The birdsong in New Zealand can be a full on avian symphony. Mostly melodic, sometimes trill. I’ve heard birdsong that’s both jubilant and cheery. The chorus welcoming warmth and light each morning. There aren’t many indigenous mammals here so the birds are greatly valued.

So why do so many people choose to walk around the countryside like DJ Snoopety Slim, wired for sound with headphones the size of monster Krispy Kreme doughnuts? It saddens me that the natural song is ignored. There’s a time and a place for blocking out nature or listening to music or podcasts. Take time to listen to the birdsong. Who knows how long it will still be there. And it’s more heart warming than a whole heap of the human noise thats out there at this time in history.

We’re currently in the Marlborough Sounds. Hands up if you’re sailed here before. It’s bloody difficult. That’s our assessment.
Not just the sailing but picking a protected spot for the night. In our experience it feels almost impossible to predict which way the wind will blow. The forecast says southerly 20 to 25 so we pick a place to stay overnight which everywhere else in the world should offer good protection. The wind will blow from every which way. Strong gusts followed by eerie calm. The geography of the Sounds creates funnelling, localised intense winds that seem to come from random directions, blast their worth then disappear as quickly as they arrived.

As beautiful a place it is, we’re finding it hard to love as it’s flipping hard work being so erratic. We’ve moved around 4 mooring balls in one hook of a bay this morning, thinking the one we were on was getting particularly splatted. But in checking out the others, they too were blasted, but from different wind directions. Tricky.

Last weekend we took a road trip south to meet up with friends in Canterbury. We stayed in an off grid cabin, walked up a big (ish) hill, Little Mount Peel, swam in the river and had a campfire. Some might say primitive. I prefer wholesome.

We travelled back across Arthur.s Pass, having a night in the village. It’s a pretty small one street place but back in the early 1900’s the village exploded into life as an 8.5km rail tunnel was constructed through the hill. Digging and blasting was from both ends with a reported mismatch of just 29mm when the two ends met each other. Impressive.

Through goes another windy blast. The boat has just twirled around, We’re hunkered down here in Ketu Cove in Pelorus Sound. Can’t hear any birds. It’s too noisy.