Mt Doom, revisited - Great Walk #3

                                           My posts can't keep up with my adventures. Sigh! There's much planned for this month and I assure you that much will be written about it when I return. But I have to clear my blog-debt first. I have to let you guys in on my previous great walk - Tongariro northern circuit. I did walked it in March and haven't had time to write about it. 

I scribbled a few notes during the walk, while resting at Mangatepopo Hut. I might have written it in a more diary-entry fashion, so pardon the TMI moments. It's incomplete and incoherent, but here are my thoughts from 26th March 2016.

*** Transcript from Great Walk #3 - Tongariro northern circuit walk ***

                                    It's only been a month, or has it!? From Nelson to Tongariro, off I came great-walk hopping. Life's moved at an incredible pace. Work has been more exciting than ever and I'm struggling to catch a break with women (this may or may not have always been the case). After a 5 day walk in the gorgeous Abel Tasman (the a/c of which I'm still recounting as I write this), I'm dropped on the footsteps of Mt. DOOM. For a third time, I'm here to scale the beast, Red Crater. But unlike the first two times, this is a whole lot better (read challenging). I've graduated from a day crosser (Tongariro crossing) to a proper hiker.

                 The Tongariro Northern Circuit is one of the great walks of NZ. I needn't elaborate for peeps who've read the previous posts, but for completeness great walks are pieces of incredible scenery stitched together in concise multi-day walks. As the lucky third, Tongariro was bound to be hard. It gave me comfort that I knew a fair bit of the terrain before getting there. Unfortunately having done a 23Kms crossing twice doesn't equal the 46Km Northern circuit. Although personally, we weren't keen on doing it, wasting away a good 4 day weekend was a shame. Milford track was my first choice but being the most popular great walk, it's impossible to get a booking this late in.

                 The three stooges were meant to do the walk but the two hobbits ended walking up to Mt Doom instead. Faiz, the drop out, decided to get hitched. Hurray for him, but we almost cancelled the trip if not for the trusty CC.

*** End of transcript ***

                                        

                                       It's probably the vaguest entry that you'll see from me. Well, in my defence, I had just walked more than 20Km and scaled a bloody volcano that very day. After reading that transcript, it's clear that I didn't have a chance to finish what I started that day (I was busy socialising), so I'll try to dive back into  my penseive (harry potter style) and bring to life those three days in a fresh post.

                                 

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Monsters under the ground - NZ Quake 2016

                                           It's been two weeks since the earthquake. Ground zero is still cut off from the rest of the world and while parts of the country that are badly affected are continuing to reel under  its influence, the rest of the country moved on. It's Christmas season and retail outlets cannot afford not operating, despite aftershocks continuing to send tremors and scares into our daily lives. People working in high rise buildings tell themselves everyday as they leave their homes that everything will will be alright today, although they know deep in their hearts that things can never be the same again..

                                          It was a few minutes past 12 am. Remnants of the weekend mood were still lingering in my nocturnal insomniac alter ego. I was telling myself it's time to sleep as I struggled to shut down that one-last-video I was watching of the predicted Trump doomsday scenarios. Doomsday in a faraway land was frightening enough, when the ground below my feet began to rumble. At first I brushed it off, like a seasoned Wellingtonian, who's experienced multiple tremors in the past few years, anticipating it to stop after a few minutes, waiting to check geonet to find out the magnitude of the-one-that-I-felt, to enquire colleagues and friends the next day almost braggingly if they had felt the x.y magnitude quake from last night. But this was different. The rumbling gradually turned into a roll and the the world around me rolled with it. I remember, it took me a good 15 seconds to realise what was happening and to practise what's preached in NZ since kindergarten, in case of a quake - DROP, COVER, HOLD. After about 40 - 45 seconds, I yelled out for my flatmate to make sure he got cover too. And then darkness fell upon the world - literally - the lights went out. My wardrobe doors were moving, my suitcase fell over and as I was hoping that the roof above my head stays put just this one night, the rumbling went away. It lasted a full 2 minutes - it felt like 20 in my head.

