealing bends in the road, though slightly disrupted by a smaller port for the logging trucks, filled with piles and piles of huge pine trunks. Hearing that the ferry ride was quite scenic, I decided to book one of the midday crossings to get good views of the other sounds that we traversed before getting back to Wellington. I also had to shop around to find the cheapest rate for me and Willy, since the cost of bringing a car across is fairly expensive (about $140 for the two of us). This is no ordinary ferry ride, though. Our ship, courtesy of InterIsland, resembled a cruise ship, with ten stories of parking decks, children's playrooms, movie theater, lounges, bars, restaurants, tvs, and a few observation decks on top. I parked my van in the corner of the parking rows and made my way up to the top just in time to see the behemoth boat quietly drifting away from the dock and the town of Picton. The mix of fluffy white clouds and bright blue sky provided a perfect backdrop for the town as we made our way into the complex system of islands and inlets of green water, surrounded mostly by untouched dark green hills of pine and birch, with a few bare hillsides that had been recently cleared by the logging companies. The brochures all advertise this journey as a destination in and of itself, and it really was a great experience. Taking in all of the views and potential pictures, I hung out mostly on the top deck despite being quite cold in my short sleeved shirt as every around me bundled up in scarves and winter jackets to protect themselves from the strong wind coming off the boat and water, but it is forbidden to return to your car during the ride, so I just had to think warm thoughts and concentrate on the views. An hour into the ride, we finally sighted the open sea for the crossing to the North Island, so I headed below deck to watch a bit of the kids' magic show that proved to be too juvenile for even me (some may have thought that impossible), and then I took in a rugby match on tv before starting to feel the effects of the rougher sea and swaying of the boat. I went back and forth for some fresh air and kept being tempted by the smells of the fries, Indian food and pies from the cafeteria, so I finally gave in and purchased some fries, justifying them by saying that the greasy, salty food would settle my stomach. I don't know if it worked, but I didn't feel any worse, and they sure tasted good. Basically, I think we soon entered the sheltered waters of the bays of the North Island, so the hard part was past, and we curled around the lighthouses, rocks and hills to reveal the relative sprawl of Wellington's buildings and adjoining houses along the mountain ranges that back the city. Soon we were back on the dock, and Willy and I made our departure, heading for the same hostel that I stayed in a few weeks before.