The Te Araroa Trail

Words & Photographs by Louise Coghill

It took four acts of kindness to get from Kaitaia to Cape Reinga, the starting point of the Te Araroa - the 3,006 kilometre thru-hike I was embarking on. I wandered to the edge of town with trepidation. This was it. I stuck my thumb out half hoping nobody would stop and I could spend one more day in bed binging Fleabag. A man in his late 60s pulled up. I heaved my big red backpack onto the backseat, wondering how I’d manage to carry this beast of a thing later today. 

Rob told me the country is changing, "you be careful which cars you get into Louise, New Zealand isn’t what it used to be", he said as I jumped out on the side of the road 40 kilometres closer to my goal. Remembering the man who had sat next to me on the bus from Auckland who twitched with an obvious drug habit and asked if he could borrow my bank card - add my unfortunate habit of listening to true crime podcast - I was very aware of how broken this world is. The first car that drove around the corner pulled up, but luckily it was only Sue, a social worker checking out a property. She drove me another 30 kilometres and dropped me beside a dairy, with the same warning … be careful. A beekeeper helped me strap my pack in beside boxes of bees in the back of his Ute, and finally a French couple picked me up in their van and I sat between them on the front seat as we chatted about travel and photography and NOT about how dangerous hitchhiking can be. 

I pulled my heavy pack onto my shoulders, took out my brand new walking poles and waved goodbye to the French couple as I wandered down to the lighthouse that marked the start of the hike. I was glad to be getting away from that changing world Rob mentioned and return to the roots of humanity. 

It only took 12 kilometres to get to my first campsite, but 12 kilometres was still enough to make my feet ache from the extra weight on my back. My hips itch where my pack rubs and the pain in my shoulders is starting. I know it’s going to get worse, but I tell myself this pain is bearable. It’s fleeting. I am human, I am made for this - to focus on the physical discomfort of living, rather than the mental anguish of existence. 

Perhaps it’s something a little deeper within, a small reminder nestled into my DNA that says for 1.8 million years we’ve roamed and gathered. We’ve wandered and wondered, we saw the stars, we felt the wind and made up stories to explain it all. It doesn’t actually feel good tramping in a rain storm, wondering if there’s going to be somewhere dry at the end of the day. Or getting up at 5 a.m. to beat the high tide. Walking for 13 hours through forest, stumbling over tree roots in the growing darkness, trying to find somewhere flat to camp. Wearing the same dirty clothes for 10 days. It never feels exactly good, but it feels right. 

Perhaps that’s why thru-hiking has become an increasingly popular pastime. We’re all here, tramping back to our roots, trying to throw off a millennia of social conditioning. We’re creating our own rites and rituals to make up for what we’ve lost over the centuries. Returning ourselves to the natural world. Becoming nomads with everything we need on our back. 

Pure Escape

Home to patches of pristine wilderness, New Zealand is ruggedly beautiful, boasting rainforest, a wind-worn coastline and mighty fiords. There are car-less roads draped through mountain valleys, snow-capped peaks and beach-side pie carts that conjure images of an era you would have thought long-since confined to the annals of history. All this is illuminated by a light so soft that it seems borrowed from another world. You want to experience as much as possible here - see all there is. But as the hills around us faded from pink to violet, and the golden oldies blaring from the radio disappeared into a sea of static, we had to admit that our own New Zealand road trip had perhaps gone a little awry.

***

This saga had begun 48 hours earlier when my travel buddy and I entered Abel Tasman National Park, a natural oasis found on the northern tip of the South Island. We were here in search of space, warmth and wine - elements the Nelson-Tasman district has long been famed for. 

We had already been in the area for a few days, getting acquainted with the city of Nelson and its surrounds by staying at Awatea Tasman Bay - a charming, curio-filled cottage that overlooks a melange of paddocks, orchards and waterways. It is a short drive from Tasman’s Great Taste Trail, a cycling route that winds its way from Nelson - through farms and wineries, across Rabbit Island, past Mapua and its picture-perfect wharf - to Kaiteriteri, the gateway to Abel Tasman National Park. Should you wish to tackle this route, bikes can be hired from The Gentle Cycling Company, who also provide maps marked with some of the cafes, farm shops, vineyards and galleries that line the trail. On learning of our penchant for local art, the owner, Rose Griffin, recommended a few additional stops - like the studio of screen printing artist Graeme Stradling. He is part of the well-established creative community who moved to this quieter corner of the world for the velvety light and beauty, and saw no reason to ever leave. 

