Home by a nose

VIEW FROM THE SNOUT: A fishing boat heads home through the tranquil waters of the Marlborough Sounds. Pictures by Jo Ferris

Taking it on the chin, Jo Ferris confesses her map-reading incompetence while walking Picton’s Snout Track.

Anyone who knows me will agree that lengthy walks aren’t really my forte. They take too long, for starters. Hikes are worse. Lugging packs for hours on end – it just isn’t on my radar.

It’s not that I don’t like walking, or the bush. I have nothing to prove. I simply don’t enjoy the time involved, or the exertion if I’m honest. Which is why it’s incomprehensible that I would listen to a friendly Picton motelier. Having never been there, I was keen to explore the place, but with no set plans, I preferred to wing it.

Said motelier — as I found out later, volunteer conservation dog patroller — suggested the Snout Track. Of course she would. Named after its shape and loose translation of its Maori name, Ihu Moeone, this long arm stretches from Picton harbour into Queen Charlotte Sound to a narrow tip. Close to town and, with a network of walks and bike trails throughout the domain, it’s obvious for short-term visitors. A quick meander around the bay and up the hill might have been wiser, rather than a full hike to The Snout. Reading TripAdvisor first would have helped any confusion.

Map reading isn’t my strong feature either. All that aside, I doggedly chose the long option. Armed with a local map from the motel, and prepared for three hours admiring the scenery, I drove to what I deemed was the starting point.

I blame the dogs. Or was it the owner of one rebel hound hooning around, escaping its owner’s calls. Map in hand, I asked directions after she had finally reined in her dog. The woman suggested I tag along as she was heading that way.

In hindsight, I doubt she noticed my arrival by car. A small backpack and sturdy boots might have given her to think I was a serious hiker.

Following a precipitous path — known only to her probably — we arrived at a point where she left me with directions to The Snout. Unfortunately, after reaching a fork in the bush, confusion reared its head again. Enter another couple of dog owners — equally helpful, more pointers and warnings about mountain bikers.

This full trek to The Snout is deemed moderate, albeit steep in places, and muddy in winter apparently. More of a bushwalk, views aren’t readily obvious, until the three-quarter mark around an hour away at Queen Charlotte View Lookout. It’s a nice pit-stop and somewhere to decide whether to plod another 40 minutes to the end.

A few wrong turns later . . .In for a penny, in for a pound — I’m never doing it again anyway. Photographic evidence was required, proof for the kids back home.

Forty-five minutes later — noting the steep steps downhill meant an arduous haul on the return — mission accomplished.

Suffice to say, the view is worth it, as with everything in the Marlborough Sounds. The Snout is a wonderful spot to enjoy nature and watch the inter-island ferries chug by. As I took time to soak it all in, others arrived and left, a friendly bevy of bikers, hikers and overseas tourists. The headland doesn’t exactly cater for crowds, and if fear of heights is an issue, keep well away from the sharp drop at the tip.

Reaching a destination is one thing. But it usually means a return journey — another moot point, and one which exposed my limits in map reading. Finding the correct path back needs an explanation.

Searching for the garden path I had been led up — stupid really, except for the car somewhere below — I wound up on yet another wrong track, clocking up an extra 5kms, at least. Imagine the horror later, learning that the carpark I had stopped at was actually a mere playground reserve. For dogs, obviously! The official Snout Track carpark winds uphill from this lower area to brilliant lookouts and an easy doddle to the track’s actual start point. On closer inspection later, this is clearly marked on the map. What should have been a three-hour walk took all day — up hill, down dale, wrong routes and countless unprintable words.

On the positive side, getting lost is not an issue. Tracks throughout the domain all interlink. It’s a bit of a maze, offering walkers and mountain bikers great variety, from short strolls around the harbour to this longest trek. By the guide, just short of an 8km round trip. My route, probably more like 15.

Sitting back in the motel, sipping several well-deserved wines, I thought of the charming young chap who had sat beside me on the plane down south. He was on his way to a three-week Outward Bound course at nearby Anakiwa, sent by his boss. I wondered how this self-confessed city boy was coping.

It also confirmed why I don’t do long hikes — let alone Outward Bound.