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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