My name is Al, I’m an Aquarius and I like long walks along the beach
I had always had my long strolls along one of the Bay’s many ’undiscovered’ coastlines, Rototai beach, cut short by the Waitapu inlet, a wide incursion of the sea leading to Takaka’s historic, but no longer functional, wharf. And beyond that, the mouth of the Takaka river itself. But I knew that if I timed it correctly I could theoretically get across at low tide and carry on following the shoreline, maybe as far as Collingwood.
Having announced this intention, my wonderful wife started procuring dry bags (to keep precious items safe from seawater during scary inlet crossings) and a long-needed ground mat for camping, and I began to feel a heavy obligation to stop just talking about it and actually walk this walk…
So I balanced weather forecasts, tide tables and work deadlines, until finally the very end of March emerged as the optimum time for me to go, but by now the scope of the plan had increased a little. I was going to walk the entire sweep of Golden Bay, from just below Farewell Spit in the West to as close as I could get to Separation point in the East. By treading every stretch of shore in Golden Bay that I possibly could, crossing rivers, inlets and rocky points, would allow me to experience this beautiful and remote arc of coastline in its entirety.
Having made this bold assertion, I’ll quickly add that this would only be ‘Phase 1’. Logistically, time and tide would only allow me to get from Puponga to home over the following three days. The eastern arm of Golden Bay would have to wait for the next conjunction of weather, water and work commitments.
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| There's surely dinosaurs in them thar hills - the primevially-jagged Mount Burnett from Ruataniwha Inlet |
Day One: Puponga to Collingwood (approx 29.6km)
Rose dropped me off at Puponga at first light on Thursday 28th, making a round trip of over an hour and a half before her long day’s work, just to indulge my latest folly. I know I am a very lucky man.
Despite Puponga’s undeniable natural beauty, the shore itself is rocky and marshy, and only levels out into the more typical stretches of golden sand as you approach the community of Pakawau. The sun was hot by this point and I took my first break, already noting that the back-pack-sized dry bag I was carrying my tent, sleeping bag and everything else in was definitely made to be water proof rather than comfortable. It was essential for the submerging crossings I had lying ahead though.
By now I was able to kick off my shoes and tread the cool, foaming edge of surf as it disappeared into the distance towards Collingwood. I was aware that the beach was going to diverge from the road and lead me on what might be a very long and pointless detour, along a narrow spit of land to the northern head of the Ruataniwha inlet. I’d been assured that wading straight across from this point to Collingwood is theoretically possible, but lowest tide had passed and the impression of open sea between me and my destination convinced me to play it safe. Instead I turned back inland, walking 2.6 km across the empty inlet towards the road, warm mud squirming between my bare toes for most of the way.
The shoreline around this area known as ‘Ferntown’ is essentially a delta of the Aorere river, extremely marshy and probably impassable. I had no desire to vanish into quicksand, so admitted defeat and followed the road for the final 6km to Collingwood.
I had walked almost 30km, mostly on sand with a poorly-fitted load on my back, and my legs and shoulders were letting me know it. But I’m always happy to return to the place that started my love of Golden Bay during a family holiday almost five decades ago. As is the way with this frontier town, the Collingwood holiday park is almost completely unchanged in all that time, the cabin we inhabited in the mid-70s looking almost exactly the same!
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| Leaving another derelict wharf, at Collingwood |
Day Two: Collingwood to Paton’s Rock (approx 14km)
Walking half yesterday’s distance was balanced by the fact that I would begin by crossing what I assumed would be my biggest obstacle - the Parapara inlet at Milnthorpe. My many walks along the 2km of Collingwood beach had always been cut short by this wide expanse of water, so despite arriving at early morning low tide I had sealed up my dry back-pack and contents tight in preparation for a swim. I decided to keep the smaller dry bag containing my phone and other essentials separate, and held it high above my head as I began to wade across.Upon reaching the other side with the sea having barely reached my waist, I couldn’t decide whether I should feel silly, or not. I’m sure I had looked silly, but am well used to that and was just elated at overcoming what had become a Quixotic ‘impassable stream’ in my imagination.
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| And here's another - at Washbourn |
The map told me I still had another crossing ahead, the Washbourn inlet, so hurried on to exploit the remaining low tide. Unfortunately this meant that I didn’t take in beautiful Parapara beach, one of the shorelines completely new to me, as much as I’d have liked to. Unlike yesterday, the day was an autumnal grey, but the varied, muted shades of sky, sea and sand was strikingly beautiful in a completely different way. I needn’t have hurried; although having been intimidated by the impressive expanse of Washbourn at high tide, today I was able to wade across at knee-height. The skeletal remains of yet another disused wharf dominates this area, testifying to Golden Bay’s briefly bustling distant past.
My destination was complete contrast to yesterday’s hardships. Instead of a freeze-dried meal and a chilly night under canvas, tonight was a beautiful meal and flowing wine with friends at their hilltop home in Paton’s rock, Rose joining me to stay the night in a very comfortable spare bed.
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| Is that a seal, or a wave? Actually, it's both |
Day Three: Paton’s Rock to Pohara (approx 13km)
With low tide at occurring around midday, it was a very relaxed start this morning, sans the backpack containing tent and sleeping bag which were no longer required. With an infinitely lighter step, I leisurely followed the more rocky stretch of shore between Paton’s rock and the Rangihaeata headland. Still not quite lowest tide, I had to scramble across rocks at the outermost point, pausing to watch a seal happily drifting around the rocks with its flipper raised languidly in the air. Beyond here the Takaka River forms its own delta as it reaches the sea with three main tributaries to cross - the first being not at all pleasant. For whatever reason, perhaps run-off from the steep Rangihaeata cliffs, the seabed is extremely muddy here. Deep grey ooze almost trapped me halfway across the first time I attempted it, and as I sank past my knees I couldn’t help nervously speculating what might be in there with me. But once again my luck held, and I was able to wade across at armpit level (arms again aloft to keep cellphone out of the brine) without encountering excessively deep mud. The next crossing was very different. Just as deep, but being the most directly flowing from the Takaka river, it was also very cold and carried a noticeable current. The final waterway at the Waitapu inlet was more typically still and warm, (making me inwardly shudder at the thought of stepping on languishing stingrays when I could no longer see the bottom).
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| Crossing the chilly Takaka River |
Despite the tide beginning to turn (sections of beach were already disappearing), the mighty Motupipi was traversed with relative ease and the rare sight (to me) of other people greeted me as I set off down the ever-popular Pohara Beach.
Picked up by Rose and whisked off to a late cafe lunch, I was definitely safely back in the arms of civilisation.
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| Looking back from Pohara beach across the Motupipi River and towards distant Puponga, where I began my stroll 3 days ago |
Walking almost 57 kilometres, alone and mostly barefoot, has the perfect way to appreciate Golden Bay’s diverse and beautiful shoreline. It might have been very self-indulgent, but sometimes we all need to walk away for a while. Health-wise, I’m acutely flat-footed, so the aches inflicted on my leg muscles by walking on shifting sand is balanced by the good it’s done my arch-less soles - and soul. I’m looking forward to the final Pohara to Whariwharangi Bay stretch of this circumnavigation, and hope time and tide will align again for me soon.
