092 – Ferry to Picton

I waited too long to get my room in Picton and was left with apparently the last room in town. Or at least the last one at the lowest price I could find. And since I booked late, it was non-refundable, so… really wanted to make sure I was on the ferry.
The ferry has a shuttle bus from the train station where I arrived in Wellington, so the plan was to walk from the hotel back to the train station and wait. Which I did.
Thankfully, the walk to and from the hotel was only a couple of blocks, so since I was not feeling the best and I did not want to push my time boundaries, I arrived early at the train station to wait for the shuttle.
I was a little nervous when several busses came and went and none were going to the ferry. Apparently I appeared nervous because more than one person asked me if I was alright or if I needed assistance. One man even went out of his way to call the ferry company and assure that they knew I was here and a bus was coming.
All him, by the way. I did not prompt any of that, but it was nice to have the reassurance he provided.
I did not think I appeared out of sorts. I was just sitting there, trying not to worry about missing the shuttle. I was not crying or biting my nails, or panting… or anything I would think outwardly indicated distress.
I did look foreign and American which might have been an indicator, come to think of it. I would have thought that would scare them off.
Maybe I was unconsciously sending panic vibes or some pheromone into the calm serenity of a bus terminal and the locals were drawn to the invading species to eradicate it before it spread. Either way, people were very nice and concerned.

Yes, I made the bus. Yes, I made the ferry. Yes, I even made it to Picton.

It takes 3.5 hours to travel from Wellington to Picton on a ferry
the route takes you through Cook’s Strait.

Insert horror flick music here. You know the kind where the first victim does something stupid like wandering out into the forest at midnight to look for a shoe, because nothing bad could possibly happen and she loved those shoes more than life itself.

Cook Strait, separating New Zealand’s North and South Islands, was  named after Captain James Cook, who first sailed through it in 1770, and is known in Māori as Te Moana-o-Raukawa. 
Before Cook wandered through, the Dutch navigator Abel Tasman entered the western end of the strait in 1642, but believed it to be a bay, not a straight. So, they did not name it after him because he did not properly identify the geographic phenomenon before him. Or, he respected the fact it was already named by the Māori and went on his merry way.
Either way, Cook Strait connects the Tasman Sea on the northwest side with the South Pacific Ocean on the southeast side. At the narrowest point, it is 22km wide.

So it is a skinny straight.

The tidal flow through Cook Strait is unusual in that the tidal elevation at the ends of the strait are almost exactly out of phase with one another, so high water on one side meets low water on the other. What does that mean? Refer to horror music cue above, or just say it is one of the world’s roughest stretches of water where number of ships have been wrecked with significant loss of life,

Complete buckus. All of it.

Or maybe it isn’t but I had calm seas, nice breezes and a lovely voyage. Perhaps it was my timing at the end of the day, or the fact it was a full moon with a total lunar eclipse tonight smacked the tidal chaos into chorus. Whatever it was, I did not experience horror.

I scheduled this ferry time because it was the only one available, but also because I thought it would be a good opportunity to see the sunset. I booked before I realized it was a lunar eclipse and full moon, and now was hoping to get to a good spot to see all of it.
Turns out we were in Picton before sunset, so I missed that because of the mountains, but I did get great advice from the hotel manager about where a good spot to see the eclipse would be.

Sidenote if you are ever in Picton and do not have a car. Preorder your taxi or arrange for a seat on the bus. I did not have a seat on the bus. I did not know there was a bus.
Better yet, just walk. It is like 10 minutes to the center of town, which is where my hotel is. All I saw on the map was a big hill and a 10 minute walk. With luggage and such, I thought I would get a cab, but there is one cab in town, and he doesn’t hang out at the dock for the late ferry to come in.
The hill is not really a hill. The taxi is expensive. I should have walked. Live and learn.
Anyway, the last room in town is a 3 bedroom, 5 bed ‘family’ room with full kitchen and living area. Much different than my room in Wellington where I could almost touch all 4 walls from the center of the room.
I contemplated setting alarms every 2 hours and changing beds just to say I got what I paid for.
I did not do that.
I did wander over to the park by the water and set up my tripod to await the moon rise over the mountains.

It would have been better on the open sea, because as the moon comes over the horizon, it appears much bigger than any other time in its cycle. But, you get what you can get.
While I waited for the moon to show up there were ducks in the area wandering around looking for scraps I assume. A couple walked by and we discussed the ducks, because although they looked like ducks, and acted like ducks, when they spoke, they sounded like kazoos.

The couple was from Australia, and agreed they were ducks, and yes, they did sound like kazoos, and the only reason I bring up the couple from Australia is because when they wandered off, they found the moon in almost full eclipse just  past where I was sitting and able to see the event.
They alerted me to the view and… I cannot say I missed it, but I cannot claim to have seen it in total either. But I tried. I got close.

The rest of the evening was spent grumbling and trying to get a good picture. I did not get a good picture, but I saw it. I was there amidst the Kazoo chorus and safe and sound on the South Island.
It was an odd evening.