riverECHO

With an extra day off this weekend, we planned a trip to Abel Tasman National Park, a beautiful jungle lined with bright yellow sandy beaches along the northern coast of the South Island. BJ spent some time here twelve years ago, touring the park via sea kayak and was excited to bring me back. Visiting the park in the middle of winter was much different than BJ’s experience in the heart of summer. Although the temperatures were quite a bit colder and the daylight hours much shorter, there was practically no one there. Apparently in the summer months the bays become stocked full with yachts, sail boats, kayaks, water skiers and bathing beauties. We didn’t test the waters this time but we thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful trails and beaches, as well as the playful seals and chatter-box birds. We started out in a water taxi which took us up the coast and dropped us off on Onetahuti Beach, where we began our walk south, staying the first night in the Bark Bay hut and the second at Anchorage Hut. Our forecast wasn’t superb and it drizzled consistently on us the first two days, but on the third day as we walked back to our car the sun came out, lit up the bright green ocean water and warmed our faces. Sections of the trail can only be crossed at low tide as water quickly fills in each lagoon that separates the next headland. We came upon the crossing at Torrent Bay a little before low tide and had to make a decision to go ahead and cross the tidal flat or to walk 2 hours around it. As BJ put it . . . “it’s just how you do it here” so we opted for the crossing and although it was raining, took off our shoes and tied them to our packs.  The sand and water were chilly and we had to place our feet carefully in sections to avoid crushing tons of clams and sea snails, which when we did crush them we’d yell out “ouch!” and “sorry!” After arriving at each hut, we quickly tossed our packs down and, in order to soak up as much daylight as possible, ventured out again to explore the beaches or whatever shorter trails were nearby. Our handy dandy ponchos which we nicknamed our “turtle shells” were our life savers . . . which we wore pretty much all weekend. The hut life in the winter months was something new for us too as there is so much time spent without light. We ended up eating dinner, visiting with fellow trampers, reading our books by candle light until our butts grew sore of the hard benches and went to bed each night no later than 8pm! Our legs might be a little sore after the weekend but we are definitely well rested up.

Overall it was a great way to spend what we realized is our last “weekend” in New Zealand. The next few weeks will cruise by faster than we know. I fly up to Auckland this coming weekend to see Tara, a good college friend of mine, and her husband Will who are in town for a week. Then, the day after BJ picks me up from the airport, we will officially be saying goodbye to the family wagon which we sold last Friday to a local who has lived here in Punakaiki for 30 years and hasn’t had a car for the last 15. He rides his bike everywhere, including a weekly three hour trip to Greymouth to get groceries, and recently decided he might be getting a little too old to have to bike through another winter. We’ll spend next week in Punakaiki before bussing up to Nelson for our final week in New Zealand, the same place we began our tour of the South Island. I feel like we have turned into professional travel agents over the last couple of days, booking bus tickets here, plane tickets there, and actually doing a practice pack to see if we can fit all of the crap we’ve acquired down here. It turns out I need to take a few things to the local thrift store but there are some things I just can’t let myself give up . . . for example my duct taped puffy jacket which BJ has been trying to convince me to ditch since it got its first big hole three years ago. Our friends Tim and Mary Lynn are currently “purging” back in Jackson as they get ready for a huge year long road trip and thanks to their latest blog, I may find the courage to purge a few more items.

Although it took me two tries to get into it at first, I became obsessed with this book. It was by far one of the most amazing stories I have ever read and I was so sad when it finally ended. Wild Swans is a memior told by Jung Chang who was born in China in 1952. She shares her life story as well as the story of her mother and grandmother, all of whom come to question the brutal and brain-washing regime of Mao. Although Jung grows up in an elite sector at the time, her privileges and rights are soon wiped out. Her mother is detained and tourtured, her father sent to a prison camp and her grandmother left to take care of five young children. Jung is left with no choice but to join the Red Guards and face a country whose people have turned ugly from the inside out. This is one of those stories that makes me appreciate the freedom that we do have.