Picton and Abel Tasman National Park
I arrived at the Wellington train station nice and early for the 09:05 shuttle bus to the Interislander ferry docks for my trip to Picton on the South Island. It was around 09:15 that I started to get a bit worried about being at the docks in time for the 09:30 sailing. Thankfully, a woman showed up a few minutes later and informed us that while the 09:30 Interislander had been cancelled, our tickets would be taken on the faster (a 2:15 trip rather than 3:30) Lynx ferry, leaving at the same time.
This, of course, meant that we had to hurry over to the nearby Lynx ferry terminal, but it all worked out okay in the end. The boat sailed away from the dock right on time, and out into the Cook Strait. It was supposedly a fairly calm day, but this didn’t help about 10% of the passengers who got seasick anyway. Fortunately I wasn’t among them.
The crossing of the strait wasn’t particularly exciting. The 120 vehicle, 760 passenger ferry was well equipped with the sorts of things you expect to find on such boats (video arcades, cafes, small shops) though it was a bit short on outdoor viewing decks. This was a shame really, as the crowds made it hard to enjoy and get photos of our passage through Queen Charlotte Sound as we approached our destination.
All the same, just over two hours later I was on dry land again, in the town of Picton and ready to start exploring the South Island.
Since my first choice of hostel in Picton was full (the first time I’ve seen a full hostel in NZ since arriving) I headed out to number two, The Sequoia Lodge.
After checking in, I set down my pack and headed up the road with the intent of buying some groceries. Halfway there it occurred to me that I might as well enjoy some of the short walks around Picton, even if I had left my backpack and water bottles at the hostel.
Thus it was that I started walking through the Victoria Domain, a good sized park extending out onto a peninsula called The Snout. The walk out The Snout included a long and unpleasant period of picking my way through a patch of gorse as I climbed through bush over the ridge of the peninsula in an attempt to find a different trail. Gorse has lovely yellow flowers, but its lovliness ends there. An introduced plant that has taken over swaths of New Zealand’s hillsides, it is covered in nasty spines that grow harder and sharper with age.
In any case, I eventually did find the trail I was looking for and enjoyed the three hour or so round trip, during which I met a group of international students (Canadian, French, German, Swiss) visiting from Auckland, enjoyed some nice overlooks out into Queen Charlotte Sound, and once again proved either that New Zealand’s track brochure makers are very conservative in their time allowances or I’m in reasonably good shape.
Towards the end of my walk (I did eventually make it to the grocery store albeit in a very roundabout way) I saw a group of kids, probably ranging from 16-19 playing touch rugby in the park across from my hostel. Despite not having drank any water since the morning, and despite having just spent over three hours walking through hills at a quick pace, I ran inside, dropped off my stuff and headed over to join them. I spent a good hour out running around barefoot in the park, attempting to prove (with moderate success) that Canadians can be competent rugby players too.
After the game wrapped up and the kids went their own ways, I headed back to the hostel to enjoy the evening, as well as the free soup and bread put on by the owners every night(!) They were both super tasty, especially the soup. This, combined with the general friendly and helpful-ness of the owners combined to make The Sequoia Lodge my favourite place I’ve stayed in NZ thus far.
The next morning was beautiful and sunny. A good thing, since I planned to do my first hitchhiking in New Zealand that day, heading from Picton up to Motueka, the main town near the south end of Abel Tasman National Park. To my pleasant surprise, it didn’t take long at all to pick up a ride from a friendly Croatian-Kiwi vetrinary assistant with a car that smelled like dogs. My kind driver was headed to Blenheim, the next town on the fastest (if not most direct) route to Motueka. She went out of her way a bit to drop me off on the far side of Blenheim, just before the speed limit changed from 50 to 100. During the 20 minute trip she’d informed me that the hitchhiking in Blenheim was often described as “the most difficult in New Zealand,” perhaps due to the prevalance of expensive baches (and cars) in the area, known for its sun, vineyards, as well as easy access from the rest of the country.
As it turned out I didn’t need to worry. About 10 minutes later, a friendly Englishman named Nick pulled over his campervan and told me he’d be quite happy to give me a ride all the way to Motueka, so long as I didn’t mind stopping in a couple of spots on the way to rest, relax and/or see the sights. No problem!
