Red, with dragons on the seats...

We bought a car today. A backpaker van to be PC. It's red (in a hand-painted way)and has a bed and camping gear in the back and dragon-emblazed seat covers in the front. Thomas would approve. I have wonderful visions of my surfboard travelling in style, on a soft mattrass under some blankets (no more Taiwanese airlines to torture it), as we make our way along the coastlines of New Zealand.

On our way to Copland Track on the West Coast over Easter weekend, we passed some beaches. We stopped at one for a while and I saw some small swell pushing through. I figure that if you could find a reef or a point along the coast somewhere... And if you can't, well, our hike over the long weekend was a stunning way to see how New Zealand is still untouched in some places. With hot springs to boot.

Copland Track on the West Coast (past Fox Glacier) is a 17km tramp. "Tramp" is the NZ word for hiking in the wild for those not in the know. Greg's brother, Craig, organised the adventure and treated us to tramping in style, with a hot meal waiting at the end of a long afternoon's walk. Kudos. But I should start at the start - with the car giving hassles and Greg and Cecile heading out to get it fixed. We stayed at Wildside backpackers and on the morning we were meant to start our hike the car needed new brake pads and Caila, Juliane and myself were left to find a car willing to pick us up and take us to the start of the trail. He he he. Turned out that car would be G&C returning with new pads and a hitchhiker of their own! He was dumped, we were loaded and off we went. We arrived late (12-ish) and set off on the 7-hour walk, with heavy packs and happy hearts. Thinking ourselves semi-superhuman we thought we would do it in less than the stated 7 hours. HA! We arrived at the Welcome Flat Hut exactly 7 hours later, footsore and famished and desperately clinging to the last rays of refracted sunlight. This is where Craig comes in. Soon enough we were relaxing in hot springs with some cocktails and full tummies. Thanks also to Nicola and Monet for that one.

The next day was spent skinny-dipping, rock-lounging, people-dodging and enjoying the calmness of an almost-empty hut - which would soon enough be packed with Easter Weekend Trampers once more. I was happy to rest my knees, which were painfully stiff after the walk. Stupid assualt-ers. Caila spent some time in the stress-recesses of her own mind, and gave me a tour of the area while we were lazing about on the rocks. But the overall mood was one of wonderment and well-being. The Southern Alps are as majestic as they are foreign to me. Snow-capped peaks surrounded by jungle-like forests (or is it forest-like jungles?), with crisp, clear air that does for the nostrils what chocolate does for the tastebuds. Freezing river water that must be the product source of all those nauseating "bottled spring water" blurbs the media throws at us each day. And a sense of peace that you can only find when far from civilization. I was impressed by the decency of the people in the overcrowded hut that evening.

The next day we set out to get back to the car, down the track and away from the nudists lounging in the hot springs. This time the walk took us a mere 5.5 hours and we had a much better time of it. Stopped for lunch and jumped into the river to refresh a bit. Brrrrr! We dropped Juliane off with friends on the way to Christchurch and spent most of the journey back staring out at the countryside through windows reflecting tired, but pleased faces.

NZ Tramping...try it.