Bookmarked

Old chapters are coming to an end.  Maybe a slightly premature end, maybe I won't know that until the next chapter begins.  But the one thing I am certain of, is that time runs away with you, however much you try to slow it down.  You can tie a ball and chain to the ankles of time and they still manage to sprint on, whisking you off your feet in the process.

Mission Live Life. Life style change is one thing I am determined to implement again and again.  Years of conditioning may be deep - we have a need to do everything, want more, think money, work work work.  Sometimes I feel like I have dug myself out of those groves over and over. Like a mountain bike track - you can see those tire marks from the many bikes that have ridden that path before you.  You are following those tire marks, but every now and then you break free.  Create your own tire marks and it feels good.  It's fresh and free.  But before you know it, you have slipped into auto pilot and you are back in those well warn tracks again.

When I first arrived in Hanmer Springs I was determined to stay off those old bike tracks.  Money was needed, yes, but lifestyle was going to be priority.  I got 2 jobs but made it clear to both employees what I wanted in way of hours.  Full time at the housekeeping job at Settlers Motel (9.30 - 2.00 5/6 days a week) Perfect!  And 3 nights waitressing @ Saints.  at first, due to school holidays I was full time at Saints and less work at Settlers until Emmy Lou and Dave left.  As Settlers became more full time, the holidays would be over and my few nights a week would come into place.  I had it all worked out.  I would do yoga and run in my spare time and all would be good.  But it doesn't always work like that and without realising I was full time at both and very tired.  Once the holidays were over things settled down and soon I was forming my own tire tracks again and things were perfect.  I was literally doing yoga every morning, working until 2pm, running or walking in the afternoons or baking and cooking which was a new found hobby.  This was life!  Still saving, paying the only 2 bills I had (rent and mobile) and absorbing everything Hanmer Springs had to offer like the biggest sponge you've ever seen.


The street where I live

 Autumn had, without a doubt , arrived and the trees and mountains were incredible shades of red and orange.  Hanmer Forest was so colourful that I felt like I inhaled it's happiness as I walked to and from work every day.  I spent my half an hour walk each way looking all around me, eyes wide like a learning baby, face aching with a big fat grin.  The sun still shone and soon a few mountains had sparkling white peaks.  I was happy.  Really happy.  And for the right reasons.  I wasn't getting cheap highs as a result of a binging social life, male attention massaging my ego or traveling from place to place feeding my adventurer habit.  I was loving the life I had created.

Unfortunately, the boat was soon rocked, a few extra shits here and there, disrupting my routine (Having a routine seems to be the only way I muster up the motivation to keep exercising).  I then lost my job at Saints and things were good again.  Spin class once a week, mountain biking with my boss from settlers, a sport i thought I was too wimpy for, but is my new drug.  Top bike, top biking buddy and adrenaline/endorphin heaven!!!  (or dolphin heaven as a friend used to say)

View From Conical Hill

Life was amazing.  Afternoons walking up conical hill with views of the whole town and mountains in all directions.  I had freedom.  In the evenings, without the hectic, understaffed, under paid restaurant job, I would watch TV, do more yoga, cook or read books.  I was like a pig in shit.  A couple of times I did have a slight pang of loneliness.  I didn't want to go out and spend money or party but having another presence in the room while I silently read or watched a movie would have been nice.  Occasionally my house mate Siobhan would have a night off from her pub job and we'd cook together or go for a meal which was lovely.  An excuse to get dressed up sometimes.  I went out a couple of times with a guy I met after work one night but soon realised that I valued my own time more than that shared with him.



Kieran came to visit us on his surf trip

 Hanmer continued to be amazing and beautiful even after the cheerful colours of autumn had blown away.  We had visitors which included trips to the hot pools, road trips to the sea and discovering more of Hanmer with the use of an automobile. 

Things then changed again.  I wouldn't say that I began to bike in the old warn grooves of the bike tracks, more that I took a new route.  A loop track that I knew would return me to the track that I wanted to be on eventually.

Mr Biggles

Sally, my boss at Settlers had to go away for a while as her brother became very sick.  They were told there was nothing that could be done for him so Sally would be at his bedside until the very sad day that she wold have to say goodbye.  Alan, her husband was to and from for support and while they were both away, I would mind the motel for them.  I had said from the start that I would do anything I possibly could to help them and I meant it.  Seeing Sally so upset was heart breaking and being in a situation where I had no other commitments was perfect.  I had a crash course on managing the 5* motel and soon moved in upstairs.  I wold stat work at 7am and finally locked the last door (the laundry room) at 9pm.  The phone would still ring up to about 10pm sometimes and as part of my role I was looking after the house too which included the 3 burman cats.  It was full on but I loved it.  A different kind of buzz and adrenaline, although a little stressful with the responsibility.  And I had my fair share of dramas - no hot water, power cuts, broken heat pumps (which turned out to be user error but the customer is always right of course).

I would manage the place for a week and then get my life back when Alan returned, but sleeping patterns now disrupted, getting up for yoga was over, afternoon runs were on hold and things were slowly slipping through my fingers.  Of course I also got my own bad news from home and spent a week with a head like jelly and the weight of the world on my shoulders.  My present and future was uncertain and the right answer was camouflaged like Where's Wally.  Thank you to Siobhan during that time for her patience and my Kinder Surprise.  After days of waking up and only being able to think about what a mess my head felt, after asking advice, pros and cons, lists and angel cards I woke, BANG!  3am, bolt upright in bed.  The answer was as clear as the Settlers Motel glass windows (top cleaners).  And life, once again was semi-normal, although still minding Settlers now and then.  Ian, Sally's brother sadly passed away and she was back with us being strong Aunt Sally again.  She was missed and while dealing with Ian's illness, her frail parents moved out of their home following another big earthquake, they had no water or electricity in the house that Ian was living in.  They then cleaned and packed and rented out her parents house, house hunted, bought and moved in her parents into a new one whilst dealing with every one's emotions and being a rock for them all.  She was incredible and things are finally feeling normal again. 

Simone Heading down the slopes

Salmon fishing in Golden Bay

My free time is back and last week I skied and rock climbed on my day off, back to spin class and doing yoga again.  I have just had an amazing week off work too and hitched up to the Nelson region to explore golden bay.  I hired a bike and biked for miles to the sea, went for coffee with friends, went fishing and ate fresh Salmon every day.  I stayed with some amazing people and we ate together and sat around the log fire in the evenings.  It was like therapy and with the sun shining down hard I feel fully rested and content.  I am heading back to Hanmer Springs tomorrow and snow is on the way again.  Questions still unanswered about this chapter closing permanently or simply being bookmarked, the next chapter will begin for me soon and it is time on e again to sit back on the rollercoaster of fate, buckle up and enjoy the ride.

What an amazing place Hamner Springs and an inspiring country New Zealand.  Does out relationship end here?

My next adventure will be incredible with 2 1/2 weeks in Malaysia visiting Lee and a month in an Indian Ashram before returning home for my first family Christmas and first UK Christmas in 5 years.  I better buckle up good for this ride!

The Countdown to the Signposts of Joy

After 17 days off for both the injury and our volunteering in Christchurch, getting started again was always going to be an interesting experience as we were a little out of shape from no exercise and all the free pies and cakes we’d indulged in both at Neptune backpackers where we'd been working in Greymouth and the piles and piles of backing sent from all around the country to the student army in Christchurch.  Shalane and I decided that all the Kiwi Grannies must have had a bake-off.  Reading my blog entry for that first day back amused me. I have always found it interesting that the human mind always remembers how lovely experiences are but manages to gradually fade out the hardships.

