Shortly after we completed the Abel Tasman we were picked up by a minibus and taken to Kiwiana Hostel in the town of Takaka, across from a farm and in view of the mountains.
We had expected to camp but were delighted when the proprietor showed us a room with bunk beds that could cozily accommodate us for about the same price as a tent site. The hostel had a great kitchen and a lounge with a pool table, plush couches and a bin full of toys. All the diversion kept us easily amused, as we relished the comfort of being indoors after many nights of camping. An outing for fish and chips in town completed the luxurious return from the wilderness.
Takaka is a super hippy town with a very calm and relaxed vibe. We had allocated three nights there to give ourselves time to rest, recuperate and stock up for our next hike, and that's exactly what we did.
A lot of our time was spent in the town's library and playground,
or back at the hostel, either on the decks outside soaking up the sun, playing pingpong and reading in the lounge, or baking chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. Tom chatted up all the twenty year old backpackers, reciting for them verbatim the plot of the Lego movie. Many of them were there on work visas, and all were warm and welcoming, but I couldn't help feeling a little ancient around them. On our Melbourne hike one trekker jokingly asked if we were allowed in youth hostels since we were over 35. Ouch! I had come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to be carded at the beer store anymore, but had previously been holding on to the fantasy that I was somehow still in my thirties - nothing like being around twenty-two year olds to remind me that I'm perilously close to being middle aged (okay I am middle aged).
All three of the kids made a connection with Tina, the very friendly hostel owner, who amazingly lent us her car for an afternoon of sightseeing on our sunniest day so far in NZ. We visited the Te Waikoropupu springs, so inviting but strictly off limits to swimming in order to preserve the site, highly sacred to Maoris.
The springs are the second clearest body of water in the world,
the most optically pure one is Blue Lake, also in New Zealand but located in another much more remote area.
After a last longing look at the blue water we hopped back in the car and head into the Labyrinth rocks, a mazelike forest of karst geology
that local volunteers had whimsically (and a little bizarrely) decorated with tiny toys,
turning the path into a treasure hunt for the kids.
Next stop was the Grove scenic lookout,
where the famous New Zealand sheep (first seen in the parking lot of the library)
were studded over the green pastures below.
We capped off our outing with a picnic at Pohara Beach
with an ever growing crowd of seagulls gathering to watch us and our food intently. Afterwards, Jacob babysat at the hostel while Paul and I had an evening out. It's become a trip tradition for us to go to the movies whenever there's an outdoor screening or interesting theatre around. This time it was to go see "The Dressmaker" at the town theatre. Patrons watched the film while reclining on couches and just like in the olden days there was an intermission where people exchanged local scuttlebutt and got a modern twist on refreshments at the gluten free snack bar.
Having experienced all the joys of civilization and modern comfort we felt fortified to head back into the bush for the next six days where spectacular subalpine scenery awaited, along with a forecast of rain and cold. When we got our permits for the hike the Department of Conservation staff recommended we stay in huts, not our tent, so on day one we were dropped off at the Brown Hut at the trailhead. As it was too late to start our hike we explored the banks of the river beside the hut,
and caught up on our journals.
We were the only ones there that night so we were free to sing and dance to the music on our mini speaker while the fireplace filled the hut with heat and the smell of woodsmoke.
It kept us warm as we ate our pasta dinner, then went to sleep in the bunks.
As promised by the forecast, the rain had already started by the time we woke up. We put on our coats and proceeded to trudge uphill for 17 km through the pouring rain, getting wetter and colder by the minute.
We reached a rain shelter at the twelfth kilometre, quickly wolfed down sandwiches and then took off again,
our fingers too cold to open our water bottles. When we reached our hut at Perry Saddle the ranger had already started the coal stove burning, and since we were the first ones there we stripped off all our clothes and stood in front of the stove until the fire warmed us up enough to change into our dry evening clothes. We have never been so grateful to get inside, and I can't imagine what we would have done if we had been camping as we originally planned - we definitely wouldn't have made it to the end and would have had to turn back so as not to freeze.
The walk the next morning was a breeze in comparison. We had only thirteen km to cover, on mostly flat terrain.
The rain continued but as an intermittent shower rather than bucketing down, and the mist only made the downs in which we hiked more ethereally beautiful.
Tom complained of a sprained foot, so I sprinted ahead to drop my packs at our lunch stop while Paul carried Tom, but by the time I came back to help with the rest of the bags Tom's foot had fully recovered and he was merrily hiking along. In the afternoon we passed over flooded rivers via small suspension bridges,
and by the time we arrived at the Saxon Hut, again our own private lodging for the evening,
the sun had made an appearance, warming up intrepid Paul and Jacob enough for a swim in the "Saxon Spa". A sign in the hut warned swimmers to take a friend to administer CPR after the heart-stopping shock of the cold water.
They sped back to the cabin, hiding in the downs in case of unexpected passers by,
glad to reach the warmth of the hut.
Skies were grey in the morning and the wind was up,
and clouds obscured the views of the surrounding hills, though the sun did peek through occasionally to give us a glimpse of what we'd been missing.
Day five dawned bright and clear, and from our path we could see hills in the distance and the river down below.
We descended into paths lined with nikau palm trees
and crossed suspension bridges into groves that were tropical instead of alpine.
Massive northern rata trees provided great roots for climbing and nooks for hiding,
and we were warm enough to bathe in the river, luckily not encountering any of the giant slightly carnivorous eels that a ranger later told us frequented the shallows.
Much less daunting but endemic to New Zealand were the nocturnal carnivorous snails along the path,
and everywhere were massive ferns and giant fiddleheads growing from fern trees or rooted in the ground.
Our hut that night was one of the most beautifully located places I've ever stayed.
In the middle of the wilderness, it sat on an emerald green expanse of grass, surrounded by tropical rainforest, next to the Heaphy river,
which flowed straight into the ocean.
Headlands jutted out both south
and north of the estuary,
and to top it all off the sun set in front of the hut, directly into the sea.
Our hike out on our final morning we felt as if we were passing through prehistoric Gondwanaland and we expected to see dinosaurs popping out a la Jurassic Park.
Unlike the previous days which were mostly through alpine downs and green forests, this path travelled next to the coastline most of the way.
Kyra and Paul ventured off to try to take a shortcut along the beach,
but when they failed to find a way to rejoin the main path they had to retrace their steps back a kilometre and race to meet Jacob, Tom and I who had gone on ahead while they were doing their detour. When we emerged from the trail and they weren't there to meet us I fretted about whether they'd met with some misadventure. Fortunately they showed up just as the bus was ready to leave (without us if we hadn't been there in time), and we even had time to fit in the photo at the finish line.
Our first instalment of multiday hikes over, we now had a two week hiatus. Having enjoyed our time on the trails so much we wanted to do as many more scenic walks as we could. The bus took us to the nearby town of Karamea for one night, where we researched what to do next, and the next day we travelled again by bus, this time to Westport on the west coast of NZ.
While intercity bus service exists, it is difficult to see the many points of interest in the country without a a car. We rented one just for the day in Westport, and went out to Cape Foulwind, where the path started near an old lighthouse,
Tom was reluctant at first but then forced us to race to catch up as he took off,
excited to see the seal colony near Tauranga Bay at the end of the track.
At first glance the seals were hard to spot as they blended in with the rocks (see if you can find the mother child pair in this picture)
but once we were able to pick the first one out,
it was easier to spot the rest.
After so much rain on the Heaphy Track we had almost forgotten what hot weather was like,
and savoured the warmth of the sun on our backs.
