No more honeydew to feast on

New Zealand | Anno 2019

 

Friday, March 15 | Wellington – Nelson

Saturday, March 16 | Abel Tasman National Park

 

 

Friday, March 15 | Wellington – Nelson

Just after eight, we board the MV Kaitaki at the Ferry Terminal for the crossing from the North Island to the South Island. This is Interislander's largest ferry, featuring facilities for six hundred cars and 1,350 passengers spread across ten decks, including a cafeteria, restaurants, and even sleeping cabins.

At twenty minutes to nine, the pedestrian bridge is raised, and fifteen minutes later, we set sail. Our crossing from Wellington to Picton through Cook Strait will take three and a half hours.

There are approximately two hundred and fifty shipwrecks resting on the seafloor here

The observation deck is warm and sunny. As a farewell gesture, a faint rainbow appears above Wellington under the grey cloud cover. Also, a school of about twenty dolphins comes to greet us as a farewell.

Cook Strait is a fearsome sea passage. There are approximately two hundred and fifty shipwrecks resting on the seafloor here, not even counting pleasure craft. Fierce winds, strong tidal currents, and rough seas have formed a fatal cocktail for 19th-century sailing ships more than once.

 

Pencarrow Head – Lighthouse

When a ship came too close to the coast and ended up in a wind blowing inland, it was a downright nightmare. That's precisely what happened to the TEV Wāhine in 1968 when its radar malfunctioned. Wind speeds of up to 160 km/h slammed the Interislander ferry onto the Barrett Reef. The hull tore open, and out of the 734 people on board, 51 ultimately lost their lives. A maritime disaster that is still fresh in the memory here, as we learned yesterday at the Wellington Museum.

 

Cook Strait – MV Kaitaki (Interislander)

It's unlikely that the MV Kaitaki from Interislander will face a fate similar to the TEV Wāhine. We sail over the calm waters of Wellington Harbour, heading towards the open sea. To the right, the perilous cliffs of Barrett Reef emerge, for which the Entrance is infamous. To the left, a gleaming white lighthouse stands tall on the rocks of Pencarrow Head. In 1859, it was a woman who first wielded the sceptre there – the only female lighthouse keeper New Zealand has ever known. However, she quickly discovered that her lighthouse often remained shrouded in mist or clouds. Not very useful. So, in 1906, a second lighthouse was erected down on the beach.

The fact that the tidal currents in this strait are among the strongest in the world is due to its unique position

The fact that the tidal currents in this strait are among the strongest in the world is due to its unique position. High tide occurs on the side of the Pacific Ocean five hours earlier than on the side of the Tasman Sea. At both ends, the tides are more or less out of phase. When it's high tide at one end, it's low tide at the other end. And vice versa. A powerful tidal current is the result, changing direction roughly every six hours. A bizarre side effect of this is that in the middle of Cook Strait, there's hardly any difference between high and low tide.

At its narrowest point, Cook Strait is no more than 22 km wide. Nevertheless, the MV Kaitaki will cover more than four times that distance between Wellington and Picton – 92 km. Both ports are simply located a considerable distance inland. What's more, they are situated at exactly the same latitude. So, to sail from the North Island to the South Island, we're not heading from north to south but from east to west.

 

Tory Channel – Arapaoa Island

Onboard, we become acquainted with the antics of the legendary Pelorus Jack. He was a welcomed guest in Marlborough Sounds, the labyrinth of islands on the submerged northern coast of the South Island. Pelorus Jack awaited ships and guided them past treacherous rocks and strong currents, especially around French Pass and in Pelorus Sound. For twenty-four years, captains could rely on him. If Pelorus Jack didn't appear on rare occasions, some captains even anchored until their guide showed up.

What makes this story so unique is that Pelorus Jack wasn't a human

What makes this story so unique is that Pelorus Jack wasn't a human but a Risso's dolphin. After a shooting incident in 1904, Pelorus Jack was even legally protected – a likely first for an individual animal to receive such protection.

