From the capital city of Wellington on the bottom tip of the North Island of New Zealand, it is a three hour ferry ride to the wilderness playground of the South Island. Boarding the ferry in the port city, the windiest in the world, passengers cross the infamous Cook Strait. I get seasick so I sat by the window, eyeing the horizon and attempting an anti-nausea medication induced nap. But still I found myself on the deck more than once, breathing in the cold winter air and attempting not to empty my stomach into the beautiful water below me. But soon, the exposed seas turns to a passage sheltered by mountains on either side, the waters calm and I breath in the next leg of the journey as Picton comes into view. A town on the edge of the world.