                                        I wasn't sure how one should react to a major disaster. I wasn't sure if I should be worried for the world or glad for my life. I always thought I would react to disasters with a much calmer demeanour, but I was trembling. I was convinced that there would be a tsunami, until I learned that the epicentre was somewhere far south from where I live and my fears were allayed. I got the emergency light out, I was still trembling. A quick check if all neighbours were fine, whilst trembling. I texted my friends and family to let them know I'm safe. The aftershocks kept knocking my suitcase down, so I wedged it behind my door and used a door stopper to prevent it from falling. The mood was quite unnerving. Two hours had passed since the earthquake and I was just about to get a wee wink, when I heard my flatmate call out to me that a Tsunami warning had been issued and Wellington is in the list.

                                    I live in a low lying area of the Wellington region, called Hutt Valley. The Hutt river is the main artery that runs through the length of the city. And right underneath that lies a major fault, ready to cause a massive tremor whenever it pleases. That wasn't my concern. The Tsunami. I was technically in the Orange Zone - i.e. there is no immediate threat to my home. But my paranoia kicked in big time and I left the house 5 minutes after the warning was issued with just my keys, wallet and passport (I readied an emergency bag after the incident). We 'fled' a bit further inland, to where we work. We intently listened to the car's radio, that was tuned to the emergency station. The message was clear, 'go to higher ground'. I knew the night was going to be a long one but the wind and the aftershocks rocked me to sleep. My eyes were drooping heavily and I was nodding constantly until the Tsunami sirens got activated.

                                        If you ever heard a Tsunami siren, you would know the air around you would immediately thicken with tension. Suddenly, my heart was in my mouth. I thought it was over, and the drama was only beginning to unravel. As we moved to much higher ground, we sensed the panic among the motorists trying to calmly queue their way through roundabouts at 3am in the morning. For most of them, it was the first time they have seen the world in that time of the hour. The almost super moon was adorned with a halo in the night sky, trying to suffuse a chilling calm into the world. And then just as it started, it all ended, suddenly, with no warning. The tsunami warning was called off and we headed home.

                                       After hardly two hours of proper sleep I was awakened with a rude jolt. This time I shot straight under the table in one single smooth swoop (I later learned that while in bed it's safest to stay put and cover your head with a pillow). The aftershock didn't last long. Ever since, I have been struggling to go back to normalcy, that I treasured so much. Buildings in Wellington, which were initially assessed to be safe, got re-evaluated and marked unsafe and some demolished. My work was the only constant that gave me something to look forward to. Many may not understand why I should have been affected by an earthquake that wasn't even centred in my city. But the fact is, when something as major as that happens, you begin to question everything - all the choices and decisions you've made and you struggle to make sense of things and you just want to plain grieve. Wellington is incredible in that sense. The rebound of the people in this amazing city helped keep my depressed spirits up and very soon, I'm sure I'll get over the quake that will be written in NZ history and mine.

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Abel Tasman Coast Track - Estuary of shell doom

             I know I stranded you guys in Awaroa. I've sat down at least four times to finish up on this and got distracted every single time. Well, tonight nothing can stop me from finishing the last of my sandy stories. Let me dive into my special memory lane and recount that day after the curry disaster night..

              I could hardly sleep the night before. That made it easy for me to wake up early. There was hardly any daylight but the campsite was buzzing with scrambling campers. The tide just stopped ebbing and was about to turn. Derek and Pat were up and were already prepping for breakfast. The gas fiasco the previous night meant that cooked oats wasn't going to happen for me. I munched on some of Derek's granola stash (delicious stuff that) and dug into my reserves. The sleepless night dampened my morning excitement and the underwhelming experience of Awaroa didn't help. Very recently, the public of NZ, along with a little help from charities and govt. of NZ bought out a private beach in Awaroa. This got me very excited about the place but it was visually not as special, compared to the other beaches in the national park. Without any doubt, the estuary is a very important part of the Abel Tasman National Park and a whole range of species thrive on it. However, it simply didn't cut it for me considering the hype and the effort that went into getting there.