Just outside Arthurs Pass enjoying some wild apples for Brekkie

Arthurs Pass is surrounded by tall mountains, as far as the eye can see and as a result is pretty chilly for most of the day. We had been staying in our tent at the DOC campsite and as we set off with all our layers on and spare socks on our hands to stop our fingers from freezing off, it did feel really good to be back. I’d missed walking and was eager to get back to the stress free bush lifestyle. After the chaos that surrounded Christchurch, the bush was even more of an appealing place to be. However, it wasn’t long before I was welcomed back with sore knees, a painful foot and knotty shoulders from my heavy bag and was reminded quite quickly that it wasn’t a gentle stroll. After some rather relaxed road walking we were soon climbing, enphasising once more our loss of fitness. That evening we lit a fire in the hut and laid out all our maps and notes and devised ourselves a “get to bluff” plan (which was obviously always the plan but we had to get to the fine details).

So off we set, with some long hard days ahead, goals set and a Bluff to get to. The daylight had changed substantially in those 17 days and we were now leaving at 7am, if we were lucky, which meant a later finish and less relaxing time. The days were colder and there had even been a dunp of show no the mountains so we were happy to walk until later in the day but it took a lot to shift my body clock, as it still felt done at 3pm. We knocked out a 38km day that next day, despite me carrying enough food for a small army and we reached Lake Coleridge in 3 instead of the 5 days we had predicted. We had a food drop here but instead of stopping for our usual rest day at the food drop location we decided to push on another few days, as part of our grand plan and partly because our next hurdle was to get around the Rakaia River. The River is huge and with no foot bridge, the only way to cross safely was by car and Te Araroa advised any trampers to hitch around this section of the trail. We were on the side of the dry, dusty road, tumbleweed rolling by with 1 vehicle every half hour when a nice guy, who had driven past us and thought to himself “they’ll be there all night”. He turned around and came back for us, despite having only one seat in his car. So, both Shalane and I, tucked up in the front seat were driven to safety on the other side of the Rakaia River but in the process were even further out of our way. After another attempt to hitch on a dead end road with no traffic, the school bus arranged to pick us up in the morning before the kids jumped aboard.



The view of the valley we had just walked from Turtons Saddle

 That night I realized how much I really was going to miss this lifestyle. The trek so far has been the most challenging, mentally and physically testing but most fantastic thing I have ever done and waking up in the countryside every day, getting the blood pumping and the muscles working before most of you are even eating your toast in the morning is an incredible feeling. I decided then that I was going to have to savor every second of these last few weeks because although I might not love it every day, I was going be sad to see it come to an end. The next day only confirmed those feelings and as we climbed, the very long climb up Turtons Saddle on stunning farmland, I looked back into the valley that we had just come from, sweat pouring off my forehead, heart pumping fast and felt amazing. It’s always a great feeling to see where we’ve just come from, especially when you are now standing on top of the world with not an inch of civilization in sight.

One thing I have decided is that I’d prefer a short, steep climb to a long but gradual one any day! After walking up the Clent Hills Saddle the next day, which can I tell you, felt like it went on forever, I was more than ready for some flat ground. It wasn’t just the incline either, we were now officially in Tussock country so after following a winding river, crossing it so many times I lost count which resulted in very wet feel all day (although on the positive note, the water was so cold it numbed my fractured foot and reduced the pain) we had tussock, hidden streams and rabbit holes to contend with and by the time we got to the top, we couldn’t wait for some down hill. We were both surprised to find a gigantic wall of scree waiting for us on the other side (see video) with nothing but steep scree up and down. I knew it couldn’t be as bad as it looked because it looked like a wall of death and luckily it wasn’t too bad. With a path cut into the scree, we followed the orange markers up and over ridge after ridge until finally reaching Manuka Hut. We were tired an achy as the footing on tussock land was extremely draining and the strength of our knees and ankles were put to the test with every step. The rain had kindly just held off enough until we reached the hut and we lit a fire, tucked in to some food and laid back and relaxed, ready for our rest day the next day where I planned on doing absolutely nothing!



Crossing the 'not so scary' Rangitata

 Our next major challenge was another river crossing and we had been advised by Te Araroa that this was also a safety zone and that we should find alternative transport around. However, having met a lovely couple in the hut the previous night, who explained they had walked across the river with no dramas, we decided to give it a go. The Rangitata River is a braided river and we counted 42 braids, non of which were more than waist height, so we certainly weren’t in any danger, however it was a long and tedious crossing as it was roughly 3 kms of rocks and gravel and we were so happy to reach the other side and walk no some flat ground. Well, for 5 minutes when we put up our tent for the night.

The view of our trail from the top of Stag Saddles, the hightest
point on Te Araroa

3 hours of more rocks and gravel really tested my patience. My foot was not enjoying it and neither was the rest of me. It was very draining as you have to watch every single step and I longed for some normal ground. After a steep climb to Crooked Spur hut we were up and away from all things river and all things rock and we stopped off for some lunch in the baking sunshine. The next couple of days to Tekapo were tough but great at the same time. Stag Saddle was the highest point in Te Araroa and after a breathtaking climb to 1925m Shalane recorded a quick birthday message for her Gran. After hours of tussock terrain with bogs, prickly bush and streams, with twisted ankles and strained knees we scrambled like mountain goats up a steep trail with no path, just sporadic orange markers if we were lucky and we were ready for some road walking. When we eventually reached Lake Tekapo and Sue Speedy from Lake Tekapo Holiday Park was like an angel sent from heaven. We turned up to pick up our food parcel, which she had very kindly stored away for us and from the second we arrived I felt like I’d been picked up and wrapped in a big warm fluffy hug. She instantly asked her husband to drive us to our own cabin, with money for the showers in hand and our bags taken off our back before we could say thank you please. We were soon warm, dry, clean and fed and with a cup of tea in hand and Shalane and I both agreed that we didn’t realize we needed that as much as we did. We felt like every tense, bag carrying muscle, every alert, marker spotting eye, route planning section of our brain and tendon in our over worked ankle just relaxed, past out and slept and it felt wonderful. The holiday park and location was beautiful with amazing views of the lake and surrounding mountains it is definitely somewhere I would love to go back and visit when I finish Te Araroa. I would also like to take this opportunity to say thank you for the very kind donation they both gave to Indigo Foundation. Their effortless kindness that day was just amazing.

Sunrise over Ruateniwha, Twizel

Shalane and I hadn’t seen too many mountain lakes on our journey so far and this section of the journey certainly made up for it. With Lake Tekapo, Lake Ohau and a few smaller ones in between, and not forgetting Lake Hawea. We’d woken in the morning near Lake Ruateniwha, a small lake just south of Twizel and the sunrise over the lake was stunning. It was one of those mornings that made you feel lucky to be on this planet. Our next big challenge awaited us from Lake Ohau, which is another area I would love to return, with some peaceful camp spots by the lake with million dollar views that you could imagine staying at for days. The challenge was in the form of an unmarked, unsigned, uncut route that we were unlucky enough to get to in low cloud and rain. After climbing through an incredibly lush forest, which was damp with moss and rain from the night we headed up towards what we thought was our trail. After a while we noticed that we were following markers, which not only were a different colour to our usual bright orange, they were in fact leading us in the wrong direction. We had spotted a couple, camping by the saddle in an odd spot and after speaking to them, discovered they didn’t have a map and were a little lost themselves. After speaking to one of them, we had a rough idea where we were but were relieved to spot a tour guide taking his group up to the saddle. He pointed us off into the white out, confirming yet again that the direction we were going in was not marked or a trail in any way. By this time we were freezing cold and the clouds were so low and thick that we had to come up with a fool proof plan that meant we didn’t get lost and we didn’t get stuck as there were a few landmarks to avoid, such as bogs and cliffs. For the next few hours, Shalane and I navigated our way down to the valley with our map and compass, waiting for the clouds to blow every now and then to reveal another clue that might just confirm that we were on the right track. We stopped regularly to ensure we were definitely where we wanted to be but with the cloud cover constantly changing what was in view, we could only move so fast. We climbed over huge boulders and clung onto clumps of tussock to hold us upright on steep mountain edges. We stayed high enough to avoid the bogs that we could see below us and when we were sure we’d past the cliffs, the only way was down. The clouds were still thick but clearing and we’d seen enough in the gaps of clouds to know we were at least heading in the right direction. After more tussock and falling down more holes, we made it down to the valley and the feeling of relief to be on the home straight felt pretty damn good. We even saw one, lonely orange pole in the distant, to confirm once again that everything was going to be ok!