 

Arapaoa Island

With the northerly wind at our backs, we make good progress. In the distance, the mountainous coasts of the South Island gradually come into view. It is still lightly cloudy but sunny. Around half-past ten, we pass the MS Kaiarahi, the slightly smaller sibling of the MV Kaitaki.

 

Tory Channel

Queen Charlotte Sound

Just after eleven, on the starboard side, the cliffs and barren hills of Arapaoa Island come into view. This signals our entry into Tory Channel. Plans to install tidal turbines on the seabed here have been in the works for a while. Tory Channel receives its share of the powerful tidal currents that rush through Cook Strait four times a day. These water masses flow through the narrow channel at a speed of 9 km/h, providing a significant potential for energy extraction. However, for now, these remain plans.

 

Picton

A half hour later, we reach the wide Queen Charlotte Sound. A bit further, Picton awaits at the end of a deep bay. Once, it was one of the most important ports in the Southern Hemisphere. The town owes its name to a certain Thomas Picton, who lost his life in the Battle of Waterloo against Napoleon. Nowadays, Picton remains the primary, if not the only, gateway to the South Island – unless you arrive by plane in Christchurch. Eight large ferries like the MV Kaitaki unload their cargo here daily during the high season.

Half past one. The bus disembarks at the Picton Ferry Terminal, as we continue our journey towards the South Island. We won't find volcanoes, crater lakes, or smoking fumaroles here. This is the island of glaciers and kettle lakes. It's also the island of the Southern Alps, the mountain range rising from the sea on the west coast.

In terms of surface area, the North Island and the South Island hardly differ – four and five times the size of Belgium, respectively. However, when it comes to population, it's a different story. Less than a quarter of New Zealanders call the South Island their home. The Māori also never felt a strong urge to colonize the South Island.

The island of glaciers and kettle lakes is this, and also the island of the Southern Alps

The climate likely has something to do with it. Warm westerly winds from Australia dominate the weather on the North Island, with a subtropical climate in the far north. On the other hand, the South Island is exposed to cold westerly winds from Antarctica throughout the year. You'd need compelling reasons to make the journey from the North Island to the South Island. And we have them. The spectacular landscapes of this island are widely acclaimed.

Meanwhile, we continue our journey southward via the familiar State Highway 1. Even though we should be heading west, the alternative – Queen Charlotte Drive along the rugged coast – is not suitable for our bus. Hence, this detour through the inland.

Vineyards and low temperatures don't seem like the best companions, rather they are like water and fire. Nevertheless, the first vineyards appear along the road. The windmills standing at regular intervals among the vines indicate that freezing temperatures sometimes pose a challenge for these winemakers. They aim to keep the air in motion to prevent frost damage. And if that doesn't work, helicopters are sometimes deployed over large wine regions.

The first grapevines were planted in New Zealand as early as 1819, at a mission station in the subtropical north. A shortage of sacramental wine may have prompted these missionaries to roll up their sleeves.

Commercial wine production only began in the 1860s, and it was quite modest. The immigrants of that time mostly came from beer‑ and whisky-drinking countries.

 

Especially the immigrants from Croatia contributed to the development of commercial viticulture

 

After the Second World War, there was a gradual change. Kiwi soldiers had learned to drink wine overseas, and new immigrants brought their preference for table wine. Immigrants from Croatia, in particular, contributed to this. In 1960, wine cultivation in New Zealand covered barely 400 hectares (1,000 acres); nowadays, it is a staggering 35,000 hectares (86,000 acres) – almost a hundredfold increase.

Almost two-thirds of that wine is bottled here in Marlborough. The region owes this to its unique microclimate, nestled between two mountain ranges, with the vast waters of the Pacific Ocean nearby. However, it is the gravelly soil that has truly put Marlborough on the wine map. On such terroir, the aromatic qualities of the sauvignon blanc grape come to the fore excellently.

