At 6 am it’s almost light but I lie in bed to listen to the news and weather report, neither so good, but of course only bad news counts, and, it is New Zealand in late spring.

Then a shower to keep me huddled in my coffin, gee, this new tent is remarkably confining.

The view from the beach is over to the east, the rising sun, not apparent behind the typically dense clouds of Aotearoa, but some rays break through, illuminating showers far the distance, you look over to the Nelson side of the Marlborough sounds, it’s actually remarkably apocalyptic, like on one of those florid 1970s posters announcing imminent Armageddon. No wind, hooray, there’s a perfect stone seat just above the high tide mark where I perched with my second cup of coffee and a bucket of porridge to chomp.

Shags are fluffing their wings, then spending a few minutes submerged, when they finally take off they need use of the extra long runway, a couple of attempts at attaining airborne status, seems there’s already a full payload after the early start.

Now just lapping of water, it’s a little early for the buzz from the cavalcade of boats not so far away.

I’m recognising perfection, soak it up.

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