A change of plans...

We were pushing things to get to the Stewart Island Ferry on time this morning, with bleak conditions and fierce cross-winds making the drive to Bluff all the more enjoyable. Passing rusting shipwrecks and dilapidated factories on the way in, the overcast day was doing nothing for the townships appeal. The beleaguered lady at the Ferry terminal gave us a look of genuine concern as we showed our vouchers, asking whether we were SURE we wanted to chance a trip to Stewart Island today.

A little while later, the peversely-jovial Ferry Captain confirmed the cancellation of the Ulva Island cruise (our main reason for going), and guaranteed about 2 hours of hell for anyone even remotely likely to become seasick. Looking at the mountainous white-capped seas (and horizontal, icy rain), we thought it may be best to pull the pin on our Island expedition. Possibly one of the more disappointing events of our trip, but preferable to testing the already doubtful stomachs of Team Martin.

While in the steadily-rusting settlement of Bluff we took the opportunity to visit the Stirling Point signpost (sometimes called the Signpost at the End of the World), with Lily braving the conditions for a photo-opportunity. Not content with the blasting of icy rain I received there, we drove up to the hill-top lookout, where the unimpeded Antarctic winds initially prevented me from even opening the car door. Good call on the Ferry I think.

Having some unanticipated spare time in Invercargill, we sought out a cafe to both get out of the icy winds and to grab some morning tea. True to form, I managed to locate the only place in town to serve 'medium-rare' scones, the uncooked dough providing an interesting counter to the dessicated dates. We farewelled the incompetent (yet very friendly) cooks and came across a giant umbrella sculpture. It turns out (according to the frequent mutterings of locals) that we had caught Invercargill in the thrall of some fairly extreme weather.

Still unsticking dough from the roof of my mouth, we paid a visit to the Southland Museum and Art Gallery. This was actually pretty good, well worth the free admission. While there, we paid a visit to Henry, the 112 year old Tuatara. He first became a father some time after his 100th birthday. He was a bit of a cradle-snatcher, as the mother was only 80 or so.