We had our first really rough night last night. We pulled into the White Horse campsite at Aoraki (Mt Cook for the uncultured) to a beautiful blue sky with views of NZ’s tallest peak. We even took the little big man for a stroll around the national park area and then settled in to eat some fresh salmon for din dins.

While we were cooking our dinner, we watched all the hardcore campers trying to put up their tents ( we campervanners look down our noses at those types) in a slightly strong breeze. As it picked up a bit I decided to ignore ‘Red Wings’ protocol and  be a good sort and help out a couple who were struggling to make a tent erection. They turned out to be French and had not heard of the rainbow warrior and didn’t watch the famous semi-final.

Anyway during the night, huge winds and rains rocked our love bus, almost blowing us off our blocks and ripping the dish and panel off the roof! I couldn’t help but smile thinking of the poor tenters sitting there huddled together. They must have taken a real hammering because we were certainly taking a beating. Sure enough, in the morning the place looked like a giant had come through squashing and ripping canvas apart.

I think that the only person who had a decent nights sleep was Fergus, he slept like a baby.