Oar We Abel?

After 2 months of relentless leg-work, we thought it about time the emaciated, excuses for arms received a bit of a work out. With this aim in mind we rocked up to a kayaking outfitter in Marahau - the gateway to the world famous Abel Tasman National Park (you´ve all heard of it, right?). As we're both experienced sea-kayakers with many days paddling experience on the open seas, - salty, grisly veterans of countless nautical campaigns - we had no problems hiring a big racing-red beast of a 2-man sea kayak for 3 days. The safety briefing consisted of a few wise cracks from a tractor-driving surf-dude and we were off - alone on the ocean. Just us, all alone with a big racing-red beast of a sea-kayak, our complete lack of sea-kayaking experience and not knowing our port from our starboard or our fore from our aft. After a few initial teething problems with Jools paddling rhythm - or complete lack of it - we were on our merry way(in the "divorce boat"), zig-zagging drunkenly along the beautiful coastline.


3 perfect days of perfect peace on a perfectly calm ocean under perfect blue skies, stopping at our pick of picture-perfect deserted, paradisiacal beaches whenever we felt so inclined. Soaking up the warm autumn sun as baby seals flopped about playfully nearby. Drifting serenely past massive seal colonies and vast swathes of fishy-breathed seabirds - listerine minty fresh obviously hasn´t made it to the shag colonies at the outer reaches of South Island yet.


All in all, a perfect 3 days - well it would have been if it hadn´t been for that pesky eejit with the Fame fixation.

"..I´m gonna live forever
I´m gonna learn how to fly
High!.."











Kayaked-out, we headed up to the far north of the South to sit on more picture-perfect beaches and soak up more sun in a region that´s renowned as the sunniest in New Zealand.










Cribbage Update: Remember, remember, remember, remember, remember......