Sometimes Rugby World Cup fans just need a ferry good nap. Photo / Matt Johnson
Sometimes Rugby World Cup fans just need a ferry good nap. Photo / Matt Johnson
Opinion
In today's entry, Matt's World Cup ramble heads across the Cook Strait.
It was hard to tell whether we were sailing to Picton or Oban. Scottish people were everywhere... fleeing the post-match stress disorder that had been their weekend.
They were depressed. Emotionally vulnerable. They were also asleep. Now was the time to try and pick one up. The only problem was- if you fancied one wearing a kilt - it was hard to know where you might get a hand-hold.
It was 6.30 am. Above the hills of Wellington, lights were flickering into life as the city dipped out of view. On the vehicle deck of the Ferry, an Irishman climbed out of his campervan looking like he'd just spent several hours in Stalingrad.
Immediately dropped his can of beer: "Are we not allowed to stay... in bed, like?"
Upstairs in the galley, more Irishman were waiting. Their confidence something new to New Zealand rugby. They had destroyed Russia; blitzed them out of existence with Leprechaun napalm. They were not sleeping. Looked, even at this time of the day, assured and relaxed.
Cruising on the Interislander had never been like this. This was more like cruising outside the local superloo in Donegal.
The Italian and Americans were there too. More self-contained, a big match ahead of them. Reading guidebooks on their Kindles. Waiting for the self-washing windows in the viewing lounge to stop self-washing so they could take photographs.
When you grow up on an island, it's easy to forget how stunning they can be for people from entire continents.
Halfway through the trip, I snuck downstairs and checked on the Kea Kaha-mobile. Made sure she had plenty of oats and fresh water. Outside, the North Island (with all its new-fangled sophistication and indoor toilets) had faded from view. Cook Strait was the colour of ice; as calm and cool as Steve Hansen unfurrowed brow. Snow shimmered down at us from the roof of the Kaikouras.
Back inside, newspapers were pinned up over the urinals. The headlines spoke of a crime wave in Wellywood: some Crimewatch wannabe doing 'burgs' dressed as a Rugby World Cup volunteer.
We were all safe enough. The article said he couldn't swim.
* Follow Matt across New Zealand at his RWC Road Trip blog or on twitter @KeaKaharoadtrip.
* And bid for your chance to win a Kea Kaha (non-trademark breaching) Rugby Boot Camp for your child... check out our Trade Me Herald On Sunday Charity auction Herald on Sunday Charity auction online.
