Day 2: Bark By hut - Mutton Cove Campsite, 14 miles
While I eat my breakfast of muesli bars, the tide sets in the bay the cabin overlooks. That happens surprisingly fast. Before breakfast I thought I could easily take the low-water route, but halfway across the muddy plain I take off my socks and shoes to wade through a few streams, which soon reach my knees. A large orange triangle shows me the way to where the path continues through the forest. When I am close to the rocks, a few fish dart into the clear water. The path plunges into the forest and now I can hike on without thinking. Well, not completely thoughtless. What I try not to think about is where I will be tonight and whether I will sleep at all. Due to the Easter holidays, all huts are fully booked and I have to hike this path in two days. There is no transportation back to civilization from the Wainui terminus. I planned to walk that 14 miles to Takaka at night in the light of the full moon. But the tides are limiting me. After about 11 km the trail crosses a deep bay, Awaroa Bay. You can cross the bay two hours before and two hours after low tide. Low tide is at 03:41 in the morning and at 03:54 in the afternoon. Whoops! I don't want to think about what that means for my plans. The path rises about 100 meters and it is a nasty climb. At the same pace, the path descends again to the old granite mine of Tonga, where the granite for some buildings in Wellington and the cathedral in Nelson was mined in the early 1900s. Except for some square blocks of stone and the concrete base of a crane, there is not much left of the mine. There’s a beach, but it’s very small. I keep hiking at a leisurely pace. Given the tides, I am no longer in a hurry. After meandering back into the forest for a while, the path ends at Onetahuti Beach. From a great height I look down on the beach where a water taxi arrives. It unloads a few canoes, while there are already quite a few on the beach. Canoeists have spent the night here and a few more hikers arrive and continue from here by canoe. I ask, just to be sure, but the taxi does not come to Wainui. I continue along the surf, where the sand is just a bit more compact and easier to walk on. At the end of the beach a wooden board walk has been made across Richardson brook, which I would otherwise have had to ford. A graceful ribbon of yellow sand stretches along the shore and meanders towards the green hills. The board walk leads along brown reeds and low bushes. It's very beautiful. Once back to the mountains it’s time to climb again. I take it slowly, but pass the exit to Awaroa Lodge & Café. I want to spend the extra time I have on the beach and not sip on a Coke or WiFi. I meet many other hikers along the way and I get into conversation with the Spanish Anna, a camera woman who has taken a year's leave to travel the world. She has booked a bus from Wainui for tomorrow at 11:40. Now, that offers possibilities. We hike together and it is quite fun. As we approach the Awaroa hut, the path leads us to a large pool of water, where we are strictly warned to cross it within 2 hours before and after low tide only. For a moment we are confused. That crossing was only after the Awaroa hut, wasn't it? Then we see the well-known poles with orange circles along the beach. We follow them past the private houses. The water is high and if I was wearing trainers my feet would certainly have gotten wet. When we walk on the small strip of beach that remains along Awaroa Bay, I decide to take off my socks and shoes. Thus we first arrive at the camping spot and then the hut. It is just twelve o'clock and according to a message from the ranger we cannot cross before 2.30 pm. That's on the safe side, because according to my guide it should be possible as early as 2 p.m. When I walk into the water, hoping to be able to swim, I notice that it is not deep enough for swimming. Nowhere does it really get higher than my knees. But I think it's a bit too early to hike to the other side. It will probably be deeper further on. I lie in the sand and enjoy the sun. Still, I'm impatient, I want to do so much more today, see so much more. The trail continues to Totaranui, where many hikers take a water taxi back to Marahau. While according to the guide the last part is the most beautiful, with an interesting side trip to Separation Point, where there is a lighthouse and a sea lion colony. Just before half past two I see the first hikers starting to cross from the other side. I tie my shoes to my backpack and start walking in sandals, warned of the many shells in the sand. It is easy, although the current in the deeper parts is quite strong. The trekking poles give me an advantage over the hikers who have to stay upright without help. When I return to the mud, I see a small crab shoot into its hole. On the other side I wipe the sand off my feet with an old sock and put on fresh socks. Then I start hiking at a brisk pace. It’s crunch time now. Am I going to beat daylight or not? It is a pity that I did not have one extra day to hike the trail, so that I could take it a bit easier. This path is so incredibly beautiful that you want to take it easy, let it work on you like a good wine. From the other bank, the path continues to Waiharakeke bay, where I hike a short distance on the beach. Given the cliff at the end of it, a steep climb awaits me and it does. It goes up very steeply and down again just as hard on the other side. I'm sweating a lot now and doing well. At Goat Bay another stretch of beach awaits, but exactly where the path ends and the beach begins, a stream has found it necessary to flow to the sea. Due to a play of the earth there’s a large puddle which you can’t go around. By way of a bridge there is a round tree trunk in the water. Without much faith in my balancing skills, I use my trekking poles to stay upright on the trunk. I take it for granted that I almost have to squat across the trunk to do so. On the other side of Goat Bay a new hill awaits, but it takes me to the long-awaited Totaranui. I had expected a kind of village and given the amount of people milling about, it could have been. It is a huge campsite, where tents and caravans with solar panels alternate large campers. The visitor center is already closed due to time or Easter. For a moment I am confused about how to proceed, but then I see a signpost directing me to an impressive avenue of trees. These macrocarpa trees were planted by William Gibbs in 1855 when he built a model farm here. However, the land is too poor for agriculture and the farms failed. I pass the exit to Takaka and follow the wide gravel road past a B&B to a lawn. There I think for a moment that I have taken a wrong turn, until I see the familiar orange triangle in the distance. Black birds with a red beak that reach up to their heads walk on the grass. Could these be pukekos? The path climbs and turns, until the sea is nothing more than a vague memory. Only at Anapai Bay do I reach the beach again. Under the trees a couple is busy setting up their tent. It has now been five o'clock and I made a short stop for a few muesli bars. I'm also starting to wonder how much daylight I have left. I want to continue, but it must remain a vacation. When I meet a ranger at Mutton Cove gathering firewood for the campers' campfire, Anna's suggestion strikes me. Camp and then take the 11.40 bus with her tomorrow. I have not booked, but I can certainly pay with the driver. And if I get up early, I still have enough time for the sea lion colony tomorrow. I ask if I can still stay overnight and it turns out that the camping pitches in on northern part of the path are not fully booked. I may not have a tent and no sleeping mat, but it has always seemed nice to spend the night cowboy camping and this is the perfect place for it. It is warm, dry and I put my sleeping bag down on the beach, with a view of the sea. Is that a nicely spread bed or not? When I leave the warm campfire after sunset and want to go to sleep, I discover that sleeping outside is not ideal after all. I forgot about condensation. As the air cools, moisture descends, also on my sleeping bag, which is already quite wet. I accept that it will be a long, uncomfortable night. I brush my teeth at a tap on a wooden pole. And then I hear: "Rinda?" It turns out to be the Spanish Anna, who is camping here in a small two-person tent. She generously gives me a spot in her tent and although it is still cold in the sleeping bag despite my clothes, I sleep better than I would have on the sand.

