We have all experienced it.

The adrenalin rush feeling.

Take the texting or checking your FB likes whilst driving (illegal here in NZ) and simultaneously scanning the road from left to right or ahead for the constabulary.  As much as not to go up the arse end of a stationery vehicle or parked car!  Adrenalin rush.

Or watching or listening to parliamentary and all the so-called experts dribble nowadays.  That too can be an adrenalin rush.

Or under the cover of darkness, dumping a cooked chicken dinner carcass or concrete patio off cuts into neighbouring yellow recycling bins without being spotted, caught or filmed.  That’s an adrenalin rush.

So was every neighbour receiving a letter from the Chch City Council about it being illegal to dump your rubbish into someone else’s.  Especially if it’s not recyclable.  Neighbour’s too obviously experienced adrenalin rush.

For us heading north towards the Richmond Ranges driving the third-bedroom, there was adrenalin pumping.  Both the excitement type.  And the apprehensive type.  The type described above.  But all that evaporated into the anticipation with an open mind type when we descended off the Lewis Pass elevation and rounded the bend at the Maruia Hot Springs facility on State Highway 7.

The road between there and the turn off into the Marble Hill picnic/camping area is predominantly canopied by native forest – it would have to be one of the loveliest stretches of tar seal we have encountered on the planet to drive.

It gives you a sense of belonging to something special.  A genuine adrenalin rush to be proud of what we have.  To enjoy.  Definitely look up if you get to experience it.  Keeping one eye on the road of course!

Getting out of the third-bedroom and not having applied the 80% deet insect repellent took the adrenalin to new heights too.  Little bastards can do that!

We had decided to break up the drive and spend a night in Murchison de-fragging from the lead up to the “ho ho ho” festive chaos and tramp.  Murchison has always been just a drive through pit-stop kind of town however, veering right after heading north and there is quite a bit of depth to the place.  Both historical and present-day atmosphere.  It’s now on the radar to come back for some staycation time.

The butchers shop window with a frontage sign that read “Home Kill Still Available” and a phone number had me inspired to giving them a call to discuss prices and if they do a deal for more than one person?  Ahem!

The camping ground we parked up was human contactless which didn’t help somewhat as we hadn’t booked, just rocked up.   Caused us some adrenalin Christmas Eve morning as we weren’t able to pay on-line, nor in person.  The messages we left on the phone and by text (not whilst driving I’ll add) informed the hosts that we would be back to settle the account.

In nine or ten days-time due to us going walk-about.

The last thing we needed was the security footage of us arriving and then leaving without paying to be on the television programme “Crime Watch” so as to soil our upstanding reputation in the neighbourhood.

Imagine that type of adrenalin rush!