The view down to Ohau before the clouds set in



We walked for 10 hours that day with hardly any breaks. The low visibility in the morning had meant the day was now a long and tiring one and by the time we’d reached the Ahiriri river, we were ready to drop! We decided to cross the river so that the next day was made easier and we had our eye on a bright green , flat, riverside camp spot on the opposite side. It looked like it was made especially for us as all the surrounding land was brown and uninviting. We crossed a few braids of the river, each getting a little higher as we became closer to the main braid. There had obviously been a little rain upstream as the river was flowing fast and we held onto each other for a couple of the crossings. My blood was pumping by this stage as I was so exhausted from a long few days and mentally exhausted from the challenging morning that all my remaining energy was going into crossing the river safely. Every step was vital, as the undercurrent swept my feet as I tried to put them down and the water up to my thigh was strong and fast. On the last crossing, just a few small meters from that bright green patch of grass with our name on it, we couldn’t go any further. We hadn’t even reached the half way point when the current became dangerously strong. Our feet were getting swept away so much that we couldn’t put our feel down securely and the water was nearly at our wastes. It was Shalane who made the final and very sensible decision to turn around and get out of the water. We got to dry land and my legs were shaking from adrenaline. It was far too dangerous but the alternative was not fun. We had to retrace our footsteps all the way back, through the other strong braids (which now seemed like small puddles after attempting the last one) and back onto the dry bank, where we decided to set up camp and evaluate our choices the next day.

Lake Hawea

The decision was made to detour 6kms to a bridge and back up to our trail head. I think we were freaked our enough by the strength of that current to not want to attempt it again and on looking at the river that next day, there was nowhere that seemed crossable. The next section of the trail was through some really stunning farmland with rolling green hills and a very user friendly path (at first at least) which generally followed 4WD track through some really beautiful land where we were lucky enough to see about 8 stags. It was roaring season so they weren’t hard to miss and it was amazing seeing so many big beasts in one group up in the hills. By the time we reached Lake Hawea, we were more than ready for a rest day and not only did we get a rest day but we got top treatment in a really amazing location. Lake Hawea is absolutely stunning. The water is bright turquoise and the lake appears to go for ever. Lake Hawea Holiday Park is situated on the lake front and is designed in such a way that you feel like you are still camping in the bush. The park is filled with trees and bushes so still feels really natural. We were greeted by Sarah, the owner and Mike the Manager who were really excited about what we were doing and soon had us feeling relaxed. The holiday park is somewhere I would love to go and spend a few weeks. The views of the lake make you take a deep breath and just relax instantly and with amazingly hot showers, laundry and a BBQ, kindly provided by Sarah and her husband Richard, we soon felt like different people. The size of the holiday park was incredible too and with cabin, tent or caravan options, you can feel like the only ones there if you go at the right time of year. With views of the mountains too it would be somewhere I’d love to go all year round to just stop and look and enjoy. There was also a house that they rent out, just up a slight hill which meant amazing views. It would have made a brilliant place for the family to come and visit (hint hint mum). On our rest day we had a quick interview with the local newspaper, kindly organized by Mike and Sarah and Shalane and I picked some blackberries and that night Mike made us an apple and blackberry pie and we all had another BBQ with Mike, his wife Lorraine and Helen and her husband, a couple who also worked onsite. It was a lovely end to a lovely rest day.

From this moment on we felt like it was a countdown. We had been so well looked after in Lake Hawea but we knew that from that moment on, it was just days with Wanaka and Queenstown coming up soon, two places we had heard so much about for so many months, we honestly felt like we could see the end. Every day from now on was a day closer to Bluff and although I was going to miss this lifestyle, there was a lot about it that I was ready to leave behind. I was sick of smelling so bad that people even commented, I was sick of wearing trekking clothes and I was sick of people seeing me as just a trekker. I noticed over the 5 months of trekking that when I am wearing my backpack, trekking clothes, with my hair looking dry and sun damaged people do treat me differently. I become a backpacker or a tramper and they speak to me like I’m just a tramper. Although I am perfectly aware that image and materialistic things are not important, I also realized that, in the eyes of other people, those things define my personality. I was basically craving some normality. I wanted to meet some people my age and have a talk and some banter that wasn’t trek related and I wanted to become a non-tramper again.

The walk along the river to Wanaka was beautiful and when we arrived in the town, we decided to go to the information centre and try to arrange our rest day in Queenstown. We called a few places to get some tent spot prices and I spoke to somebody on the phone who really reminded me of Kieran - a guy I know from Byron Bay in Australia. It wasn’t him but his identical voice twin! A few minutes later, we had somewhere booked and we were on our way again. We walked around the corner and right there, in front of me, was Kieran. It was honestly one of the strangest coincidences that has ever happened to me! I hadn’t been in touch with Kieran since I left Byron Bay so had no idea he was here and to think he was on the phone just a few minutes before actually seeing him was spooky. We had a quick catch up chat and number exchange, with a promise that we’d visit him when we finished walking and we were soon on our way again!



Thanks Shania

 We walked all the way to Glendhu Bay that day. From there the trail was fantastic. It was well cut, well marked and there were huts along the way. Which was good as it was looking like rain. The track was the Mototapu track and the land is owned by Shania Twain and I have to say Shania – nice work! The trail was climb after climb after climb. We sweat and our leg muscles pumped and the views were worth every drop of sweat our bodies gave. It was a brilliant track. On our last night in Rose’s Hut we met Kim. Kim was from Belgium and I have to say, is my favourite hut sharer so far. Not only did he not snore or move around lots in the middle of the night but he was also a long distance tramper so he understood our need to get up early and go to bed early and we could talk to him about the trek and he really knew what we were talking about. He was spending the whole year living in his tent or in huts and tramping around the whole of NZ. Kind of what we were doing but he had the freedom to hitch and go wherever he wanted and it sounded brilliant. Not only that, but Kim was hilarious! He had me clutching my stomach with laughter and to top it all off, he was kind enough to share his chocolate and cheese with us! What more could you want in a hut buddy!

From Rose’s hut to Arrow town involved soggy feet as we walked the river bed but we were soon up high on a 4WD track with great views of the river below and the trees were looking incredible in all their autumn colours. We really have seen the change in seasons in NZ which has been beautiful, but winter was one season I was not ready to see while living in a tent. We Just before we reached Arrow town the clouds came in and the heavens opened. Actually, it wasn’t the heavens because the rain was coming in from the side with a wind that felt like it was direct from the Antarctic. By the time we arrived in Arrow town we were soaked and freezing and we darted straight for the hand dryers in the public toilet. All tried off and more layers on we stopped in for a cup of tea in one last attempt to warm up. Arrow Town was really quaint and had a real sense of history. A little Chinese settlement that felt more like a scene from a western but well worth a visit. Not long now and we’d be in Queenstown. Queenstown marked a real goal for us as it was the places that we’d decided to spend our celebratory rest days when we finished the trek for good and we’d promised ourselves we’d book some accommodation and massages for something to look forward to when we return at the end.

Our rest day in Queenstown wasn’t really a rest as we ran around booking everything and found ourselves a wonderful en suite room in Reavers Lodge which would come to be the best motivation for finishing the trek that I’d had so far. We bought ourselves treats like real shower gel and hair conditioner and stored them at the lodge for when we returned.

