Abel Tasman

by Kirsty McDonald, with extracts from 'Scott's Antarctic Expedition No. 2' by S. Petersen.

No, indeed folks, this was not a tramp to be scoffed at. This was the ultimate in tramping: the scenery, the climate, the track, the bridges (rails included at no extra charge) and the murder (of the sandfly variety). And so it was that on the 28th of December 1981 at 7.30 am we did depart this fair island for bluer waters. Arriving in Picton at 11.00 am, we travelled to Nelson on a Newmans Coach of the 'Luxury' type. Then to Motueka and finally by mini van we arrived at Kaiteriteri to meet the M.V. 'Matangi' which shipped us at 7.30 pm to Totaranui. We arrived there two and a half hours later, after much chundering courtesy of our illustrious leader.

Off at 7.30 am the next day. We notice the sign says one and three-quarter hours to Awaroa, and the map says two to two and a half hours, so off we set at an easy pace. After an hour Awaroa appeared to our amazement. Obviously loopy times. In total bulk heat and sunlight, we boogied on to Tonga Quarry, with epic scenery along the way (i.e. deep blue lagoons and golden beaches). We arrived in time for lunch after which we hit the beach, which was "frightening and confusing". By the end of the day everyone was totally burnt to a frazzle, as if that great orb of the heavens which we know as the sun, was really just a great Shacklock GE2 in the sky. Dinner was in order, but not before Nigel went hunting, the knife between his teeth. For that fiend of the filthy food filchering, the weka, had been prowling under bushes and behind trees waiting to do his dastardly deeds since our arrival. After (before and during) dinner we enjoyed musical entertainment with an ever-so-slightly out of tune ukelele and two gazoos.

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So we woke at 9.00 am the next day to spitting rain and Kamikazee sandflies after a night of ducking and diving as the buzzing got louder near our ears. Au revoiring the scene at 11.00 am, we headed for Bark Bay hut where we had lunch, then continued on in torrential rain to Torrent Bay. Knocking an hour off the loopy time, we arrived at 2.40 pm to a hut bulging with humans, and some C.U.T.C. 'trampers' as well.

After a night on the floor (smut smut), Thursday dawned bright and beautiful. Because the weather was so great and Marahow lay only a day's tramp away, and with two days left and mattresses to sleep on (due to the mass exodus of people except us), plus with New Year's eve to celebrate, we decided to spend the day at Torrent Bay hut. So we headed for the golden sand where, as we cremated ourselves under the sun, we enjoyed pleasant loopy activities such as swimming, eating, frisbeeing and sunbathing. That night we gazooed, burnt live mosquitos, ate, drank and were merry as the New Year did arriveth.

The next day we left at 9.30 am, arriving at Marahau (which was filled with happy little holiday makers) at 12.00. And being the beach bunnies we were, we geared up to hit the sand in total sun type heat. We tented on the beach that night, and were up bright and early the next morning to meet the van at 6.30 am. It zoomed us back to Motueka where we connected with 'el busso' to Nelson, then on to Picton and home.

The beach bums were:

Nigel Fitzpatrick (our illustrious leader).

Scott Peterson - mentally insane from an early age.

Steve Kohler - a very 'deep' person.

Francie Graham - Miss Golden Tan 1982, 3 & 4.

Kirsty McDonald - has a crab problem.

and

Debbie Turner