Tasman’s Great Taste Trail was indeed a glorious introduction, and departing Awatea Tasman Bay for Abel Tasman National Park, packs full of culinary supplies gathered on our ride, we were ready for adventure. And for this we looked to the charmingly laid-back Abel Tasman Kayaks, who offer equipment hire and tours through the national park - New Zealand's smallest. Abandoning the car at their beach-shack-esque base, we followed our chatty, dreadlocked guide past wave-carved boulders and rocky beaches adorned with sun-seeking sea lions, paddling in and out of empty coves and wondering why we didn't do this more often. Pausing to cool my hands in the crystalline water, I realised that all I’d been thinking about was the repetitive action of my body, the power needed to pull myself through the waves. Here, there is nothing to distract but the view - and it’s glorious. 

We farewelled our guide and kayaks at Bark Bay - a campsite that can only accessed by boat or on foot (there is a water taxi service should you need it). Aware that the following day would be formidable, we devoured our gourmand-worthy picnic while watching the tide ebb and flow beneath a flaxen sky, before retreating to the communal bunks of Bark Bay’s timber hut. Far from glamorous, there is a certain magic to such rustic settings, and tuning my head to the window, my friend and fellow adventurous snoring softly beside me, I fell asleep counting the stars. 

Waking to birdsong, we set off before the sun cleared the surrounding hills. The morning was to be spent walking a 15 kilometre stretch of the Abel Tasman Coast Track, an iconic trail that takes around four days to complete and twists across rainforest, golden beaches and native bushland - popular attractions being the forest-framed, moss-festooned Cleopatra's Pool and the swing bridge that spans Falls River. It was spectacular; the path entirely our own and the azure water never far from view. But a 15 kilometre hike, especially one with so many vistas worth pausing for, tends to take longer than expected, and by the time we reached the water taxi at Torrent Bay it was well past midday. 

That’s when the madcap road trip really began. We’d been desperate to end our South Island odyssey with a few nights of stargazing and unwinding in an architecturally astounding glass box in the middle of nowhere. This was found just outside the coastal town of Kaikoura, which is normally only a four and a bit hour drive from Abel Tasman National Park (as an Australian, such a distance is far from intimidating). However, a few months before our visit an earthquake had ravaged the region, and although New Zealand is a country familiar with geological instability, the scale and damage of this particular event was staggering. Kaikoura, renowned for its whale watching and heavily reliant on seasonal tourism, was almost entirely cut off from the rest of the country. But because of this, travelling there felt essential - a small gesture, our way of supporting an area desperately in need of visitors, especially after the loss of a vital bumper season. And so, with the road from Marlborough (the one we’d planned to travel along) closed as a result of the damage, we embarked on an eight hour journey along the secondary roads that crossed the island’s centre. Rest assured, the highway is now fully restored, so our foolishness does not need to be repeated. 

***

With the light long-gone and the conversation brilliantly bizarre - memories of the Manuka forests and townships we’d driven through hours before, now a distant memory - we reached a single lane road, turned onto a dirt track, forded a stream and stopped, finally, a little delirious, at the sign for Kahutara PurePod; our eco-luxe, off-grid destination. 

Stepping into the elegant, open-plan glass cabin, the joy of having arrived overwhelmed us - had we really only awoken that morning in an Abel Tasman hut? Phone reception, neighbours and light pollution were non-existent - and the only thing visible through the glass walls and ceiling was the dazzling celestial display. Come morning, this would be replaced by cascading hills, a glacial river and sun-warmed fields. But for now, we stayed in the moment, books at the ready and minds at ease. Content, sun-drunk and a touch exhausted, I fell into bed, astounded by how calming even the most ridiculously planned New Zealand adventure can be.

