We had less than a day to go in Oxford and at this point, surveying our impossibly long list of last-minute jobs, we were pretty exhausted. ‘Plan A’ saw us settled into our new home within 36 hours, living the D’Urville high-life (Sleeping-in and ignoring the unpacking), all we had to do was power through until then. Or so we thought.
Danny’s mission, with the help of Heron, was to take a small mountain of our stuff (including a chest freezer and washing machine) and make it fit into our trailer—how he managed this without the aid of a magic wand I’ll never know. Meanwhile, I was in charge of a last clear and clean of the house which was only made possible by a team of very best friends, you know who you are!
It was about mid-morning when we felt an ominous spit of rain and realised that it hadn’t occurred to either of us to check the forecast. On close inspection, I reassured Danny that rain wasn’t due until tomorrow, thank goodness. Upon which he pointed out that tomorrow was when we were supposed to cross French Pass via barge, traverse the steep four-wheel drive track leading down to our new house, and unload all our stuff off the trailer. We checked the forecast for Marlborough and sure enough, it was worse.
Okay, new mission: beat the rain!
Instead of staying the night at a friend’s place and leaving early, we decided we would pack, clean, shampoo carpets, round up children from various houses, grab takeaways (in lockdown level-2), and drive through the night to French Pass (stopping for sleeps when needed) to catch the barge at dawn – or as early as it would meet us. Granted, it wasn’t the grand farewell we had in mind, but we were more than eager not to get stuck on an isolated hillside with a soggy trailer load of our gear.
Ten hours later we were shoe-horned into the Ute along with everything that didn’t make it into the trailer—cat bowl, hammer, sleeping bags, fridge stuff, bruised apples—and were heading out of Oxford. I had Freda, our cat, in a carry box on my knee and my feet jammed in at right angles. I was running over the logistics of toilet stops in my head—surely it would be feasible to ban everyone from getting out until we arrived?
Bracing for the worst with tired and excited kids—and parents—we actually had an idyllic trip up the east coast and through Kaikoura. There is that soothing something about driving at night that worked in our favour. Danny was awake and alert and, although there was a tense moment where he was denied coffee in Blenheim thanks to lockdown shenanigans, he kept us smoothly heading North.
Of course, the darkness meant we missed the rivals-the-best-in-the-world spectacular views, but the flip side was that we didn’t get any of the predicted car sickness on the rivals-the-worst-in-the-world winding roads. I don’t think I could have dealt with puke in the car at that point.
We got to French Pass at 2.30 am, tired but intact. We could sense the quiet hulk of our goal looming beyond the shore in the darkness but could go no further without the barge. So, making ourselves as comfortable as possible, we attempted to get some sleep. All five of us, plus a pussy cat (still on my lap) and all our stuff, parked up at the boat ramp in the middle of the night!
Around 3.30 am, Heron quietly negotiated her way outside and whispered that she would just wait out on the beach as she couldn’t face being in the Ute any longer. Danny, being more lucid than I, grabbed a few sleeping bags and went out to sleep side-by-side with her on the sand. It was early winter but thankfully not too cold or damp and they probably got more sleep than me and the boys in the end!
So it was in a daze that we finally found ourselves shivering onto the barge at 7am and watching the Island emerge out of the dawn light, tall and rugged. The next phase of our life. It was a magical moment, held up mostly by adrenaline.
We found our way along the gravel road as if we were navigating a lost world—and when the rain did come down in sheets later that day, we hardly noticed because we were all unconscious in bed with our stuff safely off the trailer and under cover, awaiting another day!
- Why the Mumma learned to motorbike
- From Private Bag to doorstep: the epic journey of our mail
- Sourcing our drinking water from the top of a waterfall—now that’s refreshing!
- How to hang out washing in 60 km/h winds
- We found the best use for a mussel buoy—ever!
- What we caught in the pig trap (hint: It wasn’t a pig!)
This is great. I have the woodstove burning, a hot cuppa tea, and settled in for an afternoon read. Rethenwyn, you have a way of captivating me the reader with your storytelling.
Thank you Angela! I want to be by your fire with a hot cuppa too! xx