Riverton to invercargill

By dawn this morning I was a good 8km along Oreti Beach, zipping along to the peeps of oystercatchers. No wind. Lovely temperature. The early start meant freedom from fear of the high tide, because I had a stream to cross midway, described in the trail notes as "difficult at high tide".

Here it is, the scary Waimatuku Stream. Sometimes I do wonder who writes those notes. Splish splash at mid-calf, and 10km more beach to go.

Maybe 4km from the stream I met three people collecting toheroa. 

I was happy just to avert my gaze but no, they wanted to talk. They had a permit for "this beach, this day, on this tide" and were harvesting for a function. (Now I've googled it, I understand they had a customary harvest permit). 

"Don't tell anybody what we've got here" one man said, meaning, don't send more people to heavenly Oreti Beach in paradisical Southland. I asked if I could take a picture, was charmed to be allowed.

Then I was further charmed when the man on the left, who shears in Colorado, offered a lift along to the road. As he drove he said about Governments, "we just want to be left alone". And about freedom, "no debt, that's freedom". He also offered accommodation for as long as I need it, but I already had booked 2 nights at an Invercargill backpackers. Top human being.

I had 9km of roadwalking still to go but a pie and a sit-down at a Four Square kept me fuelled, and I am dead impressed at the sporty things one can do down here.

It reminds me that an American at Mavora Lakes asked me, "what do New Zealanders die of? They're all so sporty and fit..."

Not boredom, anyway.