We had a little burst of outdoor activity. Our kiwi friend Debs came to stay and we went up Mount Herbert. It required getting the hourly ferry service across Lyttelton harbour to the other side of the bay. It wasn’t until just before 10am. We had loads of time to get our act together but somehow we almost missed it.

It was a bit of a slog up across farmland to the highest point on the Banks Peninsula, rewarded by far reaching views and a cheese and pickle sandwich. I’m always amazed at how quickly I cool down and can get instantaneously chilly once the top is reached. That extra jacket and hat were needed even though the hill isn’t super high at 919m and it was a sunny-ish day.

We then headed down to Oamaru in a hire car. Dave had a dentist appointment there and we planned a few days away. There wasn’t a definitive plan, the weather would dictate. We had car camping stuff. Our thin £5 Aldi sleeping bags ruled out any camping but we had kit for staying in huts.

A fun time was had. A night with Rob and Kate, a night in the New Zealand Alpine hut just below Mount Cook village, a night and Twizel and some time in a hut above Ohau lake.

We climbed, (well I did one and then went for a walk up to the Tasman Glacier while Dave and Rob cracked on with some harder routes). Sebastopol Bluff sits just below the village at Mount Cook with great views upto snow capped peaks. The location is stunning, catches the sun and felt, at least to me, quite adventurous as it’s a while (years) since I shared a hanging belay.

The following day, Dave and I then took the hire car as far as we could along an off road track reducing the walk in towards the hut. It was all good until it wasn’t. The gravel track dropped down into a river bed. I hopped out to check the clearance underneath the vehicle as Dave inched forward. I glanced back and the car was on three wheels. At this point the excess damage charges on the hire car loomed large so we decided to park up and walk.

We cranked the fire up in the hut till it was good and warm. The four others there all had good quality down sleeping bags so likely had a very very warm night. Our Aldi specials did the job and we both had a warm night. Note to self. Bring down sleeping bags back to the boat from the UK when we next fly back.

The joy of steps. These are four words I’ve never previously considered joining together in a sentence. I said “hi’ to a woman as I walked into town in Lyttelton. She had just descended a set of concrete steps by the port. Beaming she said, “Hi, these steps are just brilliant, they’re lovely to walk down. In fact I’m going to go up and come down again”.

And off she went to repeat her descent, full of happiness and joy. That was the extent of our interaction. My usual random and often benign chitty chat conversations share a fine view or cracking weather. Steps. That was truely a first and I loved it. Later that day, curiosity got the better of me so I checked out the steps myself, and blow me, the riser – tread relationship was indeed perfect. Her words were truely spot on.

Grace’s photo made the local press in Oamaru. It must have been a slow news week. If I recall correctly the words said something akin to ‘she’s a beauty’. Well that’s kind but the dock where we were tied was a pig. Even on a quiet weather day there was surge coming in under the dock and Grace would ride backwards and forwards straining her lines. And I was somewhat paranoid about our shiny paintwork and wooden piles and grimy tyres. Even with fender boards it was bum clenching.

In the end we went to anchor opposite the entrance but muddy as the floor was, it was the ‘wrong type of mud’ and we couldn’t get the anchor to set. So we then anchored just off the moorings further into the harbour. The anchor was grand there but it was all a little tight with not enough swinging room so we ended picking up a mooring that the harbourmaster had told us wasn’t big enough for Grace. And we were fine as the wind had dropped by then.

So Oamaru was a bit of a kerfuffle. We did however catch up with our ping pong UK friends Rob, Kate and family who pinged back to the UK last August, planning on recreating a life there only to pong back to NZ in February. Apparently ping pong Brits are a thing here.

Rob came aboard and helped us sail about 45 miles down to Dunedin. Grace was flying in probably 30 knots by the time we came through narrows towards Port Chalmers. Can’t say exactly as our wind instruments arn’t currently working. Three reefs in the main and a well reefed headsail were all we had up. It was good fun and lovely to have Rob on board for the day.

Kate drove down to meet us but we couldn’t launch the dinghy for an hour as we waited for the wind to abate. The pub called. We had dinner. I had intensely glowing red cheeks.

The wind stayed high for a few days. Enough to tip the dinghy upside down. We went ashore for a walk and on our return, the dinghy was half on, half off the dock, the outboard submerged under the water. Arse. We rowed home and Dave worked on the engine the following day and managed to get it running.

And we rubbed shoulders with some You Tubers. We last saw Colin and his catamaran, Parlay Revival in Panama. They’d just been struck by lightening the day we saw them. We stopped by to say hi and blagged a cuppa. He’d managed to blag a go on one of the Sail GP boats that had been racing the previous weekend in Lyttelton. That’s what fame can do for you. He described it as incredible. I’m paraphrasing there.