A typical day on Te Araroa

We road walked our way to the next trail which was the Greenstone track which then lead to Mavora lakes. The first section to Greenstone hut was very touristy with a wide, flat path that was almost too easy after the last few trails. We put in some long days and I was really feeling it, having still not adapted to the change in daylight. The trek to Careys Hut seemed long as the scenery was more tussock and more bogs and we were disappointed to find the hut full of hunters. Careys hut is accessible by 4WD so there were 4 hunters, 2 cars and a boat, with a quad bike, fishing rods and rifles! Hardly the back country experience! So we put up our tent and got an early night, ready for the 40 kms we were due to walk, and did walk the next day.



Our Last Beach Walk



We’d started noting every time it was the last time we would be doing something as we counted down the days like a tally in a prison. I was more and more excited about all the things I wanted to do at the end, about working and seeing money actually go into my bank. Now that the end was so accessible I really started realizing how ready I was to finish Te Araroa and not because I hadn’t had the time of my life but because it had taken longer than we wanted, my injuries and Christchurch had pushed that end date further and further and the seasons were changing. We were ready. We had the last stay in a hut, the last river crossing and as we walked further and further south as the mountains became hills and then became flat, we had the last time we’d climb a mountain. The coast was soon in sight and as we walked along Colac Bay to Riverton we could see Bluff, well, the hill near Bluff but it was enough to become incredibly excited. We stopped off in Riverton Information Centre to find out about tides for our very last river crossing on the beach and met a lady whose husband and friend had walked Te Araroa. We were soon all there, husbands and all with a cup of tea, talking about the trek. Dean and Lloyd had walked the entire North Island, with Lloyds wife acting as support vehicle, meeting them at the end of each day and taking them to their camp spot. They had done it incredibly quickly, each day a day hike with not pack and therefore had the opportunity to fly through. Their stories were brilliant and I really enjoyed speaking with them. We turned down their kind offer of a bed for the night as we wanted to make a bit of distance along the beach, ready for the next few days. We wanted to stop off in Invercargill for a bit of shopping and get to Bluff nice and early. That night we camped up in the sand dunes and as I brushed sand off my sleeping mat, drank sandy tea and ate sandy food, I reminded myself, last beach, just 2 more sleeps. We woke to an absolutely stunning sun rise and as we walked along the clean, deserted beach, packs feeling light, with grins on our face so permanent that my cheeks started to ache, we could see Invercargill and Bluff getting bigger and bigger and Riverton getting smaller and smaller. We reached Invercargill and set about buying a few warm jumpers as we had nothing but the smelly clothes on our backs and knew we’d need something to change into when we reached Queenstown. We went wild at the opshop and had a whole new wardrobe by the end of our shopping spree for just a few dollara. We walked along the estuary as the sun was setting on our last night, we put our tent up for the last time, unpacked our bags and blew up our sleeping mats for the last time. We ate our last back country cuisine, I brushed the remaining sand off my belongings again and in the middle of the night, my sleeping mat went down again for the last time. We woke up in the dark and walked along the highway towards Bluff. We could see the township for the majority of the day, teasing us, not getting closer until we turned that last corner. We were nearly there. The excitement was immense, we’d done it, there was no failing now. We found the poor excuse for a walking track that took us off the highway and around the Bluff to the infamous sign posts where we would be jumping up and down in just a couple of hours. We followed the orange markers and they lead us to a 10 foot high, locked metal fence! We could see the markers and the trail on the other side but we couldn’t get through. We walked around through mud and bogs and holes and streams, past a stinky water treatment, sewerage smelling thing and we were cursing all along the way reminding ourselves, last time last time. The trail soon joined the easy walking track that was perfectly maintained and lead us along the ocean edge. The forecast for the day was rain and we had been lucky enough to avoid it so far. We didn’t want our last day to be wet and miserable. On this last section our legs couldn’t move quick enough. I think we were even running at one point! We came around the last corner and there it was, the sign post, the end, the finish line to Te Araroa, 5 months of tramping over with, the adventure of a lifetime coming to an end. I thought there would be tears and dancing and screaming and joy but there wasn’t. I just had a very achy face from smiling so hard for the last 3 hours. As I write this now though I think it has finally hit me. The tears are coming and the realization that I just experienced the most amazing, life changing, bloody hard but so very worth it, 5 months of my life.





Te Araroa isn’t complete yet so we were faced with additional challenges along our journey. We cursed at unmaintained sections, we vowed to complain at every badly marked or signed sections, we didn’t necessarily love Gorse and Prickly Bush, Bush Lawyer or Spear Grass and I didn’t enjoy days of walking on tarmac or tussock but Te Araroa is a great trail.  My advice for anybody who wants to do it would be to not feel like you have to stick to the trail.  In the north island particularly there are alternatives and a great example of that would be Cookie and Nicky, an English couple who chose to go through The Coromandel instead of Auckland.  However, Te Araroa can guarantee you variety and certainly a challenge to even the most experienced trampers.



And my experience wasn’t all about the trail. We met some amazing people along the way who we will be eternally grateful to. Some who know who they are and some who never will, like Wendy from Ngunguru who let us stay in her back garden when we found out all the camp sites had closed down, and the fisherman who gave us a lift to Marsden Point in their boat and who through in a crayfish for our dinner. We’ve seen parts of New Zealand that many people, even New Zealanders will never see and we’ve experienced a lifestyle that will stay with me forever. Not only did I have a fantastic time but thanks to all of you, we have managed to raise AUD $2875.00 to this day for Indigo Foundation which will help run the entire Soloman Islands project for over 6 months.

Detour to a Disaster Zone

Just a quick note to let you know Shalane and I have recently detoured to Christchurch following the devastating news of the earthquake.  We hitched over from Greymouth having spent a week there with a fractured foot and volunteered for just over a week with the  UC Student Volunteer Army.  I can't begin to tell you how heartbreaking it is seeing so many homes lost and the pure carnage the quake has caused, not to mention the loss of loved ones and the long term stress and sleepless nights the people of Christchurch have had to endure.  However, the attitude and strength, the kindness and generosity shown from all Cantabrions would make me feel very proud if I was a Kiwi and I can only wish every body the luck and strength to carry on rebuilding what was, and always will be a beautiful city.

Shalane and I will continue Te Araroa as of tomorrow and are looking forward to the remainder of the adventure.  I promise I will try and keep my blog more up to date than I have recently :-)

Sticks and Stones might break my bones and so will Te Araroa

Te Araroa!!!!  No doubt in our minds that the first track from Boyle village to Hope Kiwi lodge was purely a Te Araroa trail.  We've become quite accustomed to the Department of conservation trails with their clear signs and markings, taking us on the most suitable path possible, but when we followed this water logged, muddy trail with badly placed markers and incorrect timings we knew it had to be our trail.

Luckily we were soon back on a DOC trail and the beautiful meandering forest track lead us in the glorious sunshine to a very impressive hut.  Hope Kiwi lodge had 3 separate bedrooms and was HUGE, so it didn't matter at all that we were joined that night by a couple of hunters.

This whole next section was a complete disaster for me!  A few hours into the next day and my foot started hurting so badly that I actually felt sick from the pain.  I was taking ibuprofen and trying to ignore it but this was no minor injury.  I wasn't sure how I did it exactly but knew it had started feeling a little sore the previous day.  It was David's birthday and I was feeling a wee bit guilty that he spent it on his own, flying ahead while I hobbled a good half an hour or more behind him.  Come lunch time, I had to have a serious assessment as to whether I could carry on walking, as the next hut was still a few hours away.  The issue I faced was that it was a few days walk to get out, whichever direction I walked in and I didn't want to delay things any further so I decided to harden the hell up and limp on.  We reached number 3 hut just before the heavens opened and all three of us huddled around the fire with a couple of BCC deserts we had saved for David's birthday.

I rested my food, convinced that a night of rest and a bit of tiger balm would sort out the problem.  I woke up (as normal) in the night for a pee and, forgetting I had a painful foot, got up to walk outside.  The shock and pain was unbelievable, I couldn't believe how much it still hurt and went back to bed a little worried for what the morning had in store.

