Feeling slightly bored on my last night in Queenstown, I decided to head out for one last walk around and this was when I stumbled over the casino. I ventured inside to check it out and unsurprisingly it was full of people of oriental descendent spending preposterous amounts of money at the various tables. When I say preposterous, I mean damn right ridiculous. After the eye-opening session I made my way back to the hostel to chat to a few of my roommates before bed.

The next day saw me leave Queenstown and head out of Otago towards Canterbury. I cleverly chose to sit on the left-hand side of the bus and it was from this side where all the spectacular views could be best seen. These included ones of Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest mountain and one notorious for its changing climate which catches many climbers out. After a few picture stops along the way it was time for me to jump off at a small town called Geraldine. It was here where I was picked up by a very pleasant gentlemen who transported me to the Rangitata Rafting lodge.

 The lodge is set on the land of one of New Zealand's largest cattle stations and the area the station controls is about the same as Cornwall. Okay, slight exaggeration, make that Oxfordshire.

The lodge was still being manned when I arrived but it soon transpired that all the workers left the lodge on the night and that it would be mine for the evening, all mine. It was spectacular. It looked out over the gorgeous Rangitata valley and came with the essential log-fire to keep warm. Sitting down on the decking to look out over the land, my peace and quiet was disturbed by two lots of campers who were to join me the next day. They were both in their own campervans and so I was still able to run around naked in the lodge, but I did have to share the kitchen with them, and the log fire and the TV. The first couple were Irish and French and were really nice, the second was a couple of Swedish lads, Linus and Lukas, who would become my travel companions for the next few days.

After a peaceful night's sleep it was time for a breakfast which was speedily followed by lunch (sounded good to me) before we got ourselves geared up and headed up to the rafting start point. The Rangitata offers Grade 5 rapids and to put it simply, if you fall out on a G5 then it's like being put in a washing machine on super fast spin that just so happens to be attached to a rollercoaster.

There were six of us in our boat including the instructor and we soon set 'sail'. During the group initiation session I decided to position myself at the back of the boat citing that it would be safer there and would offer more laughs along the way. We tackled the first set of rapids with ease, they were graded at a measly 3 and the second also came and went without problems, they were a 4. We then moored the raft to survey the first of the G5 and boy, did it look good. Our guide told us the plan which went something about stay right, don't go left and we should hit that rock, bounce off it and then reposition ourselves to get out of there. The reason why he said don't go left was because if you end up in that part of the rapid you have to get into the foetus position and hope it spins you out after a while. We all boarded our raft and set off with trepidation. You'll be glad to know we hit the rock so that was good. Sadly we hit it at the wrong angle and the raft then reared up with the right side in the air and the left, my side, at the bottom.

It hung there for a moment or two before then deciding to flip. I flew out and landed in the water kissing a rock face down with the instructor landing on top of me and then the raft. I admit to thinking 'oh ?%*!'. The instructor scrambled off me and then I had to try and twist round to be on my back with my feet up, they tell you to always be in this position because you could catch your feet between rocks.....and die. Remember, G5 rapids. I managed to grasp for air by coming up underneath the up-turned raft and fumbling my way out to the side. By this point our instructor was already on top of it and the rest of the group were down stream. The water incidentally is glacial and is blooming freezing. We made our way to some rocks where we held on awaiting the return of our craft. Although it was slightly scary, it was most definitely exhilarating.

The second set of G5 rapids came and went without a hitch and after a few more smaller sets it was time to jump out again. This time we were to climb some rocks and jump off them into the water. Now jumping out of an aeroplane is okay, but jumping ten metres off a bunch of rocks is something else, but I did it after a slight stumble at the edge.

Once we were back at the lodge and had been showered and changed it was time to view our groups pictures over a cracking BBQ. All the day's food, the night in the lodge and the rafting came in at just $170 which is an absolute bargain, especially when you consider we did Grade-5 rapids.

