TRAVEL TALES. NEW ZEALAND.
Where the Tasman Sea Hits the Wild West Coast of New Zealand
And pristine forests are marking the landscape behind endless beaches
It felt so unreal. Standing on the west coast, overlooking the Tasman Sea while inspecting the beach covered in endless flat, round pebbles formed from glaciers thousands of years ago.
After having gotten defeated by the wildness of the West Coast we had left the day before, we woke up on a campsite near the highway crossing the Southern Alps.
The hundreds of sandflies were just waking up creating a noise on our tent that made it sound like it was raining. We didn't get out of our safe place before having porridge for breakfast and enjoying our coffee or tea. Inside.
After we bathed in loads of insect repellent and put on our hat nets keeping any annoying flies off our faces, we were ready to get out and pack up camp.
While many other campers looked amused at the sight of the nets on our heads, they soon became envious as we didn't seem to care about the swarms of these very clingy and biting insects.
Soon enough, we were back on the road driving out of the mountains on an overcast day promising rain sooner or later. The forest was still lush and so thick, one couldn't see even a meter into the jungle.
The Haast River remained to our right flowing down the valley in a very broad floodplain. The water was shining turquoise-blue despite the little light coming through the clouds.
It rained a bit before we saw the ocean behind the town of Haast for the first time. The Tasman Sea. A new ocean to us. Vast and rough but not today as the surface was flat like the one of a lake.
The Tasman Sea is a marginal sea within the South Pacific Ocean covering 2,000 kilometers of water between Australia and New Zealand building the line between the two world's largest oceans, the South Pacific and the Southern. And not to forget, this stretch of sea is up to 6,000 meters deep.
We drove North until reaching Ship Creek Beach, where we pulled into a parking lot for the dune walk and the swampy forest trail. Passing the first tourists, we found ourselves on a small hill of sand right behind the ocean.
In case you're waiting for a shipwreck to be seen on the coast here, you'll end up disappointed. The river leading into the sea at this place received its name as Ship Creek when a brass buckle and some timber from a sunken ship off the coast of Australia washed ashore from the currents and the winds in the channel.
Marveling at the lush green landscape reaching right into the sea where thousands of years ago the Haast Glacier was covering the surface, we gaped in awe.
Turning back onto the boardwalk, the sea disappeared out of our sight and we were back in the jungle. It felt almost unreal to have such a wild and thick forest right on the coastline.
The trail was mostly flat, broad enough for a wheelchair to get through and well-maintained. David said it was too boring. I thought it was difficult to please his standards. Yesterday’s trail was too hard, today’s too easy.
But I kept quiet.
Listening to a myriad of birds chirping and singing in the trees, I indulged in nature's sounds while strolling through the forest. Fern and moss weren't just covering most of the forest floor but the trunks of almost every tree around me as well.
The boardwalk was leading out of the thick vegetation for a few meters offering a view over a small pond and the swamps.
And back into the deep forest for a moment or two. Nothing revealed there was the endless sea behind this wall of ancient trees.
Climbing up a few steps we were rewarded with a spectacular view of the coastline from a wooden deck as viewpoint.
We both marveled at the thick and lush forest stretching for miles ahead of us. And the diversity of the woodland. From palm trees, beech trees, white pine and all kinds of other, to me unknown, trees, the forest had it all.
Stepping down from the platform, we reached the beach. Some funky fungi were growing on a fallen log in the sand. Shining bright orange, it stood out quite a bit from its surroundings.
This was it.
The West Coast of New Zealand with the Tasman Sea ahead.
We both wondered at the origin of the incredibly flat and round pebbles lining the beach but after reading up on the Haast floodplain and the glacier that once stretched here, I understood these rocks had been formed by ice.
We headed to the cliffs where the river meets the ocean. David played skipping rocks on the flat but still moving river water. These from the weight of the ice-pressed pebbles were perfect for rock skipping. We both cheered happily as we watched them fly across the water's surface.
While there had been a few cars in the parking lot and even a tour bus had arrived, most people rushed through the boardwalk and were back in their vehicles before we had taken even one deep breath of the salty air.
