Change In Plans

Greetings from Abel Tasman National Park, New Zealand!  This short post is about our last full day in the park, and the last day of this part of our family trip.  Tomorrow India and the kids meet our friend Ginny in Wellington, and I fly to Switzerland for a week on my own.

The main event of the day was a long hike (13 kilometers) from Bark Bay back to the Awaroa Lodge.  To our surprise, between the two days of hiking we covered nearly two thirds of the Abel Tasman track.

Like yesterday, we boarded a water taxi to take us to the start of the hike.  Unlike yesterday, we were actually down on the beach on time for the taxi: yesterday we were late, and they had raised the gangplank and turned around the boat when Zola ran screaming onto the beach, “Wait! Wait!”

The water taxi took us two stops south, to a beach landing called Bark Bay.  Once again, we found no signs or clear indication of how to find the track.  It is a do-it-yourself country.  After stumbling around for 10 minutes in a lagoon, we found what we hoped to be the trail, and headed north toward the lodge, with confidence.

We are approaching a big transition tomorrow, with me leaving the family to go off to Switzerland to go skiing.  When I get back to New Zealand, after a quick stop in Istanbul for a meeting, we will be very near the end of our planned trip together.  I start working in New York on April 20th.  Big changes are looming for our comfortable NeverNever Land of family travel.

For the last couple of days, all of us have been a little irritable and easily frustrated.  Tallulah has had two long periods of inconsolable crying for no apparent reason.  Usually this would indicate constipation, but this time we think it is reflective of our broader unsettled feelings and “what’s next?” apprehension.  

With foul moods, but remarkably fair weather, we set out for the 4-5 hour hike from Bark Bay to Awaroa.  As we walked, Tallulah on my shoulders, I realized that this last hike is a good metaphor for our entire time in Australia and New Zealand:

• India leading the way most of the time, confident and happy to be out in nature
• Lots of scenic beauty, and ridiculously few people
• A few sharp words between us, but many more laughs
• An incredible amount of Zola monologue about Pokemon and Star Wars
• In-depth discussion of a terminal illness -tuberculosis, in this case-, and the reasons that Zola is unlikely to contract it, despite his concerns

The biggest similarity between the hike and the Australia/NZ portion of the trip, maybe between the hike and the whole year of traveling: it was over before we knew it.  Shortly after Lu lost the batteries to her toy Japanese Barbie cell phone, we realized we were back at the lodge.  The 4-5 hour hike was over in just under 3 hours.

Tomorrow will be a complicated and sad day.  We have a charter water taxi picking us up on the beach at 8 am.  When we get back to Marahau at 8:45 (no seal watching or Split Apple commentary this time), we need to race back to Nelson for an 11 am flight to Wellington.  In Wellington, we meet our  dear friend Ginny, who will undoubtedly be more fun than I have been.  She and India and the kids drive into Wellington to a rented house.  

I get on a plane for Sydney, transfer to BA flight to Bangkok, where I transfer to a flight to London, where I transfer to a flight to Geneva.  In Geneva I take a bus to Chamonix, where the Haute Route adventure starts.  I think I am in transit for about 35 hours.

This time together has been fun.  As soon as I say goodbye, and board the plane for my lonely trip, I know I will miss my family a lot.  I’m glad we will have 10 days together in New Zealand when I get back, to bring some sense of closure to it all.

Greeting from Abel Tasman National Park in New Zealand!  We are at the northern end of the South Island. This short post is about our trip up here from Blenheim, and our first full day at the Awaroa Lodge.  Unfortunately, the internet connection is too slow to add pictures to the post.

Our initial plan had been to fly form Christchurch to Nelson, and then to take a charter plane across to the Awaroa Lodge.  We decided to drive, which is how we ended up in (slightly dreary) Blenheim on Monday night.

Thinking that we only had to drive up to Nelson, roughly 100 kilometers, we were a little slow in getting out of Blenheim on Tuesday morning.  As we drove, I called the water taxi company.  The conversation went something like:

Peter: “Hi, can you tell me where we go in Nelson to take the water taxi, and what times you have boats for Awaroa?”

AquaTaxi Lady: “Sir, we are not in Nelson.  We are in Marahau.”

P: “How far is that from Nelson?”

ATL: “About three hours.”

