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Published: November 22nd 2005
After saying goodbye to Reg, we jumped on the ferry, off to the southern 'party' island.
We arrived in Picton at around 4, after gliding across the Cook Straight, though the Marborough Sounds.
Our South Island steed was a little younger and classier than Reg and so we christened him Walter, which seemed to us to fit like the proverbial glove; his windscreen is chipped and cracked like mad though, so I know that it's only a matter of time till it falls through on us mid-motorway - joy.
We stopped in Nelson, at the Palace Backpackers Lodge - the weirdest, but more characterful lodge yet. It's kind of a cross between a Disney haunted house and Mrs. Madrigal's towering apartments described in Maupin's 'Tales Of The City'; full of winding corridoors, oak panels and verandas with a pale blue wood exterior finish.
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