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 :-)
06 March 2011
02 March 2011
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.
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.
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!
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 |
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!
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