Wild in Abel Tasman, Part Last

This hike was something of a crucible for me. And I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. A highlight of my lifetime. I did not intend for it to stretch to 4 parts, but that’s where the Muse led.

I’ll wrap it up with this post so we can head down the west coast next time. You can read from the beginning here.

Anchorage Bay

Lots of Footprints in the Sand
The hut at Anchorage feels like civilization after the solitary experience of the last 2 days. One can skip the water taxi and hike roundtrip from Marahau [Mara-how] in a single day so this is the most popular spot on the Abel Tasman Coast Track. There are plenty of amenities including showers, working gas stoves, and 32 bunks divided into 4 rooms.

After guzzling an entire bottle of the precious filtered water, I select my bunk room, freshen up, and go off in search of the warden. Rumor has it there are nice warm sleeping bags for loan. One of my roommates (Paris), joins me in the search since she has only a lightweight sleeping bag as well. But, no warden today. With the smaller room and additional bodies, this night should be more comfortable than last. I hope.

Party Hut
There are a lot of trampers here. Several Kiwi families, several on break from university, and a few between jobs on their working holiday visas. There’s one group of 8 nationals making their annual trek. They eat a better dinner than I’ve been cooking in the hostels and one of them packed in a bottle of port! Some people truly know how to live.

It’s a brisk day so many of us huddle around the fire in the late afternoon and into the evening. We share stories of our adventures in NZ and talk about where we are headed next. In an earlier post I wrote of being accused of being Canadian. Here, I’m accused of being German. Three times! (My borrowed backpack is made by Deuter.)

One of my roommates asks to borrow my plastic knife and I tell her she can keep it. You’d think I’d given her a piece of fine jewelry by her level of gratitude. Another poignant moment from such a simple gift that cannot be experienced in the hustle & bustle of modern life. There was also a family of 4 who were pleased with my gift of fruit bread.

I’m off to bed by 8pm. My 3 bunkmates, including Arthur, join me by 10pm. I’m not quite as cold as the night before, but the French girls snore.

Good morning Anchorage

Day 3: Anchorage to Marahau
The plan was to wait here at the hut for Tine. She was going to hit the trail early and we would hike to Marahau together. Given my lack of sleep and sore hips, I decide it’s better if I don’t wait until mid-day to begin my hike. I simply won’t be able to take any side trails for fear that we’d miss each other along the way.

Leaving Anchorage

Last big climb begins

And I am moving slowly. Luckily, this is the easiest hike of the 3. There’s one big climb up & out of Anchorage, but after that it’s fairly flat and no mandatory beach walks in the sand. I take my time, resting often. I run into Arthur several times along the way—he’s hiking through the bush instead of using the trail. He admits that he’s the fugitive the wardens seek.

Last climb finished

Arthur in Shadow

Tine & I cross paths when I’m about half way out; she’s made two friends from Portugal. Not wanting to cheat her out of her full day’s hike, I encourage her to hike on with her new pals. She gives me the key to the van to make my wait more comfortable. I finish off the last of my cheese on schedule.

Farewell Abel Tasman
The last stretch into Marahau is flat as can be—a series of bridges over wetlands—but walking out feels like a descent.

Spotted Shags

King Fisher looking for lunch

Leaving Abel Tasman

Farewell Abel Tasman. And thank you.

Advice for Travelers
Go there now! Hike it. Kayak it. Ride in the water taxi. Just be certain to go.
Secure your water bottles.
Pack in lots of protein.
Take the high tide routes. (They have the best scenery.)
Wear your NZ Merino wool.
And watch out for the weka at the Bark Bay hut.

Too Old to WWOOF?

July 1-3
Willing Workers on Organic Farms (wwoof.co.nz). Great concept: cultural exchange meets low-cost labor force for eco businesses meets making tourists of those who can’t otherwise afford it. The WWOOFer provides 4-6 hours/day of labor in exchange for food and shelter from the Host. Originally developed for organic farms, it has expanded to other ‘eco businesses’ and tourism. NZ just one of scores of countries who have a WWOOF program, including: Australia, Canada, many African countries, etc…

Working Holiday

In NZ, one is permitted only to holiday & volunteer on a Tourist Visa. Volunteer means you donate your time for no compensation and only to non-commercial enterprises. NZ considers room & board compensation, so you cannot legally WWOOF on a Tourist Visa. If you want to work or WWOOF, you must get a Working Holiday Visa.

A Tourist Visa is valid for 90 days. If you come from an English-Speaking country, you can get one from a kiosk at your nearest NZ airport which means you can fly before purchase. Caveat: if you don’t already have your return ticket, you must be ready to prove, in writing, you have enough money to holiday here for 90 days. They did not ask me for proof so I assume when the visa kiosk scanned my passport, it detected that I already had my return ticket.

A Working Holiday Visa is valid for 12 months and can be extended for up to 3 months under certain conditions. It enables you to legally work or WWOOF (I like saying ‘work or WWOOF’). One must be between 18 and 29 years old to apply and do so electronically. I see it as a way for NZ to attract young tourists who couldn’t otherwise afford to holiday here and to provide low-cost labor to small NZ farms. More than 90% of the hostel guests I’ve met are working, WWOOFing, or seeking one or the other; typically WWOOFing only until paid employment can be located so they can earn enough to holiday again before looking for more work or WWOOF.

My Volunteer Assignment

Sally picks me up at Shortbread Cottage on Wednesday afternoon. She seems a bit hesitant, saying she doesn’t think this is going to work out for me. She thinks I won’t like the sleeping quarters and there won’t be enough ‘action’ for me. I assure her I’m committed & flexible on this assignment, can pick up a car if I need it since Miki offered me his. After all, I flew down to Wellington & ferried to the south island two days after we spoke on the phone. We agree to a two-day trial period & I’m confident I can make myself useful.

