The ascent started steeply ... And that's how it stayed.

My jelly legs from a previous hike helped create a drunken sailor persona. I wish that was the case.

Dylan du Ross, who recently left Hawke’s Bay, is sharing his travel experiences around New Zealand.

Eventually, the top beckoned before us. Once again mother nature produced a view that dazzled me, justifying the steep climb.

There were a few information boards about torea and mussel buoys in the area, helping quench my new thirst for knowledge, for now.

An interesting but sad fact was that torea, an oystercatcher bird, was named after a Maori pā site that was thought to be indestructible.

The view from the Onahoa lookout.

That was, until muskets were introduced. Concerning the Mussel Buoys, apparently there is an ongoing battle between balancing the tourist jewel of Marlborough, and a highly visual marine industry. I mean, nothings perfect right?

Some of the worst roading I've seen led us to the next destination. Potholes, loose gravel, and short corners littered the track, making for an unbearable drive. But, of course, we have to deal with the bad to get the good.

Titirangi Beach

Once at the Titirangi campsite I was mesmerised. A golden sandy beach was ours.

There was no one around. Not a seagull nor a sand fly. The experience exceeding the price tag tenfold. $7 for this. My mind was blown. A tasty soup mix filled our stomachs and then we laid our heads to rest.

Not for long though, the alarm was set for 4:45am.

‘Aegaen Sea’ plays from my phone, it's supposed to be a soothing sound to wake up to, but the noise at this time was anything but.

Luckily, excitement surrounding my first sunrise hike started pumping through my veins, notching up my start up speed significantly. Ready to do whatever I pleased, which was apparently putting on as many layers as possible.

Shorts, track pants, sweat pants, one pair of socks, another pair of socks, t-shirt, sweatshirt, hoodie, puffer jacket. I was a walk-in wardrobe ready for the summit of Mount Stoke. This later proved how much of a rookie I am. The gravel road leading to the track was a journey in itself. Forget midnight tours of the Napier prison, come to Marlborough at 4am and dodge the camouflaged black cows, the possums jumping out in front of you and poor sheep sprinting away from the head lights.

We arrived at the track, starting the race against the sun. Not five minutes had past when my sweat pants, track pants, puffer jacket, hoodie and my sweat shirt had to come off. I do love a good waste of time.

The track was hard from the start, clambering up and down rocks, navigating through pools of muddy water, and slippery slopes. The fact that Maggie's head torch had run out of battery didn't help either.

Ascending the mountain at this time meant the responsibility of using our faces and bodies to clear the hundreds of spider webs that were strung across the track. Although white-tails do not make webs I believe this is where I achieved both my white-tail bites. So this is how Harry Potter and Bilbo Baggins felt.

At 6am the birds started sending out the alarm bells, we only had another 90 minutes before the sun started to give life to the silhouettes we found ourselves in. Feelings of agony developed as the peak teased us, constantly leaving hints of a close summit, only to find it was anything but.

We made it. 7.30am, five minutes before sunrise. It was beautiful. 360-degree views of mountain and ocean. The rim of the sun touched the horizon. This was it. This is the reward of climbing a mountain in pitch black darkness.

A huge cloud engulfs us. It floats stationary for a while, laughing at us. I couldn't do anything but laugh back, this is just my luck. We made some chamomile tea and waited for the cloud to pass.

A whole hour was spent up the top of Mount Stoke, tagging between the dullest views, to some of the most spectacular.

This trip through the sounds had a lot of good, coming with the bad, it helped show me that sometimes you have to have hard times, to have great times.

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• Lifestyle