South Island at last!

I arrived to wellington, NZ's capitol after trekking the Tongariro crossing for a day, and canoing the Whanganui river for three days. I needed a rest.

New shoes, old friends

Although Wellington is the capitol on NZ, you can't expect too much of it.
It's a rather small city, with three big main streets, two parallel to each other and one crossing them, and around them only modest urban residential buildings.
The main streets are packed with heaps of cafe's, restaurants, bars and pubs, many camping gear shops and fashion, clothing and such.




On my last trek I tore the sole of one of my shoes, so I went to the shoe repairman, to try and glue it back together. As I entered his shop, without even saying “hello”, he had only four words for me: “get a new pair”, and so I went and bought another pair of Salomon hiking shoes – expecting only pain in my following treks – trying to soften the shoes a bit.

I got a text message from Rob, the English guy I met in Auckland and then Taupo, saying he arrives to wellington that day, so we set to meet again, and maybe continue to the south island together, along with Teresa, the German girl I met in Raglan, who was due to arrive the next day, to travel with me in the south island for 10 days.

A tale of five balloons

The next day we sat together all four of us – Rob from the UK, Teresa from Germany, Marissa from the U.S.A and me. Internationality at it's best.
The chemistry was instant, and we had lot's of fun cruising the streets of wellington together, eating, drinking and laughing together. I was delighted to find familiar faces around me from all my travels, and was even happier to find that they get along great.

We were joined by Maren, another German girl who arrived from Auckland to meet Rob, and was the completing link in our happy new family of five.

I was scheduled to cross to the south island on that day, but left my (god damn) lights again in the car, so I had to postpone the crossing to the next day, while I call a mechanic to jump start it, but it wasn't all too bad, as Rob's crossing ticket was for the next day as well.

Before taking the ferry we decided to camp as much as we can inorder to lower expenses and raise enjoyment, so I bought a second hand 3 people tent with Marissa and Teresa, as Rob and Maren will sleep in the van.



We took advantage of the last day in the north island, and decided to drive to the world famous pino-noir vineyards of Matrinborough, to have some upper class wine tasting, before we are roughing it down south:







South Island stories

The next day we've boarded the ferry – Rob's huge yellow van (called “Cool Runnings” - over the movie about the Jamaican bob-sledding team), and my blue Mitsubishi Magna (packed with two blond girls – called “The Chick Magna”).






The Ferry ride itself was beautiful. The weather was perfect, as the huge ferry made it's way through narrow green straits of tree covered mountains collapsing steeply into the ocean.
We arrived to Picton, a numb little town on the other side of the ferry, at about 17:00, so we decided to stay the night there, and drove 5 minutes outside town, to find a beautiful and peaceful campsite on a riverside, and camped for the night.

Queen Charlotte Trek – or “Off with his... leg!”

The next day we started the Queen Charlotte trek, following a privately owned natural reserve stretching seawards from Picton. We were informed that a part of the reserve is closed for “pest control” (basically it's a farmer walking around shooting possums and Israelis), we decided to go on the two day trek, starting from the end of the reserve, and walk back about 23km in two days, and take a water taxi back to Picton.

We took a water taxi to the starting point, and the view was amazing! Rocky hills and bushy slopes were decorating the blue sky and turquoise-green waters. We started walking through the forest, stopping every five minutes to admire the scenery.








The 5 of us were walking together, looking like a school field trip:



Although the walk was relatively easy, I started feeling the groin muscle cramping again, back from the one day Tongariro trek I did a week before – I am getting old...

When we started walking, the weather was great, but only after two hours it started pouring, and the trail became muddy and slippery. I guess that's why they say NZ has 4 seasons every day...


Two easy hours later, we arrived to our camp site, where our prebooked hut was waiting for us. Because we were 5, and the hut was booked for 4 people (had we booked for 5, we needed to pay for another hut), we had to sneak one of the girls from the back door, not to be seen.



We took all the groceries we bought that morning, and prepared a huge dinner, with lamb and steaks, pasta and rice, and even awarded ourselves a Michelin Star for the meal.

Half way along the meal we ran out of wine, so after finishing eating, Rob and me walked in our flip-flops in the mud for 20 minutes back on the trek to the neighboring campsite, to buy 2 more bottles, which cost too much, and lasted for about 10 minutes after we got back.




We woke up the next day for a beautiful weather, and walked another 3 hours to our pickup point.

Although the scenery was indeed beautiful, it kinda repeated itself, so we were happy not to extend the trek further.










The pickup point was a posh resort, where half naked old people were basking in the lying sun. we tried to spice the place a bit, and after drinking two pints of beer, decided to jump from the pols on the dock down to the water. There were only 4 poles, so I had to climb on the ladder's metal handles (which were high enough...I'm REALLY tall, you see...) and we all jumped from there to the water, to the roaring sound of the old people cheering. After climbing back up from the water, the guy taking the picture said he missed that, so we had to climb back on the poles, but when I tried to climb on the two metal handles with my wet feet, I slipped and banged my leg on the wooden dock, and fell face down to the water – getting a huge slap on my cheek from the water. My friends thought I jumped, so they all randomly decided to jump to the water, so we still don't have a good synchronized picture.