Our first stop was in a lovely little gorge for morning tea. We sat by the river chatting and enjoying a snack before heading on to Nelson, the second (or perhaps very close third depending on who you listen to) largest city on the South Island. In Nelson Nick and I went our separate ways for an hour and a half, each planning to explore the city before meeting up again at his van. My explorations took me up to the Nelson Cathedral, an interesting building, started in the 1930’s, but not fully completed until 1958, giving it an interesting combination of architectural styles, including a lovely latticed stone bell tower.
I popped inside the cathedral to have a look and discovered that I’d arrived in time to catch the last few minutes of a free organ concert (part of National Organ Week apparently.) After enjoying the remainder of the music, I had a walk around the inside of the cathedral, enjoying the architecture and stained glass before heading back down the steps to town and grabbing a few more groceries, after which I met Nick for the last leg of our trip to Motueka.
Following a quick stop for gas and oil (which I was, of course, more than happy to contribute to the cost of) we headed up through the hills and to Motueka. Nick dropped me off near the centre of town and after our goodbyes were said, and he headed on up the road.
Motueka was to be my jumping off point for the Abel Tasman Coast Track, one of New Zealand’s Great Walks. The Great Walks are a series of multi-day hiking (or “tramping” as the Kiwis say) tracks, generally running through national parks or other public lands. They’re well marked and maintained, and like many tramping tracks in the country have huts with bunks, heaters and sometimes cooking facilities (no cookers on the Coast Track though) spaced a days walk or less apart. The Coast Track runs from Marahau, just north of Motueka to Wainui Bay, some 51km up the coast in a generally northerly direction. The track is known for its lovely coastal scenery, including many golden sand beaches and beautiful turquoise water. In the summer it’s very heavily travelled by a wide variety of people including families.
While many people walk about 85% of the track to Totaranui and return to Marahau by water taxi or sea kayak, my plan was to walk the full length of the track in three days, arriving at the far end in time to hitch a ride to Takaka, the nearest large town to that end of the track.
I’d originally planned on staying in Motueka until I could find someone to walk the track with, but a quick trip to the visitors centre convinced me otherwise. They informed me that the track was SO well marked, travelled and maintained that I’d be fine walking it on my own.
The next morning, I packed all of my stuff up, managing to fit my daypack and a good store of food in my main backpack with little trouble, and headed to the visitors centre nice and early to catch a bus to the trailhead. Fortunately I met a James and Andy there, a couple of British fellows in a campervan who were headed to the park entrance for a short walk and sea kayak home.
After leaving my (most recent) benefactors to get fitted for their kayaks, life jackets and so on, I headed out to the start of the trail. If you’d like to follow along my route, a map of the track can be found here.
My first day was to be the hardest, or at least longest, of them all, taking me from the trailhead at Marahau to the Bark Bay hut, 21km distant. The walk started off with a small hill, and spent most of its time in the forest just away from and above the actual coast. While the land has been logged, the slowly regenrating forest is still lovely with bridged crossings of beautiful streams, micro-forests of vigorous lichens, waterfalls and a variety of native trees and birds.
Eventually the forest gave way, allowing for the first views of some of the park’s beautiful beaches. Shortly after this point I stopped for some water and to put a bandaid on what felt like it might be the precursor to a blister. As I prepared to get up, a crowd of about 7 people passed by on the trail. As it turned out they’d been travelling together on a Kiwi Experience bus. Kiwi Experience (along with Feejee and Oz Experience) provides relatively independent but still guided tours of the islands. Their main market is backpackers, primarily young ones, and perhaps beacause of this, they have a bit of a mixed reputation. Kiwi Experience travellers are stereotyped as being loud wild drunks, indeed, my friend Margot from Auckland called the Kiwi Experience Tour “The Green Shag Bus.” While this group of mixed nationalities fit the target market to a tee, I enjoyed walking with them for an hour or two, as well as having lunch with them by the shore before pushing on ahead.
A bit more walking and the trail headed down to Torrent Bay, site of another beautiful beach, as well as a small community of baches in place since before the park was founded. After the walk through the village the trail climbed up, giving a nice view back over the bay and the community.
By this point, my day’s walk was more than half complete, and I was looking forward to reaching the Falls River, the largest in the park and a sign that I would be very close indeed to the end. At the Falls, the trail takes a long turn inland before finally crossing the river and gorge via a suspension bridge.
As I approached Bark Bay, I passed by a couple of side trips that, while they looked nice, I didn’t want to bother doing with my pack on. So I’d planned to walk to the hut, drop of my pack and return later. It didn’t occur to me until I’d almost reached the hut that there was no particular reason I couldn’t have just dropped my pack on the trail and done the side trips, picking it up on my return. Duh. In any case, knowing that I’d be back later allowed me to freely push on at flank speed towards the Bark Bay. My only quick stop on the way was to say hello and explain my side trip plans to an American girl sitting blissfully in the sun on a rock by the trail overlooking Bark Bay.
