The Southern End

The Southern End

After our wonderful time in the Fiordlands, we began to feel the pull to take care of business with the van. Our temporary Warrant of Fitness was “legit” for the rest of our trip, but would not hold up when it comes time to sell. So our first stop in Invercargill, we found a shop to take care of the brake pressure and exhaust. We told him our plan to fix things here, and return to Queenstown (you don’t have to pay again for your WOF if you go back to the same place you originally had it done). He humbly offered that if what we were really looking for was (shhh, “just to get it to pass it’s WOF”)… then he suggested we get the few items fixed, and have him do a new WOF on the spot. At first I was skeptical, of course he wanted to do the WOF, more money for him. Then he gave me a quote, and I realized he wasn’t gouging us for the WOF, and he explained that his concern was that he could fix the brake pressure, but if we drive another 500km before we fix it, they might misalign again, and we’d fail, even though in all reality it’s completely safe. Long story (still kind of long) short, he saw right through us, knew what we were doing, and helped us out on the cheap. Much appreciated, and now we could continue our trip without a roundabout return to Queenstown.

After taking care of everything we headed out of town to Fortrose, which had the only freedom camping spot we knew of in the area. It took a bit of searching, but my LORD was it worth it! Plush grass field, literally on the edge of a cliff overhanging the ocean towards Antarctica. As soon as we pulled in, I walked to the edge of the cliff, and stood there awkwardly for a bit before Zoe asked, “are you pissin off of there?” “Yes,” I said, “You know why? (with a smile) Because I can.” Apologies if I went to far there, but seriously, it’s a great damn feeling, standing on a cliff hundreds of feet tall, in the sunset, over crashing ocean waves, and pissin freely in the wind.