On the way to her place, she & her two pre-adolescent girls quiz me on why I’m in NZ, what I do in the US, eating habits, hobbies, art, how much I travel, and the age of my luggage. I find out the girls are home-schooled, have ~15 animals, are vegetarian, and Sally is two days into sole-ownership of the organics shop; her former partner moving on to other things. The reason she posted the job on the hotlist is because she & the girls are traveling to visit family July 11-25. This is school holiday for the entire country and for Australia.

A small homestead, a little more than an acre. House, smaller guest house, and a building that houses the organics shop, art studio, and yoga studio. Most of the land is used as combination vineyard (table grapes) and pasture for the animals: ducks, chickens, guinea pigs, rabbits, cat, dog. There’s also a well-appointed play area for the girls, that is off-limits to all without invitation, and a garden.

I meet Nancy and her husband who are tenants in the guest house, ‘B’ who works part time in the shop and teaches the girls Italian, and Mira who has been WWOOFing here for a week. I’m to share the room above the yoga studio w/ Mira. There’s a hole in the wall of the studio & climbing through isn’t pretty, but the room is plenty big for the two of us, has a window with a view, and an old leather couch we retrieve from a dark corner & dust off. There’s a half-bath in the art studio for nighttime use and we use the full bath in the house the rest of the time. We have wifi access from the shop, so all is well, although Sally shuts it down at 9pm & doesn’t turn it back on until 9am after they have family time. Mira & I get along well. We bond over video games in particular—much to Sally’s amazement.

Settling In

I unpack and then Sally asks me to vaccuum the house. After that we eat a vegan dinner, Mira plays with the girls, and I do the dishes. Later, I ask Sally why she didn’t think this would work out. She tells me that asking me to vaccuum the house is like asking her mother to vaccuum the house and this makes her uncomfortable. While I am older than she is, I’m not old enough to be her mother and she says she didn’t mean it that way. She assures me she’s decided to treat me like any other WWOOFer and that’s fine by me.

The next day, we talk about spiritual matters & healthy eating habits. How she came to own the place. I take a walk along the beach, falling in love with the Tasman Sea. After breakfast dishes, she asks me to do some on-line research so she can prepare for an art class she is teaching when she returns from holiday. Perfect job for me and something she needs because she’s not handy with the computer. After a beautiful lunch w/ all the women, I help Mira enter the shop’s products into Shopify. We’ve only scratched the surface but Sally is pleased we got so much done.

Another walk along the beach the next morning, then to work researching artists & their work. I put together briefs on six artists: O’Keefe, FL Wright, Charles Heaphy, Monet, Modigliani, and Warhol. I pull in images of their work from Google (except for Modigliani’s nudes, it’s a class for kids after all). Sally is over the moon for the briefs! More entries into Shopify and I attend the Thursday night Vinyasa yoga class. First yoga class in several years. I really like the instructor, we talk at length after class, and I look forward to the next several Thursdays.

Early the next morning I’m up in the art studio making entries in my travel journal when Sally walks in. We chat for a bit and then she heads back up to the house. Five minutes later she’s back and says: “I don’t think this is working out for you.” I assure her I’m fine. She then invites me to leave because she doesn’t need two WWOOFers after all, but tells me I can come back and stay in the house while she & the girls are away.

Oh.

Damn.

Dashing Expectations

One night while walking through Picton, I saw a cat who was moving rather oddly. I thought it had been hit by a car & wasn’t looking forward to what I would find once I got closer, but get closer I did. Turns out the cat was missing a back leg, but it was not a recent trauma.

It’s not afraid of me and appears otherwise healthy so it’s clearly someone’s pet, but it won’t let me get close enough to touch it. My heart goes out to it and just when I’m starting to feel pity, another cat, four legs, happens around the corner. They both freeze and have a feline staring contest. In the way that they do. The contest is broken when the 4-legged cat runs away at full-speed with the 3-legged cat chasing it. The latter intent on doing the former great harm.

At the time I thought it could be a metaphor for not judging by appearances, for appropriately managing expectations. While listening to Sally invite me and my nearly-free labor to leave, I was sure it was.

Too Old to WWOOF

Pieces fall in to place that I didn’t see before. Didn’t even realize I was working on a puzzle actually. I didn’t see it because I work hard at taking people at their word. Have gotten myself into trouble in the past ‘interpreting’ what people say.

Sally (not her real name) was keen to have me volunteer for her hotlist assignment until she found out how old I was, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell me directly. She kept saying “I don’t think this will work for you” and “You don’t seem like the type who would like this”.

I now recognize she was intimidated by my age, which I shared with her when we spoke on the phone while I was still in Aukland, but she could not, did not, say ‘no’. Once I got to Picton, she told me she couldn’t pick me up in Nelson. It was only after I told her I would take the shuttle that she ‘discovered’ she had errands in town and could pick me up after all.

While I still feel dumb for missing the signs & signals that she didn’t want me there, I’m glad I didn’t let her off the hook, that I forced her to say ‘no’ rather than saying it wasn’t working for me. There’s a saying about the people you meet either becoming friends or teachers. I was schooled. You can guess the lessons.

Back to Nelson

I decide not to debate the issue with her. I also decide not to return while she’s away, but, since my ego is bruised & I am dumbstruck, I don’t tell her that. Sure enough, a week later, she sends me an email telling me she found a neighbor to help out in the shop while she’s away and therefore I shouldn’t come back.

There’s a 12:45 shuttle to Nelson. Shortbread Cottage has a room for me.