Harper Pass

We all woke in the morning to the rain still pounding down outside and my foot felt even worse.  I began to get packed and ready slowly but was dreading the day ahead.  David had gone outside and I mentioned to Shalane that I wasn't really excited about a day of rain and pain. That was all she needed to hear!  She wasn't really up for walking in the rain and an excuse to cut ties with David, who had been slowly talking us to death was just what we needed.  He took some persuading but after Shalane completed his crossword while he was asleep, he finally realised there was nothing to stay for anymore.  he walked on ahead and we kicked back, relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief at our new found freedom.

The next few days were probably the hardest I had to face in the entire trip.  The trail, scenery and weather was fantastic and despite the painfully slow pace I was setting and the constant agony I was in, I still managed to really enjoy it and Harper Pass was probably one of the highlights of the trek for it's lushness and pure beauty.  However, unless it was morphine, I wasn't interested! Every time I put my bad foot down and experienced pain, I would try to step back on my good foot quicker.  The result was, that I would not lift my good foot up enough and tripped over any rock, twig or weed that I could possibly find.  Thus, sending me flying and stumbling harder on my bad foot as I tumbled down steep hills and mountains.  When we reached a hut, just one day from Arthurs Pass and found a radio, with a direct line to the Arthur's Pass information centre.  I have to say, I was tempted.   The main problem I was facing from day to day was that my energy was being sucked out of me, like some kind of torture method.  I felt like I was going fast and was putting all my energy into each day but the distance we were covering was a joke and the constant pain, the disappointment each morning that there was no improvement and the knowledge each day that the only way out was on foot was soul destroying.


The last couple of days really were an adventure.  We followed the Waimakariri River through the valley and the sun was beating down.  We stopped for a break on one of the days,  and perched ourselves down on the remains of a tree.   As I looked around I couldn't believe how vast this country is.  We were days from anyway, no roads nearby, mountains for miles and it just felt incredible.  There is nowhere in the UK as isolated and despite wanting to be in civilisation at that moment in time, there was no hiding the pure beauty of a land not ruined by mankind.  We followed a path until the path we were on was no more.  An earlier flood had washed the path away and the next half of the day was spent bush bashing, getting cut and scratched, climbing over fallen trees and under broken branches.  But we didn't mind.  Maybe it was because we were already going slowly or maybe we were still high from our freedom from David. Either way, we were quite content and knowing that we were near was good enough motivation to keep going.

We ended our last day crossing the Bealey river which was still slightly flooded and bloody scary.  It was flowing fast, we were tired and the only thing going for me was that the ice cold temperature of the water made my foot go numb.  We made it to the other side, set up camp and yet again, breathed a sigh of relief.  This time, it was because I could see the road.  I knew civilisation was close and everything was going to be ok.

Hitching to Greymouth

Can we get away with it?  Would they know??

We reached Arthurs Pass the next day, collected our food drop and decided to hitch to Greymouth for food shopping and foot resting.  After a few days of trying to reduce the balloon that was now my foot, the pain still hadn't subsided and I decided that a trip to the doctor was overdue.  I wasn't sure what he was going to say but all I could feel at this point was guilt.  Guilt for poor Shalane having to wait more days for my injuries.  There she was fighting fit and ready to keep trekking, to get to Bluff and to finish this long loooooong trek, but she was stuck in GREYmouth waiting for me.    Again!  When the doctor poked around he revealed that the injury was definitely bone.  A fracture or a stress fracture (later confirmed as a fracture after an xray) and to heal, I would need to do nothing for 6 weeks.  However, the only words that I really heard him say was that I could still trek, it just wouldn't get better.  Hearing those words were all I needed. He gave me pain killers and what felt like his approval, his permission to carry on.  Shalane wasn't quite as enthusiastic which I guess I could understand.  More slow, painful days, more isolation with an unpredictable injury.  It wasn't necessarily a wise choice but I had to try.  There was no way I was ending this adventure in Greymouth!

What Goes Up, Must Come Down!

It rained heavily all night and with rain at high altitude, it means slippery terrain, bad visibility, heavy winds and of course wet us.  Luckily, we set off to mainly dampness and low clouds as the heavy rain had all come at night.  I wasn't feeling as achy and sore as I thought I would after our challenge the day before so the day ahead was feeling manageable and exciting.

We began by following ridge line before ascending to Purple Top Mountain at 1532m.  However, as we climbed higher and higher we realised the wind was very strong. The terrain was rocky and scree and although a bit wet, luckily wasn't too slippery although definitely not secure.  All our concentration was used on staying upright as at times I thought I'd be blown away. There was one hell of an icy bite to the wind and our legs were a nice shade of pink.   We were all on a mission to get out of the wind and rain as quickly as possible and the adrenaline meant I didn't really think about how dangerous the track actually was.  The wind blew and I stumbled over and heard David shout "we'll have to feed you up with pies" as I regained my balance and kept scrambling.  And we kept scrambling until we were up and over the top and started our descent down to the tree line for a bit of shelter where I took a deep breath and tried to process the last hour.

The rest of the day wasn't nearly as demanding but a steep descent down to Mid Wairoa hut meant we were all glad to rest our knees and enjoy an afternoon to recover.  Due to this section being so long between food resupplying, we can't afford to stop and rest so every afternoon had me trying to rest and look after my muscles and knees as much as possible for fear of pushing myself too far.  The sun helped and as I laid and soaked up the hot rays for an hour I felt ready for a good sleep.

Unfortunately, I didn't get one and I woke up feeling a bit negative.  There is something really tough about being so many days from civilisation when food supplies are limited and when the shorter exit route is about as inviting as going over Mount Rintoull backwards.  I was feeling a little bit trapped.  Wanting to just pig out on food but having to hold back, wanting to know that if anything happened we could just walk out in a few hours and a little bit fed up.  Because when that adreneline wears off at the end of a tough day, the stress and and reality of what you have just done is exhausting.  However, I knew that if I continued with this attitude, it would only keep bringing me down because the factors I mentioned weren't going to change and in fact, the only way I would change anything is by sucking it up and keep walking, that's exactly what I did.  I spent the day a little bit quiet and trying to give myself a bit of a pep talk.  The day consisted of some rather annoying river crossings.  We must have crossed the same river 10 times in a short distance and with a very steep and exhausting scramble up to Top Wairoa Hut for a break we were all feeling tired.  The wind had picked up and it began to rain, and with a steep and demanding route ahead of us, we made the decision to wait out the weather until the next day.  The rain wasn't too bad but the wind would have made the trail too dangerous.  The next section is what DOC describe as a Route instead of a Tramping Trail, which is defined as often badly marked, no clear trail and for only experienced and very fit trekkers.  Hence the decision to stay put until the weather improved.  The hut wasn't the best to be stuck in! Up high on a hill with steep scree either side, wind blowing the hut so hard that it wobbled and a scramble for our lives if we wanted water.  The weather didn't die down all day and actually, I laid awake all night listening to the howling winds crashing against the flimsy shelter and the rain crashing on the corrugated iron roof and sides.

We set off at around lunchtime the next day after the wind had settled considerably and as we began the climb in the misty rain I realised that the description of a "route" was pretty accurate.  The wind was still pretty strong and as we climbed up over rocks and boulders I was being blown around.  I lent into the wind but then it would suddenly stop and I'd over compensate and go flying.  It was pretty comical but also scary as we climbed higher and higher and became more exposed.  When we finally reached the saddle, the clouds had become very low and the few markers that there were became impossible to see.  We decided that one of us would have to stand at the last seen marker, while the other walked off into the thick fog until they could see the next orange pole and lead the threesome onwards, to avoid us loosing sight of both directions.   Sometimes the wind would blow a gap in the clouds for just long enough, and we'd see a glimpse of orange in the distance.  The wind increased and strong gusts literally blew me over to the floor and the hail on my face was heavy and painful.  My skin was numb with cold and the news headlines flashed through my mind "3 trampers blown off the side of the mountain!"  The clouds thinned after nearly 3 hours of walking on scree, slippery grass and boulders, in wind, hail and rain and to my relief I saw a row of orange poles leading down to the tree line.  We dropped down into the shelter of the trees  and the relief of the intensely strong wind was amazing.  We dropped down into the valley over the next 2 hours and the weather improved all the way to the lovely Hunters Hut.

