After a night in the small town of Nelson, where we camp in the car park of a cozy hostel with wood fires and chocolate pudding in the evening, we head up to the very north western corner of the South Island.
Cape Farewell was named by explorer Captian Cook in 1770, presumably as he was leaving it. We park in a very populated sheep field, complete with frolicking spring lambs and make the short walk to the cliff top, where I battle against the wind for a picture of the stone arch way.
Red faced and temporarily deafened by the strong winds we retreat around the headland to rhe more sheltered Wharariki beach. Again it is reached via a walk through sheep filled fields which give way to pine forest and then opening up onto huge sand dunes, so high I can't see the beach beyond them. The beah is perfect - vast and clean, there are seals playing in the shallows, piles of smooth driftwood, arches and stacks just off shore and, because its a bit of a grey day, there is no one else there.
We a couple of hours on the beach, running up and down the dunes, building driftwood sculptures and trying to catch pictures of the seals - who refuse to do more than stick a flipper out of the water, as if doing handstands. As the weather closes in we head back along the track to the car park and notice more seals playing in the river that leads down to the beach.
Our final stop before it gets dark is the 25km of sand which make up Farewell Spit, also named by Captain Cook. The entirety of the sand bank is a nature reserve for over a hundred bird species ans as such we're only allowed to walk along the first four kilometers unless in a guided tour unfortunately the shape of the coast line, which looks like a Kiwi bird on the map, confuses whales, causing regular beachings and subsequent rescue operations.
Tired and hungy from lots of fresh air and fun, we stop at The Mussel Inn on the way back to our campsite. The pub has an open fire place, huge oak tables, board games and home brewed ales. I know I should try a plate of local mussles but I whimp out and opt for a steak and ale pie instead.
Cape Farewell was named by explorer Captian Cook in 1770, presumably as he was leaving it. We park in a very populated sheep field, complete with frolicking spring lambs and make the short walk to the cliff top, where I battle against the wind for a picture of the stone arch way.
Red faced and temporarily deafened by the strong winds we retreat around the headland to rhe more sheltered Wharariki beach. Again it is reached via a walk through sheep filled fields which give way to pine forest and then opening up onto huge sand dunes, so high I can't see the beach beyond them. The beah is perfect - vast and clean, there are seals playing in the shallows, piles of smooth driftwood, arches and stacks just off shore and, because its a bit of a grey day, there is no one else there.
We a couple of hours on the beach, running up and down the dunes, building driftwood sculptures and trying to catch pictures of the seals - who refuse to do more than stick a flipper out of the water, as if doing handstands. As the weather closes in we head back along the track to the car park and notice more seals playing in the river that leads down to the beach.
Our final stop before it gets dark is the 25km of sand which make up Farewell Spit, also named by Captain Cook. The entirety of the sand bank is a nature reserve for over a hundred bird species ans as such we're only allowed to walk along the first four kilometers unless in a guided tour unfortunately the shape of the coast line, which looks like a Kiwi bird on the map, confuses whales, causing regular beachings and subsequent rescue operations.
Tired and hungy from lots of fresh air and fun, we stop at The Mussel Inn on the way back to our campsite. The pub has an open fire place, huge oak tables, board games and home brewed ales. I know I should try a plate of local mussles but I whimp out and opt for a steak and ale pie instead.
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