After refuelling on sausage sarnies I jumped into the owner's 4x4 for an executive journey across the Canterbury Plains at 140kph and into Christchurch. Once checked into the hostel I hot-footed it out towards the Jade Stadium where the Crusaders where playing that night. There was a Hurricane warning in town in the form of the rugby team from Wellington. The stadium was awesome, and I was seated in the main stand which had some rally good pre-match atmosphere. There was music, a Mexican wave that went round five times, cheerleaders, cheerleaders and more cheerleaders and guys who rode around as knights on horseback. Eventually the game began and thanks largely to DC, the Crusaders won 23-16. After the game I again pushed my way past the hoards of people and managed to bag yet more autographs off players I mostly have never heard of. You may be familiar with names like Tana Umaga and Rico Gear though. Legends. I then met up with two more legends in the shape of Linus and Lukas and headed into town, on the way stopping at the gourmet cuisine capital of Burger King.

We drank and danced the night away before heading home at sometime around three. On the way we got chatting to a street performer who it emerged used to be an English teacher. After he finished his performance for the night, I went and joined him for a beer in an all-night bar. The guy had some interesting stories to tell about his past and his plans for the business he has just set up; natural burials where people are simply buried in the ground under a layer of biodegradable sheet and then covered in top soil before having a tree planted over their heart.

By half past five it was most definitely time for bed and I bid him farewell before heading back to the hostel. My sleep didn't last as long as what was required as I was soon up and off to meet Lukas and Linus for brunch. After feasting on bagels we mooched around town before I walked with them to pick up their campervan so they could take it to the airport. The only problem was they had parked it in the car park of a cash'n'carry that closed at one o'clock and it was now a quarter past two. The car park was inside the building and there was no means of entry and the only number to call was that of a security company whose number didn't work. After seeking help from everyone including a Police Officer, a numpty businessmen next door who was useless and a Nun, yep, you read that correctly, I decided we should head to the main Police Station and seek help. The officer who helped us did well not to laugh at the boy's predicament, I made sure I emphasised it was them and not me who needed the help, and she kindly rang around just about every security company in the Southern Hemisphere trying to help us out. After two and a half hours we finally got through to the owner who agreed to come and open the doors for the boys so they could get their van, which they thankfully did before departing to the airport to catch their flight onto Fiji. It was a comical afternoon when you look back at it but the boys were a little stressed. By this point I was in need of a good night's sleep but instead headed out for a few drinks with some new room mates and then met up with the group from my dorm in Queenstown. I did eventually get to bed and slept in the next day.

Sunday was all about sleep, a visit to the museum and some shopping before cooking tea. It was nothing to write home about, so I won't. On Monday I caught an early morning Tranzcoastal train out of Christchurch and up the Pacific coast to Kaikoura. The scenery on the way was beautiful and once in Kaikoura I checked in to the whale-watching centre. For a $130 they'll take you out on a boat, make you feel a little sea-sick, and then let you marvel at the sperm whales which inhabit the warm waters. They'll also throw dolphin watching into the mix and if you're really lucky, the pod of dolphins will speed along in front of your boat making you forget about being sick and instead enjoy the sights. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and one that I will remember for a very long time.

I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the bay to see a colony of sea lions basking in the sun. I saw two in all the time I was there, and I did plenty of hunting for them. Disappointed, I started out on the trek back to hostel in time for vegetable soup. The soup tasted good so I went back twice before slumping in front of the TV and watching a film.

I carried on the Tranzcoastal the next day as it made its way through salt flats and wine country into the small port of Picton from where I caught the ferry back to the North Island. I slept through the journey which was good before traipsing across Wellington to my hostel.

I met up again with the group from Queenstown and we headed out for food, eventually deciding on Nandos. After eating and chatting, we headed to the hostel bar for cheap drinks where I managed about half of mine before making my excuses as I felt ill. What followed was one of the least enjoyable nights of my life. The first five hours consisted of me talking, and then begging, to God on the big white telephone before I realised that maybe I should seek medical advice. Thankfully, the guy on reception had common sense and called a helpline which told him it was probably best I go to hospital. I jumped, no, wrong word, I fell into a taxi before falling through reception at the other end all the time feeling as though Amir Khan was using my stomach as a punch bag. A polite receptionist told me that it would probably cost a fair whack to be seen since it was half three in the morning. I told her I didn't care in between grimacing from the pain. I was then led to a white plank of 6x4 which I think constituted a bed and told to rest whilst the doctor came to see me. I did no resting, instead I began to ask Amir that surely enough was enough and would he please stop hitting my stomach. After about an hour, I was finally seen by a doctor who told me a nurse would be along soon to administer treatment. Strange, I thought that's what a doctor should do. The nurse promptly arrived and stuck a needle in my arm for the drip and then game me another three injections all of which were aimed at stopping Amir, getting rid of my headache and the third was probably trying to dumb me down from being a blooming awkward patient.