The next day was a long one but arriving in St Arnaud, although not quite civilisation as we all know it, it felt good.  Everything ached beyond belief but knowing we all had a rest day was an unbeatable feeling.

Nelson Lakes, St Arnaud

After a late start due to me waking up in the night feeling sick as a dog, we plodded on to the swingbridge (not quite as far as David's "schedule" intended).  I think my stomach had a slight shock going from muesli bars every day to the rich foods of the normal world and it took me the whole day to feel right again.   Over the next few days, the biggest challenge was the muggy weather.  It was humid as hell and we were all feeling it by the end of each day so ensured we re hydrated and rested in the evenings.  We met a few more trampers on this section in Upper Traverse (and some noisy inconsiderate ones) and it was nice to chat and appreciate hut life in a different way.  Each hut we arrived at had it's own little quirk.  Whether it be an amazing view or heaps of character.

When we reached Blue Lake Hut we all dumped our bags and ran to the lake, whose name is an understatement!  The lake was electric.  It was an incredible colour and we couldn't resist going for a dip.  Ok, well, we dipped up to our knees, when we discovered how bloody Baltic it was and then sat on a rock and had a good ol' key area wash!  But still, we tried.  I knew the next day was going to be hard and I spent the night mentally preparing for it.  We had a huge pass to climb and it was only advisable in good weather, to experienced trampers and they don't give that advice lightly.  By the next morning, I was up, ready and psyched up.  But the Waiau pass wasn't ready for us!  We stood at the doorway, in the dark, waterproofs on looking out to low clouds, heavy rain and winds.  It wasn't going to happen.We were soon unpacked, fire lit, with cups of tea in hand having agreed to wait out the crappy weather.  We all hoped with all fingers and toes crossed that we would be good to go the next day as neither of us had too many days of spare food and we still didn't know what type of terrain we had ahead of us.

Blue Lake

We woke up the next morning with the same ritual:  Up, fed, packed and dressed, standing in the doorway assessing the day ahead.  We looked like 3 little children waiting for Santa.  But maybe a slight scary Santa as there was anxiety mixed with our excitement. The clouds were low but not as thick.  It was raining, but not as hard.  So we decided to go, do it, make the move.  The pass was so steep and long that we could only go so fast and every time I put a foot forward it would slip half way down again on the dreaded scree.  I was grabbing at random tufts of grass or loose rocks just to try and stay upright as the wind was so fierce.  I was literally scrambling on my hands and feet.  The rain and wind were increasing and I was constantly getting blown off balance and all I could do is keep climbing.  The muscles in my legs were tight and sore and the climb felt like it went on forever.  We eventually reached the top, but our excitement and joy was short lived, as we were faced with a vertical rock face.  By this time the rain was really hard and streams and rivers were forming on the mountains and rocks all around us.  We were in trouble!  Underfoot was slippery, there was water everywhere and we were drenched.  As I lowered myself down, I honestly felt like I should be attached to a harness and all my concentration went into every movement.  Since this day, Shalane and I have spoken about this particular moment, and we will always say that it was one of the best days of the trip.  As scarey as it was, as wet and cold as we were and as out of my depth as I felt, there is something to be said about moments like this one.  Every sense in our body is very much alive and in that moment.  We are 100% in the "now", our mind and body HAVE to be fully connected to ensure every decision and movement  is the right one.  And, as a result, you feel the cold, sharp rock as you cling to it with your hand and every ice cold rain drop as you get increasingly soggier.  You can here your breath as you take one foot off and place it strategically on the small ledge below.  People meditate and search for years for moments like this one and I can honestly tell you I can see why.  It was incredible.  The next few hours we squelched through the mud and crossed the rising, fast flowing river time and time again.  The track had been newly cut so it could have been worse but in places the river had been washed away and we had to literally walk in the river, following it down to our destination.  But where was our destination?  We were drenched to the bone and I was starting to get too cold.  I knew that if we didn't get to Caroling Bivvy soon,w e were going to have to stop and put on some dry clothes, and put up the tent or I would never get warm again.  My heart was pounding and we hadn't stopped for food all day so I was purely going on adrenaline.   We finally reached the bivvy, not a moment to soon but to our horror, the tiny, 2 bunk shed had no vacancies.  We stood at the door, shivering, soaking, miserable and tired and started distraught at the 2 DOC workers looking warm and dry inside, sipping warm tea.  And all they could say to us as they stared back, god knows what we must have looked like but all they said was  "hope ya got ya tent".  They never did find their strangled bodies!!!  Joking of course!

The Descent

We set up our tents in the rain, tore of our dripping wet clothes and got into our warms dry sleeping bags.  Drank tea after tea after tea until I eventually warmed up 3 hours later.  All I can say is what a day.  What an incredible, life changing memorable day.


Nothing like the feeling of putting on soaking wet clothes in the dark in a tent to say GOOD MORNING.  Horrible, cold, wet and horrible.  We stopped for tea on the side of the river when the sun eventually came up but the sand flies were unbelievably bad so we kept on stepping.  I'm sure when I looked at Shalane I couldn't see her skin for black flies.  Yuck!

It was an easy day, just 29kms of long flat valley.  The sun was now shining, the terrain was stress free and the vast mountains stretching as far as the eye can see were stunning.  It felt like a relaxing stroll and just what we all needed to process the crazy events of the previous day.  The next day was the last in this challenging section and as we all hobbled out with painful knees, achy feet and knotty shoulders, all the way to Boyle village, it felt like the events of Waiau pass were on a whole different trip.

Is This Alpine Enough for You?

Excited was an understatement!  A few days in Wellington to get organised and prepared and we soon found ourselves at the Interislander ferry port with a whole new adventure waiting fro us.  Simon, a friend of David's, (the Kiwi trekker who will be joining us for a while) had very kindly agreed to drop the three of us off and it was really nice to be waved off on what felt like a whole different trip.

The ferry was a lot larger and more glamorous than I thought it would be for a mere 3 hour journey and it reminded me very much of the Dover to Calais ferry back at home.  I was later told that the ship originally came from Europe so who knows, I maybe I had stepped aboard before.

We opted for the reclining lounge and settled in comfortably, and when the announcement came that there were freshly baked scones in the restaurant, I thought it couldn't possibly get any better.  We had been told to inform a certain member of staff that we were on the ferry so we did as we were instructed and later in the journey our names were announced, which was equally as exciting as the scones.  We were greeted with a surprise trip to the bridge to meet the captain while the ship negotiated it's way through the beautiful Sounds.  We were asked about our walk and in return told a little about the workings of the bessel.  We had an amazing view and it was a real eye opener seeing some of the fantastic properties that lined the sounds and were accessible only by boat.  We were also followed by a school of dolphins which made the trip extra special for me.  I'll never become bored of seeing dolphins.  It was a really lovely ferry ride and we topped it off with some live music in the bar.

The introduction to the south island was dramatic and challenging from day one.  We camped by the beach and after snacking on some fresh mussels David found for our dinner, we all settled down for our first night on the mainland.  In the early hours of the morning we were woken by the earth trembling below us and it felt like somebody shook me awake but when I opened my eyes I was still laying next to a still and sleepy Shalane and there was nobody else around.  An earthquake!  Nothing serious of course but I certainly felt like it was the south islands way of saying - Welcome!

The Richmond ranges were what we've all been waiting for.  Known as one of New Zealands best kept secrets (from themselves as well as tourists) the vast alpine ranges are an extremely challenging 7-8 day alpine crossing and not for the faint hearted.  We set off into the mountains and I was very excited to be so remote.  I was looking forward to the huts we would be staying in too as we didn't see many in the north.  The trails began with a few ascents which was a nice warm up for things to come and I realised that what I was dreading the most was that feeling of pure exhaustion that I've felt in the pas when climbing which I've decided is mostly due to dehydration so I made it my mission to drink and eat plenty and rest to the max in the afternoons.

