Seven weeks after buying his plane ticket my dad arrived in Wellington airport, thirty odd hours of plane time initiating him to the world of travel. I felt a rush of emotion hugging him after over a year, though only minutes passed before it felt like we had never been apart.
We spent that Tuesday evening and the following morning around the capital, giving time for his feet to touch the ground. Wednesday afternoon we were boarding the ferry to cross to the South Island. By landing in Wellington dad gained both a snippet of North Island culture (with the help of Te Papa museum), and experienced the Cook Strait crossing.
His second full day in the country we woke in Nelson and decided on a morning walk in the city. Our route took us along the edge of the river, before heading to the Basin Reserve (the location of the first rugby game on New Zealand soil). Houses of asking the riverside were generally single level, surrounded by forest, greenery and space, a sharp contrast to the views dad was used to in England.
We then ascended to the Centre of New Zealand, so named as it was the original point used to survey geodetic data in the 1870s. The summit displays 360 views of Nelson, outer areas of the city sprawled among hills, the Tasman Sea creating a natural barrier and causing a semi circular city.
Stopping at a signposted kauri tree on our way back down the hill I was at first unimpressed by its size, until I thought back to the huge kauri I had seen in the north. The tree before me was 63 years old and I could probably wrap one arm around it, the large kauri in the north would need a whole crowd of people to reach around. This contrast impressed upon me how old the Northland tree must be!
The following day we made our way out of Nelson heading north to Abel Tasman National Park. After a three hour drive we would be setting out to complete a loop of the north-eastern section, around a 12 mile (20km) feat.
The weather seemed set on other ideas. The final part of our drive was along dirt road, making us very appreciative to be in a 4wd. The rain created a slippery, muddy surface below us while we eyed the sheer cliff drop to our left.
At the campsite we waited for nearly two hours, pondering our next move as the torrential weather crashed against the car, taunting us by easing for some minutes, only to return with force. Eventually, convinced the rain had eased a little, we zipped up jackets, put on hats, pulled up our hoods and set out along the track.
Not twenty minutes down the road, where we had so far glimpsed a green field and the beginnings of rainforest from under all our layers, we came across a stream. Normally a sight to be appreciated on a scenic walk, this was not my dad’s thought as he looked in dismay at the other side and the lack of any obvious way for us to reach it. As he surveyed the area, trying to find a way to cross without getting wet I decided the best, quickest option was simply to paddle through the middle. So off came the shoes and socks, I rolled up my pants and made my way to the other side. Eyeing my triumphant face as he still stood on the other edge, dad realised he now had no choice but to follow my lead, though he wasn’t all too impressed with the idea!
We later decided there must have been something special in that crossing. From that moment on the weather improved, the rain stopped and the sun graced us with its presence the rest of the day.
A debate on our location resulted in the realisation the sun passed round the north of the country (unlike the south in England) and convinced me being on the other side of the world had upturned dad’s inner compass. Dad discovered that a walk through a hilly national park is likely to involve, well, hills. Then there was the official New Zealand moment where he saw a silver fern.
We arrived back at the campsite six hours later, having seen the beautifully blue Tasman Sea both from height and up close, as the trail led us from hills to small stretches of golden sand. We were exhausted but happy and sincerely glad for those blue skies above!
