On a clear day you can actually see the South Island from Wellington but the ferry has to navigate through fiords so the journey takes nearly three hours. The day we left the ocean was calm and sparkly as we slowly passed through its massive blue green waters, its sea fresh mist left salty promises on my smiling lips. Jagged kelly green mountains speckled with prickly pines and bright yellow bushes waved us toward them with massive slate arms. Oh to be away from that dreary city of gusts and drizzle!
Once off the ferry we raced through the snakelike overpass pulling over at each lookout, our cameras in hand eager to snap up everything like rabid Japanese tourists. The air smelled alive; bitter and sweet and lingering, dizzying and lovely.
We drove the Queen Charlotte Drive from Picton to Nelson and made our first night in a hostel that smelled strangely like my grandma's house. The weathered, friendly-eyed owner gave us a twin for the cheaper dorm price because he didn't want us to have to stay with a “bunch of blokes”. That night, as I watched the stars from my bed my mind ran rampant with verdant imagination. It feels like the start of an entirely new journey.
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