Moving further westward through the broad green valley of Wairau, vineyards follow one another along the road. On the distant mountain slopes, dark green pines dominate the landscape. These are plantations of pinus radiata, the pine tree originating from distant California.

Grape harvesting usually takes place in February on the North Island and in April on the South Island. However, it turns out that this year the grapes are mostly harvested by mid-March, thanks to the warm summer. This has also been noted by the kiwi pickers from Vanuatu, who have to start their work a few weeks earlier than usual this year.

With the relaxation that began in the 1960s, the government also started issuing licenses to cafes to serve wine. Kiwis do not bother with aging wines. New Zealand wine is consumed young, and we gladly participate in that.

Where many cabbage trees grew, the early settlers liked to establish their farms

Flax, cabbage tree

This landscape doesn't seem to differ much from West European wine valleys, it seems to us. Until a few cabbage trees appear. This is an endemic tree, unaffected by low temperatures. Moreover, this tree is winter-resistant – the world is full of surprises.

Periods of drought don't bother mature cabbage tree either. They store a water supply for themselves. However, young trees need sufficient water to survive. Additionally, cabbage trees thrive only on very fertile ground. Early settlers quickly realized this. Where many cabbage trees grew, they liked to establish their farms.

The Māori also appreciated the qualities of the cabbage tree. Its fibres can easily be used to make textiles, baskets, sandals, waterproof raincoats, and similar items – just like with flax.

Havelock calls itself the mussel capital of New Zealand. In this country, every town seems to be the capital of something. There are certainly an abundance of mussel farms, more than two hundred in total. The Mussel Pot restaurant even showcases a giant mussel pot on its roof. Gigantic mussels protrude above the rim, ready to be enjoyed.

Upstream, we now follow the peaceful Pelorus River. Almost ripple-free, the calm water makes its way to the sea. In slow, wide curves, State Highway 6 comfortably winds its way through the broad green valley.

The perfect setting for the scene with the wine barrels, thought Peter Jackson

Pelorus River

Until we reach Pelorus Bridge. There, the river has carved its way through some rock formations. Peter Jackson found it to be the perfect setting for the scene with the wine barrels. That episode from the second Hobbit film depicts how the heroes escape from the Elven palace – they hide in wine barrels and then let themselves drift down the river. Jackson and his crew settled here for two weeks in 2011 to capture that on film.

Our plans are somewhat less ambitious – take a short walk of about an hour and then enjoy a ginger tea at Pelorus Bridge Cafe, where Jackson also stayed.

Because on both sides of the Pelorus, you can acquaint yourself with a diverse mosaic of trees and plants. However, this vegetation is not unique. In the past, such lowland forests often stretched across the full length of New Zealand's valleys. But the arrival of European farmers and ongoing deforestation largely put an end to that. There were plenty of reasons, therefore, to declare Pelorus Bridge's last piece of original forest a Scenic Reserve back in 1912.

Here, the famous scale insects are at work, producing honeydew that birds like the kākās and tūīs are so fond of

Anal tubes of scale insects on black southern beech

Weeping pine

Suddenly, a few black southern beech trees along the path catch our attention. Delicate white tubes, barely thicker than a needle and only a few centimetres long, protrude from the jet-black bark. Often, a droplet hangs at the tip. Here, the famous scale insects are at work, producing honeydew that birds like the kākās and tūīs are so fond of.

Here, the famous scale insects are at work, producing honeydew that birds like the kākās and tūīs are so fond of

It's a complex story, this symbiosis. Firstly, the black southern beech, the nothofagus solandri, is not black at all. That colour comes from a jet-black fungus that covers the tree trunk and some of the branches. This is a by-product of the industriousness of the ultracoelostoma assimile. That's a scale insect, which exclusively settles on this type of beech. It sees it as its life mission to suck sap from the tree and excrete honeydew in small droplets. This happens via anal tubes – the delicate tubes we can observe. A scale insect with a tail, so to speak. Then come the kākās and tūīs, as they enjoy feasting on these heavenly droplets.

