Road Trip

I'm five years old, sitting on the hump seat in the back of the family car with my mother and grandmother. In my memory it seems like we'd barely started our journey, I'd eaten homemade blueberry muffins for breakfast. It had been a treat; as the nausea sets in, my mother transfers the remaining blueberry muffins elsewhere to have an empty bag on hand. It wasn't long before I needed it, and hence, my long and grimacing memories of motion sickness induced vomiting commence. Like a photo album, I can flip through the vile files. A milkshake container in the back of the old suburban driving home from Presque Isle. Outside the Monte Carlo, along the side of the old airline route in Maine. Off the coast of Cape Breton while whale watching. On the plane ride home from my Nortel interview. The list goes on and on. Somehow in the planning phases of our South Island vacation, I ignored or glossed over all cold hard facts related to this trip. In our three week vacation, we would drive thousands of kilometers plus take a ferry. Did I mention my memories of the Grand Manan ferry rides of my youth? Not pretty.

As we make our way down the North Island on day one, I involuntarily cringe at the sight of mountain ranges in the distance. At the first sign that warns of twisting road for the next 32 km, I feel my stomach sink. I'm an adult; I can do this...roll down the window and suck it up. At no moment did I think I'd escape these mountain ranges unscathed, but I hoped desperately; it was not to be. Mikaela had grown progressively quieter in the backseat and then settled into a periodic whimper, I was worried she was going to vomit. I voiced this to Dave, but I think we both shrugged it off as a projection of my feelings. Less than two minutes later, she proved me right. It was everywhere, her dress, her hair, her car seat, the backseat...and the smell. By the time we had a spot to pull over, it was all I could do to open the door and take my turn. Poor Dave was a champ; he did his best to clean up Mikaela and the car. As we returned to the road, the smell of vomit permeated the air in the car but somehow we made it out of the mountain ranges and into our stop for the evening, Wanganui.

Our car continued to reek as day two dawned, today we would take the ferry cross Cook Strait to the South Island. We’d hoped they would have a nice little waiting area where they sold anti-nausea capsules, sadly, they did not. It was a drive-thru check-in process where you were assigned to one of the five vehicle lanes. This was looking bad, I had no anti-nausea solution AND I desperately needed to go to the toilet. Always the helpful husband, Dave suggested I pop over the edge of the sea wall and go on the rocks. He even got out of the car to confirm it was a feasible option; he assured me that none of the waiting vehicles would see me. I doubt this was true but eventually, I gave in and bared my bottom to Wellington.

We boarded the ferry and made our way to the family area, the initial few minutes were uneventful. In fact, I didn’t even feel us get under way but eventually the swells would grow larger and larger. I felt worse and worse, too late, the idea to check at the gift shop for anti-nausea drugs occurred to me. They did! I gave Dave one but it was too late for me, I sprinted for the outside deck and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours emptied the contents of my stomach. Again, Dave rose to the occasion taking care of Mikaela while I sat useless on the wet, cold outside deck for the rest of the three hour journey. As we disembarked, we blindly followed our GPS onto the worst possible post-ferry route. The Queen Charlotte Drive is a beautiful and scenic route between Picton and Havelock - if you can manage to lift your head to look around, I didn't. Almost thirty hours after leaving Auckland, we arrived in our first real vacation destination Motueka. I will again test my tummy when we head out sea kayaking the next morning...