A pleasant ferry ride into Picton. Geoff and I enjoyed the scenery, the three had a brief look, but were otherwise engaged with the inferry entertainment. Spiderman and Sing. Both got mediocre reviews. Charlotte Sound was beautiful as we glided in, and Picton had a nice feel. We managed to wedge our tent in one of the last remaining spaces in a mainly boat owner filled campsite. Catching your own fish is the norm here, and no wonder. It’s cheaper in France.  The weather looks a bit dicey,  so we charge out in the morning to hire kayaks. Great fun!  Hoards of Moon Jelly fish. They are OK to pick up (and eat fresh from the water apparently! ) if a little slimy. Lovely to watch wafting through the water. We also spotted an 11 legged starfish and a Ray. O had his own kayak and did a great job. E and I shared. She did a bit. R and Paps shared. R got distracted by the jelly fish and I’m not sure I saw him do any. Absolutely poured all night. Luckily the tent held it together, and apart from the occasional hiss from M when some unfortunate family member dared to push the inner layer of the tent onto the outer layer (As everyone knows, this causes the already tenuous waterproofness of the tent to be put into jeopardy) everyone had a good night. We bundled the soggy tent up in a small break in the rain. After checking the forecast (rain and high winds pretty much all over the south Island,  but slightly less on the east side) we scrapped the idea of farewell spit and the able tasman. Ho for Kaikoura! On our way put of picton, we stopped at the cherry picking place we stopped at in 2003 and though the pyo had finished, one could purchase a punnet of a kilo for $20. A kilo was $8 back in the day. Geoff even noted it on the map! Ho hum. They were deliciouse. Unfortunately, the main road was badly damaged in the latest earthquake, and though nearly mended,  it is closed due to the heavy rain. We push on in the hope that it will be open on the morrow. We waste a bit of time trying to get as close along the road. Ward turns out to consist of two houses, a sheep and something claiming to be a campsite. Gale force winds outside, and as all the lady could offer was a bare pice of windswept ground, we scarpered back to Blenheim. An unremarkable night (lushsome coffah in the morning!) And onwards down the national highway number 1.