Magic and memories: Farewelling the last private bach in Abel Tasman National Park

The ramshackle home sits in the park’s northern reaches, at the base of a bush-clad hill, a stone’s throw from the sea. It’s an isolated spot, accessible only by the water or a 20-minute walk from Wainui Carpark.

When Park’s father Jack shipped an old worker’s cottage to the site, Uarau Point was privately-owned farmland.

Over the years, Jack added extensions to the cottage, using all manner of materials including timber from the Tākaka Grandstand.

In the late 1980s, the farm was sold to the Forest Service, the Department of Conservation’s (DOC) predecessor, and Jack was given a lifetime lease to occupy the site.

After Jack’s death last year, Park was contacted by the Public Trust, asking him to clear everything out of the bach in preparation for its removal. He did so a month ago, salvaging everything he could.

DOC’s demolition of the dwelling will mark the end of private baches in the national park, which have disappeared one-by-one as their owners died.

In 2007, DOC commissioned a report into the four remaining private dwellings in the park, outlining their features and history, and determining whether they had any historical significance.

None was found, and the following year, the first of the four, Goodwin Bach, was removed from its Anchorage location.

Gilbert Bach ‒ described as “rough as guts” ‒ followed, leaving Tinline Bay in 2013, and Wilkinson’s Bach was dismantled and shipped out of Bark Bay by barge in 2018.

The Park Bach is looking a little sad now, but for Park, it’s full of memories - summers filled with fishing, swimming and exploring; a dozen kids sleeping at the bach, filling the living space and the old boat shed.

As a teen, Park would bike to the bach from Tākaka with his mates.

“It was quite a mission, an all-day trip on gravel roads.”

With no running water and no electricity, the family made do with water from a nearby waterfall, battery-powered lights and a gas cooker.

Park had asked around about appealing DOC’s decision, but got nowhere.

“Those decisions are not made in Tākaka, they’re made in Wellingon. DOC policy is to get everybody out.”

With the bach’s fate long-sealed, Park hasn’t bothered with maintenance.

“It’s old and run down. I’ve done no work on it for years, knowing it was going to get pulled down. I haven’t been down to mow the lawns, it’s starting to look a bit tatty.”

Park’s own children weren’t interested in the bach, preferring to do their own thing. But Park, who lived in Nelson, visited often, spending time fishing and kayaking.

Before a law change put an end to pair trawling, overfishing had “cleaned the bay out of fish”.

“[But] the last few years the fishing’s been good again. Now I’m catching snapper, kahawai and gurnard.”

When Park visits the bach for the final time, he’ll reflect on a special place that was cherished by his family.

His parents’ ashes were scattered there, as were the ashes of his little sister, who died in 2006.

“There’s a lot of history and a lot of memories; it’s a magic spot.”