I somehow managed to fall asleep, maybe Amir was tiring, and I managed to wake up to a fresh nurse who was checking on my progress. After giving me tablets and water that had me running to the bathroom, she too told me I should rest. I fell asleep again and this time awoke feeling somewhat alive and able to take tablets before falling asleep once more. When I awoke for the final time I was able to have a conversation with the lovely nurse about New Zealand's chances in the rugby, whether she knew the Milan score, where I'd been on my travels and where I was going, as well as telling all about the delights of Wellington. She dosed me up on yet more tablets which stayed safely in my stomach and I was then allowed to leave.

Because of the nature of my illness ('suspected' food poisoning) I was told to get a room by myself at the hostel for fear of contaminating others. Thankfully, the hostel obliged and in the subsequent twenty-four hours I awoke only to get a taxi to the chemist to get more tablets ($48!) go and buy a year's supply of Powerade and cook chicken soup, the rest of the time I had neither the energy nor the desire to move from my bed.

I did though manage to come across an idea for fat people. Why try and diet when you can simply get food poisoning. It would work wonders, I promise you. You see, since I have been touring New Zealand, my only physical exertion has been in the form of the activities I have paid for, or from walking here, there and everywhere. Hence, any 'mass', and I use that word lightly with my body structure, had made its way to my stomach. What food poisoning did for me was it removed this unwanted mass in the space of eight hours and left me feeling very weak and not wanting to eat for a very long time. It works out I lost almost a stone in weight in that space of time so just think how much a fat person could lose if it happened to them. Just an idea.

Thursday was similar to Wednesday in that I slept a lot, ate more chicken soup, went back to the hospital to drop a 'thank you' card off and then I admired the cars in the Bentley/Porsche/Audi garage down the road. I decided against going in to look given my present state. Occasionally it pays to be British and thanks to Queen Victoria sending her sailors all over the world, New Zealand now has an agreement with the UK regarding 'emergency' healthcare. After some arguing with a woman on the phone as to whether my treatment was an emergency at 3am (thanks Tracey for your help with this) she admitted defeat and seeked the doctor's advice. He had enough common sense to allow me to get the treatment for free and so I skipped all the way back to the hostel and bed.

I ventured out a little more on the Friday and went to the Te Papa museum. It is supposedly very good but I was not all that impressed and found it a random mix of stuff that wasn't that interesting. Maybe it was the tablets I was on. The food in the cafe looked good though so I ordered lamb gnocchi which I struggled to eat. I had zero appetite.

By Saturday I was starving and although not back to 100% I did wander around the shops and take a walk along the harbour front in the rain before heading back to the hostel to watch a film and pack for my journey north.

By all accounts, Wellington is a 'really cool' city but sadly my time there was a little boring and I have little to rave about. I was ill and when I wasn't, it rained outside so I couldn?t do much anyway. I may go back one day but no way will I be eating out.

So this leads me to yesterday and the joy of being seated on a bus for eleven hours. It really was a joyous journey as we picked up hoards of school kids along the way who were heading back to their boarding school. The journey was made easier by the fact I'd left enough of my book to keep me amused for a considerable length of time and I had my iPod fully charged. The views though were pretty special, especially those over the Tongariro National Park. I was supposed to be attempting the Tongariro Crossing on Saturday but because of my situation, and under advice from the nice nurse, I decided to stay longer in Wellington and try and get my health back on track.

The bus journey brought an end to my travels around New Zealand and the past five weeks sure have flown by. The last few days have been nothing to write home about but the previous four and a bit were absolutely fanbloodytastic. From the things I have seen and done to the people I have met, New Zealand has been immense in everyway.

And so back to Auckland. Nick and Tracey picked me up last night and I now resume my position as Nick's number one researcher, typist and proof reader. Tomorrow mum and dad arrive for three weeks so it'll be great to see them, we are going away for a few days later this week so that should be a cracker.

I now have almost four weeks to get myself ready for the prospect of more dodgy food in South America and to charge myself up for the crown jewel in my trip.....Easter Island. If you don't know where it is then buy a map, if you don't know why it's famous then get an encyclopaedia, or better still, invite me round for dinner when I get back and I'll tell you all about it, just don't poison me..........