              Soon after, we scurried around to make it within the tidal crossing window and packed up as fast as we could. We were the last party to leave the campsite, but we made it out in time into the brackish mouth of the river. The sticky mud flats made it very hard to walk and I had to go bare footed. What looked like pebbles on the soft sediment, turned out to be exhumed graves of all sorts of shelled creatures of the sea. The crustacean corpses were everywhere and the sight was mind boggling. The pain, the crunch, the amazement, all went hand in hand. Luckily for me, the crossing only took about 20 minutes and I was ready to head on. Within about half an hour, we stumble across this beautiful beach with gorgeous golden sand stretching between shrub-clad hills. This was in stark contrast with the white beaches I've gotten used to in the days before. That day was our last day of the hike and was not an arduous one. And adding the fact that we headed off early in the day, we made ourselves comfortable for the first break of the day. As tempting as the idea of a swim was, we exercised some restraint and instead went for a bit of cricket and sun bathing (not that I needed any more tan :P).

          The notion of time, as perceived by our mind is wonderful. Sometimes, days and months go in a blur. And sometimes, a few moments of silent contemplation linger on forever. In that beach, on that last day of the hike, time defeated me. The sound of the crashing waves was the only constant and it took me back to my hometown. The nostalgia kicked in and the beauty around me overwhelmed me. Like John Masefield's poem, the West wind, the sea was talking to me - "Will ye not come home brother?", it asked. It was surely a song to my soul and fire to my brain. If the bitter endings of the previous day were trying to dampen my mood, all their attempts were permanently washed away in the speckled waves washing my feet and the innumerable little colourful pebbles under them.

                  When we were all saturated with satisfaction and happiness, we continued on to Totaranui.

And boy, Abel Tasman kept giving. A cheeky weka and a suspicious looking Pied Shag got added to the list of birds (that already included robins, fantails, wood pigeons) that we've encountered during the walk. Lunch was at goat bay, where we swam our last swim of the walk. We bumped into Jacob, the Austrian backpacker, for the last time and relished the Sun, sand and the smoked mussels that Derek brought along. The final bit of bush was just as incredible as the rest. Like always, I was growing increasingly poignant as the walk came to an end. I knew I would miss what I had witnessed and experienced. That night we camped at Totaranui. We decided to not go further to mutton cove and beyond as the water taxis wouldn't operate beyond Totaranui. I fell asleep easily and woke up to a beautiful day. Soon after we packed up, we headed to the local i-center to drop a few post cards to our loved ones and got to our water taxi. The 30ish minutes ride back to the starting point was through choppy waters and made me slightly sea sick, but I couldn't have bothered less. Lunch at a pub in Motueka and I and CC were off on our way to catch the ferry to Wellington, to return back to a less colourful regular life.
             Abel Tasman is a place you cannot just visit once. It's like a pilgrimage for nature lovers. Every summer I'd have a beckoning for the rest of my life and a longing for the remainder of the year.  That ends my blog post and my attempt to lure more folks to Aotearoa - a place that I now call home.

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Abel Tasman Coast Track - Islands, sea caves and burnt body hair

                           If you are a 'are-we-done-yet' kinda person, you better rethink reading on because the journey just began to get interesting.

                         

               The night at Bark Bay was quiet and quick. The luxurious lamb chops put me to deep slumber and my night was littered with dreams of moonlit seashores and magnificent sunrises. When I woke up, I was every bit thrilled to see the most magnificent twilight ever. The blushing pinks and blues carved out silhouettes of the Nelson mountain range across the bay and the morning star was twinkling just like a 'diamond in the sky'. In that nippy, twilit dawn, I ran to the ocean to soak in the sight. I was quickly joined by many others from the camp-site and there was a poignant calm in the air.

                  As seconds rolled into minutes, the high clouds above us, which were invisible till then, turned into an artist's palette, adorning the magical morning hues. The silhouettes of trees on the hills around the bay slowly began to gain some colour. The natural 'instagram' filter lingered on forever and then without any notice, a bright orange dot tore through the horizon, spreading out it's golden hue over the ocean, sand and everything else around. It grew in a matter of seconds and before we knew, we were being blinded by it. That anticipation and a fitting climax to the start of the day left me in a reflective mood.

Digression #2 - All through the journey we struck conversations with strangers - Germans, English, Austrian, Americans and of course kiwis. Our walk party consisted of South Africans and Indians. The world felt very small and I felt the power of human connection more than ever before. A smile or a hello goes a long way and I surprised myself at the ease at which I could start a conversation (must be the high spirits). Good times.

