West Coast

Our arrival at the west coast is grey murky and damp but it doesn’t detract from the dramatic coastline, the sea seeming all the more powerful with the stormy weather. After having a car driving up our bums for a while Rob pulls over to let it pass only for it to be pulled over by a police car a few yards further down the road. Rob thinks this is hilarious and I’m inclined to agree that is serves him right.

Travelling down from Westport via Greymouth we settle for the night at *, earmarked in all the tourist guides as the place to make your own jade carving. They obviously have an artistic community as a trip to the beach reveals a driftwood sculpture competition/exhibition. Some of the pieces are quite ingenious and we marvel at just how far afield they must have gone to collect all the driftwood. However when we take a walk on the beach adjacent to the campsite we’re astounded at the shear quantity of driftwood all the way up the beach, I guess another sign of just how tempestuous the seas are around here.