Joyously Aware in Abel Tasman National Park

This time we set off on a Thursday, with big dreams of covering almost 40 miles in three days, two brand-new backpackers among us, and more than 11 hours of driving round trip for the weekend. On Thursday, after Anne got out of class, we piled into our car, named Sal, her own character on these adventures, and headed Northwest, towards Nelson, Abel Tasman National Park, beachy shores, and beautiful campsites. 

We arrived in Nelson around 8pm, checked into our funky hostel tucked in a small patch of woods on top of a cliff overlooking the city, and ate some delicious Indian food. We wandered through the city I adored during my last visit, searching for something fun to do on a Thursday night. Perhaps serendipitously, one of us forgot a passport, so after failing to get into a hopping bar, we headed back to the hostel to divvy up food and re-pack our packs and chatter over a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. We conked around midnight, all six of us packed into a room and a half of space. 

We were up early on Friday to pack up, eat breakfast, and get on the trail at a reasonable hour for our upcoming seven hours of hiking. After some dilly-dallying and total mom-aging by me, we made it to the trailhead around 10. 

The Abel Tasman Coast Track is 60km long and usually hiked in 3-5 days. The hike is full of hiking over ridges and down into stunning, perfect crescent beaches, reminiscent of Cutler Coast but without any rock scrambling and with far warmer water. We set off with high spirits and hiked only a couple of hours until we landed in a picture-perfect lunch spot, in a campsite/hut/bay called Anchorage. Surrounded by people swimming, getting on water taxis, and traipsing across the sand, we played in crystal-clear water, ate our delicious hummus and veggie wraps, and lounged in the sun for a long while. 

This trip was full of me doing some internal grappling with how I like to be outside, and how others like to be outside, and how I have a tendency to sometimes, ahem, impose my will on other people. Personally, I am a fan of getting out early, getting through the day’s mileage with some haste, and chilling the freak out once arriving at the campsite/hut/destination of choice. I also sort of assumed everyone else in the outdoor world felt the same way, as I’ve certainly not encountered much pushback so far in my adventuring career. Some members of this crew, however, have a different, much more laid-back approach to attacking a day’s objectives, full of leisurely lunches, ocean swims and playtime, and a general meandering sensibility (although, thankfully, we are all physically fast walkers). This was hard for me to adjust to this weekend, and amidst lots of hokes about why I am the way I am, I realized I actually did need to chill the fuck out and listen to the thinly-veiled frustrations beneath the jokes. The first day, however, I was still on this journey, and was vaguely frosty and uptight about our objectively awesome, beautiful, delightful lunch time in Anchorage, where everyone got to get wet and dry off, sun themselves, and take a load off. 

This track also featured some timing-specific tidal crossings which meant we could only cross certain sections later in the day, so our stop did help us shave off a bunch of that waiting time. Around 4pm we crossed over the first of the tidal flats at Torrent Bay, all squelching mud and tiny rivulets of freshwater fanning out across the flats. Completely randomly, we ran into Caroline and Theo here, who had driven up in the morning to catch up with us, when one of them heard Elodie’s voice across the cove and doubled back to meet us. We were slightly ashamed about the fact that they had somehow passed us, despite their later start, but quickly all fell into step chatting and mixing up our group order so everyone got one-on-one time with the newcomers and each other. 

Once again I feel so grateful for the group we ended up with, with the addition of two total chillers and extremely game people. Caroline and Theo also have the fun distinction of being two Tufts people who know all of my Tufts people! Oh, this wonderful small world of the Northeast liberal arts schools :). After a few more hours of hiking, we got into camp at Bark Bay just as golden hour was reaching across another completely stunning cove, and as we avoided the evil wekas trying to steal all of our stuff, we jumped in the water. I floated away from the group for a while and appreciated the moment, having another one of those transcendent moments of this year in which I feel so deeply held and encased in a body of water I’m growing to love immensely. As I popped my head back up, I heard shouts about a stingray, which was slowly gliding its way around the group, who helpfully said “it’s right in front of you, you have to swim over it to get back”. After a needlessly harrowing swim back to shore, we got out to dry off and make dinner. 

Dinner was a delicious hodge podge of burrito/nacho bowls, with beans, rice, peppers, cheese, and tortilla chips. The meal was also intended to include onions, but something about the onions here makes them INCREDIBLY pungent and tear-inducing, such that the onions I’d chopped the day in Christchurch before stank up the entire car on the drive up, despite being double-bagged and shoved into the bottom of a grocery bag. Thus, we abandoned them back at the hostel, unwilling to deal with the smell for the next three days. 

I also revived one of my most favorite Hearty Roots-era traditions, the sharing of a piece of writing before a meal. I was kicking myself for having forgotten about it earlier, in the many meals I’ve cooked for my friends in this country, but glad to bring back a wonderful practice that has already become embedded in our friend group ever since. 

After dinner we sat by the water watching the stars, playing around with the bioluminescence right by shore. I went to bed later than intended, a theme while camping with this crew, crammed into a Bowdoin Outing Club four-person tent with Elodie, Lucca, and Dylan, sandy and content. 