     Bark Bay had so much to offer and I wish I spent more time there. But who knew there were better things in store. After proper breakfast and coffee, we packed our tents and marched on. We had a long way to go and we started sturdy. Every small beach and every campsite was inviting. It took a lot of restraint to not go into every beach we saw. But Onetahuti was well beyond my self-control. The white-sand beach had clear blue waters that looked extremely inviting from the cliff we walked down to reach there. In the far distance, we could see Tonga Island, yet another eye candy. I fished out for my swimming goggles and went in to have a peek around a few rocks. The sea caves that bordered the beach harboured star fish and glow worms. I lacked the confidence to explore around rocks a bit deeper but the visibility was very good and Derek went around to have a peek. Alas, all good things have to end.

                 The walk continued and we headed to Awaroa post lunch. The water taxi drop-off was fairly easy in the earlier days but it was a mess on the last day as the luggage drop-off was not on our route. Blame it on ill preparation or miscommunication, I ended up running down a hill and then back up again (Good exercise karma though!), Pat had to wait more than an hour all by himself and Derek had a mini panic attack that Pat might run away. In the end, Derek and CC took the beach track to Awaroa and Pat and I paced down the gentler slope of the hill that I had just climbed back up. We made good progress but the night was falling quick. Maps don't lie - as expected that was the longest walk of the four days and although we were rewarded with a blood red sunset, we only reached campsite after 9pm. 

                   The mishaps wouldn't end there. Trying our best to not piss off the sleeping campers who expect an early start the next day for the low tide Awaroa crossing, we tried to make some coffee. It so happens that we were inept at using a camp stove (it was dark in my defence), we almost burnt my beard and CC's eyebrows after a mushroom cloud of fire blew up from the tiny gas cylinder. We laid low until Derek came back and turned it on, all the while trying to assess how much arm hair CC burnt.  Despite that, we had our coffee and went on to our meals. And within minutes of starting my meal, I became brown-bob-curry-pants. A splash of hot water on my arm, hand reflex and next thing you know I'm cleaning up the mess. When we retired in the end, all that anxiety made it hard to sleep and CC's snores did not help. I was physically and mentally spent and couldn't rest. Sigh.

Well, tomorrow is another day.

And tomorrow also happens to be a work day. So, goodnight and goodbye.

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Abel Tasman Coast Walk - Beeches and beaches

                                        Why does time fly like a super fast magic carpet during weekends? This weekend I've attended a church wedding for the first time, witnessed highlining (that's slacklining at a height) in Wellington and managed to cook a four course meal at a friend's place! It's a weekend of firsts. All I'm trying to tell is that I have my excuses but I'll still see if I can quickly add some tea time nonsensical reading material for you. I believe I left you at the Anchorage hut, here's what happened after that ..

                    The morning of the second day was an early start.

Digression #1 - Haiping from our great walk #1 would've been extremely happy to have been on this hike. Haiping is a friend of mine whom I've met during my last great walk. Our time sense, or lack thereof, got her positively pissed with me and my friends. I wish I had footnotes. That would've saved you from digressions. Oh well.

                    .. second day, early start, blah blah. There was a distinct lack of coffee, I remember. And breakfast. The darn tide was turning on us quick and we had to take a low tide crossing shortcut to avoid walking up that darn hill we came down the day before. Breakfast wasn't a priority. I stuffed myself with nuts, M&Ms and an apple. I was still cranky about coffee though. The tidal crossing consisted mainly of some slimy bits, crunchy bits and watery bits - the slimy water-infused sand, cruncy corpses of countless crustaceans, watery streams that ran seawards. We walked bare-footed half the way due to the streams and let the shells have their way on our feet (Until a few days after that I found the crunch of crushing shells beneath my shoes oddly satisfying).

                    We skipped the Cleopatra pools and walked through the beautiful native forests adorned with silver ferns and beeches amongst others and elusive robins, fantails and wood pigeons chirping from the trees (The wood pigeon sounded like it was panting to be fair). Pat (Derek's dad) was very enthusiastic about birds and that got us all watching out for these amazing creatures for the rest of the walk. The only thought on my mind was 'when will it rain?'. I was plotting against it all the way while walking past haloed islands, brief stints of civilization and steep hills that somehow looked like tiny blips on our maps. We eventually crossed the 'Falls river bridge' from the brochure. It must've been beautiful. I was focussing on just getting across it, as it was busy as that day. Eventually, we spotted Sandfly bay.