The water taxi came and took us back to Picton, where we drove away to nelson to get ready for the Able Tasman Trek.

The Able Tasman














We got up in a random parking lot near nelson, crawling outside the tent like a day old butterfly out of its cocoon. Running water is a luxury, a shower is non-existent, a small patch of grass is your home and million of crickets are your friends.





The drive to the beginning of the Able Tasman Trek took was short, and after waiting for the girls to get ready for 2 hours (changing the skirt to a walking pants, packing the bag again, and then deciding that the pants make them look fat, so unpacking the bag, changing back to a skirt, packing the bag and then deciding that the skirt doesn't match the bag, so unpacking the bag and changing into an evening dress...) we left our cars in the parking lot, and started walking the trail.





Although we had an awful 2:3 boys to girls ratio so Rob and me got stuck with most of the equipment (both of us took the big rucksack [MUCHILA]), and the girls were lightly prancing with their day bag, lady luck was on our side, as the weather was clear and sunny, and spirit was high.

The trail was beautiful. We started walking along the shore of a sandy bay, and then climbed up











hill though bushy wild forest. The rest of the walk was easy enough for us to be able to enjoy the view of a dozen golden bays and rugged slopes.









We stopped for lunch in one of the bays, and enjoyed sandwiches of salami, yellow cheese and avocado (evenly spread – of course!).
The rest of the walk was great, and after about 5 hours of walking we arrived to the first hut – very simple and modest on the shore of Anchorage Bay.

We laid out everything on a big picnic table outside, and cooked dinner and drank wine.
The weather forecast for the next two days was terrible, as heavy showers were supposed to come, but we crossed our fingers that this time, like many others – the weatherman is wrong.
He wasn't.

At 4:00 I woke up to the sound of a rumbling thunder and huge drops of rain falling on the thin roof.
Forcing myself to keep sleeping (wasn't that hard...), I woke up again at 8:00, and went outside the hut to see EVERYTHING is soaking wet. The grassy knoll on which the hut was situated turned into a river of mud.



We packed all of our important stuff (clothes, cameras and wide, of course) in my big rucksack, and payed a water taxi 12$ to take it to our next destination. We split the remainders between our bags, and started walking in the pouring rain.
The walk itself wasn't hard, as the weight was taken of my shoulders (I still had to carry the heaviest bag... ) but the rain made the walking quite a pain in the ass, and we were happy to arrive to the second hut at Bark Bay, after only 3 hours of walking.

The plan for the third day was to to wake up at 6:30, and leave for a two hours walk to Onetahiti Beach, to meet our Kayaking guide and kayak back to Anchorage Bay, where we'll take a water taxi back to our cars.

The Onetahiti Beach was amazing, probably one of the best beaches I've seen, and we hung


around there for about an hour, eating breakfast and relaxing before the guide arrived.







The Kayaking trip was enjoyable, as we paddled in big 2 persons sea kayak, around tiny rocky islands, where we saw many seals and beautiful birds.

We stopped for lunch in another beautiful beach, where we started to fool around, swimming and jumping from rocks, recreating various matrix poses, and generally making a havoc.




















The rest of the kayaking trip was fun but short, and we still had a lot of energy when we came closer to the bay, so we had a little kayaking race. I won't say who lost – let me just say I didn't lose.








After the Able Tasman trek we got back to our cars, and drove up north to Takaka, where we are now, washing our clothes, and just relaxing from the trek.








The drive was amazing, as a beautiful valley was reveled driving down from the mountains:




In the next few days we will hang around here – The Golden Bay, and then head down to the west cost, to see all the thing this incredible place has to offer.

Final Thoughts

Rocks in the rucksack – or: repress kick ass

Trekking with girls is hard.
As much as I enjoy their company – the average girl complains more, carries less and is generally more spoiled than the average men, when it comes to hygiene.
This difference blurs in cities, but when you go out to nature, it gets clearer.
I cannot say how many times I've heard about mosquito bites, dirty plates and heavy 15 liter bags, in the past week.
It's not that we are that stronger or that it's not hard for us too, it's just that maybe it's the ego talking, or maybe we just understand that complaining won't change a fucking thing.


Makeup

As I was traveling the north island, I only met nice people. If I stumbled on a conversation or a person I didn't like, I'd leave and went to meet another person. Most chats were shallow and short, and most friendships lasted a day or two – a whole week at most, in the case of the scuba dive course.
In that surroundings, you got the best of the people around you, and they got the best of you.
I remember from south America, having traveled with two good friends and my brother, that we had a lot of arguments and disagreements, and being in the north island for the past month – I wasn't quite able to remember what was the fuss about.
Arriving to the south island with a pack of 3 friends around me, I hoped we will get along great, which we did until a couple of days ago.
After spending 24 hours a day for a week with people, something changes. All people, me included, start being more stubborn, more petty and ugly things arise.
Until now we didn't have any big clashes, so maybe its just a premonition, but I am beginning to have familiar feelings of tension between people, and I am hoping to find a way of diffusing this tension before it boils.
Unlike my experience in south America, if things get ugly I plan on leaving this pack, as I don't want to ruin good memories, and sometimes leaving is the best option.