Sailing into Picton, My Te Araroa Trek Begins

To my lovely readers, 

This afternoon I set sail on an Interislander ferry from Wellington, the bustling capital of New Zealand, to Picton, a charming harbor town settled within the Marlborough Sounds. From here I’ll take the Beachcombers ferry to Ship Cove and begin the Queen Charlotte trek! The first of many sections along my Te Araroa hike. 

Pencarrow Lighthouse, pictured from the Cook Strait.

It was easy to tell the travelers apart on the ferry, each following their own rhythm. The local families moved through the crowd with purpose, their voices warm and steady as they shifted children and bags from one hand to another. Retired couples, dressed in clean linens, spoke softly as they leaned into the railings, watching the islands drift by like paintings come to life. The hostel-hoppers, young and restless, sprawled in corners with battered journals, their laughter light but untethered.

Then there were the thru-hikers. Some, like me, are starting only trekking the South Island. We had the look of beginners—packs too neat, trail shoes too clean, and faces marked by a quiet mix of excitement and uncertainty. Others bore the trail itself in their stance: deliberate and confident steps, cheeks sun-kissed from weeks of walking the Te Araroa, from Cape Reinga to here. They were loud, generous with their stories, their energy sparked by days of rest in Wellington yet tinged with a longing to feel the trail beneath them again.

I listened more than I spoke, grateful for their words, for the way they leaned close to explain essential information—what huts to avoid, which hikers to approach, where to refill water, and where to linger just a little longer. Their advice came freely, shared as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and I held it close, knowing it would matter in the days ahead. 

The advice that kept resurfacing: “Don’t be a purist” 

Purist:  A thru-hiker who strictly follows the trail map, from top to bottom. Any modification discounts from the experience.

According to the well-seasoned thru-hikers, purists simply have less fun. By staying on one route and road-walking sections instead of hitch hiking, purists reportedly meet less locals and don’t venture out into ‘side quests’. Which is the best part of any expedition. The people you meet along a journey is what makes that trip unique. Listen to their stories, admire their mannerisms and quips, and then reminisce on their experience while you continue with your venture. 

Each hiker I’ve met has had their own individualized hike, filled with unique encounters and challenges. Some were planned, others were a (un)welcome surprise. After we finished conversing, the captain announced the ferry would be docking shortly. I made my way up to the observation deck to witness the island I’ve spent months dreaming about. 

My first glance of Picton

Nestled between emerald hills and the soft shimmer of the bay, Picton unfolded like a tender promise. The little town, with its weathered cottages and quiet streets, seemed to hum with a gentle, unspoken contentment. The streets curved as though following the whim of the land, not the strict hand of a planner. Everywhere, the air carried a sweetness, the mingling scents of salt, flowering vines, and the faint smell of wood smoke from the local chicken stand.

Near the harbor, the ferries glided in and out, trailing whispers of lives traveling to and from the distant cities. The sea, ever restless, caught the light in shards with their undulating nature. Blackbirds and gulls wheeled overhead, their songs breaking the silence that pooled into the hollows of the hills. 

Picton felt like a place made for beginnings—not the grand, sweeping kind, but the quiet, steadfast sort that settles in the heart like the tide. It was a town of gentle mornings and golden afternoons, where time slowed just enough to notice the way the sun played on the water or how a soft breeze carried the sound of laughter from a distant garden. It was a place to linger, to breathe deeply, and to fall—into wonder and into adventure. 

Leaving the harbor and heading off to Ship Cove.

I’m only an hour away from embarking on the Te Araroa. At this point, I can only hope that my mental and physical endurance has not completely dissolved over this indolent holiday season. 

Wish me luck. 

Grace

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Comments 1

  • Donna : Jan 19th

    Good luck on your Te Araroa hike of the South Island. I hiked the north island then traded my hut pass for a bus pass. Not literally, but you know. I’m doing what I want to do and whats in my skill level. You’ll do great. You’ll make great friends. Have a blast!

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