         Sandfly bay deserves it's own paragraph. It almost looked like a fat spit (a tad bit away from becoming a bar) at the edge of the estuary of Falls river, with a tiny island in the background. If I had a good camera, I could've shown off all the various hues of blues and greens that were on display. We were yet to have our swim break and from the first sight, that became our preferred choice. After some more flappy, sloppy wood pigeons and lush ferns, we reached Sandfly bay. We dropped our bags up the hill and walked downwards, seawards. Everything was so perfect, sans the bloodthirsty sandflies. Even after multiple layers of deet, they seem to successfully scout for an unsprayed patch of skin and go rampant. Without any delay, we all jumped in, swam to our heart's content and chilled ashore. That was followed by a quick cuppa and lunch. Any food climbs up the deliciousness scale when it's carried over your back for such long distances. And the lesser of it you have, the more valuable it keeps getting. We enjoyed every bite and thanks to Derek, were never in short supply of decadence (in camping terms).

                   

We had a few stops on our way to Bark Bay, our next campsite, but they were not nearly as magnificent. Finally, we reached Bark Bay and set up our tents. Bark bay had a distinct 'why-is-this-so-fucking-beautiful' characteristic to it. Luckily, the park ranger delivered me from my raincoat dilemma with news of upcoming sunny days and let me soak in the splendid sunset. He also hinted us of the possibility of a stunner of a sunrise. A relatively quick dinner and we took to bed early so as to not miss the sunrise. And when we woke up, it was a sunrise like none other. Gotta crash now, so more about that in the next post.

Ciao !

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Abel Tasman Coast Walk - Bay Watch

              The weather forecast on the morning of 26th February 2016 said that Abel Tasman had a couple of 'fine' day and a few shit (rainy) days during our great walk. The last thing I did before locking my car, abandoning it for the next four days, was ask if anyone wanted my emergency poncho. What I did not realise then was that I needed it more than anyone else as I stupidly left my rain jacket in the backseat of my car..

              That morning when I woke up with a pie craving, it didn't take much thinking to drive 17Kms to the supermarket next town. After a last shower and a final re-packing, we got our water taxis sorted and scooted off to the start of the walk at Marahau. We had the Sun over our head and couldn't wait to get some sand under our feet. The blue sky, white sand and turquoise waters were magical. The crashing waves gently spread their white surf on the white sand. The granite rocks that stood the test of time and bore the unforgiving brunt of nature for millions of years, bore lush green forests and perfectly completed the frame. And to make the whole scene more irresistible, there was a tiny island not too far away from the shore. It was straight out of a travel brochure. It's the stark change from reality that made it so much more special. 

 

                 CC was the first to succumb to the ocean. He 'accidentally' got his socks wet. We took it as a sign and felt obligated to have our first swim. It was a hot day and the water was refreshingly cold. Once I got wet, I did not want to come out. We planned to do our walk at a gentle pace at the beginning of our walk. But we were well behind schedule already. Some quick snacking and onward we went. Anchorage was far far away and we couldn't afford another long break at Apple Tree Bay, so CC and I took a left Derek and his dad to go on and proceeded to have a quick peek. That's probably where our recurring remark, "How can this bay be more beautiful than the last one?" took birth. The Sun kissed beaches were extremely inviting. It took a lot of restraint to not get into the water again. It was also the grand reveal of the my favourite singer, Adele's namesake island. After filling our heart with what cameras can't, we moved on, envying the peeps frolicking in the ocean.

                After that we had a series of 'this-is-definitely-our-last-stop' moments. First stop was at watering cove, where we jumped into the beach yet again for a late evening swim. The idea of a private bay for six campers was incredible. Anchorage was tantalisingly close, so we took a quick detour to a view point for a bird's eye view of Adele and Fisherman's islands. The views from up those hills made us forget the painful steep climbs preceding them. The last leg down the hill to Anchorage was steep as. We were in no mood to climb up that hill the next morning which meant we had to make the low tide crossing at any cost. When we finally reached Anchorage, it was a tad bit past dusk but still beautiful enough to keep our spirits up. The famous water backpackers was anchored not too far away from our hut. That night we ate like kings. Derek, our swiss-army-knife of a man, carries everything and never lets us feel away from home. Courtesy of Derek, we had roast lamb with mint sauce that night. My humble vacuum packed chana masala was no match for such deliciousness. To my surprise, he had more aces up his sleeve. In the middle of the night, in that solar lit humble kitchen, in the middle of nowhere, we cooked lamb chops for our next day's dinner - LAMB CHOPS !!. Derek's incredible.