The first day out of Pelorus Bridge saw us following a stunning bright green river fro most of the day.  It was one of the most beautiful rivers I've ever seen and I couldn't keep my eyes off it.  It was fresh and clear and the colour really was mesmerising. It was a pretty hot day and on one of our breaks at Captain Creek hut we all dived in to the water that had been calling my name all day.  Bloody hell it was cold - but totally amazing.  The trip had only just begun and it was already feeling like a while separate adventure to our northern expedition. 

After spending the night at Middy Hut we set off for one hell of a day.  We ascended, descended and walked on some very tricky paths.  They were thin and high with rock or slate under foot and by the end of the day I was overheated and exhausted.  It is amazing how drained you feel when you are concentrating so much on footing.  When we reached our hut I dipped my overworked feet in the refreshing turquoise water and wondered to myself hos the hell we were going to do 10 days straight!

The next day we headed to the gorgeous starveall hut, so that we were in a position to make a HUGE climb first thing the next morning.  Neither Shalane or I slept well so the day felt tough although short and when we climbed up to see the extremely cute hut sitting on the hill, surrounded by mountains and wildflower with the sun beating down, it was well worth the effort.  It was picture perfect an the 3 of us spent the afternoon sun bathing!  Everything in moderation.

The next day was epic!!!!  We began our climb up Mount Starveall straight away as the sun was rising and the clouds were still low and it felt brilliant.  The freshness of the air and getting the blood pumping, not to mention the fantastic views as we reached the top was a real buzz.  As we climbed and scrambled up the rocks above the tree line, David shouted "Is this alpine enough for you?"  And it was.  It was so different to anything we'd done so far.  Once we climbed we stayed high on the ridge line all day.  The views wee out of this world.  Mountains and mountains as far as the eye could see in every direction.  We could see where we'd walked and where we were heading and I can't begin to tell you how absolutely amazing that feeling was.  As we all stopped and took in the views David shouted "is this alpine enough for you?"  It felt like we were part of an exclusive world up there, like we couldn't get any higher.  We decided to keep trekking that day, instead of stopping at Old Man Hut, which meant a very challenging climb up both Little Mount Rintoull and Mount Rintoull.  We scrambled up to 1640m on little Mount Rintoull on rocks and scree which definitely gets the heart pumping, with the pack on our back and loose terrain under foot on a steep and high mountain, it felt scary and demanding, but it was what came next that was to be the real challenge.  We reached the top where we had the view of Mount Rintoull ahead of us and although it was only 1730m, we had to descend 250m first down a practically vertical mountain side.  If there was snow and I had a sledge, I wouldn't have hesitated but instead of snow, we had sharp, painful slate to land on.

The wind was picking up and the descent was extremely steep.  The terrain was more loose slate so with every foot we put down we were sliding with nothing to grab onto to stop us and when we did grab onto what looked like a secure big rock, the whole thing would snap off and go tumbling down the mountain and all I could think was that if I fell, I'd bounce down in the same way.  If I was to lean forward too much and start picking up momentum I'd not be able to stop until I was a broken heap on the bottom.  It was tough on the knees and tough on the heart and I honestly don't think I breathed for half an hour!  One thing is for sure, when we reached the bottom, the climb back up to Mount Rintoull looked like fun.  For this bit we needed momentum!  With every step the scree and rocks disappeared from under our feet and we were getting nowhere first.  We put all our energy into it and just kept stepping but the mountain was relentless and the top didn't feel like it was getting any closer.  The rocks that I thought were secure tumbled down for hundreds of metres I just kept stepping, the rocks I grabbed onto for support just broke off so I just kept stepping.  My adrenaline was wearing off and my determination became intermittent.  When we reached the top, the views and the feeling were completely, absolutely, 100% unbeatable.  It was alpine enough for me!  We reached the hut after a 10 hour day, did our laundry (as you do up the top of a really high mountain in a wooden hut) and ate an incredible amount of well deserved food before collapsing into bed.  It was extreme but what an accomplishment and what a day!

I am sorry to say that I am having far too much of an adventurous time to write any more, although there has been plenty more days equally as amazing.  If you want to check out Shalane's blog, she has written a little more than me about our epic adventure so far so check it out www.onelifeadventures.com

Wellington Boots!

I think we have been traumatised by the rain.  We woke up one morning on Tarakino Beach Road to the sound of the rain on the tent and we both got ready in silence, with the look of dread on our faces.  All I could think was "how long will it last?"  I don't mind a day or 2 but in my head I needed to mentally prepare for what we were facing. 

Tarakino Beach

Luckily, after half an hour of hiding, wet and shivering in the camp toilets an hour into our morning we didn't see any more rain that day.  In fact, with the wind behind us and the sand on the beach easy to walk on, I couldn't help but feel the day was turning out ok.

The beach was gorgeous, with black/brown sand and a contrasting glow of peppermint green coloured vegetation, it was different to anything I'd seen.

We stayed that night in a lovely pine forest and after borrowing some water from a kind lady with too many incredibly smelly dogs, we settled down for the night in preparation for a few days of road walking.

A few interesting mail boxes on the way

The next day was the official day that we decided not to follow Te Araroa as religiously as we have been and maybe even look ahead to amend the route to suit us.  We hadn't seen many Te Araroa signs lately but just outside of Bulls (a really lovely town which is apparently so proud of their name that even the police station displayed pictures with bulls in uniform???)  we got onto a track and off the road and began to follow the Te Araroa signs.  As a result we were faced with a landslide and a 30 metre drop and our only choice was to climb over a barbed wire fence, under an electric fence, into a field of Bulls before walking out onto a road which smelt of dead animal (clearly not the responsibility of Te Araroa) and onto the road we had left over an hour before, to find ourselves about 2 kms further down it - sometimes, it's just not worth the detour!

We basically picked blackberries all the way to Palmerston North where we had decided to spend a rest day as we had a few things on our "To Do" lists.

One thing on my list was to take my holy boots into the Hunting and Fishing store to see if they could exchange them, as a 2.5 months life span just wasn't much good to me.  It was a very surreal experience in the end as we happened to actually pass the shop on the way into town, still laden with packs.  I walked up to the counter, bent down and untied my shoe laces, put my still warm and sweaty, stinky boots on the counter and with a bit of a discussion from a couple of staff members I was soon tying up a new pair of clean, perfect, untouched boots and walking out of the store without so much of a transaction or a display of a receipt.  I wish you could do that with everything that wears out or breaks.  Yey for Hunting and Fishing!

And as it happens, you can do that with everything that wears out or breaks because later, we walked into Macpac, one of our sponsors whose customer service has always been brilliant and on this day went off the scale.  Our sleeping mats were deflating every night and despite searching for the source about 10 times with no luck, we took them back to the store to see if they could do anything, along with some merino leggings of Shalane's.  Well, by the time we left Jody and Paul at the Palmerston North branch, they had gone over and above their call of duty and then pretty much climbed a mountain for us.  Jody, after hearing about what we were doing (as we had to explain why they were sponsoring us) called the local newspaper and arranged for an interview with the journalist to try and promote our trek and raise awareness for Soloman Islands, she had given us a handful of expensive lunch bars (yummy Em's power bars that are gorgeous but out of our budget), offered to help us with absolutely anything else we waned and invited us around for dinner.  They both offered us somewhere to stay although we'd already checked into the local campsite.  They really were fantastic.  After Shalane having  not so much luck in Bivouac with HER holy boots (although now completely sorted and a very pleasing result) we finished our shopping for the day before enjoying a lovely meal and evening with Jody and her husband John. 

