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.