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Backtracking
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Well I didn't have the best night's sleep but thats almost to be expected being on the top bunk below decks. I did have my own portholes to peer through but sadly they had to stay closed whilst I slept to avoid gashing my head on the cover's integral wing nuts.
The smell of cooking woke me before seven and after an excellent breaky including fresh fruit salad we wee offered the chance to have a go at the kayaks which were moored alongside us. John was first out and made a beeline for the catamaran and its intoxicated German occupant. He paddled right underneath the offending vesel and wrapped his oar on the boat's underbelly whilst dodging a assorted ropes that hung dangerously close to his head. There was apparently no response.
I headed out with the main pack and was surprisingly considering my inate fear of water, and there was a thousand feet of it just below me. But with my lifejacket I was calm and even managed to get some pictures whilst paddling about the place. The cliffs were forboding from up close and I could make out the sheer drop continuing below the surface. Every now and then I saw ropes hanging from trees. Perhaps for rescue purposes but, this being NZ, they were probably part of some extreme Tarzan/Speedboat thrillride combo. By 9am we had docked, said our farwells to Phil and Helen and were backtracking along the 94 towards Te Anau where we would head south east to Gore, the proposed driver changeover point, and on to Dunedin. I got to be first driver of the day and therefore insisted on making a couple of stops that had been missed the previous evening. After Te Anau the road struck out across farming country, straightened out and tracked the disused rail line for many tedious (by NZ standards anyway) kilometres. & amp; nbsp;
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