Day 3: Mutton Cove - Wainui, 9 km
 A few steps outside the tent and I am on the beach. I stare at the two black bodies that weave through the sea parallel to the sand. Sea lions! What a great start to the day. Once the sun is out and Anna and I have had breakfast, we quickly pack our things and hit the road. We both want to go to Separation Point, the rocky outcrop that separates Tasman Bay from the Golden Bay, but there isn't much time. We follow the beach to a rocky outcrop, which we climb across a rough staircase. On the other side is another beach, this time without sand and with large, round rocks. We carefully work our way to the other side, where we are then allowed to enter a forest path. We climb up along the coast, surrounded by forest and with occasional views of the coast that we have already explored. After half an hour we arrive at the fork to Seperation Point and leave our backpacks behind a tree. To get to Whariwharangi hut we have to enter this side path later. But first we go on, much lighter without our backpacks. We escape the forest and are then on a high cliff. Deep below us we see a small white lighthouse, although it looks more like a simple beacon than a round tower with a light at the top. Had I known it was this close to Mutton Cove I would have gone on  last night. According to the guide, the sea lions rest on the warm rocks and it is probably still too chilly this early in the morning. But when we let our eyes wander across the rocks, Anna is the first to spot a large sea lion. The lazy animal barely moves and is hardly distinguishable from the stone. Clambering carefully we descend towards the water. Then we discover more sea lions on the right. A gray, adult male is lazily sunbathing. Four much smaller black sea lions play with each other in a pool under the rocks. They tumble, dive and are having a great time. We hear their excited screams very vaguely. We descend even further to the lighthouse, but because of the angle of the protruding rocks we can no longer see the sea lions. We do see and hear gannets, who are huddled near the lighthouse. Both Anne and I have already taken quite a few pictures, before I notice that the birds don't move and are fake. I decide to read the information boards anyway and it says that the fake birds must convince real gannets that it’s safe to nest and breed here. To make it more convincing, the correct bird sounds are continuously played. We laugh at our mistake and then climb back up. Once back at the junction, we pick up our backpacks and now start our trek to Winui Bay, where we have to be no later than 11.20 to catch the bus to Nelson. The first part I hike briskly and set the pace. Anna, who normally walks a bit slower, keeps up with me just fine. After another steep climb we descend to the beach of Whariwharingi Bay. Although there are no reminders anymore, this is probably a historical site. In December 1642 Abel Tasman sailed into this bay on an expedition to discover new countries on behalf of the VOC. As usual at the time, he fired a cannon to signal that they would set foot ashore. However, the local Maori, the Ngati Tumatakokiri, took the cannon shot as a declaration of war and launched their waka, a war canoe. In the ensuing battle, four Dutch sailors were killed. Abel Tasman then hauled up his anchor and sailed back to sea. He called the bay Moordenaers bay, to commemorate the incident. The name has since been wisely changed to Golden Bay, which is not so much the designation for a single bay, but the entire area. Both the Maori and the incident have been swallowed up by time and forest. Only the name of the national park, Abel Tasman, still reminds you of the explorer. In 1942, exactly 300 years after that first voyage of discovery, the first area was acquired by the government. Since then, the national park has expanded considerably, although it is still the smallest in New Zealand. We keep walking and reach the Whariwharangi hut in good time. This is one of the most authentic huts I have come across on my travels. It looks like a normal house and it is. Originally a farm from 1897 it was converted into a DOC hut in 1980. From there the path climbs again, but this time very gradually. The path is also a lot wider, as if the old cart track to the farm is still completely intact. It leads us along the hills with a different view of the sea each time. Where on previous trips the hills were made of rock, here they are made up of sand, although sometimes so gray that you can easily mistake the sand for rocks. That it really is sand, is proven by the names and declarations of love scratched into the bare parts of the hill and in a piece of forest that shows a yellow scar where the top layer and the trees that took root there have been washed away. Now we take it easier, we have plenty of time. Well before 11 am we are at the parking lot which heralds the end of another beautiful hike. I did it! I would rather have hiked this trail in three or better still, in four days. But I am happy and grateful for the opportunity and the kindness I experienced along the way. How lucky have I been again!

View my pictures of this hike here.