The road was due to open at 1pm, and the hostel was a hive of activity today, everyone packing their bags, cars and campervans and rushing round in high spirits. It was quite funny. I wanted to be the first up at the road barrier, to make sure we escaped, so at about half past eleven (after getting the car jump-started) we drove to the barrier and took a couple of photos.

There was a car park right next to us with a short walk to a chasm of some description, so, leaving the car running so that it wouldn't have to be started, we trundled through the bright green fernful rainforest. The sky was a miraculous blue, snowcapped peaks soared above the emerald canopy, 'Don't Feed the Kea' signs glistened with frost. There was a wooden walkway through the forest, which led up to a small bridge. On one side was a fast-flowing river, and on the other side was a massive drop through rocks to a chasm about 40 feet deep. The water had carved holes and curves in the boulders which looked very impressive and quite strange.

Back at the car we joined the small queue at the barrier and waited. It was half past twelve so we only had half an hour or so to wait, so we sang loudly to our only CD. At 2pm someone came along to tell us that the road would not be open until 4 or 5 and that chains would be essential. Suspecting that we would never escape and be doomed to spend eternity waiting for the road to open, we drove back to the hostel, about ten minutes down the road, and cancelled our reservation with a hostel in Dunedin. It would have been a six-hour drive there, doable if we'd left at 1pm, but not as pleasant if we were doing the whole thing at night.

At the hostel people were panicking - unlike us they hadn't made the 80-mile detour to pick up snow chains, and it was unlikely they'd be able to drive out for a few days yet. I felt quite smug. Many desperate phone calls were made, to try to get chains delivered as soon as the road opened, and suggestions of convoys were made. I amused myself by watching a kea try to eat the roof box of a campervan belonging to some annoying Australians.

It was official. The road would be open for an hour (which was strange as it was a two-hour trek to the end) just to let us out, and they'd sent snow ploughs and gritters along it so that chains wouldn't be needed. I was quite disappointed. We'd have to get there pretty soon so once again we all dived for the cars and drove up the road. The barrier was open! We were going to escape!

Another ten minutes up the road was a queue of traffic and a big roadworks lorry blocking the path. We waited. Finally the roadworks guy came along to tell us to drive slowly and carefully and that they'd let us go in about half an hour. They did.

There was one more road block, where the landslide had washed the road away. Big diggers and trucks were trying to create a smooth path over the rubble for us, so once again we waited patiently, not quite believing that we'd get out. But we did. It was amazing to see this route in the daylight, huge, soaring peaks and snowfields, dark forests and icy rivers, it was glorious. There was a whole area of grassy savannah, turned golden in the evening sunset, with a thin layer of silver mist hovering over it. Gorgeous.

Suddenly cars came towards us, and we waved frantically at them to tell the it was a trap and to get our while they could, but they jsut waved back, oblivious to their doom. Fools. It was just about dark when we arrived in Te Anau, and we sang to the radio in celebration. We returned the sadly unused snowchains to the petrol station, which had, in our absence, removed its petrol pumps and dug up its forecourt, which made our return to reality seems slightly unreal. Generously, they didn't charge us for being overdue. We stopped at a supermarket and then wandered into the real world, down a small country lane, to a hostel in the middle of nowhere.

There was no-one in reception but a note said to phone a number and someone would come to see us. The first time there was no answer and the second time someone hung up angrily after asking us to stop making crank calls. I wanted to find somewhere else to stay, but when Mikey tried for the third time a Dutch lady answered and appeared soon afterwards. She led us out into the night, through fields and along unlit paths for hours until she came to a small village of log cabins. It was really quite cute, and also larger than it looked (it had four beds in it and plenty of room to run around in) and a bathroom, indoors and of our own, so we settled in.

We made a very quick but boring supper back in the main building and while we were eating a couple of Dutch girls and a german lad who were playing scrabble in English, kept asking us how to spell words and what English words had four vowels and an x in them. Mikey went back to the room to read and I helped the girls win Scrabble (although the German lad insisted on compound words, which we allowed cos he was playing on his own - he graciously declined the 50 bonus poins for 'icequeen' though). The hostel lady brought her tiny labrador puppy in for a few minutes, who was gorgeous. He was small and very fat and unsure how all his legs worked, but he had realised that cats are something that can be played with. After a brief distraction, we won at scrabble and I went to sleep.