Hawkes bay's legendary sunrise was curtailed by a low bank of cloud but I was lucky enough to be out running on the beach's narrow high tide margin before it disappeared. My quiet morning surroundings were briefly illuminated and the cliffs above me suddenly started swarming with small nesting birds making the most of its brief warmth. On my return I passed a tribe of quail with amazing little headdresses, which picked around us as we drank tea and had breakfas...

We woke having had another cold night and it took us a while to get going. When our body temperatures were up and running we made the short journey to Rivendell! As expected it was barely recognisable from the film but we used our imaginations, with some help from the sign boards, before getting back in the Enema for the drive north. The road was initially exhilarating but soon gave way to vast acres of flat sheep country. At the centre of this ovine metropolis ...

A freak chilly night caught us by surprise but we were away after defrosting ourselves and soldiered on despite the palpable absence of Phil and Lorna. We got underway and headed towards the ferry port, but with an hour to spare we pulled off the main road and wound our way out to Whites Bay as recommended by Phil. The reserve was beautiful and we walked along the dark sand beach, dodging the incoming waves. Having climbed the rocky outcrop at the South end of t...

Cups of tea brought us all to life and Phil experimented with a Berocca, fearing the worst that he may be experiencing the pre-clinical stages of Man-flu. We were all naturally sympathetic as we demolished a stack of warm croissants and fruit before breaking camp and heading out of Hamner. The plan was to head west for an invigorating walk. After 15 minutes of driving we saw that a wall of steely grey clouds and heavy rain was approaching. Not part of the plan. B...

A lazy start with bacon and blueberry pancakes was a gentle reminder of just what a luxury it was to wake up in a house, especially as I'd managed to spend the entire night in the bed and not on the floor. We packed up and after being given a guided tour of Phil's van the beaten up Campervan convoy set off, with Betsy leading the way on the hunt for fuel. Watching Phil grudgingly fill up with fuel costing 6 cents a litre more than at the station he'd just passed ...