P: “That’s not good.  Well, we are actually in Blenheim, how far are you from here?”

ATL: “At least four hours, I would say.”

P: “That’s really not good.  Well, when do you have boats leaving for Awaroa?”

ATL: “Our last boat for the day leaves at 1:30 pm.”

P: “Well, it’s 10:30 now.  You are saying that we have to make a four-hour drive in under three hours, or we are stuck in someplace called Marahau for the night.”

ATL: “That’s right.  Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Bad planning on my part.  Fortunately, as we have realized, New Zealanders are very conservative in estimating driving times.  By putting a moratorium on pee breaks, and driving a little fast on the flat parts, we made it in just over two and a half hours.  When I met AquaTaxi Lady in person, I asked her about her estimate.  she said, “I assumed you would want to stop for a wee lunch break, traveling with kids and all.”  

Our AquaTaxi was a 30-foot motor launch, sitting on a trailer, attached to a farm tractor.  We loaded the luggage, put on life jackets, walked up the gangplank, and got a safety briefing from our Jimmy Bufett-lookalike captain, all sitting surreally on dry land in the parking lot.  The tractor driver towed us down the road, and out about 300 meters across the wet sand to the low-tide waterline. He backed us into the water, and away we went. 

Jimmy Buffett somehow stretched the 40-minute taxi ride up the coast into a 90-minute aquatic scenery event.  We saw the Split Apple Rock, and heard the Maori legend about how it got split.  We chased a huge sting ray around in shallow waters near Tonga Bay beach.  We crept up on seal pups playing in the cove of an off-shore island.   More fun than most taxi rides, I think.

Eventually, we got to the Awaroa.  The lodge is situated 300 meters back from the water, directly on the famous Abel Tasman track.  This track is iconic, sort of like a shortened New Zealand version of the Appalachian Trail.  There are loads of people hiking and kayaking from hut to hut, and a lot of the lodge’s business is in selling them drinks and good food as they pass.  There is no way to drive in or out of here.  Many parts of the track are only passable at low tide, so there is a good excuse to sit in the lodge’s beer garden for six hours of a pleasant afternoon, before heading on down the trail.

The Abel Tasman park is justifiably famous for being beautiful: clear blue waters, gentle deep-green hillsides, golden beaches.  For the first time in New Zealand, we have even had sunny weather.  One thing we are struggling with is complete lack of signs and maps.  New Zealand is a “do it yourself” country, for sure.

During the high-tide part of our first day, India and I each went out for a run.  I guess I did not pay close enough attention when she gave me a suggested route, because I got comically lost, and had a series of mildly unfortunate events.  Basically, she had told me to look for a short boardwalk through a marsh, and then a swinging bridge and a steep hill.  

I ran back and forth aimlessly around the lodge’s airstrip, looking for the path into the woods.   I found a small trail, that led up a steep hill (good sign), but strangely found myself in the front yard of a farmhouse.  A dog barked twice, then growled deeply, and started chasing me back down the steep hill.  As I turned to see whether I had lost him, I slipped on the muddy path, and did a complete face plant.  Fortunately, the dog had given up the chase.

Slightly bloody, and very muddy, I asked a farmer to direct me.  He seemed confused by my question (not reassuring), but pointed toward a trail across a flooded tidal creek.  Despite my best efforts to cross the creek on a slippery log, I ended up wet to the knees, and squished off into the woods.  I crossed a little footbridge (good sign), and then followed several false trails into the rain forest.  Eventually, I decided to stay on the main path and hope for the best.  This is when a bee stung me on the forearm.

Not my proudest moment, but I eventually made it onto the right trail, up behind the lodge.  As with all things in New Zealand, very beautiful.

At the low-tide part of the day, we took another AquaTaxi up the coast to Totaranui, planning to hike back.  We had a beautiful two-hour walk, mostly looking out over the water from the cliffs above.  Just before we got back to the lodge, we crossed a huge (nearly kilometer wide) tidal flat, which made it clear why that particular route is impassable at high tide.  Even with the low water, I ended up carrying Zola, Tallulah and India (individually) through deep water in a few places.  Again, getting there is half the fun.

Tomorrow we have another, longer hike planned.  The lodge’s kayaking guide “already buggered off for the season,” so that activity will have to wait for our next visit.