New Zealand: The Unexpectedly Long Journey

I've woken up to some beautiful scenery on this trip - watching the sunrise over the Coramandel and seeing morning break in the Himalayas to name but two - waking up in the middle of a car park in the centre of Nelson was not one of those. We were not woken by the lapping of waves on the shore or by birdsong, but by early birds of a different nature: it was market day and the locals were up at the crack of dawn to peruse the assorted offerings of the farmer's stalls.

We paid a couple of dollars to use the showers and I considered how long we would've lasted sleeping in a camper in an inner city public car park in England, not long, I concluded. Luckily our van hadn't been propped up on bricks and we made our way out of Nelson's bustling town centre and headed south along the West Coast Highway.

Since a few of the places we wanted to visit were in the south of the island, we had decided that we would spend a day driving and try to get some miles under our belt. I knew, therefore, that we would be spending a fair amount of time in the van, but hadn't expected the coastal road to be quite as long. For hundreds of miles it hugged the rugged coastline, occasionally offering stunning panoramic views of jagged cliffs and long golden beaches.

One such place was Punakaiki. Here, thousands of years of constant pummeling by the Pacific Ocean had revealed beautiful and unique rock formations. We spent a while there, watching mighty waves force themselves up through the blowholes in the 'pancake' rocks and swirl around in the wash below.

We were fortunate enough to have a decent stereo in the van that allowed us to listen to music from our iPods. Driving for hours is definitely made easier when you can chose your own music. As well as the likes of Ben Howard, Bonobo and the Kings of Leon, we were also accompanied by Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode - Steve had introduced me to their Radio 5 film review show whilst we were on the trip and hearing two Englishmen bicker about grammar and debate the merits of the new Muppets movie was strangely comforting when you've been away so long.

By late afternoon we had reached glacier country. Where the Southern Alps meet the ocean it is possible to see two big rivers of ice as they carve their way down the mountain side. Time and money constraints meant that we didn't hike up to get a closer look at either Franz Josef of Fox Glacier, although we did find a good layby from which we could catch a glimpse of the later. Unfortunately, unlike the sweets, there were no polar bears standing on ice cubes there.

After a long day driving we were eager to find a place to eat and rest our heads for the night. The little community of Fox Glacier offered just that.

The next day's drive was no less dramatic. We passed through little settlements on our way over the Haast Pass and eventually arrived in the incredibly scenic town of Wanaka. After Steve had enjoyed a coffee and we'd stocked up on food, we found a great spot by the lake to have a picnic.

Our final destination that night would be Queenstown, but Steve wanted to stop one more time before we got there. Just outside Queenstown stood a bridge over a deep gorge. It had probably once been a beautiful look out, but a couple of decades ago some bright spark had the idea to attach a Bungy chord to the bridge and charge people to jump off. I, being of sound mind, had never done a Bungy jump before - I'd done a skydive, but jumping out of a plane thousands of feet up seemed far easier than throwing myself off a platform with a giant elastic band attached to my feet. Steve on the other hand had already done two!

We watched a few gulable souls plunge towards the icy river below. Some even dunked their heads in before bouncing up again and eventually dangling like a human piñata until they were rescued by two men in a big canoe. I was relieved when we discovered the price was too expensive for us to have a go, it meant I could use expense as a justification for me being a wuss!

That evening we found a church to visit and then located a campsite for the next few nights.

Queenstown is a dream destination for anyone who enjoys extreme sports; in the winter it has three world class ski resorts and in the summer it is a Mecca for all adrenaline junkies. As well as numerous Bungy jumps, the town offers (amongst other things) paragliding, speed boat rides and dozens of mountain bike trails.

The next day we settled for a slightly more serene, an altogether cheaper, ride on the cable car and a few goes on the toboggan ride at the top of the mountain. As well as offering fantastic views of the town and the surrounding area, the toboggan offered Steve and I the chance to race against one another. At one point Steve was so keen to pass me that, much to my amusement, he didn't apply the brakes and almost managed to launch himself off the track.

Somewhat lucky to be in one piece, we made our way down the mountain and indulged in the slightly less dangerous pastime of wine tasting. Steve loved talking to the staff about the subtle differences of the grape varieties and I enjoyed drinking, well tasting at least - I was driving and so the spittoon is where most of my wine ended up.

After two vineyards we decided that we had just enough light to complete a round of golf. I won't bore you with the details (we were both fairly naff), but, surrounded by mountains and a little airport, it was just about the most scenic place I have ever played.

The following morning, Steve met up with a friend and went hiking. Whilst they traversed their way up towards the incredible 360 views on top of Ben Lomond, I went to get my haircut and write a few postcards next to the lake. I felt so peaceful sat on the shore watching an old steam boat crossing the lake - it was easy to see why so many people fell in love with this place.

I had an hour before I'd arranged to meet Steve again, so I decided to drive the van alongside the lake and see where it took me. After a few miles of driving I picked up a couple of blonde German hitchhikers, unfortunately they also had beards and were called Sven and Nicolas. They wanted to get to Glenorchy and as I was pointing in the direction I happily obliged. What I didn't realise is that Glenorchy was many miles away and would take a good forty minutes to get to. I didn't matter though, the drive was absolutely fantastic and, as my two passengers were Lord of the Rings geeks, I would occasionally get filming locations pointed out to me.

Fortunately, my long detour didn't make me too late to pick up Steve after his walk. He was understandably shattered having just climbed a mountain, so I drove us a few hours eastward until we found a place to stop for the night. After a small detour down a deserted track we located a suitable place to stay. Funnily enough our campsite turned out to be another car park, though this one just happened to be surrounded by mountains - a slight improvement on the city centre, I think you'll agree!