Wanaka Wandering

Words & Photography by Angela Terrell

It’s immensely satisfying whiling away a week in Wanaka. Only an hour from Queenstown on New Zealand’s South Island and sitting on the shores of tranquil Lake Wanaka, this town merges arresting topography with holiday charm; its dramatic backdrop, the mountains of Mt Aspiring National Park, the perfect playground for an array of activities that would keep even the most demanding outdoor enthusiast content. During winter, nearby Cardrona and Treble Cone are ideal skiing destinations, but in summer, whether tramping, cycling, paragliding, kayaking, jet-boating or clinging precariously to a via ferrata, it’s a paradise for adventurers, photographers or those who find simply sitting and enjoying the serenity gratification enough.

Any opportunity to leave the city behind and explore nature is welcome in my books, but it’s the mountains that elicit the most visceral response. I’m never sure if it’s their immensity or their harsh and unforgiving beauty that appeals to me most, but going heli-hiking with Eco Tours was a marvellous opportunity to lose myself in a mountain wonderland.  

Soaring along the braided river and over serrated ridge-lines we swung down sentinel-like outcrops to three lakes hidden within the folds of the alpine terrain and impossible to see until we were literally above them. This is real hiking with no marked trail, the tussock grass providing stability and necessary hand-holds as we traversed the steep mountainside. The views were magnificent though; razor sharp mountains as far as the eye could see, glaciers glistening under the scorching sun and lakes illuminated in rainbow hues; the emerald, aquamarine and turquoise rivalling any tropical oasis. 

If helicopters aren’t your thing, the walk to Rob Roy Glacier is equally breath-taking. Starting from the carpark in the flats of the river valley you ascend (sharply at times) through cool verdant forest to the Upper Lookout sitting in a glacier-carved basin, the enveloping schist mountains softened by carpets of dandelions, terraces of cascading waterfalls and glaciers clinging to the mountain like buttery icing. Sitting by the torrenting stream it was hard not to feel a mild sense of unease; the wind rushing down its course ferociously loud and obviously reflecting the amount of water coming off its melting core, and I wondered what would happen if a wall of ice clinging precipitously to the mountain above carved off. In landscape this erratic and magnificent a sense of powerlessness is inevitable, although once reassured that the glacier was still a kilometre away (perspective is definitely a challenge in this environment) and any falling ice would remain in the arms of craggy gorges above, it was possible to enjoy the all-encompassing vista with a little more ease!

Closer to home the Glendhu Track around Lake Wanaka is perfect for walking or cycling. Starting in town (after first organising a wonderful picnic from Big Fig - slow food served fast is their motto) what started as a relaxed ride became rock-hopping over knobby hillsides, the hairpin turns a reminder that any loss of concentration could result in falling into the water glistening like Christmas tinsel below. But around every corner was a panorama well worth assiduous pedalling.

As weather is ever-changing in New Zealand, options for days where hiking wouldn’t be enjoyable is always advisable, driving to Blue Pools on the Haast road a great choice. Setting off on an inclement morning the scenery played a constant game of cat and mouse with the weather, moody clouds sheathing the mountains so they appeared as ghostly suggestions then breaking to allow bursts of sunlight that saturated hues and added to the dramatic landscape. Passing bucolic sheep-filled paddocks encased by craggy hills then Lake Hawea, the road hugging the shoreline like a velvet ribbon, we reached the Pools where walking through ferny undergrowth laced with skeletal tree-trunks we stood under moss-laden limbs of rainforest trees (the perfect umbrella) and admired water so clear it was possible to see trout languishing in its aquamarine depths.

Of course there’s one activity that tops the lot and costs nothing, and that’s sitting by Wanaka’s lakeside as the sun slips below the mountain tops and the water changes chameleon-like from orange to pink then purple to eventually black as the day’s heat softens. Ducks share the shoreline with people frolicking in the shallows and picnickers chat as they enjoy delights such as fish and chips from Eric’s or pizza from Francesca’s food trucks. Not a mobile phone in sight, laughter floats across the ripples and the spectacle is better than any screensaver, its simple beauty ensuring an overwhelming sense of contentment. Whether whiling away a week or moseying a month, Wanaka is a delight for all.   

