“thank you for pulling over!!” Josh waved to a campervan as we streaked through the Alpine Pacific Triangle section of Highway 1. We’re headed to Kaikoura, a beach town two hours North of Christchurch on the coast. We’re driving through what looks suspiciously like the Snake River plain, with arid farmland, foothills, and fields of sheep butts (the sheep’s heads are down to their task of grazing). We just left an area where there were wineries on either side of the highway for miles, and I imagined what it would be like if came back here someday, and could afford any of the attractions of the region-- namely, wine. The last couple of days Josh and I have been staying at the South Brighton Motor Camp, sandwiched between the beach at New Brighton and the estuary of the Avon River, on a wildlife preserve. Motorcamps are pretty interesting institutions. The closest comparison in the States is an RV park; indeed, there are several motorhomes and hookups and trailers. But there are also tent sites for rent, in which Josh and I gladly partook. When you rent a tent site, you also have use of the amenities block, which includes showers, a kitchen and sometimes a pricy internet connection or wireless tokens.
Kaikoura, in Maori, means "dinner of crayfish," and I'm hoping to feast on some fresh crayfish when we roll into the little beach town this afternoon.