After getting back to the start of the path, we turned inland for the swampy forest trail. Walking on a wooden boardwalk, partly covered in pebbles, we went deeper into the swamps and the old, native forest.
I stopped to marvel at the vegetation. Vines and creepers were covering every inch of the forest. Every fallen and standing tree had no longer a visible bark but layers of green leaves atop.
When I took notice of the overgrown trunks of the forest giants, David's attention was taken by those logs decaying in the water. He even stopped to take a picture of the reflections of the forest in the wetland.
David doesn't just stop to take a picture of anything. After all, he's married to a woman who takes pictures of any- and everything. He mostly just walks and enjoys which I often admire but here, he stopped and he took the picture leaving me standing behind wondering about the situation.
There is one species of trees in this forest that towers majestically above all other vegetation.
The Kahikatea.
With a straight gray trunk and distinctive lofty branches reaching far into the sky, the tree canopy hangs 65 meters above its shallow roots. New Zealand’s tallest tree loves the swampy ground and finds strength by interlocking its roots around its neighbors'.
“Kahikatea is New Zealands tallest indigenous tree. The white odourless timber was used extensively to make butter boxes, for much of the late 1800s and early 1900s. It was this practice which all but eliminated kahikatea-dominated swamp forest from the North Island and northern South Island.” — New Zealand Plant Conservation Network
This coniferous tree is also known under the name of white pine. The local Māori tribes used the timber to make tools and cut the trees more sustainable than the European settlers who came later and not only chopped down entire forests but drained the swamps as well to create dairy farms.
Happy to be standing where one of the last swamps in the country survived and are now protected, I got a stiff neck staring up at these giants.
We hit the road South again. Jackson Bay I announced as our new destination. The road was leading just meters next to the ocean with tall trees lining most of the journey.
Since I read on some hiking platform about a small but recommended seafood stall in this remote bay on the West Coast, we didn't stop for lunch in Haast. David was saying he just hoped the place would be open.
But the luck was on our side and the container-sized restaurant was open and a lovely lady welcomed us inside where a group of people was just finishing off their meal.
The menu wasn't big and you shouldn't enter if you don't like seafood but since none of that bothered us, we both ordered a plate of food. I enjoyed mine with a local white wine that paired perfectly with the seafood basket.
After having eaten too many chips (there is no such thing as too much seafood), we needed to walk off the calories and chose to take the well-maintained trail leading to the other side of the peninsula.
It's not like one could just hike off into the woods here. Where there is no trail, there is no way through the bush. These paths might be easy to walk on but offer the only option to enter the thickness of the lush coastal forests.
Arriving in the bay on the other side, we sat down on a fallen log and stared out onto the ocean. David said how he wished to just put on fins and explore the marine life underneath. With a wetsuit on of course. You can't survive in these waters otherwise.
Since the always-present sandflies soon began to swarm us, we got up and headed back into the forest. As long as you keep moving, they leave you alone. You won't even know they are there until you stand still.
“What next” was the question and while we were debating between sleeping another night in the mountains and heading home, the overcast skies, low temperatures and relatively short distance to our warm bed on the other side of the Southern Alps made the decision fairly easy.
Following the turquoise-blue Haast River upward from the delta into the mountains, we stopped at Thunder Creek Falls to marvel at just another magnificent waterfall in the mountains.
As described in Tim’s book about the abundance of waterfalls in Norway which would have been turned into tourist sights in every other country, New Zealand also has water rushing off every cliff and creek in the mountains.
As we were pulling away from the car park of the falls, we heard a weird squeaking sound on the car. Looking at each other, we knew the sound came from the brakes but David quickly said "there is nothing I can do now".
He stopped, looked under the car and returned shrugging his shoulders. He said this doesn't mean all the brake power is gone. The brake pads might just be worn a little.
Yeah, I'm not gonna say what he discovered the following day when he dismounted the wheel and took off the brake pads but it was better we did not know how little (or none) of the pads were left as we were still climbing up to Haast Pass before rolling downhill all the way home.
If you’re interested in my New Zealand adventures, subscribe to my newsletter to stay updated or check in on my new list regularly. Join my email list here if you would like to read more photo essays.
Shutterstock | Instagram | YouTube | Mailchimp | Amazon | Redbubble