Setting forth in the early morn from Wellington, my new mates Curtis, Astrid, Anika, Davin and I were among the first in line for the early morning BlueBridge Ferry across the Cook Strait.
After tee-heeing at the coicidental firm titles, the ferry journey took a turn for the worse, as the winds from the world's windiest city made for a ferry ride too bumpy for my stomach.
I eventually resigned myself to sleep and woke up just in time for a chocolate delicassy and a view of the South Island under a newly-clearing sky. A few photo snaps and we landed in Picton.
Not much to do there but wait for our new bus - Anna the Bus! - and head on out for Nelson.
The clearing sky brought a strong summer sun and 40 warm bodies under 31 degree heat proved a bit much for our new friend Anna the Bus, as we needed to stop at a turnoff before climbing the final hill into Nelson. Many passers-by honked for approval or rage or funsies until a Magic Bus finally pulled over to see what was the matter. Plenty of time to let the engine cool down and an unconventional start in reverse and we were back on the road, shaky in confidence about our new transportation.
During the last third of the ferry ride - the conscious part - I met a lady from Germany named Mel. Mel was in New Zealand for a fun trip and to work on her fledgling English skills. She and I agreed that I would help her learn English in return for a few pointers on my German. I had a bus buddy for the better part of the next week, and while the German lessons were on the back-burner, Mel showed steady progress, and I helped her complete her first full English-language phone conversation today with a booking agent in Wanaka. Yay!
Nelson was a drop spot for a few of our travelmates, including Bart, the middle-aged Dutch fellow who had been our chief for the Haka in Maketu and was the last person from the original gang of 39 that departed with Curry and I from Auckland the previous Thursday. A fresh slate of faces all around, though the four companions from the museum and my new pupil seemed to gel together rather quickly.
Last stop before Marahau in Abel Tasman National Park was a New World supermarket in Motueka. An hour to scrounge for 3 days worth of food and hop back on the bus for the final leg of the day's journey... That is, if both of Anna's batteries hadn't died in the parking lot.
$40 per person worth of meat, pasta, and perishables simmering quietly on the tarmac and a half bus load of young men to push while the ladies took pictures. All for naught.
After calling in for backup batteries, we finally made it, late and hungry, to Marahau. Davin and I had decided to do a morning Kayak trip before I was off to pilot a stunt plane back at Motueka airport. All well and good, but as the trip would be an early start, we had to check in and pay the night before. All of Anna's problems meant we kept a grumpy kayak rental staff up past their bedtimes.
Speaking of bed, a feast of corn and chicken with mussels at The Barn hostel preceded entering the strangest dorm of the trip. The dorm was in an open-concept main floor building, smack in the middle and under the stairs, with eight beds set up coffin-style set into the woodwork of the near wall. Each person had a curtain to protect themselves and their valuables, and not much else as there were no locks or keys on the doors, and even the communal computers were lefte exposed to the night air. An odd accommodation to be sure, but most of us were too tired to complain about it. We met an Irishman named Kevin in our communal kitchen after re-packing our supplies and a quick snack did the trick to send us all to dreamland.
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