All good things must come to an end, so the festival finished. We had nothing to do this morning but clear up + eat breakfast, but we still managed to make that spin out the morning. A lady came up to Val to ask about her finger weaving, or central American macramé, + we spent a long time chatting with her + her husband, since she does tablet weaving, which seems to be a related craft. She seemed nice, + best of all invited us over to dinner when we returned to Christchurch. Steve too bade us farewell… again. He really has been excellent company. If we see him again, it’ll be in England. Comings + goings.
Eventually, we were ready to move, the 4 of us driving south + west towards Mt Cook. We pushed on quite fast, arriving come evening at Lake Tekapo, where we ate some pretty revolting fish + chips, + then found ourselves a place to camp for the night at a picnic area. It was very, very cold – the weather had cleared completely from the grey drizzle of the morning, + was now jewel-clear. Hence, lovely views + a sharp drop in temperature. Andy (whose appetite is equine) cooked up a large stew, + we followed that with stewed apples + custard – I enjoyed the latter, + had none of the former. Which was probably just as well, since I spent much of the night trotting backwards + forwards between the tent + a tree which served as a toilet – it was the return of the dreaded tummy bug (thus effectively disposing of the chicken sandwich theory.) It was a most frustrating night – I would no sooner climb back into my sleeping bag after one little trip than my stomach would gurgle + rumble + I knew I was ready to go again. And especially with the cold, I never really warmed up at all. Such things are sent to try one. This one didn’t so much try as triumph.
Seems I disposed of Steve too soon – sorry about that. Otherwise, a day on the road, heading south.