Abel Tasman: Moving with the Tide

Day 1 – Marahau to Anchorage

It finally happened — one of those trips that sits in the group chat for months actually turned real. It was just the three of us: me, Louis, and Sheryn.

The morning was simple. Packing bags, loading the car, that quiet anticipation before you start something you’ve been looking forward to. The track opened with a wooden boardwalk over wetlands, the ocean sitting out in the distance like a preview of what was coming.

It wasn’t a long day to Anchorage, which made it easy to settle in. Somewhere along the way, a beach pulled us in — packs dropped, quick swim, something to eat. Nothing forced, just moving at the pace the day allowed.

By the time we got to Anchorage, things already felt dialed. Tents up, dinner sorted, a swim at the beach, and then one of the more underrated luxuries of the whole trip — a proper shower just a short walk from camp. Rinsing the salt off at the end of the day felt way better than it should have.

I had a sleep tea that night that completely knocked me out. Out cold by around 9pm, missed the sunset entirely. Not ideal, but hard to complain.

Day 2 – Anchorage to Bark Bay

Rain rolled in overnight and stuck around into the morning — the only day it really showed up.

We had two options: push on via the high tide route, or wait and take the low tide crossing. The low tide option would save about an hour, so we slowed the morning down and waited it out.

Breakfast turned into a long, easy stretch. Cards came out in the hut, and time didn’t really matter. That’s where we ran into four German guys Louis had met earlier in Nelson — all around our age. Easy to get along with, the kind of people you naturally fall into conversation with out there.

Before leaving Anchorage, lunch turned into more conversation. That’s when we met Oriana and Myles — both originally from El Paso, though Myles had moved to Chicago when he was younger. Funny enough, that made the three of us Texans out there on the track.

Once the tide dropped around 1:30pm, we started moving. The first crossing was a wide sandy bay. Shoes off, boots stayed dry.

Even with low clouds and a bit of drizzle, the track didn’t lose anything. If anything, it made everything feel quieter.

About halfway through, we stopped at Halfway Pool — a freshwater spot just off the track. Cold enough to wake you up instantly, but worth it.

By the time we reached Bark Bay, the rain had pretty much cleared. Tents went up, and we headed down for a swim before dinner. That night we ate with Oriana and Myles, sitting around talking for a while after. One of those nights that just happens naturally.

Day 3 – Bark Bay to Awaroa

The kind of morning you don’t rush.

The beach looked unreal — calm, quiet, barely a ripple in the water. No thinking involved. Straight in. Cold, but the kind that resets everything.

Not long after, a waterfall just off the track pulled us in. Packs dropped again, a bit of scrambling over rocks, then straight into freezing water. It had that shock factor, but in a way that made you feel better after.

Later, we stopped at another beach for lunch. The weka there were relentless — constantly hanging around, waiting for an opportunity.

The rest of the day moved along the coastline. That bright turquoise water never really got old. It kept pulling attention, forcing stops that weren’t planned.

Awaroa was one of those places you hear about before getting there. It didn’t completely live up to that built-up expectation, but it didn’t need to. It was still a great place to slow down — swim, hang out for a bit, then head back.

That night turned into a movie night. First time Sheryn and Louis had seen Superbad. We rigged my iPad up with a bungee cord and made it work.

Day 4 – Awaroa to Whariwharangi

The longest day.

Tide times dictated everything. We couldn’t start the crossing until around 3:15pm, so the morning stretched out — breakfast, coffee, hanging out by a small beach that only existed at high tide. By low tide, the water had completely disappeared.

Once we got moving, the crossing itself felt different. Long sections of walking through water — mostly ankle deep, but deep enough in places to soak legs and hit the bottom of the pack. Dry bags did their job.

From there, it turned into a grind. Beaches, forest, coastline — repeat. We stopped at Totaranui for a break, a quick swim, something to eat, then kept going.

About a kilometer before the split to Separation Point, I decided I was going for it. No overthinking it. The others were pretty tired, but after a bit of back and forth, they came with me.

We made it just as the sky started to shift — oranges and pinks spreading across the horizon. A rocky staircase dropped down toward a lighthouse, wind pushing hard, but not enough to take away from it.

On the way, Louis mentioned he’d been growled at by a sea lion earlier. He hadn’t even seen it at first — just heard it. Close enough to matter.

The last stretch was all headlamps. Dark bush, bits of sunset still visible through the trees if you looked for it.

We got into camp sometime between 10:15 and 10:30pm. Long day — around 20km, more with the detour. No one said much. Tents up, food, then sitting around the fire before calling it.

Day 5 – Out

The last morning felt different. Part relief, part not wanting it to end.

Only about 8km left, mostly along the water. Still nice, but by then the focus had shifted — less stopping, more finishing.

Getting back wasn’t smooth. Two separate shuttles with about an hour gap in between, so we just waited it out.

We had already decided on day one that we were getting pizza from the café near the track entrance when we finished. We ended up getting there about an hour before they even started serving it, so we grabbed nachos and lemon iced teas while we waited.

When the pizza finally came, it didn’t really matter how good it was. After five days out there, it hit exactly how it needed to.

That night we stayed at Kaiteriteri right on the beach. I’d accidentally booked the wrong day, but the woman at reception went out of her way to help fix it for us. After a long few days on the track, that kind of help goes a long way.

We made grilled chicken sandwiches for dinner — loaded with avocado, bacon, lettuce, pickles, everything — and did s’mores for dessert. Not quite the same without graham crackers, but still solid.

Then hot showers. Real ones. Easily one of the best parts of the whole trip.

Final thought

Abel Tasman isn’t about one big moment.

It’s the rhythm of it — the swims, the people you meet, the slow mornings, the decisions around tides, the long days that feel worth it after.

Simple, but it sticks.

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