To bring things back down to
earth, a second night of poor campground facilities ensued. This one was
provided by the Department of Conservation and while you expect something
basic, this was very very basic.
Other DOC places had been basic but nice, and clean and with some facilities.
This had just one pit that was practically off limits. It also, though through
no fault of DOC, had a concentration of sandflies. These are very evil beasties
and I would recommend that if you visit the West Coast of New Zealand, stay in
a motel or somewhere with some inside facilities in which to hide. I still have
many scars and the occasional residual itch as I write this in Canberra.
An hour north the next morning, Hokitika provided some refuge and a
surprisingly good coffee stop. I was glad as this was mostly a driving day,
taking in the West Coast up to Westport and then cutting inland along the
Buller Gorge. The coastline here was at times dramatic and slightly crazy, a
real mixture of headlands, volcanic beaches, steamy rainforest, and rivers pushing
into their own Heart of Darkness.
The most popular crazy stop along
this route is at Pancake Rocks, so
named because the formations allegedly represent many piles of American style
pancakes. They are beguiling and somewhat curious, but it was surprising just
how crawling the short walk and lookouts were with other tourists. A lot of
Americans too I think. Note: you cannot eat the rocks!
It was a warm, humid day and the
coast was illuminated in quite a glary haze, so I was pleased to turn east and
head inland along the Buller River Gorge,
which was much more relaxing on the eyes. Crossing the river is the largest
swing bridge in New Zealand and, given our by now detailed expertise with swing
bridges, there was a sense of duty to cross it, even though it cost more than
an ice cream to do so.
Warm, weary and very itchy, I
think we were both very pleased to reach the small inland town of Murchison, carry on out of town and put
down for the night at a campground and motor park to the north. After two poor nights, this was
a shining beacon of relief and restitution and amazing value for money. Set
beside a gorgeous river, here we could linger and enjoy bangers and mash for
dinner and a few hours lounging in light, clean comfort. The icing on the cake
was the disappearance of evil flies and midges once the sun had set and
refreshing coolness kicked in.
There was much slow loitering in
the morning, with bacon and eggs a nice change from the standard yogurt and
fruit breakfast, a long, hot shower, and a final look at the river before
reluctantly moving on. It wasn’t too far from here to reach an understated gem
of a national park – Nelson Lakes –
which was enjoyable even though the area was once more thriving with bitey
flies. It seemed the flies left you alone if you were moving, and would only
swamp you once they had discovered you. Being stupid, movement confused them.
So we kept moving, embarking on a couple of lovely walks through lush forests
and along the fringes of pristine glassy lakes.
A relief for insect bites turns
out to be slightly soft and gritty sand along with warm, placid seawater. This
was an important discovery on finally reaching the north coast of the South Island.
The beaches around Kaiteriteri offer
up some wonderful medicine and an antidote to the savage beauty of the West
Coast. It feels more Australian and typically seaside holiday like and I think
this was nice to experience for a little while.
The soothing was good preparation
for big tramp number four, taking up a large portion of the next day along the
Coastal Track of the stunning Abel
Tasman National Park. Blessed with amazing weather, a ferry ride dropped us
off at Anchorage, from where it was a 12km walk back. Not circular, but at
least one way. To add some more mileage, an extra three and a half kilometres
of introductory bliss was more than worthwhile along the Pitt Head Peninsula
walk, starting and finishing in Anchorage and offering great views over the bay
and descending to one of the many beautifully golden beaches.
The Coastal Track is one of New
Zealand’s great longer tramps, taking four or five days with convenient huts
and campgrounds along the way. It does come with warnings of very evil
sandflies so perhaps it was best to keep to one section for a day walk. With
one large climb out of Anchorage, the rest of the track back to Marahau was
plain sailing, well-maintained and shady with regular forays to sandy coves and
lookouts.
As with most longer walks, the
final stretches were slightly frustrating and tedious, but perhaps this was in
part due to the impending promise of an iced coffee in the cafe which is
situated perfectly at the end. I can only imagine the relief and reward after
doing the whole track.
The iced coffee was the start of
multiple rewards that you tend to create after some hard graft and subsequently
end up replenishing more than you should. There was another visit to
Kaiteriteri to bathe in the water and scratch in the sand. There were fish and
chips in Nelson. And there was
relaxation at Cable Bay, a serene
spot to stay the night.
Now at the top of the South
Island, there was an impending sense of this half of the country coming to an
end. One final full day was available to take in the Marlborough Sounds and the wine growing Mecca of Blenheim. It was a
day of winding roads, especially along the sounds, which are clearly better to
access by boat. Pretty Picton provided a break for sunny strolling and ice
cream nourishment and from there, mercifully straight roads to Blenheim, for an inevitable bottle of
Sauvignon Blanc.
The final night of the South
Island gave DOC a shot at redemption and a lovely campground on the coast at Whites Bay. For me this is what you
want from a campground, with good, clean facilities, loads of space and a chance
to subsist comfortably alongside nature. It’s a place where you don’t mind
getting up early because you can’t sleep to watch the night turn to dawn and
see the sun rise on the South Island for one final time.
The last spot to say goodbye is
again at Picton, where there is
enough to keep you amused for a couple of hours before you can board the ferry
to cross to Wellington. You can have second breakfast and then third breakfast
because the ferry is delayed. You can look at the weird crustaceans washing up
on the shoreline and you can access a whole hour of free wifi. You can use the
stupid singing toilets. You can start to sort out the many photos you have
taken and at least feel like you are getting somewhere with them. And then you
can board the ferry to cross to Wellington, gliding imperiously out of Queen
Charlotte Sound before bracing for the open sea, bidding farewell to the
crumpled fingers of land that reach out into the Cook Strait, desperately trying
to claw you back into Godzone. It needn’t try so hard.
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