Nelson to Golden Bay
NZDH Nelson to Golden Bay Chapter
A wise man once said that when you drive over the Takaka Hill, you leave all your
troubles behind. In Takaka, the gateway to Golden Bay, this certainly seems to be
true for here life moves to a relaxed and friendly beat, and its locals, many of
whom are creative artisans, endorse strong environmental principles. In nearby Collingwood,
where there are “no strangers only friends never met”, the end of the road draws
nigh. Here where the mountainous Wakamarama and Burnett Ranges roll down to meet
the blue-green horseshoe of Golden Bay, the world’s longest spit of sand curves
into Cook Strait like an overgrown talon. Farewell Spit is one of NZ’s most important
bird sanctuaries; here amongst the shifting dunes and indigenous grasses, over 90
species of native and migratory birds make their home. We spend three days exploring
this unique ‘cul-de-sac’. We visit local artists and shop in boutique stores, hike
in the Abel Tasman National Park, fish for salmon, visit the world’s clearest springs,
gorge ourselves silly on ‘Rosy Glow’ chocolates, and take a four wheel drive tour
up Farewell Spit to spy on native and migratory birds.
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Day One
Nelson to Takaka
As we pass through the small beachside settlements of Tasman Bay and on to Motueka,
it’s clear to Bob and I that creative folk – artists, potters, sculptors, weavers,
carvers, photographers and poets – abound in these parts. We pass several small
boutiques, galleries and studios displaying unique wares, as well as simple roadside
stalls where excess homegrown produce is sold.
Orchards of apples and hops sweep by as we begin the steep drive up Takaka Hill,
passing Ngarua Caves to reach the top where we’re offered fabulous views of the
Anatoki Range and flat coastal plains below.
We take a drive by Takaka’s collection of quirky cafes, then hike through the craggy
limestone outcrops of the Grove Scenic Reserve in Clifton, where native trees and
ferns cling precariously to the top.
Bob (ever mindful of his stomach) spots a sign for Golden Salami and so we follow
the signs to Alan Climpson’s Sussex beef farm where all the salami is handmade from
meat produced by their own cows. It’s mixed with herbs, spices, salt, sugar and
brandy then cured slowly, European-style, to produce a tangy flavour.
After selecting a salami to join the fruits and crackers already in our picnic basket,
we continue on our way. At the Wainui Falls, a 30 minute hike brings us to a swing
bridge with an impressive view of the thundering water. We enjoy a cup of thermos
coffee on a large boulder in the sun then hike back down the trail to continue our
drive through dense forest to the ochre-tinted sands of Totaranui in the Abel Tasman
National Park.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet to picnic,” suggests Bob, in contemplative mood after
the waterfall experience. Information on all the hikes – which range from 20-minutes
to five days – is provided in the Dept. of Conservation office. We choose the one-hour
Coast Track to Anapai Bay which journeys over the headland and when we arrive we
have the beach all to ourselves. After a refreshing dip in the warm ocean, we eat
our tasty salami-based picnic and laze in the sun before returning to Totaranui,
where - much to Bob’s delight - I suggest we go salmon fishing.
We drive back to Takaka then head to Anatoki Salmon, a fresh water salmon farm located
in a sheltered valley beside the Anatoki River.
You can buy direct from the farm, or fish to your heart’s content, paying only for
your catch. As we only need one fish we share the rod but it’s Bob who pulls in
a beautiful 3.4 kilo fish which is then efficiently weighed, gutted and gilled,
and placed on ice in a polystyrene container for easy transportation. There’s a
BBQ and smoking facilities onsite but we opt instead to head straight to our accommodation
at Sans Souci Inn, an eco-friendly lodge near the beach. When we arrive our friendly
hosts, Vera and Reto Balzer whisk our salmon into their manuka smoker.
