South Specific

Christchurch is regarded as New Zealand's most English city, and a single glance at the layout of its commercial centre is enough to understand why. True, the streets form a rather new-world style uniform grid, but the grey-brick gothic architecture of the arts centre and the cathedral, favour a more English style than the colonial trappings of Auckland or Queenstown. Additionally, the shallow river which snakes its way through the city centre is named The Avon and flanked by streets named after Oxford and Cambridge. Just to rub it in further, it comes complete with punts. Christchurch isn't simply the most English of New Zealand's cities, it's also the most home counties.
I arrive on the last plane of the evening from Auckland and meet Tamsin in the lounge of the Rolleston House YHA. She has been here for four days on her own, while I pursued a paltry two-day work contract in Auckland to help fund the trip we shall be taking in the following three weeks.
Enthusiastic suggestions to find food are hampered, however, by my late arrival. Timing things poorly once more, it is Race Night at Christchurch and by the time we set off into town, every place selling food seems to have shut up shop so that the staff can spend more time propping up the bar with all the other revellers. We resort to fast food instead and while waiting for burgers to be passed across the counter towards us, a cheery young man tries to sell us some lettuce. We decline politely.
"I like it here." Tamsin observes as we leave, "Even the drunks are lovely."

The original planned route for our trip was to take us in a broad loop covering much of the South Island from Christchurch to Christchurch, however a glitch in the system means that we have been left to find our own way to the north coast of the island, so a late night is not in order given that we now find ourselves with a seven o'clock bus journey the following morning.
This change of plan means that we are missing one day of the trip, a day which should have been spent in Kaikoura, a small strip of a town on the East coast which offers choice activities such as whale spotting and swimming with dolphins. Our back-up bus stops here briefly and gives us the chance to decide - in a particularly fox/grapes sort of way - that the water looks very cold and the whole experience would probably be a disappointment anyway. Instead, we have lunch at a pleasant little café, which sells us a hunk of freshly baked bread each, and then we hop back on the bus to set off towards Picton, our destination for the evening.
Picton is the 'maritime gateway to South Island', so termed because it houses the port frequented by the inter-island ferry from Wellington. Our guidebook describes the town as a 'sleepy little place which becomes a hive of activity when the ferry arrives', but as far as I could tell, the town wakes up grudgingly when the ferry intrudes on its sleep, before dozing off contentedly once more.
The weather when we arrive certainly bodes well for the trip: a bright sun lights up a rich blue, cloudless sky as we hulk our rucksacks towards our accommodation of choice. Sequoia Lodge is a cheerful and very friendly backpacker's hostel which to our considerable delight, seems to have replaced its advertised 'giant chessboard' with a much more sensible spa pool.It is still fairly early in the afternoon when we arrive, and having dumped off our bags, we take a walk up the forest-covered hill overlooking the town. From the top, the viewpoint gives a good idea of how Picton Harbour is arranged: a broad and jagged estuary eventually leads to the Cook Sound, crowded along the route are rolling hills which drop down into the glorious blue swell of the sea. A series of long-distance walks follow the peninsula Northwards, but we are booked on a walk further south, and with the bus arriving to pick us up the following afternoon, we do not have time to explore too far afield. The hilltop walk is a good substitute though.
"Practice." Tamsin puts it with satisfaction when we reach the top. "Although The Milford Track is a valley walk, right?"
I look at the view.
"Look at that view." I say.