You might think that the black beech would suffer a lot from all this activity on and under its bark, especially from that jet-black fungus, which seems to be smothering it entirely. But that's not the case at all.

In short, all parties involve benefit. Until recently. Because in the 1960s, wasps appeared on the scene. They had hitchhiked with European fruit. It didn't take long for them to discover the honey-sweet droplets. Since then, kākās and tūīs hardly get a chance to feed on the heavenly droplets, as they are chased away by the aggressive wasps.

Kākās and tūīs hardly get a chance to feed on the heavenly droplets, as they are chased away by the aggressive wasps

Lancewood

It's a peculiar little tree, the lancewood that appears here and there next to the path. Its long, purplish-grey leaves, with spiky teeth along the edges, stand as pointed spears high on its slender, bare trunk. This is the tree's attempt to protect itself against the voracious appetite of grazing moas. No one has bothered to inform it that these large flightless birds have long been extinct.

It takes fifteen to twenty years for the lancewood to outgrow this juvenile stage. Suddenly, it transforms into a completely different tree, fifteen meters tall, with a trunk half a meter thick and at the very top, a green crown of broad leaves. From a distance, it then somewhat resembles a palm tree. The difference between the young and the mature tree is so significant that botanists initially thought they were dealing with two different species.

 

Pelorus Bridge

That brings us to the suspension bridge over the Rai, a tributary of the Pelorus. It's a fairly sturdy structure, evidently well-maintained. However, no more than ten people are allowed on it at a time.

Podocarps don't have needles but elongated leaves – coniferous trees without needles, in other words

Podocarps

Pelorus River

A narrow forest path leads us across to the other side through lush vegetation. The numerous giants surrounding us are podocarps. Like southern beeches, they are typical of the southern hemisphere because, in ancient times, these trees were only found on Gondwana. Nowadays, you can encounter them not only in New Zealand but also in Australia, southern Asia, Africa, and South America. Some podocarps are native, such as the rimu, mataī, miro, tōtara, and kahikatea.

Thriving on the moist and fertile river terraces along the Pelorus, these evergreen podocarps are flourishing. In reality, they are conifers, as, similar to our pine trees, their naked seeds are stored in cones. However, they lack needles and instead have elongated leaves – conifers without needles, in other words.

On the other hand, weeping pines rely precisely on their long, drooping needles, living up to their melancholic name. This trait also betrays their peculiar origin. They were introduced from distant Mexico around 1870.

The thick trunk of a tree fern is, in fact, a rhizome that has gone astray in direction

Tree ferns

Here and there, tree ferns rise meters above the undergrowth. They share little with regular trees, as their thick trunk is, in fact, a rhizome that has gone astray in direction. Instead of staying neatly underground, it grows straight up. Around that rhizome, aerial roots have formed. Together, they ensure the fern remains upright and can absorb moisture from the air. The beautiful green fronds at the top – sometimes three meters long – grow directly from the rhizome.

Birds can be heard from all directions. However, catching a glimpse of them is too much to ask from these lords of the forest. Until the proverbial exception suddenly appears at our feet among the dry leaves. It's an energetic little fellow, constantly hopping around. In a loose translation, this behaviour actually means, Get lost, this is my territory. But at the moment, we're not paying much attention to that.

In loose translation, this actually means, "Get lost, this is my territory"

New Zealand fantail

It's a beautiful bird, this New Zealand fantail, with white eyebrows and a matching beard on its grey head, dark brown back, and pale cinnamon-brown chest. However, it's the long black and white tail feathers that adorn it, making up about half of its body length. You can only find it in New Zealand, although it differs little from the grey fantail of Australia.

