Long Miles, High Tides, and Rain

Days two and three on the Abel Tasman National Park showed us just how much this place can change.

Day two was a long one—about 12 miles—and we were glad we chose to walk rather than kayak. Moving slowly on foot let us notice everything: a Kākā peeling bark off a tree to get at insects, oystercatchers feasting freely on oysters protected from human harvest, fantails fluttering along the trail, and an incredible green-and-yellow eel sliding through tidal water as the sea drained away.

The group was wonderfully international—people from England, Canada, Germany, New Zealand, and the U.S.—and conversations over meals drifted from hiking and aging to travel and politics. Many shared a deep frustration with the state of the U.S., something that was sobering to hear echoed again and again. That evening ended gently, with dinner on the deck and a perfect New Zealand Pavlova as the tide rolled in.

Then came day three—and a complete shift.

Rain started around 4 a.m. and didn’t stop. We walked nine miles through flooded paths and roaring waterfalls as clear blue-green water turned brown with sediment from the soaked hills. The bush felt darker and quieter, the cicadas suddenly silent. King tides washed over the beaches, forcing us onto the hill routes again and again.

At lunch, the mood lifted in the best possible way. With rain dumping down, we wrapped a tarp around ourselves over a picnic table—like kids under a parachute—and laughed our way through lunch and hot tea before heading back out into the storm.

Even on that final, wet stretch, the trail held firm. And just before the end, a stingray glided through the tidal shallows, wings undulating slowly beneath the surface—a calm, graceful goodbye.

Abel Tasman gave us golden beaches, wildlife, long conversations, and then rain, endurance, and shared laughter. Somehow, it all fit together perfectly.Read more