Flying in, you're struck by the beauty of this seaside town.
Kaikoura, despite the huge 7.8 earthquake and hundreds of aftershocks, still looks like a picture postcard the tourists flock to.
Our chopper flew up the east coast to get into this stricken cut off community. It's clear to see the enormous rock falls spilling over the coastal road, blocking the route in and out.
As we touch down, the tourists wait on the grass with their bags hoping to get out. The helicopters can't go fast enough.
On day two of this disaster, It's a hot day. So hot many look sunburnt but don't seem to notice. They're milling around the park outside the hospital, waiting, hoping.
The look on their faces says it all. The holiday is over here. They look tired, strained, anxious - yet they are putting on a brave face.
Patience is needed in this situation and they are all extremely grateful to the local community that's rallied to provide food and shelter.
But with no water, basic services, shops shut and bad weather on the way, they want to move on.
It's especially hard for the locals here in Kaikoura. They can't move on. They can only wait it out, hoping the roads will reopen and they can resume their lives and once again draw the tourists.
I'm always so proud of our reporters and crew. They hit the ground running on big stories, barely sleeping or eating, providing updates and telling the stories of the people with empathy.
They don't complain, they haven't showered in days and soldier on through the tremors.
For news crews telling these big stories is a big responsibility. It's what we want to do, why we became journalists.
The aftershocks keep coming and we all pause and then carry on.
This community will carry on too and pick up the pieces, hoping one day soon this beautiful spot will again thrive.