After settling into our rooms we explore the inn, it’s housed in a long, circular
mudbrick building with clay tiles, turf insulated ceilings, and spotless, sweet-scented
composting toilets, then we join other guests and relax in a cobbled courtyard amid
lush, tropical plantings. After a delicious dinner of delectable smoked salmon,
we find that Sans Souci’s ecofriendly ways are quite a talking point amongst guests,
many of whom are outdoorsy types and keen environmentalists. Bob, intrigued by the
inn’s unique bathrooms, quizzes Reto about the composting process until late in
the evening – discovering, amongst other facts, that it takes around two years to
produce a safe, organic fertiliser.
"Well then," I hear Bob saying to Reto as I slip quietly off to my room, "Why on
earth aren’t we all composting?"
+ more +
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Day Two
Takaka to Collingwood
In the morning we enjoy a light breakfast before taking a leisurely stroll around
the friendly township of Takaka, perusing its array of quirky craft studios and
galleries, and small boutique village stores, before driving to the Waikoropupu
Springs, the clearest freshwater springs in the world.
“Wow,” says Bob, gazing at the iridescent blue and green springs which sparkle like
polished paua, “They’re beautiful!” The springs rise through thick layers of marbled
rock and discharge around 14,000 litres of water per second. We hike around the
edge of the pools passing water milfoil, forget-me-nots and rushes on a track that
leads to various viewing platforms. There are several informative display boards
en route and we learn that the springs are home to freshwater snails, long finned
eels and koura (freshwater crayfish). “Look,” says Bob, “they were once used by
the Maori for ceremonial blessings.”
We spend time soaking up the peaceful atmosphere then drive through the countryside
to the Mussel Inn Bush Café, a country pub selling local food and drink. We join
others on the wide, shady verandah screened by vines of hops, and relish every mouthful
of the thick mussel chowder we’re served, washing it down with an organic beer that
is brewed onsite.
Bob pops inside to settle our account and returns with an amazed look on his face,
“There’s a bounty for possum tails,” he says incredulously, obviously recalling
all the squashed possums we’ve seen on the road during our circumnavigation of NZ.
“Every tail earns a pint on the house and if you bring in a rat’s tail, you’ll get
a chocolate fish!”
Bob marvels at the locals’ endorsement of strong environmental principles all the
way to Tukurua, where we leave State Highway 60 and follow a back street lined with
roadside stalls. We stop to admire pottery at Flax Gully and fragrant handcrafted
candles at Living Light Candles, before driving to the beach where we step upon
aureate sands to delight in the sparkling arch of Golden Bay.
Then we continue on to Collingwood and check into a local B&B. Later, at our
host’s suggestion, we climb the hill to St Cuthbert’s, a tiny Anglican church built
in 1873 for a bird’s eye view of this tiny town. Below, the 1905 Courthouse - now
a popular café - buzzes with patrons and a steady stream of visitors stop to inspect
the historic displays housed in the town’s tiny museum.
After booking a place aboard Paddy Gillooly’s famous Original Farewell Spit Safari
for the following morning, we pay a visit to Rosy Glow Chocolates. Here we find
a delicious array of handcrafted confectionery and after choosing a (rather large)
selection we drive inland to Rockville’s Te Anaroa Caves, munching on chocolates
as we go. At the caves we join a half hour guided tour to see its highlights, including
beautiful bacon drapes, straws and columns, as well as fossilised scallop shells,
gypsum flowers and penguin bones. Bob even spots a signature by WD Lash dating back
to 1884.
When we emerge the light is beginning to fade and so we return to the Courthouse
Café in Collingwood where where we have a dinner of fresh panfried groper with a
roasted red pepper and basil sauce, before turning in.
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Day Three
Farewell Spit
The morning dawns bright and clear for our guided expedition up Farewell Spit and
we board a unique 4wd bus, which has tiered seating to guarantee everyone a good
view.