Our Newspaper article

I could have easily rolled over and gone back to bed the next day and it reminded me of how I felt every single day back at home.  We called into the university campus to get me some cash out of the ATM and it sent my mind thinking about what I want to do when I get home.  My head was already exploding from the events of the previous day, what with newspaper interviews and overwhelming kindness of Jody and Paul.  Now I walked along wondering if I'm still employable after so many years on the run from society or whether I should go to Uni and make my future happen rather than drift along on the clouds of fate and luck like I've been lucky enough to do so far in life.  And so, needless to say, I had a very thoughtful day and if anybody would like to employ me so that I can carry on drifting then that would be lovely.

We had a plan and it failed!  However, with a bit of Kiwi magic and a big butch logging worker with the understanding of the fairy godmother "she'll be 'right"!  We packed up early in the morning and headed to Stuart Road which was essentially an access road to the Burtton track - our next trail.  There had been a note on the Te Araroa website and signs further back to say that the road was closed Monday to Friday but we figured we'd arrive before they all started work and sneak on past.  What we didn't realise was that 7.50am was just not going to cut the mustard and these keen logging workers were there and chopping at 7am.  We plonked ourselves on the side of the cold and wet logging road, next to the high vis signs and tape saying "DANGER" and " DO NOT ENTER" and "ROAD CLOSED" - ok ok we get the point! We looked in the distance at the HUGE diggers and machines and the big sliding logs and crazy wire constructions.  A guy drove up on a big logging truck and did not look like he should be messed with.  He sped up to the "DANGER" tape, jumped out, untied it, jumped in, drove forward, jumped out, put the tape back and sped off!  If he'd at least said hello I would have ran over to him and taken the opportunity to ask if we can come through but he was Mr Unapproachable!  Shalane and I decided to wait it out.  We weren't really sure what we were waiting for but the alternative was a back track followed by a massive road walk that didn't even take us to where we really needed to go, so sitting in the ditch and waiting for something seemed like a good plan at the time. 

So we waited.....

Within half an hour Mr Unapproachable sped back up to us with his laden lorry and jumped out to untie the danger tape.  I wasn't letting him get away this time!  I ran over to him and asked if there was any chance of us walking through the destruction mayhem on their lunch break.  Well, Mr Unapproachable actually turned out to be Mr I won't hesitate to help you girls and he got onto the radio straight away before striking a deal with me that we can walk through if I re-tie the tape up when he drives past.  It sure was a good deal on our part.  So off we tottered up to the big scary digger where the gentle giant of a logging working stopped the whole scene so that we could pass by and he even gave us a running commentary on what they were doing and how on the way.  Result!

The Burtton track was awesome, despite it feeling a little bit eerie.  The track was named after Jim Burtton who lived and farmed out in the bush.  In 1941 he fell 8 metres onto some rocks in the river when a suspension bridge he had built collapsed.  He managed to take himself to his neighbours along this route with a broken leg and other injuries and it took him 12 hours.  Unfortunately, Jim later died in hospital of his injuries.  Luckily, it only took us 5 hours to walk it and no broken bones to report.  We camped that night at Tokomari Dam.  We set up tent on one of our most random camp spots, on the only patch of grass in the area., surrounded by baron logging roads.  Shalane had promised to call Sally that evening, who had insisted we'd have mobile reception from the Dam.  Sally was the owner of the Mahakika Outdoor Pursuits Centre and had acted as a food drop location for us.  When we contacted her she was extremely enthusiastic about some members of the community, including 2 guys who had built the track, coming to meet us and trek with us.  On arrival to the dam we realised we didn't have signal, but when one of the logging workers stopped for a chat on his way home from work he informed us that if we walked up the incredibly steep hill behind us in the rain, after our 8 hours of walking that day, we'd get signal.  We couldn't wait!  He zoomed off and we began to prepare ourselves for the climb.  Luckily, the nice man had realised the error of his ways (tee hee) and turned around to give one of us a ride to the top.  Shalane jumped at the chance (she really didn't have much choice).





Russel and Arlan



Everything got sorted, but as we had a 6am start time due to more logging work, we only had 2 guest trekkers arrive the next morning.  However, it turned out perfectly.  Sally kindly took some of our gear so Shalane and I trekked with day packs and Russel and Arlan were more than happy to trek at a fast pace.  Russel confessed to usually running the trail so as we flew along almost at a jog everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Even his son seemed to come round to the idea although he was actually there to pay off a debt of a recently purchased mobile phone (I presume it was obtained via the bank of mum and dad).  It was brilliant having 2 locals with us who knew the area and with Russel being an Orienteer, we were in safe hands. 

After the trail we headed back to the Outdoor Centre to be greeted with everything we could have wanted and more.  Before Shalane and I hit a town or a rest day we often dream of a flushing toilet or a sink to hand wash our stinking docks in.  Never did we imagine what was to follow....



Sally cooking up a storm

Sally had arranged for us to stay in the "top house" which basically meant we had our own 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house to ourselves.  We didn't just get a flushing toilet, we got 1 each!  We had use of washing machine and a choice of books that would turn anybody into a book worm.  After the guided tour we were told to wonder down to the main house for lunch.  Sally cooked us a beautiful lunch, gave us a bag of snacks and fruit, later cooked us a BBQ along with wine, we had use of a hot tub, swimming hole, a car, more food, lunch, steak for dinner followed by another BBQ and more wine.  As you can imagine, we didn't want to leave!  The best gift of all is that they even went trekking for us.  Ok this bit is a joke.  However, Sally, her husband John and daughter Emma Kate had planned on a couple of days tramping with some friends and the section they had chosen was part of the Te Araroa trail.  Shalane and I had opted for an alternative coastal route as we wanted to ensure we made the ferry in time.  There was also bad weather on it's way which would have meant the mountain option becoming un-walkable.  So, off Sally and her family went up the mountains where they met Cookie and Nicky, a British couple who are also trekking Te Araroa (http://www.nickyandcookie.com/) who had decided to brave the mountain range,  while we relaxed in the hot tub with wine and good food.  It was tough, really tough, but somebody had to do it!

The next few days were great, mainly because we were getting closer and closer to Wellington.  We skirted between beach and road and beach and road.  The sun was shining and we stopped one evening and enjoyed a kite surfing competition on the beach.  As we approached the city on our last day.  The clouds were low and our bags had suddenly become really heavy - Our bodies knew we were there.  We arrived at lunchtime, darted to the public toilet to try and make ourselves smell less and look human, before treating ourselves to lunch in the nearest cafe/bar.  We had made it!  North Island.....tick!

David Oliver, a Kiwi who we had been chasing down the entire north island from day 1 kindly offered us a place to stay in Wellington.  He came to meet us and took us back to his house for showers and a feed and has been playing host and tour guide during our days in Wellington.  The three of us plan to ferry over to the South Island on 22 January for The Adventure of a Lifetime:  Part 2.

The north island has been so incredible!  Day 1 seems so fresh in my head and I remember my sudden realisation at the end of that day that the trek was 5 whole months long.  When locals have asked us what we've loved about the trek, the answer has to be the people.  We're living an amazing life, the simple life, out of a tent, surrounded by nature, million dollar views and so many experiences that I have lost count but the people have made this trip so far.  This trek allows you to really see New Zealand and really get chatting to the locals and they have proved to be so kind and generous and interesting and entertaining.  We've met farmers, hunters, local business owners, kids, town folk, village folk, sheep and cows galore, live possums, dead possums, and many more.  But....all this time, the whole 3 months, all people have said to us is "wait until you see the south island".  I have a new backpack thanks to Macpac doing me a fantastic deal, we have new t-shirts that aren't crusty and we both have new boots!   So here we come south island!

PLEASE NOTE THAT WE WILL NOT BE ONLINE OR CONTACTABLE AS MUCH IN THE SOUTH ISLAND DUE TO A MORE ISOLATED ROUTE.
THERE ALSO PHOTO AND VIDEO UPDATES ON THIS BLOG.