Initially, our hiking plan had us hiking 9 miles on Friday and Sunday and 18 on Saturday, a plan that was rightfully vetoed and shifted as the planning continued. Instead, Saturday was a 15-mile day, still no small feat, but with another tidal crossing that meant we’d have more hiking to do in the evening than earlier in the day. Thus, we had a slow morning, with swimming, oatmeal, and a stretch circle before setting out after 10 (again, not my norm at all). 

After no more than three hours, still winding up and around ridges and into stunning coves, we arrived at a spot where the ranger from the night before recommended we spend our pre-crossing downtime, citing the incredible swimming we’d be able to see from the trail. 

He was absolutely right, and we were practically giddy climbing down onto this beach, which was ringed with amazing rock formations and featured tropical-blue water. After swimming, playing, clambering into an amazing cave, and eating lunch, nearly 3 hours had passed before we got back on the trail, and I did my absolute best to hold my tongue about my concerns for the day’s schedule, and was actually able to chill out in a lovely way. 

We crossed our second tidal crossing at Awaroa Inlet, during which I fully gave into having wet shoes, and were about two hours away from camp by 7, not my favorite position to be in. I ate my emergency Cliff bar, prompting gasps from the crew, who knew this was not a signal to be taken lightly, and we carried on, singing camp songs and playing games to make the time go faster. We arrived in camp at Totaranui just before 8:30, a huge, busy campground with a drive-in option, meaning we had to walk past many happy campers before we found the quieter spot for Great Walk tenters. 

Most of the good spots were taken, but we found a quiet corner, acquisitioned a picnic table, set up tents and made dinner in the fading light. Another rendition of Dylan’s famous mac and cheese, this time with some roasted broccoli, tons of butter, and extra cheese on top. Dylan had a camp light that included a string of fairy lights, and we hung them over our shoulders as we giggled quietly, trying not to disturb already-sleeping neighbors. We did not succeed in this mission, obviously, but had a blast. 

Following my dinner poem, Theo shared his own quote (from memory!) which he grew up with taped to his fridge. It’s a beautiful quote, and something I think this group embodies well:  

Henry Miller — 'The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.'

After dinner, we had a joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware moment, prompted by my desire to swim before going to sleep. Dylan, Elodie, and I trekked down to the water, stopping for a friendship-affirming group hug, and stripped, running into the water only to realize very quickly that we were in the midst of the most breathtaking display of bioluminescence any of us had ever seen. I find it hard to describe bioluminescence and particularly the intensity of this showing, but it was as if we were all angels, ensconced in blue-green light shimmering in the wake of our arms and legs. The brightness was practically daylight-quality, with all of our faces lit from below by the surface of the water. It was incredible, and we couldn’t stop shouting and gasping as it continued to get brighter and brighter, more and more beautiful. At one point Lucca came down to the beach, having heard us from all the way across the campground, and in whisper-shouts we told her she had to get everyone else into the water ASAP. Lucca rallied the troops and came back, a huddle of dark silhouettes running towards us and jumping in. It was magic, and we were covered in it, little bioluminesce-ing creatures sticking to our hair and skin. Another place I’ll be forever. 

I collapsed into my sleeping bag wet and cold, thinking of the starlight still seeping into our bodies as we slept beneath the Milky Way. 

We woke early the next morning, starting the day with a rendition of Adele’s “Someone Like You” before quickly packing up and hitting the trail. We had exactly 5 hours to do 5 hours of hiking, with a quick stop at a beautiful outlook and lighthouse, so we booked it. We made good time, and got to see the lighthouse (which was very foolish and small, but on the edge of a cliff that made my heart ache for the summer blues of home as we watched a seal spinning and playing 100 meters below us), but I was edgy all day, worried about us missing the one and only shuttle for the day that would bring us back to our cars. At one point I hiked way ahead of the group, joined by Lucca, just to have my WFR-sense bring me back to the present and realize that separating from the crowd was not the way to make anyone go faster. One final ridge brought us into Wainui Bay, with beautiful views of the coastline beyond. 

With huge cheers and packs thrown to the ground, we all stretched our tired legs and ate lunch. Theo and I went for a swim, getting out just as our shuttle arrived, and I watched as one-by-one everyone fell asleep for the shuttle ride back to our cars, triumphant, exhausted, sweaty, and accomplished. 

I had another moment of reflection on the bus, of feeling lucky and grateful to have ended up where I am. How lucky I feel to have found people who will ask me to read the poem again, wrapped in fairy lights eating mac and cheese and peas after following my crazy plan to walk almost 40 miles in a weekend. People who turn the music up loud and love to eat veggies and drink gin and tonics on a Wednesday night so we can hit the ground running on a Thursday. People who want to wander over landscapes together, take breaks, swim everywhere. How lucky I am to again have found people who can be my people, who want the same things from this new place across the world. How lucky I am to get to do it again and again and again. I have other things to write about but I’m confident this semester will be full of these missives from the most beautiful place in the world, and all the adventures my full heart and strong legs get to go on. Grateful beyond measure, you get the gist by now. Thank you Abel Tasman, thank you bioluminescent creatures, thank you sunshine and blue water, thank you friends.