I am truly excited because everyone I've met has raved about this coast. We ascend a steep windy hill into lush jungle fauna. We stop at some caves but discover they can only be viewed through a tour, the last tour is just about to leave and costs $15 a person. Yes, we are that frugal and don't want to commit to an hour tour with forty Asian tourists all over the age of 60.
We make another discovery at this pit stop: our trunk will NOT open and therefore we can't really access our cooking utensils, food and other life necessities. We trudge on a little less excited.
We see a sign: ABEL TASMAN NATIONAL PARK and follow the arrow down a dirt road. We follow said road deeper and deeper into the woods. The road meanders along steep cliffs and barely allows room for two cars to pass each other. Jordan drives 10 km/h and we still kick up heaps of dust, plus we are starting to run low on gas. Where are the sparkling seas? Where are the penguins? What the hell is this place? I'm disappointed and embarrassed that I dragged Jordan to this treacherous place.
We reach a grassy area and a sign decrees: "FREEDOM CAMPING: $5 A PERSON"
We pull towards the information area to get some answers. We are obviously in the wrong place (or Lonely Planet is a goddamn liar) and we are slightly creeped out by this utterly secluded place void of any other campers so we opt to head elsewhere. But first: to try and sort out the trunk. Jordan pulls wildly on the handle, I go inside and push, we try to pry it with a stick: nothing.
There are a couple guys doing some sort of construction nearby and one comes over and asks if we're alright. We explain our trunk situation.
"Sometimes the dust gets into the central locking system and jams it up," he explains, "I could grab my tools and have a look if you'd like."
His name is James and he has a beautiful shy puppy named Jade. He pops off the back panel and gets to looking at the lock. He tells us he is helping to build stages for the upcoming Luminate Festival: 8 days celebrating the power of women and consisting of meditation workshops and drum circles. It sounds heavenly. He discovers the problem: there's a broken bit in the handle which will need to be replaced. In the meantime, he shows us how to open the trunk from inside. He is one of the sweetest, most genuine people I've ever met, but then again, all the Kiwis I've met have been the same way. We start back towards the road.
On the way back down we nearly die twice as crazy tourists in vans coming flying blindly around corners. One woman in a camper panics when she sees us, slams on her brakes and starts backing awkwardly into the mountain where her vehicle promptly gets stuck. Jordan and I sigh and get out to help her boyfriend push it out. We feel we've paid our good deed forward. We stop at a hotel bar to use their wifi and have a cider (our necessary purchase.) We sit in their 'beer gardens' (read: a gravel pit with picnic tables) and try to research other camping options but nothing is nearby and the iSite is closed. We go to the iSite parking lot anyway and cook dinner there. When we first arrive there are several other vans, but gradually, one by one, they disappear until its only us and a van with a German couple.
"Excuse me, do you know if we can camp here?" they ask.
"Probably not, I'm not sure though."
"The nearest camping site is 40 minutes away and we want to be here for the morning. Where are you guys going to sleep?"
"I guess on a random side street," I tell them, "it's worked of us so far."
They look terrified by the idea. They watch us suspiciously as we drive away. We find a quiet street and park across from a huge field, but on the way we've encountered a new problem in the ways of a terribly loud rattle occurring in our undercarriage. We begin to fret that the van is damaged from our rocky road escapades. We summate that its no problem that can't be dealt with another day and fall into a restless sleep.
In the morning its pouring rain. We drive back to the iSite and sit under the protection of our trunk while sipping coffee and waiting for them to open.
At 9 am we get directions to the ACTUAL Tasman Abel Coast (an easily missed street, I truly hope that I'm not the only tourist to have made this mistake.) Even though it's pouring rain we want to see it so we take the scenic route throughout Kaiteri. The rattling had stopped (we assume it was a large rock that got caught up there and managed to release itself.)
It's still raining and we are without proper waterproof footwear but want to see some of the coast (the entire trek is 3 to 5 days) so we decide to do it barefoot.
Now let me just start by saying that this summer in Tofino it was not at all uncommon to see people walking through the woods barefoot. In fact, it's a great way to avoid ruining your shoes with the unavoidable mud. Also, since I've arrived in New Zealand I've notice people walking barefoot down city street and in grocery stores so I didn't think it would be a big deal. That was not the case at Abel Tasman Park. Other hikers, decked out in expensive gear, leered, scoffed and made snide comments. An older woman actually scolded me.
I don't see what the big deal is, it was so warm out and it was a relatively flat walking path and we didn't go that far. Granted the entire "tramp" ended up being close to 4 hours and our feet were slightly tender after, but no worst for wear.
It was too rainy to bring my camera so you get a stock photo. Deal with it.
We pull into a street with a huge banner that reads: "FREE OVERNIGHT CAMPING." We drive down a driveway containing some weird townhouse-like cottages and stop at the 'office' for information. The office is, in fact, someones apartment and on the sliding door there is a tiny post-it note that faintly reads: Just come in, I won't hear you knock. Lynne.
I hastily enter the home and find myself smack dab in the middle of their kitchen.
"Hello?" I call. No response.
"Hello?!" I shout, a little louder as I begin backing towards the door.
'Lynne' appears.
"Sorry to bother you," I say, "But do you know where the Campbell Memorial Reserve is?"
"I have no idea. Are you looking for overnight camping?"
I nod.
"Well you're in the right place! Just keep going around the corner."
"Down this driveway?" I ask suspiciously.
"Yup! And right on the corner, and bundle up hunny, it's going to be a cold one."
I climb back in the van. Jordan looks at me, puzzled as to why I just walked into someones house without knocking.
"Apparently we can park down here," I tell her.
We drive a bit further.
"You mean this gravel pit with a wire fence and broken school bus?"
"Umm.. let's stay right, maybe she mean another corner."
We end up down a super narrow road that leads us to: a dead end, with no space to turn around. We barely get the van out and flee the creepy village.
We locate the "free campsite." I use the word "campsite" loosely as it is a gravel pit on the side of a highway. It is packed with vans and has a single bathroom with undrinkable tap water. But it's free! And it's convenient!
We go back into Picton, since we are so close and after all, it deserves a second chance right? There, we each pay $5 to use the shower. I wanna make my $5 count so I take an hour long shower. I bask in the scalding hot water, I wash my hair, TWICE, words cannot express the joy I felt in that moment during my first "real" shower in over a week!
We explore a bit more and walk out to the spit. It seems promising but the Harbour Views are mediocre at best. Sorry to harp on you Picton, but I'm not won.
We stop back near Kaikoura at the Okiwa Bay Reserve. It's an INCREDIBLE free campsite that is surrounded by trees and grass! Real live grass! It overlooks the ocean. We are excited because we want to hike to the waterfall and see the baby seal colony that Garrett has told us about. We drink a bunch of wine and treat ourselves to hot dogs to celebrate our pre-Christmas together before we part ways for 2 weeks. When I wake up it's POURING rain, I'm talking buckets, and all the other campers have left. It's also 1:00 in the afternoon. We decide the baby seals will have to wait for another day (BOO!)
It's back to Christchurch we go...
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