I am in a kayak

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February 7th


This whole time in New Zealand I'd been bugging George about kayaking. The only glitch was that because sea kayaking can be quite dangerous, and because Abel Tasman is a national park, you have to go on an organized tour. We were successfully blackmailed by the campervan park (ie/ "you can only stay here if you book an activity with us") so showed up for the water taxi a bit unsure of what we had in store.


The 'water taxi' turns out to be a jet boat attached to a tractor, that drives right into the ocean. This system works really well but seems quite hilarious in a typically New Zealand way. We drove past a colony of Shags, knows as tree penguins, because they are one of a few species of bird over here that actually manages to fly. It weirdly is the only high-nesting, web-footed bird, and is known for falling out of trees, as you would expect.


The boat then took us up the coast of Abel Tasman National Park, where we all oohed and ahhed and the private properties that still survive there. They existed before the land was declared a national park by the government, and although they have no roads or electricity, start at around $2 mill NZD. Some had helicopter pads - that's one way to get to the corner store for milk! The beaches are all public, so the rich rub bellies with the many trampers that line the path in their red sleeping bags.


We were dropped off at Torrent Bay and pointed towards a track. After a brief stop at the most pristine and elegant johnny houses on God's green earth, we headed into the jungle. The path was small and turned with roots, at at times there was sheer cliff on either side of us.


At one point, as we were parting leafy branches out of our way and sliding down muddy paths, I commented to George on what a charming and rigorous nature walk it was. "Nature walk,"snorts George, "We country folk just call it a walk!"


We hopped along rocks peeking out through a fast river to Cleopatra's Pools. They were fresh water, freezing cold and perfectly crystal clear.


At Anchorage Bay the sand was granular and golden, and the water was inviting. George ran straight in with all his clothes on, took off his shoes and announced he was doing the rest of the hike barefoot. Neither of us really knew we were heading up a two kilometer hill, which was even worse than the stairmaster because G. had decided that there wasn't enough warter to drink whenever we wanted it.


Anyway, the views were far and wide and spectacular, and we were happy on the other side to meet our leader Hamish. I told him that was the name of a very famous hairy cow in Scotland. He was not as excited as I would have thought he would be.


At Watering Cove, as part of the whole deal we were given chicken rolls and coffee which we had in the small patches of shade.


Eventually, after Hamish made coffee for everyone on the beach because he's just that kind of a guy, we were given a quick briefing. We threw on our gear straight away and had to stand there flapping our skirts at each other for ages as Hamish described in painful detail which side of the lifejacket went out (the purple side) etc.


I was in front, navigating with my keen sense of direction (left!!), and George was in the back blindly steering. We were a sea-kayaking storm, flitting around everyone with ease and precision, then waiting for them to catch up. Although most of this was due to George's manual labour muscles, there were many times I had to cry out "I don't hear any paddling!?"


We stopped for a swim at a deserted beach along the way, with a muddy sand that squidged through your toes. Hamish asked one of the team, an investment banker from Paris, how his investment banking was going. "Look at me," he said. "I am in a kayak."


I got heat rash on my feet.
And on the way back to shore we had to step on all sorts of starfish and sea snails.


It was probably one of the best days of my life.

We drove to Nelson and gave Edna a thorough cleaning with two squeegees as she was filthy. We parked her in the Nelson Bus Depot, and turned her off for the last time. George and Edna had taken me 2,700 kms. We went out to the pub for dinner and watched highlights of England beating New Zealand in the cup final of the rugby Sevens tournament.


All in all, a sweet, unlikely total victory.

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Photos

Water Tractor Boat
Like in Flight of the Concords when Jermaine tapes Bret's phone to his camera to give him a camera phone for his birthday.

Roger, Wilco
Check check? Bloody ding dong this is a nature walk

Cleopatra's Pools
You'd want to drink from them... unless you'd had a whiff of Georgie's feet first

Hamish the Hairy Coo
Haha this cow does NOT want to be grabbed.

Taking it all in
I don't hear paddling!!

Baby Belooga
You swim so wild and you swim so free

Mr. Not So Lazy
He has the strength of three girls

Anchorage Bay
Put the camera away so we can swim!!

Tree Penguin
Can it hold on to that branch? Not always.