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Saturday 24 November 2007

Paddling in Marlborough sound

Time goes by and here we are again at the north end of the south island. A little bit less than three weeks we live at a high rate. But how could it be in another way when we thing about all the activities and the diversity of the landscapes that form this island?
From the landing stage of Picton, we distinguish the endless comings and goings of the ferries. Two companies, Blue Bridge and Inter Islander share the juicy business of the cruises between the two islands. But before driving northwards to Auckland, we decide to spend a few days here. Not to vegetate in the quiet streets of the village but enjoying this time in a kayak.
A 3-day short expedition. We fill the waterproof compartments with some food and camping gears and we leave the beach to venture on to the fjord. The first part consists in crossing the sound that separates us from the opposite bank. Trees and shrubs brush against the water. The shore is a heaven of curves, twists and creeks. A delicately chiseled scenery where numerous small beaches interrupt the greenish tangle of the vegetation. A brown rock sometimes breaks through the green curtain and displays its set of mussels which delights us more than once. One of these short beaches welcomes us for the lunch.

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With the stomach full, we start again for a short stage towards another creek and another beach where we set up the camp. First night in the greenery of Marlborough Sound.

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The next morning, we take down the tent, we divide the load into the waterproof compartments and start again for the coastal discovery. A slight ripple sprays us and a morning breeze makes our paddling more difficult. We explore the jagged coast outline and row up to the end of the fjord where we set up our tent on a new beach. A relaxed night sandwiched by the calm water of the sound and the emerald fence of the forest.

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Third and last day, we paddle into every creek that leads us to Picton. The coastal contour sometimes belongs to rich Neawzealanders where a big villa looks over a private beach and a wooden landing stage. We hop off the kayak on a last beach for a delicious lunch. Pleasure of these last spots of nature before going back to the pier.

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Wednesday 21 November 2007

Visual hunt of the sperm whales in Kaikoura

The car is nice this morning. Our calves relax while we leave the distorted land of the middle of the southern island. Towards the beach and the Kaikoura peninsula. Talk about it to the whales lovers, they'll know what it is about.

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A few kilometers away from the coast, a great fault dips the sounder waves more than 1000m deep. A depth where the abyssal creatures swim in a black and silent world. A dark and unknown world which keeps the greatest legends going.
A boat agency has the monopoly on the cetacean watching and on the price too. Through a sonar, they pinpoint the sea mammals and then, head towards the echo. A spray of water pops out the vast blue expanse and like kids, we dash towards the balustrades to watch the beast. A smooth and shining hump goes beyond the ocean surface. The giant of the sea stores cubic meters of air for half an hour. Then, its powerful tail rises and the animal dives for several hours. We'll see three sperm whales with the same emotion.
On the way back, dolphins swim close to us and play with stem of the boat. Some of them jump off into the air before returning to the pack. Everybody is on the deck and hounds the fleeting appearance of the bottle-snouted animals.
The dolphins swim away and we get in the pier. After this fascinating interlude, we walk again on the terra firma.

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Tuesday 20 November 2007

The exhausting ascent of Avalanche peak

It turns out to be hard to make a choice between the appealing sceneries of the coastal road and the voluptuous curves of the asphalted ribbon that opens to the mountains of the middle of the island. At the chance of a bend, we turn on the left and dip again into the New Zealand Alps for a day. A blend of wooden houses mark the boundaries of the Arthur's Pass village. A small fistful of tourists converge here, most of them tempted by the ascent of the 1000m-overhead Avalanche peak.
The next morning, we start the ascent. Some portions liken more to rock-climbing than trekking and require a high caution. The climb seems endless. The calves burn and the water leaks through our pores to cool down the machine. Our eyes look upwards and hope for a little bit of flat land at the end of the visible path. But, after a curve, the nature makes fun of us and keeps on with an even more difficult slope. The ascent goes on and on. Then, the continuity of the forest suddenly ends and a barren hill, incrusted with patches of snow rises above the clouds. The fist up, we enjoy the last meters of the ascent. The nature, after being so exhausting, cheers us up with a panoramic vista.
A tongue of clouds devours the valley, the snow softens the raw lines of the mountains and a keas' family celebrates our arrival.
Some landscapes are picked thanks to numerous aches and repeted efforts. A shooting screenplay for masochists that finishes with a happy end : an inexpressible excitement where we are perched on the summit.

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