It has managed to survive the arrival of the Māori and European settlers without too much trouble. Few birds have followed suit. However, it still needs to be cautious, as its nest occasionally falls victim to ship rats.

 

Anal tube of scale insect on black southern beech

Tree fern

The New Zealand fantail enjoys gobbling up moths, flies, beetles, or spiders. Sometimes, it flutters its wings and its long tail, startling potential prey. When they start moving in response, they give away their position, and the fantail strikes.

 

Pelorus River

Upstream along the Rai, we continue our journey. Nelson on the Tasman Sea is our final destination for today, a port town with 67,500 inhabitants. They have been able to call it a city since 1858. After Christchurch, it was only the second settlement in New Zealand to be granted this honour.

Purchasing 80,000 hectares (200,000 acres) of Māori land and reselling it to settlers at a substantial profit was the business plan of the New Zealand Company

However, things went initially awry here. The business plan of the New Zealand Company when they arrived in 1841 was to purchase eighty thousand hectares (two hundred thousand acres) of Māori land and resell it to settlers at a substantial profit. This profit would be used to finance necessary public works.

The fact that future Nelson had an impressive natural harbour was a nice bonus. The concern about having only 24,000 hectares (60,000 acres) of fertile land available on the narrow coastal strip was left for another day.

A year and a half later, eighteen ships had brought in over three thousand British settlers – men, women, and children. The need for more fertile land became increasingly urgent. The broad Wairau Valley on the other side of the mountains seemed to be the dream solution, according to the Company. However, the Māori stood firm. They pointed out that the purchase agreement did not include that valley. It seems they had become quite adept at the legal game.

Nevertheless, the Company insisted and sent its settlers into the Wairau Valley. The Māori wouldn't tolerate it. Twenty-two colonists and four Māori paid for the action with their lives. This event occurred on June 17, 1843 – three years after the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi. An investigation by the British government later revealed that the involved colonists had no valid claim to the valley.

Meanwhile, fruit trees and Canary Island date palms pass by our window. Indeed, this region is fertile. Just before five o'clock, containers, imposing storage tanks, and heavy cranes make their appearance. This is the bustling port of Nelson.

Then, alarming news begins to trickle in through our smartphones

Then, alarming news begins to trickle in through our smartphones. This afternoon, a terrorist attack is reported to have taken place in Christchurch, about two hundred and fifty kilometres to the south. There are even reports of casualties.

Turning on the TV is our first impulse upon entering the hotel room. The normal programming is suspended; 1News reporters provide continuous updates. As much as they can, that is, because there's confusion everywhere. The police information embargo is a contributing factor. They still believe that four perpetrators are at large.

Furthermore, schools have gone into lockdown. Teachers keep their students safely behind school walls, and parents are in a state of distress because they don't know the condition of their children.

A major shooting in two mosques, resulting in nine deaths – that's about all we learn despite the intensive coverage. New Zealand is in shock; nobody had ever considered such terrorist violence possible, especially not in this remote corner of the world.

For 1News, it is also a brutal confrontation with itself. They apparently had no scripts ready for this type of reporting. The news anchor and on-site reporters awkwardly improvise from one intervention to another. However, it's precisely this awkward narrative, laden with emotional involvement and profound empathy, that grips the audience.

New Zealand is in shock; nobody had ever considered such terrorist violence possible, especially not in this remote corner of the world

As the evening progresses, the staggering scale of the attack becomes clear – 48 dead, 49 wounded with gunshot wounds. There is said to be only one perpetrator, but neither name nor photo is released.

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Saturday, March 16 | Abel Tasman National Park

Small but beautiful, that's how you can describe Abel Tasman National Park, the smallest national park in New Zealand, located at the northern tip of the South Island. It's home to one of the most beautiful Great Walks in New Zealand, a 51 km-long trail winding along sunny beaches, sparkling bays, and lush coastal vegetation.

