On our way up the east coast, we passed two girls on the side of the road. Despite neglect from every car and backpacks that were clearly too heavy for them, they waved their cardboard “Christchurch” sign while flashing cheerful thumbs and hopeful smiles. I thought the whole gig was cute and chuckled as we drove by, but moments later I realized there was no reason not to take them: we were headed for Christchurch, we had plenty of room, Tanya and I had run out of things to talk about, and they certainly didn’t look like scheming axe murderers. To their surprise, we turned around and welcomed them into Moses.

They were from Sweden and their names were Leena and Steena – no joke. They got super excited when I exclaimed that I was Swedish as well, but then soon realized I meant that I could count to ten and have distant relatives in some small town. We swapped travel stories and compared notes on New Zealand. I was happy to hear Leena (or was it Steena?) say that South America is “the new Southeast Asia” in the backpacker circles.

We reached Christchurch in no time, where we unloaded our hitchhiker friends before continuing on to Kaikoura. It’s easy to lose track of time in the evenings, for it stays light until 9:30 during the summer. It wasn’t until we were deep into the mountains that we realized Moses was running low. When the dashboard light illuminated, we were 70km away from Kaikoura and had to decide whether to pull over for the night or risk rolling backwards down one of the many steep hills. Impatient to complete the day’s journey and faithful in the might of Moses, we pushed on. Although the lights of the city seemed forever far, and although the first gas station we found was closed, we made it. In my book, the 70km to Kaikoura is up there with the miracle of Channukah.

Since I had booked a whale-watch for 6:15 the following morning, it made sense to sleep in the parking lot. Besides a midnight train that sounded horrifyingly close, it was a normal night. I rolled out of bed and checked in hours later.

I went on a whale-watching trip with my elementary school years ago. It was cold, windy, rainy, and miserable. When a whale was spotted, most of us were staring at the bottom of a white bag. And if we did make it outside, a splash miles away was the reward.

I decided to try again, however, with hopes that the country from “Whale Rider” would have a better operation. Within the first 10 minutes, there were 2 sperm whales (hehe) so close that I didn’t need to zoom in with my camera. Our guide announced when they were about to dive under, so nearly everyone returned to their seats with perfect pictures of the tails. The hunt resumed and 2 more of the massive mammals were found. On the way back, dolphins stole the show with aquatic acrobatics. It was magical…and a relief to know that whale-watching didn’t always involve barf and binoculars.


Places to go, people to see. After my ocean excursion, we continued on Highway 1. In two days, we drove the length of the entire South Island. In Nelson, an artsy town on the north coast, we stopped by Tanya’s uncle’s house to chat for a few hours. Tanya then showed me where she set her grandma on fire (don’t ask) before we found a nice spot to spend the night.

Last but not least: Happy Valentine’s Day! I understand that the flowers and chocolates might take a while to find the campervan, so thank you all in advance.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 14th, 2006 at 10:09 pm in XVI. NZ. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.