Middle Earth

 

As the ferry from Wellington (North Island) entered the South Island Tory Channel, drooping eyelids made drowsy from the gentle sway of the ship as it passed through open ocean, popped wide open as the first rolling hills of Marlborough Sound came into view. A hush fell over the passengers who stood on the observation deck, the view overwhelming any words that might be spoken. Magnificent, majestic, magical—there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to properly describe the scenery. Herman and I have seen many incredible places (Alaska, Norway, California Sierras), but none match the impact of New Zealand’s South Island. It’s no wonder that Peter Jackson chose to film the majority of his signature films in this part of the country.

We spent one night in Picton, where the ferry dropped the car and us off, thankfully without incident. The last time we took this ferry, Herman locked the keys in the car while on the ship, which led to an embarrassing delay while the ferry workers tried to open the door. Nothing like 100-200 pairs of eyes glaring at you to make you wish you could just jump off the side of the boat and swim for shore.

Saturday night, we stayed in Havelock, the green lip mussel capitol of the world, and I have to say that I think we have hopefully reached our low point as far as bad hotel rooms go. Now, I can deal with no TV or a dearth of electrical plugs—even a shower that results in a completely wet bathroom, but when the bed is so bad that finding a comfortable spot qualifies as exercise, I have to draw the line. Although the TV featured quite a few channels, the Internet was useless, which is why this entry and the last blog post are a bit late.

Easter Sunday we took a day long mail boat tour of the Marborough Sound. While we didn’t deliver any mail, we did visit a few remote homesteads. The people who live there have to be very self-reliant, since there are few to no access roads, electricity (most have generators) or communication. The serenity of the environment is quite enticing, but I think you have to be very honest with yourself if you’re capable of such a cloistered lifestyle. There is a family that runs a sheep farm of about 2,000 head in this area. It’s only the husband, wife and two children, one of whom has gone off to school on the mainland. The younger child learns via correspondence courses, which are delivered to her via the mail boat. She will probably join her brother on the mainland when she gets older. The trip also included a look at a green lip mussel farm, complete with raw samples, if you were so inclined.

We are now in Nelson, where we’re taking a day off to catch up on photo and blog uploads. Our room is a major upgrade from the one in Havelock, so we are happy campers. Happy Easter to all who are still celebrating! Until next time.