Jordan caught a flight out of Christchurch early this morning, while Gabe and I began the laborious act of hitchhiking out.
Christchurch is similar only to Reefton in that it is nigh impossible to get a ride in city limits - or even suburb limits. It took us about three hours, but we caught a ride that took us north about ten clicks. From there we had great luck. Our next ride was as local as they come, born and raised in the very area we were about to traverse. As a young man he'd spent 3 years wandering Europe, eventually checked out Asia, and had wound up back home working as a hedge fund manager is Christchurch. Never has there been a more level head. He and I talked about everything from imports/exports to local flora, education to finance. We'd been through this area once before on a bus that gave us a lift, but as a local he knew about this waterfall, so he took us to see seal pups frolic in the stream that runs off of it.
He left us just outside of his friend's home, where we spent about half an hour hitching. It was late and we were considering finding a campsite and some food for the night when a Sheira and her daughter Rachael stopped to give us a ride in to Picton. Originally from New York, they'd spent time in Washington DC before sailing to New Zealand, were they were living now. We sped into the center of Picton, where she asked us our plans: "basically, we're looking for a hostel and a ride on the ferry tomorrow morning." "I can help you with both of those," she said, as she pulled into Atlantis, the hostel she owned and operated. The word, dear readers, is serendipity.