Eager to experience a bit of it, we, though not to be underestimated, find a fifty-kilometre hike quite challenging. So, we opt for a trek of about a tenth of that distance.

Our prospects for the day include an afternoon temperature of 22°C (72 °F), a light breeze on the boat, and sandflies in a heightened state of readiness. In terms of size, you can compare these sandflies to fruit flies, but when it comes to feeding habits, only mosquitoes are their equals. Sucking human blood and leaving an itchy spot out of sheer gratitude is their life's joy.

Forget about kiwis hanging like Christmas ornaments on a tree

Vineyards seem to have gone wild here as we glance at the vegetation along the road. However, these are not vineyards but kiwi plantations. Forget about kiwis hanging like Christmas ornaments on a tree; kiwis are the fruits of a rapidly growing climbing plant. Skilfully guiding these kiwi plants over a framework of poles and pruning them at the right time is an ongoing concern for the farmer. The result is the tangle of branches we look down upon.

Like the orange, the kiwi is originally from China, initially called the Chinese gooseberry. It wasn't until 1959, for commercial reasons, that it was named kiwi. The resemblance of the fruit to the hairy body of the kiwi bird played a role in that decision. When it comes to vitamin C, the kiwi is a true champion – three fruits cover an adult's full need for five days. It also doesn't lack vitamin E and a range of minerals.

November is the month when kiwi plants bloom. However, to get fruits, female kiwi varieties need to be pollinated by male varieties – kiwi plants are dioecious. Fortunately, one male plant is enough for seven female plants to yield sufficient crops. Honeybees play a role in this, but they are quite selective. They might ignore kiwi flowers due to insufficient honey. Placing beehives in the midst of kiwi plants turned out to be the solution, ensuring that kiwi flowers receive enough visits for their pollen to spread.

While New Zealand still dominates world production, competition from California, Italy, and France is becoming more formidable. This is good news for consumers – you can count on a fresh supply of kiwi fruits throughout the year.

The abundance of green grass for the sheep is thanks to the heavy rains of the past weeks. Before that, this was a dry wasteland.

The ebb has turned the picturesque Moutere Inlet just beyond Tasman into a shiny mud puddle. The tidal difference here can be enormous – more than five meters in some places. Many artworks have emerged in the mud, as locals have let their imagination run wild, creating messages and various figures in the sand with large stones. It's graffiti that harms no one. They appear twice a day and disappear twice a day.

If you are looking for paradise, Kaiteriteri is a good start

Kaiteriteri

Catamarans bob on the water, youngsters paddle past on surfboards, people stroll along the sunny beach of Kaiteriteri. If you are looking for paradise, this place is a good start – except during the peak season when it can get quite crowded.

 

Red-billed gull

It doesn't take long before Captain Adam arrives with his Vista II, a catamaran from Wilsons. He will sail us along the coast northward for an hour and a half, dropping us off at Onetahuti Bay for our hike. Curious, we settle on the sunny upper deck. Amidst the branches, a few colourful Australian pied cormorants observe the scene.

 

Resembling a giant apple split into two equal halves, it rests just above the waterline

 

Granite is the main component of this coastline, explains Adam. And it has been so for 135 million years. Sometimes, the granite tends to split along a natural fault line. To illustrate this, Adam steers towards Split Apple Rock, a spherical chunk of granite with a diameter of about five meters. Resembling a giant apple split into two equal halves, it rests just above the waterline. If erosion continues its course, it will result in quartz, contributing to the creation of those beautiful silver beaches.

 

Abel Tasman National Park

On the left, Marahau Bay makes its appearance, one of those tidal estuaries that are so typical of this region. In fact, we are just now entering Abel Tasman National Park, as this marks its southern boundary.

 

Red-billed gulls, pied cormorants

Tonga Island – New Zealand fur seal

Pied cormorant on nest

A bird paradise, that's an apt description for Adele Island. Adam explains that they have successfully made the densely wooded island entirely predator-free. However, true seals and penguins also call it home. For homo sapiens, on the other hand, access to the island is strictly forbidden. To compensate for that limitation, they have installed microphones on the island. This way, you can still listen to the morning concert of the birds on the web.

