Basically, the primary reason we decided to go to New Zealand—the destination that lured us into flying to the other side of Earth—was Abel Tasman National Park; more specifically, the Abel Tasman great walk. The walk is pretty easy, relatively speaking, as it’s rather flat and non-technical and for a couple of people who walk more than anyone we know and think “let’s go on an 8 mile walk” because we’re bored, it was the perfect place for us. And with stunning views and dense jungle-like forests, turquoise waters, myriad new and different birds and animals and plant-life along the way, it promised to be one of the best walks we’d ever take. The only difference is this is a multi-day walk covering upwards of 38 miles, one way, and instead of carrying a water bottle and a cellphone like on a typical long walk you’d need to carry all your supplies, food and shelter for 4 days and 3 nights of walking. So we loaded up our backpacks for adventure and set off to complete our first great walk.

Leica M10 + Leica 35mm Summarit f/2.4 | 1/750 @ f/5.6, ISO 200

Our walk started with…kayaks. We decided that we’d do 4 days on the Abel Tasman and 3 nights and our first day would involve kayaking to our first campground. We decided to book our kayaks with R&R Kayaks who were fantastic. If you happen to be headed to Abel Tasman, we cannot recommend them strongly enough as they were so friendly, informative and made the experience wonderful (and have a hot shower waiting for you when you return, something we both enjoyed far more than was normal). And we’re really stoked to have kayaked the first day as we saw dozens of seals sunning on the rocky shores of several islands, strange birds nesting on soaring cliffs and cut probably 8 miles from our walk and R&R had our backpacks waiting for us once we arrived in Anchorage. The weather cooperated and we had some sunny skies that turned gray and windy near the end of our paddle but overall it was really fun and we enjoyed every second of it.

Leica M10 + Leica Summarit 35mm f/2.4 | 1/180 @ f/2.4, ISO 200

Night one at Te Pukatea was beautiful. We had this pristine yellow sand beach bay all to ourselves though we’d soon find out we were not alone as several Weka (basically a New Zealand chicken) were all too eager to grab anything they could get their beaks around which included food wrappers, nylon stuff sacks and a kiwi and they weren’t shy about checking out the tent either. Little bastards.

The next morning, everything changed as the rain we knew was coming arrived with gusto. A steady, solid rain that started around 6am had soaked the tent though we were smart and stored our packs in one of the outhouses (the less stinky of the 2) since our tent was really small and had no room for storage, inside or out. We headed to Anchorage just 3/4 mile away to make breakfast and assess the situation. As the rain intensified, we spoke with the ranger Phil—a perfect cartoon character of a Kiwi park ranger with short shorts, hiking boots and a poncho— who got our camping reservation changed to the Bark Bay Hut, a simple structure with bunks and a fireplace and seating and most importantly: a roof. Phil also advised us that at 4pm, it was going to make the current rain look like a trickle and that at 8pm, you better be indoors as the rain would get biblical. The weather service had issued a severe weather warning and his getting us into the hut was partly for comfort/convenience and partly for our safety as camping in driving rains could be sketchy with flooding and tree limbs and other things blowing about. We’d find out later that day just how accurate New Zealand weather forecasts are…

The hike to Bark Bay was nothing short of miserable. Around 8-9 miles in relentless rain with little relief from the forest canopy, it didn’t take long before we were soaked to the bone. Our spirits were down, we were cranky and the Abel Tasman from brochures that lured us in was anything but what we were experiencing. But as Phil reminded Rachel before we embarked on our journey to Bark Bay, “you’re sweet but you’re not made of sugar so you’re not gonna melt and besides: the rain builds character!” Even so, when the Bark Bay Hut came into view we felt as though we’d started melting at least an hour earlier and hardly felt like we’d built any character.