The New Zealand Magazine

We are pleased to announce that our ocean, wilderness, adventure, design, food, art and wine filled New Zealand magazine will be arriving back from the printers later this week - which means that everyone who pre-ordered with have their little bundle of printed wanderlust sent out to them over the weekend. We can't wait to share our latest project with you - the work of many wonderful writers, photographers and illustrators from across the globe. In the magazine we chat to chef Peter Gordon and actor/wine maker Sam Neill, kayak around Abel Tasman National Park, sip wine in Nelson, cycle from the alps to the sea, discover the food and beaches of Auckland, find the perfect cup of coffee in Wellington, encounter Kiwis on Stewart Island, seek out calm corners shrouded in history, learn to be mindful, sleep in luxury under the stars, tackle the Great Walks, return home and get swept up in Queenstown's calm - and that's just a few of the adventures found upon our pages!

You can order your copy (as well as back issues and subscriptions) by clicking here. For now, here is a sneak peak of some of our New Zealand pages - happy reading (and travelling too)!

"We ventured inland across the Alps, through the beech forests and rugged schist ravines of the Haast Pass - once an ancient Māori greenstone trail - emerging into what appeared to be an entirely different country."

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"Not only do artisans and small-batch producers buy each other’s work, they often trade goods based on what’s available. Art for firewood. Jam for flour."

"There really is no place like home. I’d just had to go to the other side of the world and back to get here."

"Ideal for anyone yearning to go off-grid, parts of Fiordland have never encountered a human visitor - but perhaps that’s where its beauty lies, in its inaccessibility."

"This is a beach for solitude, for long walks, and for washing the city away; where heartache and hustle are given up to the waves."

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Georgina Skinner

Meet Georgina Skinner, the photographer behind our France (and now-sold-out New Zealand) magazine cover. A rather talented lass who splits her time between Aotearoa and the UK and who has a knack for capturing light and life. Prepare for a little dose of Southern Hemisphere wanderlust ...

When did you start taking photographs? 

Photography started out for me when I was a kid with my parents film cameras, but as soon as it was introduced to me as a subject I could take for school it very quickly went from a hobby to something I wanted to make a living from. 

How would you describe your photographic style? 

It took me a few years to find my style and to settle with one look, but it was one day in Paris - I found myself consistently shooting in a specific way. I was drawn to the lighter colours of the city and buildings and from then on I always shot this way and applied my style to all my work. I often get asked if my work is a photograph or a painting, so I suppose that would be my style! 

 Occasionally I will have a day and find myself shooting dark scenes and situations with a hint of colour, but rarely.

Is there a particular New Zealand area or subject that means something special to you? 

The whole journey from Christchurch through Arthurs Pass to the West Coast is special to me. It was the first journey I took when I moved here from England and it was a complete shock to me as to how somewhere could be that beautiful! Now it is our journey home and it will forever remain dear to me.

Do you have a favourite part of New Zealand? 

When I think of all the places I have travelled [to] within New Zealand, I always get excited to get back to the West Coast and home. It is so quiet and secluded compared to what I am used to and having our two dogs waiting for us makes this the best place.

Is shooting in New Zealand different to other parts of the world? 

The light and the landscape is so totally different to the UK. When I lived in Melbourne the light was so warm and the landscape so vast. Going from that to London where you don’t see so much of the sky and the days are short in the winter, it was a massive adjustment. Now living in New Zealand the sky is enormous, with stunning mountains and sunsets. It is the perfect mix of English and Australian light and I love shooting in it! We truly get four seasons throughout the year and the light is so different for each one. It’s exciting to shoot at all times of the year, but when it rains it pours and that is a day to stay inside and get the computer work done!

Do you have a favourite subject?

The landscape is a new one. I adore shooting the landscape now that I live in a beautiful one, but my true passion which has stayed with me from day one would be interiors and homes. That is where I started out with photography and I will continue forever to shoot and love them.

You've photographed both the North and South Islands - do you find these different in any way?

The South Island is a lot more rural and you can drive a long way without seeing a property. It is rugged and quite untouched whereas the North is a smaller island and there is a lot more going on with bigger cities closer together. I don’t prefer shooting one over the other, however I see the South Island a lot more and so shooting opportunities come up more frequently.

What advice do you have for someone considering a career as a photographer?

Keep at it and believe in yourself. I had many ‘doubt’ days when I started out with my photography. I wasn’t convinced with my style and aesthetic and I didn’t believe that anyone would be interested in it either. It took me a bit of time to gain that confidence and to be able to talk about my work without feeling like I was trying to force it upon someone - once I felt I could do this, the belief and hard work started to pay off and now I can’t believe where my photography has taken me.