 

Onetahuti Bay

In Onetahuti Bay, we disembark for a walk of just over six kilometres. Not without first taking a glance at the New Zealand fur seals lazing about on the rocks of Tonga Island.

 

Tasman Sea – Tonga Island, Vista II

We are promptly greeted on the beach by some curious, chicken-sized, flightless birds called wekas. They are not shy, quite the opposite, as they are looking for food. However, we refrain from feeding them. Feeding birds is strictly prohibited in New Zealand. If caught by the Department of Conservation (DOC) officials, a hefty fine is inevitable.

A tempting, flightless bird that cannot fly but spontaneously seeks the company of humans must have sounded like music to the Māori. The fact that the weka has managed to survive as a species – unlike the much larger moa – is primarily due to its reproductive rhythm. Four broods per year, each with about three eggs, are not uncommon.

There have been instances where a weka has been observed killing a rat with its powerful beak

Weka

However, it is no easy task for the Department of Conservation (DOC) to maintain this native species. The conventional method of transferring wekas to one of the conservation islands often proves ineffective. The wekas simply thrive too well there, becoming a threat to other native species on the island. In some cases, the DOC had to resort to culling wekas.

Wekas are omnivores. Plant-based food predominates in their diet, but they are not indifferent to animal-based food. This includes not only items like earthworms, larvae, beetles, and snails but also more surprisingly, wekas have been observed killing a rat, a stoat, and even a Westland petrel weighing over a kilogram with their powerful beak.

We leave the beach behind and enter the shady forest via a well-marked and excellent trail. That's not surprising given that tens of thousands of hikers come here annually to enjoy nature. However, today it's wonderfully peaceful.

 

Excellent hiking trails

It was different once. Between 1900 and 1910, Tonga Stoneworks was active here. Granite blocks were cut from the rocks in Tonga Quarry and shipped to Nelson. It must have been quite a racket back then. Today, all that remains of that busy operation is a handful of blocks casually left on the beach. We can still see the concrete foundations of the hoist crane. A few metal poles are all that's left of the pier.

 

Fern tree

Coast of the Tasman Sea

The local flora unfolds in all its beauty – tree ferns, beard mosses, black southern beech trees with the famous delicate tubes

 

Gradually, the gentle climb becomes a bit more challenging. To our right, the mountainside rises steeply, while to our left, the green tunnel occasionally offers picturesque glimpses of the azure-blue sea.

Getting lost is almost impossible. The local flora displays all its beauty – the tree ferns, the beard mosses, the black southern beech trees, and the delicate tubes of the scale insects. You should also be able to spot birds here, including tui and pūkeko, but that doesn't seem to be going so well for us.

 

Excellent hiking trails

Fern trees

Then, we gently descend to the idyllic estuary of Bark Bay. Just after two o'clock, it's time for a picnic on the beach. For a moment, a few raindrops make us fear the worst. However, it quickly comes to an end once we find shelter in the kitchen of the campsite.

 

 

Weka

Cormorant

Estuary of Bark Bay

Just after three, the Vista picks us up at Medlands Beach. Just in time, as the sun has now given way to the rain. In Kaiteriteri, we disembark, not without first taking a glance at the New Zealand fur seals lazing about on the rocks of Adele Island.

On Christ Church Cathedral, the New Zealand flag is flying at half-mast

For dinner, we head down to the centre of Nelson. Christ Church Cathedral overlooks Trafalgar Street from a hill. The majestic staircase is carved from the granite of Tonga Quarry. However, it's not the cathedral's staircase that captures our attention. It's its spire. For there, the New Zealand flag is flying at half-mast.

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Jaak Palmans
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Glaciers in the rainforest