And what an oasis Bark Bay Hut was. A simple tin-roofed structure with a covered porch surrounding a common room, kitchen area and bunks that could sleep 24 and a glorious wood burning stove warming the entire open space. No electricity but running water that was safe to drink and flush toilets were the end of the short list of amenities. Inside, the wood stove was burning and a drying rack above the stove was full of wet clothes and a pile of boots sat in front of the stove, everything slowly drying after being soaked in the journey leading to the hut. We added our clothes to the rack, changed into warm and dry clothes and wished Phil was there to thank him for his help. Our new ranger, Jan, was equally cartoon Kiwi park ranger and equally delightful and helpful. She helped adjust our camping reservation to Awaroa and advised us stay there rather than try and make Totaranui where we were scheduled to camp, thereby avoiding having to wait for low tide and do the last couple hours hiking at dusk. The other campers taking refuge from the rain were from New Zealand, Germany and a few others were from somewhere in Europe; about 16 in total. There were two men from New Zealand who were volunteers working with the park as they released new Kaka birds into the park among other activities observing and tracking birds. One of them shared a hamburger patty with us that he’d made in his camping stove which was a welcome addition to our packaged noodles and simple snacks we were carefully rationing. The Kiwi spirit of being uncommonly nice and friendly and helpful was alive and well out here in the middle of nowhere.

The following day, just as Jan had told us from the forecast, the rain stopped around 8am and the skies opened up to reveal blue; a welcome change from the gray we’d become used to the day prior. Jan also informed us that the total rainfall in the 24 hours prior was 75mm, so 2.95 inches of rain had fallen in just one day; biblical rain was no hyperbole. We set out for Awaroa in great spirits and reflected on what Phil had told us (the rain builds character!) and how right he was. Sure, we were miserable for a short time, but it was temporary and it showed us that we could hike with heavy packs over 9 miles in heavy rain and have a great story to tell and a lot of people wouldn’t have even tried. In fact, we’d both later remark that the Bark Bay night was really a lot of fun as it was an unexpected stop and chance to meet new people, sit beside a fire as biblical rain poured down and get re-energized for the following day. The experience played perfectly into our desire on the trip to just take things as they came without any plans, adapting to whatever New Zealand throws at us for 3 weeks.

The weather was stunning, as was the scenery, and we had a little extra giddy up in our steps because about an hour before the Awaroa campground was an oasis in the middle of nowhere: the Awaroa Lodge. We arrived at the lodge, took off our packs and basked in the warm sun as we ate meals of delicious steak sandwiches and salads and fish and chips and washed them down with ice cold beer and wine. Truly an oasis, it was hard to leave but taking the shorter route to Awaroa campground meant timing our trek to the low tide, which shaved over and hour of hiking off our journey and was welcomed with a belly full of heavy food and beer that slowed our pace down. The slowed pace felt more like a victory lap as the sun drenched us in warm light as we approached Awaroa and we soaked up every second of it.

Awaroa was beautiful. It was the biggest campsite we’d encounter on our trek (but still rustic and small) and sitting along an estuary, it was very peaceful as the only sounds were birds in the distance. As the sun went down, we were talking with a German guy we met the night prior at Bark Bay and the clear skies revealed what I had wanted to see more than anything this entire trip: the southern night sky. The Milky Way was clear as a bell and the stars across the entire sky were so bright and so clear, it was pure magic. These were the darkest skies I’d ever seen by a long shot and after we went to Lake Tekapo (verified as some of the darkest skies in the world) we’d both agree that Abel Tasman was still darker, simply because there wasn’t a single light from a building anywhere even if the sky was equally devoid of light as Tekapo; it was really inspiring. I only had the Leica and a 35mm lens and not my astrophotography setup, so I didn’t expect much but the camera surprised me with what turned out to be a really great photo of the core of the Milky Way.

