We had a date with a ferry, and our discrimination against the north island would come to a close. The windiest road yet was a proper farewell to the South Island, and I was thrilled we were traveling it in a smaller car versus a campervan. At the town of Picton, not only did ferries come and go but a cruise ship was also in town, and with it many folks looking for souvenirs.
We’d heard the crossing could be a little rough, so T had booked us on the larger ferry. When we queued up, the announcements noted the weather was improving. Leaving the South Island, the ferry exited though a scenic sound, which left it doing a few twists and turns. When we entered the Cook Strait, an announcement suggested all passengers find a seat or the sick bay as indicated! Mind over matter, my grandmother would say, but it seemed more than a few passengers did mind.
We arrived on the North island in about 3.5 hours, and were struck by what a big city Wellington felt like after the last two weeks. Wellington had highways, universities and its own version of Asian night markets with food and few crafts. We took advantage of a night out on the town, and debated our next steps.