I was overjoyed to arrive at the hut and rid myself of my pack, which had been weighing heavily on me all day. After claiming a bunk at the hut and changing into my sandals, I headed back out onto the trail to return to the side trips.
I must admit, it gave me great pleasure to meet the first of my Kiwi Experience companions from earlier about 20 minutes away from the hut as I walked back towards the Falls River Mouth and the South Head Overlook. The river mouth was a tough walk down a muddy hill, and I’m quite happy I didn’t have ny pack on for it. The overlook provided some lovely views out over the headlands and bays that I’d spent the day walking along. After enjoying these briefly, I headed quickly back towards the hut to make sure I arrived before sundown.
The evening was a fairly quiet one, as might be expected in a place where the sun sets at 18:00 and there’s no electricity. Nonetheless, I did manage to chat a bit with my fellow hut denizens, a German Couple, the seven Kiwi Experiencers, two Irish girls, a Kiwi family of five, and the lone American I’d met on the trail.
I also managed to “cook” some dinner (cook in quotes since I didn’t bring a campstove and my dinner consisted of dry instant noodles, cheese and chocolate) and do a bit of reading by the light of the gas stove and a couple of candles.
The next morning I got my first taste of another feature of the track: sandflies. Small biting flies, they are very persistent and very irritating. While the bumps from their bites do last a long time, I’m happy to say they don’t itch (me) for long. Others, unfortunately, have a much worse time of it, with big bumps that itch for days being raised by each bite. The one (small) silver lining in the sandfly situation is that they’re a bit slow and they’re SO persistant that once they’ve landed it’s very easy to swat them, so at least you get some satisfaction despite the bites.
This was planned to be my lightest day of walking. Due to the fact that the Awaroa Estuary can only be crossed two hours either side of low tide, even if I’d wanted to go further, I was limited to about four hours of walking that day.
As I walked along, stopping regularly to enjoy the views and lovely beaches I continued running into the people I’d stayed with the night before. Stopping at one beach, the site of a 1920s granite quarry (most of the bedrock on the Abel Tasman Coast is granite, which gives the area its lovely golden sand beaches) I ran into the American girl again. We lounged on the beach for a while, alternately talking and just enjoying the sun, sand and sound of the waves. After a nice long rest at the beach we headed on and spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon walking at a similar pace, occaisionally chatting a bit more at stops for water, rest or just enjoying the view. During all this, I learned that her name was Adrienne, and she was about halfway in to a six month visit to New Zealand from St. Louis, though she’d lived in many other places over the US in the past. After some more nice slow walking, we got close to Awaroa Bay, and made a penultimate stop at a point above which had a lovely lookout over the locale.
It became apparent shortly after arriving at Awaroa that the Department of Conservation folks were pretty serious about the tidal crossing restrictions. While I had arrived at low tide, the change in water depth was apparent by the fact that a number of boats were sitting on dry land in the estuary. While it was definitely possible to cross the estuary at the time when I arrived, there wouldn’t be near enough time to reach the next hut, so I had a nice excuse to end the day’s walk at Awaroa.
With this in mind, I once again dumped my pack off at the lodge, had a brief lunch and then joined Adrienne for a walk over to the Awaroa Lodge, a hotel and restaurant located just off the Awaroa Bay beach, not far from the hut.
After spending three and two days respectively on the trail and sleeping in unlit huts the lodge seemed almost surreal. Not accessible by road, the place still managed to have a beautiful outdoor patio, not to mention a wide array of delicious smelling food, a lengthy wine list, draught beer, and even a wood burning fireplace surrounded by leather furniture.
Adrienne and I lazed away the next hour or two sitting on the patio, each enjoying a cold Monteith’s Black and even having our photo taken by a friendly South African named Pierre who would also be joining us at the hut the next day. As we whiled away the afternoon we discussed our plans for the remainder of the track. Adrienne explained that she’d planned on walking to the Whariwharangi hut the next day, spending the night there, then backtracking to Totaranui where she’d pick up a watertaxi back to Marahau before driving up to near Takaka (my planned destination), and also that if I was around then she’d be happy to give me a ride up there. While this wasn’t exactly my plan, and would mean speniding one more day on the track, I eventually decided to accept her kind offer, since I’d enjoyed walking with her that day and was enjoying the track more generally.