En route our guide for the morning, Kersten Franke, provides a brief history of
the local region from coal mining in Puponga to the Aorere goldrush of 1857, then
tells us that Farewell Spit began life 6,500 years ago and lengthens by six and
a half metres every year. “It’s a fragile ecosystem, so no public vehicle access
is permitted,” he says, “and only four kilometres of its 35 km length may be seen
on foot.”
While the Tasman Sea pounds Farewell Spit’s northern coast, its sheltered southern
shores provide a safe haven for shellfish and waders. On this inner beach we spot
many natives: white herons, South Island pied oyster catchers, banded dotterels
and Caspian terns. As we cross the dunes to the Tasman Sea the migratory birds come
out to play. There’s the Turnstone, an inquisitive bird busily examining stranded
debris, who will soon be off to the Northern Hemisphere to breed on the Arctic Coast,
and throngs of Eastern Bar-tailed Godwits preparing for their journey to North-eastern
Siberia. “How on earth do they find the spit when they return here every year,”
Bob wonders aloud.
It’s 27 km to the lighthouse along a route that the Original Farewell Spit Safari
team knows well as in 1946 they began a mail run to the lighthouse, transporting
supplies to the keepers and their families. “Visitors came along for the ride and
so the tours began,” Kersten tells us as we disembark to look at crescent-shaped
dunes rising high above blackened salt pans, before journeying on to the semiarid
surrounds of the lighthouse.
The first lighthouse was built in 1870 from jarrah, an Australian hardwood, but
it was blasted to pieces by the sand so a new steel tower was built in 1897. Inside,
over morning tea, we peruse the historical photos plastered all over its walls.
“Look here,” says Bob, pointing at a map from 1945 which depicts how fast the spit
is growing, “The gannets’ nests didn’t exist back then.”
We climb aboard the bus and continue up the beach, past scattered driftwood and
basking seals to the gannets’ nesting site. “Amazing,” says Bob, zooming in with
his camera to watch as their smoky-grey young fl ap their wings in preparation for
their inaugural flight.
Later we return by bus to Collingwood to collect the car, then enjoy a late lunch
at the Old School Café and Bar in the sleepy seaside village of Pakawau. Earlier
in the morning Bob noted the site of another lighthouse, Pillar Point, set high
on the rocky outcrops of the Old Man Range. He’s keen to take a look because he
says there will be fabulous views of the spit.
We pass through Puponga where the poles from the old jetty begin to protrude as
the tide goes out, and shortly afterwards the road ends at Puponga Farm Park, a
strip of land created by the government to form a protection belt around Farewell
Spit.
An information centre provides details on local hikes including the 20- minute walk
to Wharariki Beach with its spectacular jumble of caves, islets, rock pools and
sand dunes; Cape Farewell, where Captain Cook said goodbye when he left NZ in 1770;
and the Old Man Range and Pillar Point Lighthouse, dubbed ‘blinking billy’ by the
locals, which is also the site of NZ’s first radar station, used during WW2.
Feeling too lazy to hike we decide instead to ride up with Gail McKnight of Cape
Farewell Horse Treks. She assures us that it’s a good easy ride for beginners. “Wharariki
Beach is great for advanced riders, they can open up out there,” she says, as I
board Bungle, a sprightly cod-liver chestnut with a dark mane and tail. Bob’s riding
a beautiful dark horse whom he insists calling Black Beauty all the way to the top
of the range where we’re greeted by absolutely stunning views, a full 360 sweep
from Farewell Spit through to Abel Tasman National Park. It’s such a clear day that
even the silhouette of Mt Taranaki can be seen vaguely on the horizon. “It’s an
awesome backyard,” says Gail looking around at us and smiling. “I never grow tired
of coming up here.”
Bob snaps merrily away with his camera as the sun begins to drop on the horizon
casting a golden glow on the wet sand flats below. Suddenly he jerks up from his
camera and waves me over to his side. “Look,” he says incredulously, pointing to
Farewell Spit which curves in a glorious golden band below, “It’s just like a kiwi’s
beak – that’s how the migratory birds know they’ve arrived home!”
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