NELSON - NEW ZEALAND

 6th - 8th Aug 2011

Nelson's popular Sunday market

On to Nelson on Tasman Bay. Nelson is described as being colourful and arty; the home of New Zealand's 'avant garde'. In other words it has more than the average quota of ageing hippies and weirdos. There was some evidence of this but it was, again, a pleasant and cheerful sort of place with just a smattering of mild eccentrics. Accomodation was my new-found residence of choice, the good value YHA ( Youthish Hostel Association ).

The Sunday market was interesting and many varied oddities were on sale amongst all the trendy food and local produce. The guy here ( left ) is called Johnny Tractor-Seat ( possibly related to the well known Yorkshire Tractor-Seats? ). He is an assiduous collector of, yes you've guessed it, old tractor seats. He makes his own wooden 'tynes' ( wooden pins ) with an ancient 'tyne maker' and uses these to pin together wooden frames onto which he mounts a tractor seat. So you can then buy a tractor seat seat. Due to lack of luggage space, I didn't.

Right: In another part of town I happened upon several teams of competing Morris dancers, this being one of them. They were very jolly and one of them, after persuading me to part with a contribution to their 'fund'' tried to persuade me to join them for a drink later. Is this how they recruit new members? I can't help but notice that the tall chap leaning backwards bears a striking resemblance to an Airbus captain I know from Vietnam ( Herr Doktor, is this really you? ). I didn't blow his cover.

The town did indeed have a selection of rather arty-farty shops selling odd things. One was called Wearableart. I went in to ask what a 'bleart' was and was told it was in fact Wearable Art! This involved so-called clothes made from plastic bottles, roofing felt, papier mache, old egg boxes, metal cans plus, possibly, asbestos sheeting, spent nuclear waste, unexploded munitions and other detritus. I did not consider it in the slightest wearable.

On to the local i-office to see what was on offer. They are most efficient at selling tours and booking travel and accomodation for the baffled traveller. I have, though, noticed one slightly irritating facet of social behaviour in NZ  and that is their habit of aggressively calling everybody by their first name. To address a customer as 'Mr' or whatever is, seemingly, prohibited. I find this false familiarity grates somewhat. They tell me it is in order to appear friendly and informal. I find it faintly rude, but that is because I am a crusty old reactionary fart ( and proud of it! ).  Anyway, I decided to go and explore a little bit of the Abel Tasman National Park. This involved a bus ride to a small hamlet on the coast called Marahau. Then a speedy 'water-taxi' to a bay about 10 km ( as the boat went ) to a  place called Bark Bay where you did a beach landing. Then a healthy walk back to another sandy beach called Anchorage Bay where you were collected at a given time by the water-taxi and back to Marahau, then home.

On the water-taxi ride out we passed this well known landmark. The rock is called the 'split apple', for obvious reasons. 

We also passed other bits of rock which housed 'furry' seals. They were just kipping on the rocks and did not interest me particularly. I suspect I didn't interest them much either.

... also rocks with cormorants on them. The Kiwis call them shags ( because that's probably their first name ). There are, apparently, several varieties of these creatures. These are the lesser-spotted piebald type, or something like that. The males have a crest on their head. Yawn...

The walk was very up and down and twisty and followed the sea-line slightly inland. It was actually a very pleasant and picturesque walk and, being 'out of season', I only saw one other person, coming in the opposite direction, all day. In the summer months the track is packed with walkers. The path was narrow ( left ) but incredibly well maintained.

..it occasionally opened out onto some pleasant views of several little bays along the way....these places are also busy with swimmers and kayakers in the summer. There are camping sites on some of them. They were all pretty deserted on this particular day......

...and crossed several suspension bridges over crystal clear rivers and streams coming down from the mountains to the south....

... another nice view. I hope you are not too bored with these pics; it's just to give you a flavour of the place...

I had had the forethought to bring a packed lunch with me. The tins of beer were beginning to weigh heavily on my shoulders. There was plenty of time to have relaxing refuelling stops on the way. 

Left: This is Anchorage Bay, the PUP. The walk had been 14kms, but pretty easy going due to the well maintained track. I had set off at 10.00am and the pick-up was at 3.30pm, so arrived plenty early and it had been a lazy stroll; just the ticket. I could see why people are so keen on the area, especially in the warm summer weather ( Oct to Mar ).

I was impressed by how clean the whole place was. Nowhere was there any sign of litter; not even a cigarette end, and certainly no graffiti. There are strict rules about where you can camp and light fires etc. and to take any rubbish home with you. Everyone appears to respect this. I suppose if the place looks so pristine people like to keep it that way. This seems to be true of everywhere I have visited so far. I think there are some lessons to be learnt from this by less tidy places in the world. ( OK, they aren't so crowded here which helps ). 

Right: The water-taxi pick up. This arrived, luckily, just before it started to piss down rather heavily. Up until then it had been a gloriously sunny and pleasantly cool day.

There were only about five of us to be collected, but we called in at some other beach to pick up a group of kayakers. They had been caught out in a serious downpour and were like drowned rats. At least they had waterproofs.

....so the taxi was full as we speeded our way home.

To repair to this place ( right ). It is a small converted  chapel in the middle of the town and now a splendid pub, called The Free House, which serves a rarety in NZ, real ale! It is excellent stuff but bloody expensive at $10 per NZ pint ( which is about 0.8 of an imperial pint ). That would equate to about 6 pounds sterling per UK pint. Hmmmm! It's not all perfect.

Left: The altar inside. The barman had dreadlocks. He didn't want to be photographed

So, a hilthy heppy time spint around Nilson ( sorry, I'm beginning to speak New Zealandish! ). Next off down the west coast to see what is on offer there.

Everybody back on the bus!!!!!!!