Apple Tree Bay I
I stayed at Old McDonald's Farm just on the southern border of the Abel Tasman National Park. I woke up this morning to watch five escapee piglets trotting past the cabin kitchen window. Ten minutes later they ran past in the opposite direction being chased back to their sty by Old McDonald.
I was planning to go Kayaking, a fellow from the Stray Bus, but it wasn't running because they hadn't enough bookings. Instead, I went for a walk along the Abel Tasman track, apparently the most popular track in NZ because it's a fairly easy route. First, I stopped at the hippy wood carving workshop and marvelled at the sculptures springing to life from numerous tree trunks. There wasn't an ounce of tack around, every sculpture, large and small, was first class. I nearly bought a hand-made ocarina, a small round peruvian wind instrument made from clay with 6 holes in the top and 2 in the bottom. When blown it emits a soft tone much like the bass notes from a flute but with a much richer sound.
It was 11am by the time I started out on the track which meant I had about 6 hours until sundown. The first part of the walk took me by boardwalk over wetlands to the first deserted bay.
From then on much of the track was a corridor of trees and metre high mud banks with the sound of the tide lapping at the hidden shoreline below. Occassionly a break in the bush would perfectly frame the view of isles, ocean and distant mountains. After an hour I entered a grass clearing made purposefully for camping. Suddenly I became aware of something fluttering behind from left to right and turned to see the tiny fantail bird gulping down the invisible insects I disturbed from passing leaves and branches. I stopped and the bird sat on the grass beside the path, posed for a photo patiently waiting and understanding that a further feeding frenzy was to come as soon as I coninued onwards.
After another hour of following the coastal path, winding slowly up, increasing the fall through the undergrowth to the passing ocean, my destination came into view. There were several steep, rarely used side tracks down to the secluded bay but I carried on the main track for a further thirty minutes, over a fast flowing creek and slowly descended to the north entrance of the bay. As I made it on to the bay, the sun recolouring the frosty white sand to its startling gold appearance, two distinct sets of footprints told me that I was the third person that day day to witness the splendour of Apple Tree Bay. I wished for a set of footprints next to mine, and I know the style and size of boot.
I was planning to go Kayaking, a fellow from the Stray Bus, but it wasn't running because they hadn't enough bookings. Instead, I went for a walk along the Abel Tasman track, apparently the most popular track in NZ because it's a fairly easy route. First, I stopped at the hippy wood carving workshop and marvelled at the sculptures springing to life from numerous tree trunks. There wasn't an ounce of tack around, every sculpture, large and small, was first class. I nearly bought a hand-made ocarina, a small round peruvian wind instrument made from clay with 6 holes in the top and 2 in the bottom. When blown it emits a soft tone much like the bass notes from a flute but with a much richer sound.
It was 11am by the time I started out on the track which meant I had about 6 hours until sundown. The first part of the walk took me by boardwalk over wetlands to the first deserted bay.
From then on much of the track was a corridor of trees and metre high mud banks with the sound of the tide lapping at the hidden shoreline below. Occassionly a break in the bush would perfectly frame the view of isles, ocean and distant mountains. After an hour I entered a grass clearing made purposefully for camping. Suddenly I became aware of something fluttering behind from left to right and turned to see the tiny fantail bird gulping down the invisible insects I disturbed from passing leaves and branches. I stopped and the bird sat on the grass beside the path, posed for a photo patiently waiting and understanding that a further feeding frenzy was to come as soon as I coninued onwards.
After another hour of following the coastal path, winding slowly up, increasing the fall through the undergrowth to the passing ocean, my destination came into view. There were several steep, rarely used side tracks down to the secluded bay but I carried on the main track for a further thirty minutes, over a fast flowing creek and slowly descended to the north entrance of the bay. As I made it on to the bay, the sun recolouring the frosty white sand to its startling gold appearance, two distinct sets of footprints told me that I was the third person that day day to witness the splendour of Apple Tree Bay. I wished for a set of footprints next to mine, and I know the style and size of boot.
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