As sunset drew in, we decided to head back to the hut for the evening. We knew full well that there was a small tidal stream to cross on the way back, but didn’t realize that it was small only in comparison to the main Awaroa Estuary crossing. After pausing to take a few photos of the setting sun, we headed out into the stream. As the water reached up to our knees, then waists, then higher, that we’d underestimated the depth of this crossing.
Fortunately, the water didn’t get much deeper than chest height, and all of my important items (camera, passport, plane tickets, wallet) were either waterproof, sealed in ziploc bags or carried in my hands above the water. UN-fortunately, after arriving on the far side, Adrienne realized that she’d left her camera on the sand before we’d set out. Thus she had to do two MORE crossings of the stream with the tide coming further and further in. Her final crossing back must have taken place pretty much right at high tide. At least her misery allowed me to get a good picture of the crossing.
Arriving at the hut shivering and cold, we were happy to discover that the kiwi family and the Irish girls from the night before had arrived after us and started up the wood stove, so it didn’t take too long for us to warm up again.
This evening was a decidedly more sociable one. The Kiwi family taught all of us a card game (virtually identical to the game Asshole for those of you familiar with it) and we spent a good couple of hours after dinner playing and talking before heading off to bed.
The next day was my favourite on the track. It started late given that, once again, all the residents of the Awaroa hut heading north had to wait for the tide to drop and the estuary to become crossable. Two boys headed out at perhaps 10:45 and we watched them anxiously as they passed through the waist deep water. Adrienne and I weren’t particularly keen on getting wet again after the previous evening, so we waited until almost noon before heading across. By that time, the water was barely more than ankle deep.
The trip to the next rest point, Totaranui, was quick, with just a short climb up and down a hill, a walk along a beach, scramble over some rocks (not part of the trail, but more fun and probably quicker than the hill we would’ve climbed otherwise) and walk along another beach. Following this, we were very happy to arrive. Totaranui is the last point on the trail served by water taxis, and is also a road end, so it’s very common for people to end the walk there. This was the case with virtually all of our tramping companions. Not Adrienne and I, though. After dumping our garbage (we’d had to carry it for the length of the trail up to now), refilling our water (the filtered water supply at Awaroa hadn’t been working, and although I had purification drops, it was still nice to get clean water out of a tap) and making a phone call or two, we carried on.
The part of the trail between Totaranui and Wharwharangi was quite different from what we’d walked up to this point. The trail was dominated by gorse and bracken, rather than regenerating native forest, and there were many fewer people. Indeed, from the time we left Totaranui, we didn’t see a single soul on the track.
This section of the trail also spent much more time on or close to the beach than the rest of the track. These beaches were completely deserted and had beautiful sand bracketed by lovely rocky sections at either end.
After walking along two wonderful beaches, there was some debate about whether we had time for the side trip to Separation point (we decided we didn’t) Adrienne and I arrived at the Whariwharangi hut just before sundown. This hut was different than all the others in that it was a historical (160 years old as I recall) farm house rather than a newer purpose-constructed building. Inside it was very cosy, and we discovered that a lighter and some candles had even been left, along with the large supply of firewood found at all of the wood-heated huts. We had just enough time to light a fire in the wood stove and set some water out to boil before heading down to the beach to watch the sun set.
We arrived just in time, and had to walk to the far end of the beach to catch the last of the sun’s rays. The sun setting behind the 50km or so long Farewell Spit in the distance was a very pretty sight, as was its last rays shining down onto the Whariwharangi beach.
Adrienne and I sat on our chunk of driftwood for some time after the sun had sunk below the horizon, admiring the changing colours of the sky. We were just about to head back to the hut when I spotted a fin popping up and out of the surf. It was a dolphin! And not just A dolphin, but a pretty sizeable pod of them, swimming very near shore. Indeed, at times some of them were swimming in the waves as they rose up towards shore, then racing out further as the waves receded, before they were stuck on land. The 20 or so dolphins bobbed playfully in and out of the water, with some further out leaping entirely clear of it. We sat and watched most of the pod go by, entranced, before Adrienne suggested we go in for a swim with them. I wasn’t wearing to many clothes and was stripped down to swim-worthy layers in no time, but I was too much of a wimp to venture in alone. Unfortunately Adrienne was rather more heavily layered, and by the time she was disrobed, the very last of the pod was just passing it by. So it was that we piled our clothes back on and made our chilly, dark way back to the hut. Though the moon was bright, it was fortunate Adrienne had brought a flashlight, otherwise it would’ve been a very tricky trip. Sadly the sun had already gone down too far to get any good pictures of the dolphins 🙁
Upon arriving back at the hut, we found two other people had appeared, still making for a very quiet evening. Adrienne “prepared” some lentil soup for dinner, and we feasted on that, along with cheese and crackers and big chunks of chocolate. It’s actually quite unkind of me to put the word prepared in quotes. The wood stove really just wasn’t warm enough, and despite any faults it may have had (my overdoing it with the chilli peppers a bit after she invited me to season it being one) it was still the only even vaguely warm food I’d had in days.
