This has been a week of firsts. My first time in a sea kayak, first time camping by myself, first ride in a helicopter and my first time ice climbing on a glacier.

I also finally began to think about what I'm going to do when I get back to England. "Why - you have four months yet?" I hear you say. Well for me this trip is as much about the travelling as finding the time and space to figure out where my life is heading.

I didn't manage this in the US - too rushed and too soon. I started to get close in Fiji but I still needed some time out just to relax completely and leave everything behind. However, three days kayaking and hiking by myself in the empty wilderness of New Zealand's coastal Abel Tasman National Park gave me plenty of time to think about a lot of things. But first let me tell you how I got there.

I'm travelling round New Zealand with a tour company called Magic Bus. They offer a variety of routes round both North and South Islands covering all the main highlights. Buses run every day of the week during the summer so I've been jumping on and off as I please. The downside is that I am restricted by the pre-defined route, but there are advantages: the driver books your accommodation and sorts out any activities you might want to do. And best of all, if you get a good driver (and I've only had one who wasn't really enthusiastic) you get an excellent commentary on the sights and sounds of New Zealand. These range from pointing out the small farm where the current prime minister grew up, to explaining New Zealanders' hatred of possums. They also all seem to be obsessed with telling you the population of each town you go through.

The tours are very laid back. The majority of people on the bus are in their mid-twenties, but there are always a few older and younger people too. The other main tour bus, Kiwi Experience, is supposed to be more of a party bus. You have to wear a dress and down 10 pints before they let you into the hostel - that sort of thing. You can probably guess by now that that isn't really my style, so I'd opted for Magic.

By the time the bus reached the city of Nelson on the South Island the sun had come out (hooray). I had booked a three-day sea kayaking and hiking trip and after a night in Nelson I headed out to the park to grab my paddle.

Abel Tasman covers a relatively small area in comparison to New Zealands's other National Parks, but it's incredibly beautiful with golden beaches, lush gullies and thick forests. Road access only extends as far as the park entrances, so to get into the wilderness you must walk in or take a boat.

I was in a small group of three double kayaks, and after our guide for the day, Kea, had set out the proposed route and given a quick demonstration of what to do in the unlikely event of capsizing we got onto the water.

It was a unique experience. The waters were crystal clear and quite calm. We paddled out along the coast, dipping into secluded bays. Kea pointed out the wildlife and told us the history of the park as we went along riding the waves.

We pulled up on a beach for a leisurely lunch and a bit of snorkelling before setting off again. In the afternoon, the wind picked up so all three kayaks came together to form a raft and we put up a sail attached to the paddles. With the wind behind us we ran between the anchored sailing boats into Torrent Bay where I was to spend my first night.

My rucksack was there waiting for me on the beach. I had hired a tent, stove and pans and brought just enough food for a couple of days. Not having camped for years and never by myself, I didn't know what to expect.

I waved goodbye to Kea as he stacked the kayaks onto the waiting boat and set off back home. Then I walked off to the nearby campsite and chose my spot for the night. This was the nearest site to the park entrance so it was quite busy. I set up in the shade under some trees, lit the stove and began to cook dinner. I had dried pasta with a tomato sauce and dried fruit for afters, and while not exactly a culinary triumph, it was very satisfying.

After a rather disturbed night (two possums decided to have an argument right outside my tent) I decamped and set off along the coastal track. It was early (about 7 am) and I tramped slowly up into the hills as the sun got higher and hotter. Streams cascaded down by the path. I stopped to have a solitary dip in a cold, deep pool surrounded by forest.

And it was now with only myself and the cicadas for company that I began to think about my life and where it was going.

In London, I'd had a pretty good life with great friends, a well-paid, interesting job and I had been saving to buy a flat. I had done all the things you were supposed to do: school, university, proper grown-up job. I have ticked all the boxes but like many people my age, all I'm left with is a feeling of "is this it?"

I'm the sort of person that will always believe the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. But looking back, I did jump into my first job without really thinking about what I actually wanted to do or what sort of quality of life I was looking for.

It may well be that I decide the civil service is for me after all, but I have definitely decided that I don't want to live in London any longer. I'm fed up with urban life. I want to live by the sea or up in the mountains with clear air and beautiful views.

Admittedly, I might get a little bored so that's why I need to come up with an interesting variety of jobs (rather than one single career) to keep me busy. Ideas so far include travel writing (you'll have to judge whether that's viable or not); teaching people to sail or kayak (ok I've not got much experience at the moment but it would be fun); running a Bed and Breakfast (after staying in numerous hostels, I reckon I know exactly what makes a good place). I'm sure more useful ideas will follow.

I walked 11 miles that day and spent my second night camped on an empty beach, and after another day's hike across a wide estuary, I caught a water taxi back home.

The next day I was back on the Magic Bus heading down the west coast and it was raining again. There's no half measures with weather here: it's either pouring or clear blue skies.

The scenery was now very dramatic with steep gorges, glaciated valleys, thick rainforests and wild rocky coastlines. It all looked very young - as though everything had only just been formed and the elements hadn't had the chance to erode it all down.

We passed through a series of isolated towns with dreary names like Westport and Greymouth before reaching the spectacular Westland National Park. Here huge glaciers push down to the rainforest and the coast.

Maori legend says that the goddess Hinehukatere loved the mountains in this area and encouraged her lover, Tawe, to climb them with her. He slipped and fell to his death and Hinehukatere's tears formed the glaciers.

We stopped at the Franz Josef Glacier where I and fellow Londoner, Steve, took a heli-hike up to the ice. The helicopter took us on a trip swooping up the valley and then dropped us off on the glacier. With crampons and ice axes our guide took us climbing up frozen ice falls and squeezed through narrow blue crevasses.

I can't find the words to describe what an amazing experience this was and will have to leave it to my photos to give you an idea of the sheer magic of this stunning, unreal landscape. All I can say is that Steve and I kept laughing out loud and exclaiming "wow, look at that" and "I can't believe we are really doing this!".

Such experiences are so completely different from my previous nine to five existence that they provide clarity, brief moments when I feel I'm getting just an inkling of "what it's all about". I'm not so naive to think that I'm somehow going to come up with the great solution and then go off to live happily ever after. But if I can get some sense of purpose, of direction then that will be a huge step forward.

I think the fog that has lasted for the last few years might be beginning to clear.