The Best Laid Plans

Thursday was one of those days that you couldn't make up if you tried. But as the saying goes, you earn your anecdotes – and we certainly earned our fair share all at once.

The rain finally arrived overnight. At about 2 a.m. our slumber was drowned out by sheets of water on the roof of the little house in Nelson Lakes. It was one of those rains that covered your dreams and lowered you into a deep sleep. We awoke at 7 a.m. to gray clouds and misty skies. At this point, we didn't mind having a washed out travel day, because the next day was guaranteed sunshine.

We had breakfast with our gracious hosts, said our goodbyes to the animals and were out the door at little after 9 a.m. All of the views of St. Arnaud from the day before were hidden in clouds, so it was easy to speed out of the village without looking back. Soon, I dozed off and Dave settled in for his 1.5 hour drive to the city of Nelson. Our plan was an early lunch before catching our 2:30 boat to the wilderness lodge where we planned to spend the next three days.

Leaving the St. Arnaud B&B in Nelson Lakes.

After waking up from my car-induced nap, we noticed a sign that said 100km to Nelson – which didn't make any sense at all since we had been driving for about an hour already. We had been driving through rolling hills and vineyard after vineyard. I whipped out a map to see why everyone had misjudged the length of our drive. That’s when I discovered we had gone the long way around. While I was dozing, and Dave was following the signs to Nelson – we missed the shortcut north to set us the right way around the loop. Instead we drove to the East coast and up, unfortunately adding an extra hour to our trip. No big harm done. We kept speeding along through the muted mountains and wineries. I just felt badly for Dave who now had to drive longer than planned.

Following us along this extra journey was the rain and wind. Big gusts were swooping down across the road, turning trees aside and tampering with trucks and camper vans. We had heard radio reports of gale force winds and we were experiencing them firsthand.

We pulled into Nelson around noon – an hour behind schedule. We didn't have time to linger, so we took a slow roll through downtown to look at all of the shops and cafes we’ll have to choose from on the return drive on Sunday. From there, we continued our drive North to the national park of Abel Tasman. The closer we got to the coastal park, the better the weather turned. Blue skies and puffy white clouds. We started to feel the pull of the beach.

An hour or so later, we reached the small beach town (really too small to call a town) of Kaiteriteri where we were schedule to pick up our water taxi to our lodge. We saw clouds on the horizon, but our skies were blue. We sat at a roadside stand and ate the largest pile of fish and chips wrapped in paper, ever. As we plowed our way through the fried goodness, the clouds caught up and it started to mist. Apparently just a tease of what was to come.

Delicious fish and chips.

At 2 p.m., we went to check in with the water taxi company. By the time we pulled up to the stand, the mist had turned into a downpour, and the wind found us. Dave jumped out of the car to get our boat tickets. I watched him talking to the woman at the counter. Heads were shaking back and forth. Maps were taken out. Dave was in deep discussion. He looked at me and shook his head. My heart started beating fast.

The news was mixed. The Tasman Sea was angry. Wind was bad. Waves were high. No boats could take us to Awaroa Bay to our hotel until tomorrow. Big apologies. “First time we can remember when a boat couldn’t go in there.” Great. But if we wanted to get to our hotel we had one option. The boat could drop us off at a more sheltered beach an hour walk away. We could pack an overnight bag, hike in, and they would bring our bags the next morning. Deep breaths. It was a change, but not the end of the world. We could do this.

We had 30 minutes to sort our bags. The rain was steady, the wind a mess. Dave and I climbed around in the back seat of the car repacking bags, digging out jewelry, electronics, camera equipment, toothbrushes, bathing suits, sunscreen. Changing into hiking clothes for the trek in. We got it done. No storm would stop us.

We watched the sea as we waited for our boat. The waves climbed and the wind roared. The boat was running late. By 2:45, a small catamaran power boat appeared on the beach. The surf was too rough to go to its normal landing spot, so we hiked down the beach to meet it. They lowered a ramp that did not want to rest quietly on the beach. It lurched up and down, in and out of waves. We took off our shoes and made a run for it. This was not going to be a dry day.

About to board the boat. Notice the skipper trying hard to hold the ramp down and the person who just ran off of it in the black fleece behind me.

