In Amelia's last post she boarded a Base Jumper motorhome and explored Banks Peninsula and the lonely road to Erewhon Station before ending up beneath a weather bomb in Methven. Here she continues her week-long jaunt around the central South Island...

The morning's bucketing rain drowns our plans of a jet boating trip and walk in the Rakaia Gorge. But even Mother Nature's wintry worst wouldn't keep us from our next destination: The Spa at Terrace Downs High Country Resort.

Once considered the exclusive domain of wealthy golfers and businessmen, Terrace Downs has undergone something of a make-over in recent years. New management has expanded the resort's activity offerings, turning it into an enticing day-trip destination and entertainment venue. One of the newest additions is The Spa - a meltingly warm, petal scented haven of relaxation. Welcomed with a delicious cup of rice tea, we are soon soothed by the spa's gentle hush and stare serenely out to the manicured lawns and snow covered hills beyond. Inside the sumptuous massage room I lay contentedly upon the warmed massage table, transported into a near meditative state by the heavenly scents, low candle light and soothing music... When I wake from my trance, the high country hills are swathed in a pink evening glow.

Jack Frost paints the landscape in a crisp white palette overnight. Lounging in bed with the heater on and cooking up bowls of steaming porridge, we pass the time until the slippery roads have thawed. Our long lost companion, sunshine, makes a spectacular comeback, warming our spirits as we set off towards the west coast. The recent snow sits low upon the towering mountains, while the sun illuminates the lush native bush and the cascading waterfalls amongst it.

New Zealand is at its breathtaking best and we can't help but stop and appreciate it - first to explore the peculiar limestone monoliths at Castle Hill, finding giant, warped faces in the time-wrought turrets of rock; then lunch at Arthur's Pass village, where cheeky keas dance about in the crisp mountain air, stealing peoples' picnics.

At Blackball - home to 300 people, a rousing political history and a top notch salami shop - we perch outside the town's most famous landmark - 'Formerly the Blackball Hilton' - and enjoy the last of the day's rays, served warm with a side of local gossip from the barmaid.

The Lewis Pass's twisting tunnels of towering trees lead us to Maruia Springs by sundown. As night gently settles upon the hills, our travel-weary bodies melt deliciously into the 41C hot pools. Gossamer steam swirls into the crisp, calm darkness. We bob lazily until our skin starts to shrivel and tummies start to grumble.

With the on-site restaurant now closed, we pick our way back through the dark to our van and cook up a feast. Shortly after, warm and sated, we fall easily into a satisfying sleep...

A familiar patter on the roof wakes us early. The dismal drizzle follows us, hanging like a low, grey curtain, all the way to Kaikoura, where the dark, choppy sea dashes our planned dolphin-swimming trip. "Sorry," say the Dolphin Encounter staff, sincerely. "We can't do anything about the weather."

Don't we know it.

Winding our way home along the seal-speckled coast, we laugh at our meteorological misfortune. Five days in a bitterly cold South Island autumn? This trip was always going to be about the weather.

But it's not until we're bidding a fond farewell to our Base Jumper amidst the lashing rain of Christchurch that I consider unpacking those thermals...

Amelia enjoyed a week in a Base Jumper motorhome courtesy of Wilderness Motorhomes (www.wilderness.co.nz) and New Zealand travel website http://www.fourcorners.co.nz/.