I travel South until there is only one road left.
New Zealand
Southland Tales
Around here people still remember who came first, who chiseled his way through that mountain or who build this church. I hear heroic tales about towns that consist of a few buildings, arranged around a shop, a church, a pub and a filling station, and rush by in the blink of an eye. Many places are named after more or less local celebrities. Truth or not, or somewhere in between? I cannot say. Some sources seem more reliable than others though.
Sound of Silence
The clouds are hanging low, shrouding the mountains. Sometimes I can see patches of blue on my way to the Fjords of Southland.
Lakeside
On the Rocks
Rain Forest. Rain.
The rain seems to float, just waiting for me to walk into it. There are no drops, just a mist that soaks my clothes, in silence.
High Plains Drifter
Eve of Destruction
A few words in the news a couple of years ago: Earthquake in Christchurch. I almost immediately forgot about it. Now I see. Now I remember. Now I start to understand what it means.
Roller Coastal
Due South
I leave the North Island. The ferry hits a rough sea. Well, it is actually the other way round. Sea sickness grabs my stomach. I stay on deck, use the steady horizon and the fresh air as remedy. Then we enter the calm waters of the Marlborough Sounds.
The Third Planet 