It took a full day of rain (and in NZ a ‘full day of rain’ means 12+ hours of the wet stuff) before the heavens finally dried up on Monday morning, leaving our soggy tent in the middle of one big puddle.
The evening before was marked by the very odd sensation of being on a water bed. Every twist and turn on our sleeping mats sent a squirt of water rushing off to another corner of the ground underneath us. But the tent inside stayed perfectly dry. It’s been our home now for 362 nights. It’s suffering quite a bit of UV damage, general wear and tear and of course those holes the ants chewed back in Thailand and it still held up to a rainstorm. Amazing.
So, after all that rain, when we awoke to deeply grey and cloudy skies we didn’t see the darkness. Just a sky with nothing falling from it and we were off. Out the driveway of the campground we went, past the road to Fox Glacier (closed because of all the rain) and onto the nicely rolling road towards Haast. Just a few minutes into our day, another cyclist approached.
“Good morning!” we shouted at him, waving and ringing our bells.
“You’ve got too much stuff,” he replied, putting his head down and pedalling harder as if to show us that with his mere 2 bags to our 11, he really could go that much faster.
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