I blog today from the fine location of Nelson, top of North Island. The weather is fair but mild, and the streets are buzzing with the sound of a weirdly un-busker like opera singer singing catholic hymns on the corner.
I feel like we have quite a bit to fill in on, so I apologize in advance if any part feels incomplete or lightly brushed over, I assure you it matters not to our enjoyment of such events past.
We take up our story on the road to Milford Sound, a truly delightful drive through cavernous valleys and snow-topped height, complete with overly inquisitive birds and the sound of distant avalanches deep within the range. A spot of sea kayaking didn't go amiss, a leisurely 3 hours of gentle cruising inches above pristine waters gave us such wonders as bottle-nose dolphins, penguins and seals, set in the surroundings of 100m cliffs rising from the waters like cliffs rarely do.
But I digress, we travel on. The setting is Dunedin, and a weekend of the modern spectacle often referred to as rugby is thrown before our very eyes. And what a spectacle it was! A marvelous afternoon spent in line with the try line but this time with a side view was adjourned with a splendid performance from the chaps in white, a thoroughly dicticious and full of flair display it was for all to see. Manu agreed with us after the happennings, that he will preceed (with delight!) to run rather straight and hard towards the channel these Southern lads refer to as 'first-five' upon a chance encounter with our most unfriendly neighbors (the hundred year war and the battle of Agincourt, hurrah!!).
And on! The so-called Wanaka our next perusal. Water seems to be distinctly colder this far from the shores of our great Isle but the settlement does understand that pontoons draw an unwary traveler a-cantering into its waters, with immediate regrets! But a hearty wakening of the lungs none-the-less.
Aha! Snowboarding is a fine art, the royal Tuesday greeted us with a fine day of icy slopes and magical dictations of speed and grace upon a tea tray down steeply inclines. The lift broke at half 3, flippin' kiwis.
But the British heart beats strong! And the Knee joint so badly designed by our marvelous creator held strong with Churchillian-like resolve!!!
And again, we canter forwards! Bring the horses! For the destination is Fox Glacier! Not since the great Lord Scott has such a climb succumbed!! 1345 metres high of a track never the like of which has been seen. No zig-zagging in this land, oh no, for Mount Fox is direct like a mothers scold, and up we went! 8 hours turned quickly into 5 1/2 by the patter of our feet, and so we conquered. Treated with views! Oh what sights! The distant shores of the coast, a splendid glacial bringing, and Mount Cook a-yonder, shielded completely by a thick white fog whiter than snow!
And swiftly as we came we departed. The express to Nelson briefly interluded with a dip in the icy waters of rock falls and a white-bait patty special of the West. The travel was forbidding and the road winding, and lark we miscalculate the expanse of the land! We trundled in half midnight just last night (or this morning, the day here is out by half the world, do you remember the confusion in the halls of science upon the return of the 80 day round-the-world voyager!).
And lo, you are found up to date with our adventuring so far. We hope the ships and carrier pigeons can return our message in such a time to not leave you begging for word of our being.
Andy and Tom x
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