The boat took off like a roller coaster through the waves. The little boat chugged along. It was a dance for the entire ride. Sometimes we stayed steady, and sometimes the waves won. The family and the other couple on the boat were sightseeing (not a great day for it). So as we worked our way up the coast of Abel Tasman National Park, we even took time to pull up alongside the shore to wave hello to some seals. The seals looked back at us like we were nuts. Rain pelting our faces, boat pitching, cameras flashing.

Bumpy ride.

We pulled into one beach and picked up a handful of soggy hikers – and then continued North. About 20 minutes of very rough seas later, we pulled into another beach right next to a companion boat. The skipper announced, no more sightseeing North. Please get off the boat here and board the other boat to head South to get back to your cars. But to us he said, sit tight. We’ll take you to your drop off point about 20 minutes  North. Great.

The angry Tasman Sea.

Dave and I started gearing up. Water shoes, check. Rain coats, check. Backpacks covered in waterproof plastic, check. Rain ponchos that looked like giant white garbage bags, check. Were we nuts? Check.

They told us they would get us to the far side of the beach near the trailhead. Sure, thanks. Whatever you can do. We motored toward shore. What a crazy ride in through the breakers. They couldn’t get really close in on the beach because of sand bars and the waves. They lowered the walkway down into the water. It bounced and rolled. Not quite a red carpet.

Dave got off first. Water above his knees. I jumped in behind him. Water almost to my waist. I hiked up my shorts, lifted my backpack – and we started the crazy journey through the surf and up the beach. The boat started to pull away. Within moments it would just be the two of us. Middle of nowhere, rain coming down sideways, up to our waists in sea water. Five star wilderness resort an hour away. Sure, no problem. We trudged up the beach, the sand stung and we could look nowhere but down. A few minutes that felt like a lifetime later, we reached the edge of the bush.

I’m not going to sugar coat, when my feet went off the ramp and I sunk down almost to my waist in the surf, there may have been a tear or two. And a “WTF am I doing?” moment. But within seconds, it was laughter. Memories were being made, and it was all going to be okay.

We put our shoes on and dug in for the haul on the trail through the bush. At least the trail was really well maintained, and at that point, I didn’t care about the several inches of water to walk through. I wish there were pictures of us in our white trash bags, wind blowing the stinging sand, tears, laughter, thunder overhead. But you’ll just have to take my word for it.

By the time we reached our lodge an hour later, we were covered in mud and sand, and in a really good mood. Music thumped from the speakers, wine was being poured, we left one world and emerged into another. Gracious reception desk, very matter of fact. “Oh you poor things, you need a hot shower. What time would you like to have dinner?” We had made it.

The Awaroa Lodge in Abel Tasman National Park – a little slice of paradise in the middle of the bush, on a beautiful coastline with no roads. Only a hiking track, a boat ramp and a helipad. Apparently the front desk had been a mess all day with people who couldn’t get in, couldn’t get out. It appeared that everyone else wasn’t as amenable to trudging an hour in the bush with overnight packs!

We got to our room, showered and took long, hard naps. By 7:30 p.m. we arrived to an amazing dinner. The skies were clearing, SUN was starting to come out and we had a table on the back veranda over an incredible view of the wetlands. I had a lamb salad with mixed greens, and red grouper over prawn risotto. Dave had a seafood chowder, and venison with red cabbage relish and a kumara cake (New Zealand sweet potato). For dessert, we shared sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce and vanilla ice cream.

Worth the adventure. Our room at the wilderness lodge.

As an added treat, we were graced by the presence of a professional opera singer from Australia, who just happened to be joining us for dinner at the resort. She was persuaded to provide us with an impromptu show. We dined on an exquisite meal in the middle of the New Zealand wilderness surrounded by the crystal clear voice of an opera diva singing from The Marriage of Figarro. For a few minutes, I forgot who we were. 

It should go without saying that we slept well Thursday night. And we had nowhere to be until 9 the next morning. In fact, we were in the middle of nowhere, so really, we had nowhere to go at all. We went to bed happy with the culmination of the day. Sometimes the best laid plans fall apart and make way for the best memories.