Abel Tasman: Day 4
Breakfast in the morning is chaos: tables are unwiped, the brewed coffee is spilt and forming rings around all the unused mugs. We check out, and are confronted with the bill for our three nights. We feel a bit short-changed overall: the level of service was not commensurate with the prices we were charged. It’s tempting to say that an easygoing attitude to kiwi hospitality is fine, and that this should not excuse inattentiveness and complacency, but most of the staff were actually foreigners, and I suspect that it’s really mismanagement that is to blame. That said, the food was good, and the setting was spectacular. While waiting for our transport back to Kaiteriteri we sit in front of the open fire and read.
The taxi is full, and we head straight back to Kaiteriteri, stopping at Tonga Island for another look at the seals and at Torrent Bay to drop off a few day trippers. Off the coast of Sandy Bay the skipper turns down the engine because of a ‘strange vibration’. He is unable to fix it, and is worried about the drive belt. He proceeds at a slower speed, but five minutes later there is a load bang, and the drive belt has snapped. There is a lot of racing about, and then he tries a secondary motor, but it gets us moving no faster than we are drifting, so he turns off the motor and lets us drift back towards Kaiteriteri.
Another taxi shows up in half an hour: offering to take the most urgent passengers back to Kaiteriteri. We have a bus to catch, so we, along with an American family, take up the offer and transfer boats.
We arrive back at Kaiteriteri, and head to a cafe there. The food is bad, but it is a nice setting, and I amuse myself listening to a salt-of-the-earth granddad dote on his grand-daughters. He talks about shares with his son and the way things used to be in Abel Tasman before things got all ‘upmarket’. He makes plans to take his family out on one of the larger taxis one day. As he talks, our formerly stranded taxi limps into shore and the passengers we left behind disembark.
A short bus ride later, and we’re back in Nelson. We go in search of another hot chocolate for L, and then as a concession to me we end up at the Mac brewery over the road for a couple of beers. We watched the locals do their thing: they are friendly but fearsome with their tattoos and beanies. A couple of bikies stop in for a drink before heading out on their hogs. A bloke brings in his younger brother for a beer, and they attempt to chat up a couple of German tourists. Two people seated outside appear to be drinking faster than anyone else: they take turns ducking inside for the next round, a black-singleted thug and his shifty-faced companion. While all this is going on, L finishes her book.
At five we catch a shuttle. The driver despairs of the new ownership of the lodge, and preferred the days before it got all ‘upmarket’, when it was just a stall in the bush that sold scones. We caught our flight and then got back home to our cat, who is standoffish to begin with, but it is not long before all is forgiven, and we are greeted with great affection.