After dinner and a talk with the English couple we were sharing the 19 bunk hut with, it was off to bed so that we could get up as early as possible in hopes of seeing the sunrise at Separation Point on the way back to Totaranui.
I woke at 5:20 or so, thinking I’d done rather well. As it turned out, Adrienne had already been up for almost an hour, and despite my exhortions the previous evening hadn’t wanted to wake me. Nonetheless we were packed in a flash, and although we didn’t make it out to the point itself in time for sunrise, we did stop to watch it from the top of the peninsula, and were rewarded for our early (by my stabdards alone, not hers) rise by a lovely view of the first rays of dawn shining out over the Cook Strait.
After sunrise, we carried on down the track to the trail leading to the very end of the point. We dumped our packs off and headed on down the road. The point was also beautiful, providing some lovely (and very secure, don’t worry mom) seats on the cliff edges to sit and watch a rocky sections New Zealand Fur Seal breeding colony on one side, and the beach at Mutton Cove on the other.
As nice as sitting in the first light of morning at the point was, we eventually had to pick up our feet, since we had a three hour walk ahead of us, and an 11:00 water taxi to catch at Totaranui.
The walk was similar to the day before (unsurprising, since it was over the exact same stretch of trail) and with only a couple more stops to enjoy the unspoiled golden beaches, we arrived back at Totaranui in plenty of time.
We sat around on the beach at Totaranui, perhaps the most golden of them all, and after watching the disembarking passengers, hefted our packs onto our backs for one last time before boarding the boat ourselves.
The water taxi ride back was much more than simple transport. It was wonderful to see all of the coastal sights we’d passed on foot from a different angle. The beaches were just as pretty from the sea, and we got a good look at the granite cliffs that were impossible to see from shore. In addition, the friendly driver took us by another seal colony on Tonga Island, and, after stopping to pick up a group of sea kayakers, spent another several minutes cruising around a large pod of dolphins. While even more dolphins were visible this time, and it was probably the same pod we’d seen the previous night, they still couldn’t quite top the previous night’s sight of the marine mammals so close to shore in the lit by the sun’s dying embers.
The final bit of water taxi entertainment occurred on our arrival back at Marahau. Rather than let us walk back to the parking lot over the bay at low tide, the boat itself was hauled up onto a trailer and we remained in our seats as it was pulled back over the roads by a tractor.
With the day still fairly young, following a quick face wash and some re-packing we hopped into Adrienne’s car for the trip north. We paused in Motueka to do some grocery shopping, and noted that while it’s a bad idea to shop on an empty stomach, it’s an even worse idea to shop on an empty stomach not having had any hot or even entirely REAL food for four or more days. Eventually after a good long time spent in the supermarket, we headed on.
The drive through the mountain road from Motueka to Takaka was as pretty as any I’ve yet seen in New Zealand, and we stopped a couple of times, first for a great picnic lunch. Our picnic site looked out over the national park. The view made the already wonderful meal of pesto bread, olive oil, sardines, tomatoes, cheese and beer all the better. Our second stop was just past some spectacular cliffs to admire (or perhaps marvel at the foolishness of) some paragliders, and enjoy the view out over the valley where Takaka is situated.
Eventually we did reach Takaka, and Adrienne and I parted ways. While we both planned to walk the Heaphy Track next, she was headed up further north to Collingwood to do stay and work at a farm for a while, and I needed to get started on the track within a couple of days in hopes of catching as much of the South Island as possible thereafter.
So… Here I sit in Takaka, after an aborted attempt to reach the Heaphy track today (I’ll tell you about that next time)
I’ll conclude this entry with my usual thanks, this time to Adrienne for making the Abel Tasman Coast Track, which was already a spectacular walk, even better.
Tags: New Zealand
Llew