An Abel Tasman Easter

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An Abel Tasman Easter John Griffiths Since arriving in this delightful country in Easter Saturday dawned bright and clear, February and having endured a washout in breakfast was a quiet affair, remaining hot cross Napier and cyclone Bola in Northland, it was with buns proffered, tents down, packs on and away some trepidation that I found myself preparing to we go. Do we romp, lope, plod or tramp? In any tramp the Abel Tasman National Park. event a steady plod to Torrent Bay, through some civilisation, we even meet some people in skirts Thursday 31st March dawned blustery and and sandals - perhaps they. just walk. Again sun, windy, preparations were made for departure, the sea and sand until a further nights camp at Bark wind still blew, seasick pills were swallowed and Bay, some of the hardier souls even manage a the journey to the ferry undertaken. The efficient swim, including me. The usual well-drilled New Zealand Railways kindly took the packs, a routine with tea brewed and yet another body of ticket receipt was given, the ferry boarded and cutters-up and stirrers, the evening dollop the crossing undertaken. The wind still blew, the consumed and on this occasion cheese cake to ferry rocked and Mrs Buncks lost her supper. We finish; such a luxury in the bush! Another arrived at Picton, disembarked, and the super moonlit bonfire then retire to terra firma. Easter Sunday again dawned bright and clear, anyone for hot cross buns! Tents down, packs packed, off we went, steady walk to Onetahuti lunch stop, no water, the beaches took the appearance of the desert. Over the hill to the Awaroa Inlet, much discussion about tides. I along with the team leader and Mr and Mrs Buncks forded the first river, knee high, then it was decided to take a short cut to the estuary, stands to reason it must be shallower. Mr Buncks as a dipstick finished up to his waist, must wait for the tide to lower, 20 minutes later Murray had a go with pack, nearly lost both - an efficient New Zealand Railways did not require armpits job. Meanwhile the wiser member of the our ticket receipt, all and sundry scrambled for party Mrs Buncks spied a sand bar out to sea packs. Organised chaos reigned. A super luxury and set off through the ocean and crossed by the coach (with curtains at the windows) awaited to sand bar meekly followed by the remaining party. transport the party to Marahau. At Motueka Paul Meanwhile the rest did the sensible thing and Hughes and party plodded off into cold night. On crossed at the proper point, so much for short arrival at Marahau I found we were booked into a cuts. After much discussion camp site at Goat Motor Camp and cabins had been allocated. Ah! Bay decided on, bit primitive but that is what says I, this is civilised tramping, but in a twinkle camping is all about. Cutters and stirrers in all beds had been grabbed and there were at least action the resulting dollop turned out to be six on the floor in the dining area. cheese macaroni. I think. Some swam, a cricket bat was produced and a generally relaxing time Good Friday Morning. It was raining - much had by all whilst the sun continued to shine. discussion about delayed departures, and many Willing hands cleared the beach of driftwood and hot cross buns were consumed. But lo and a massive bonfire was lit to be enjoyed by all on behold by mid-morning the rain ceased, the yet another clear moonlight night. clouds lifted, the sun shone and off we went. The first days walk is through a particularly scenic Easter Monday break camp, short walk to part of the park with good views over bays and Totaranui, a cold shower, (hardy lot these inlets. Eventually we arrived at Anchorage Bay, trampers) and a super, super luxury coach back the camp site for the night. Packs were lowered, to Picton, with a stop for icecream, Paul Hughes tents and flys erected, billies on, tea brewed and and party and fish and chips before the ferry the evening meal prepared. There were many departure. What is now the usual scramble for stirrers of the pot until in due course a meal was packs at Wellington and for the author home to a placed into the awaiting bowls or plates. comfortable bed. Does anyone fancy a hot cross Fortunately for the stirrers it was consumed in bun? the dark so we could not actually see the result of EPILOGUE - My thanks to Murray for organising their labours. What did the trampers do before the trip and the rest for their cheerful good the invention of noodles, spaghetti and plastic company and lastly to the fickle New Zealand mixing bowls? The author slept fitfully others weather for making a very beautiful part of this found solace under the stars whilst the moon country ever more memorable. For me its back to shone on the waters of the bay. an English summer!