                   

The low tide was at 6:45 am the next morning. An early morning crossing meant that we'll have to rush out of Anchorage and that's a shame  as it was worth our time. That lead to me deciding to take a walk in the moonlit beach. Like I said before, I was very ill-prepared for the walk. I  only packed singlets (did I mention no towel). The air was ever so slightly nippy. The Southern Cross just sat there looking down on us and I learnt how to tell directions using it as a reference. The sound of waves reminded me of all those nights I spent sitting by the beach at home (Vizag). The sudden nostalgia, gentle zephyrs and moonlit sand had a magnetic effect on me and the next thing you know, I'm in the water. The joy was short-lived. With some vicious sea insects feasting on my flesh vigorously, I relented and dripped dry before walking back to the hut to retire for the night.

Phew, that's day one folks ! Three more to go, see ya around.

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Abel Tasman Coast Walk - The prelude

                                                          2015's vacation was fairly recent. It's not been more than a month since my last excursion to the beautiful South Island. It was a particularly special one as my parents were in NZ to visit me and I've been playing their local tourist guide, showing them the best of what the country has to offer. Just when I thought I've seen it all, I went on my second great walk to Abel Tasman national park.

I've been away from the blog for a while, mostly keeping busy planning how and where to travel next. Since the last post, a lot has happened and strangely I vividly remember every bit of it - the limper from the past posts is now posted in Welly; I travelled to Singapore, Malaysia and Kashmir; I went back to Lake Waikaremoana for more and that became my first great walk; lastly, I travelled the length of New Zealand from Auckland to Milford Sound in my latest Vacation with parents. Sadly, this post can't cover up for what we've missed, so let's start afresh (I might still have some throwback-posts in the future and I'll dot up something about those adventures too). In this post, I'll keep it about the freshest memories from my recent great walk - Abel Tasman Coast Walk.

After last year's incredible great walk, I've decided to dedicate 2016 as the year of great walks. I've created a bunch of private Facebook events and sent out invites to friends who might be interested to join. I set up dates and decided the order in which I'll do the walks, etc. Unfortunately, I did not receive the response I was expecting as peeps were slightly hesitant to book their calendars more than half year in advance. As I predicted, the huts got booked and we were left with the option of carrying our tents along and stay at campsites or wait for the next season. Just when I was about to give up on the plans, Derek, a friend of mine, asked if I'd be keen to join him on his Abel Tasman Coast Walk with his dad. I jumped onto the bandwagon at the first opportunity and with CC keen on it too, we booked our ferry and waited for 'D-day'. And the wait wasn't a long one.

Meanwhile, I've managed to have a few good water-lining sessions and frequented my local harbour to jump off the plank into the ocean to cool off for a bit. This year's Summer had been glorious and I've squeezed out as much fun as I could out of it. Anyway, getting back to the great walk, the day to start had finally arrived. I had done some last minute packing (it's a very bad idea to leave it till the end) and managed to forget some essentials like torches and towel. Basically, I went to a great walk littered with beautiful beaches leaving my towel home. I was leaving civilisation behind me, so I ate extra. (I just needed a reason to indulge and I got it) For the first time I chose the comfort of Kaiarahi to the cold winds of the cook strait. So, instead of staring into the blue ocean and admiring the Marlborough sound, I napped on the food court table all the way on my ferry.

And the last leg of the first leg (:P) was the journey from Picton to Marahau, where the great walk starts. I was already slightly groggy and I had to go through ridiculously windy roads behind an irritatingly slow campervan. After driving for nearly 3 hrs, I made it with my patience still intact (the double apple pies from McD helped). We reached quite late and crashed soon with thoughts about the next day and the weather to come. 

That reminds me, it's very very late already and I need  to get my ass into bed. I promise my next post won't be too far away ;)

See ya soon peeps !

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