Leica M10 + 35mm Leica Summarit f/2.4 | 8-seconds @ f/2.4, ISO 6400

The next morning, things got comical. You see, the reason we camped at Awaroa was that in order to cross the estuary you had to cross within 1.5 hours of the low tide, so you can’t just cross whenever you’d like. Well, you could but you’d be anywhere from waist to chest deep in freezing cold water and we felt that we’d fulfilled our character building earlier in the trip leading to Bark Bay. The low tide this morning was going to be at 8:30am, per our newest ranger named Tizzy who, yes, was just as cartoon Kiwi park ranger as Phil and Jan. Tizzy had also told us the night before that we should really time our crossing to be as close to 8:30 as possible rather than rely on the 1.5 hour pad on either side of low tide because all the rain meant the streams had much more water flow and so there would be more water to contest with, even at low tide. Well, we’re not exactly the most efficient campsite tear-down crew and when we left the campsite by 9am everyone else was long gone. No biggie, we’re just 30 minutes late. Yeah, so about that… There was nowhere dry to cross and so we were forced to take boots off, roll pants up (or just take your leggings off if you’re Rachel) and cross in anywhere from calf to knee deep water which was so cold that our feet were numb after maybe 1 minute. Off and on for a mile we’d either be crossing in cold water from the streams or walking barefoot across thick, slimy, shell-studded mud as we both laughed and remarked how less than a week into our trip we’d already fully embraced the “go with the flow, no plans” mantra we landed with in Christchurch which currently meant a tidal crossing without boots or pants on.

From there, the rest of the final day was gorgeous. Sunny, clear skies and warm breezes and stunning scenery greeted us around every corner and down every beach we left our footprints in. This early in the season, there’s not a ton of people completing the entire Abel Tasman great walk and so we’d come upon beaches where it was clear that a handful of people were there earlier in the day and that was it; a far cry from the hundreds who will make the same trek each day across these same beaches this far North on Abel Tasman during the peak season. We reached Totaranui with a real sense of accomplishment and pure joy and sat on the beach soaking up the sun with our lighter-but-still-heavy packs set aside, waiting for the water taxi to return us back to R&R Kayaks where our van awaited our return and the next leg of our journey.

And in the most perfect twist of fate, on our journey back via water taxi the driver informed us that we’d be stopping at Bark Bay to pick up a ranger and both Rachel and I perked up and said “Jan?!” And the man said “nah…Phil…” unaware of our run in with him 2 days prior. When we pulled up to Bark Bay, Jan was there and waved to us from shore and yelled “Hey I know you two! How’d the rest of your tramp go?? Enjoy the rest of your journey in New Zealand!” as Phil boarded the boat and stopped and looked at us and shook his head and smiled, knowing that he was right that we weren’t made of sugar (which he reminded us as he boarded), build character and gain some great stories to tell later on. And in true Kiwi form, Phil informed us about the All Blacks rugby match that we’d missed while hiking before being dropped off at his station back in Anchorage with the bottle of wine the boat driver had brought for him. It was really nice to see Phil again and thank him for his help as we figured we’d never see him again and partly even wondered if he was real or some ranger / guardian angel sent from hiker heaven, like if we’d mentioned his name to another ranger they’d say “Oh Phil passed away 10 years ago, you must be mistaken…”

In all, Abel Tasman was not what the brochures showed with pristine beaches and turquoise water and not a cloud in the sky; the reasons we decided to do this great walk and fly to New Zealand in the first place. It was trying, an entire day was incredibly rainy, cold, windy, miserable and things didn’t go as we expected or hoped they would… yet none of that mattered because in the end, Abel Tasman was far more than what the brochures showed. It was character building, it was undeniably one of the most beautiful places on the planet even when it doesn’t always look like the brochure, it was peaceful, we saw the Milky Way for the first time in the Southern Hemisphere and it introduced us to a country and to the people of this country that were more wonderful than you can put into words. So many fond memories from this journey will be burned into my head forever, so many beautiful sights and funny stories and so many characters and in the end, Abel Tasman was just perfect and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

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Abel Tasman