New Zealand - Kayaking the Abel Tasman

In our lovely splash decks
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Not satisfied with our cycling and walking, and still conscious of our enlarged love handles after 3 months in Australia (good to know the Sydney injection is just as effective as the Heathrow injection at making you a bit more cuddly) we opted for a two day kayak trip in the Abel Tasman National Park. The park lies to the west of the Marlborough sounds and is the sunniest part of New Zealand.

We had opted to rent the kayaks rather than go on a guided tour. I was a bit worried about the lack of an official disciplinarian as I was still scarred from previous kayaking trips, when Chris had shown himself to be overly content with sitting back and watching the world go by whilst yours truly paddled. Also, these kayak trips had been on a river whilst this was out in the sea. We had to cross a section called 'The Mad Mile' on day one and I was a little concerned about Chris's tendency to confuse left and right, especially as he had opted to sit in the back and steer, whilst I was charged with setting the pace up front. The control freak in me couldn't work out which would make me more in control.

Abel seamen

Kayaking into Stillwell Bay
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After a brief training session in which we were deemed competent (at least I don't remember there being an ín' before ''competent) we set off on our voyage, paddling steadily towards our first landmark, Split Apple Rock (looks like a split apple funnily). Within minutes my arm muscles were stiff and achey and I was wondering how on earth I was to last 2 day's paddling. The good news was that Chris was proving a good back seat driver and we had managed not to crash into any rocks, boats or other kayakers.

This is the life
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Yout don't really think of idyllic sandy coves when you think of New Zealand, probably because Frodo et al didn't build in a bit of tanning on their voyage. Think again! As we made our way up the coast the scenery left us lost for words, although on my part it might have been more due to the fact that my current unfit state had left me like a beached fish struggling for breath. Asphyxiation aside, we struggled to tear our eyes away from the deep-green sub-tropical forests keeping an ancient, stately eye on the jade water which lapped gently on the sheltered sandy beaches punctuating the coast.

Split Apple Rock
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Although we had to reach the Mad Mile before the late afternoon wind picked up and made it un-navigble we cou'ldn't resist pulling in to one of these little pieces of heaven. Well I for one was completely knackered and needed to get horizontal, preferably on dry land. So we pulled in to Appletree Bay for a breather, a bit of UV action and a dip in the water. Although very inviting it proved to be absolutely freezing and the planned swim turned into more a witch ducking really (no offence to any witches out there!).

Natural archway
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Never needing an excuse to worry, I was a little concerned about navigating the Mad Mile in good time so after two more stops at Stillwell Bay and Observation Cove we headed out round the peninsular. The wind by this time had reached a whopping 5 knots (no, doesn't mean much to me either, what I mean is a puff) and the sea had swelled up to ripple stage. Nevertheless, there was always the chance of a freak twister arriving out of the blue so I set a cracking pace and barked instructions at Chris in an effort to avoid the deadly rocks which, at 1km, were a mere slip away.

We spent the night camped at Anchorage Bay in the biggest bunk bed in the world - 5 metres across on both levels, sleeping a total of 15 dirty, snoring kayakers and trampers (hikers, not tramps, although we resembled the latter). Unfortunately we hadn't brought enough water with us to last the whole trip and were gutted to find that the tap water wasn't fit for drinking. So we boiled, cooled, transferred to a bottle, cooled some more, transferred to another bottle until we had 4 litres for the next day. This went on for 3 hours and we discovered later that there had in fact been a drinking water tap round the other side of the hut!

Trying to delay entering the farty giant bunk a bit longer we headed off to a natural Santas's grotto (beautiful cave lit up by the cannibalistic shagging maggots with shiny shit. remember them? the glow worms?) and then reluctantly headed off to bed.

The next day all I could think about was 'Foul Point' which we had to pass in order to reach our pick up point. The weather wasn't quite as settled and the wind had picked up a bit. With mental images of Perfect Storm size waves we paddled towards the headland so fast we didn't even see the gorgeous bays which dot the section preceding Foul Point.

The next hour was sheer hell. Non-stop paddling with nowhere to pull in and take shelter. The waves and wind had really picked up and were clearly pulling us towards the submerged rocks. The far off beach, our final destination, never seemed to get any closer and I had images of us being unable to get there, our kayaking getting dashed to pieces on the rocks.

Chris found the sea calm, wind neglible and paddling tiring but fine!

After a couple of hours relaxing on Onehatu beach (yet another fine expanse of sand fringed by gorgeous native trees) our water taxi arrived to take us and our kayak back to Marahau. The driver was having a kamikaze day so we enjoyed figures of eght and 360 degree spins before stumbling onto shore, glad to be back on dry land again.