Day 103: Rocks Hut to Hacket Hut/Road End (20km*; 1850km total)

*includes 6km diversion off trail to road end. Not counted in total trail kilometers.

Audrey was up with the larks this morning! She quietly grabbed all her gear and went and got ready and breakfasted outside so as not to wake anyone. I went and joined here shortly before she was ready to head off. We wished each other good walk and she set off down the hill. I made breakfast outside as well, but soon enough Melissa and Simon were up. The sky was crystal blue and it was promising to be another gorgeous day!

I had planned to set out early-ish, but got chatting to Melissa and Simon and didn't head away until 9:30. This seems to be becoming a bit of a habit! Unfortunately there is no reception at the hut (despite its elevation) and I wasn't able to txt or ring my friend Richard, with whom I've arranged to meet somewhere along the track between Hacket Hut and the road end any time after 4pm. He's very kindly offered to pick me up and put me up for the night before dropping me off again tomorrow morning to walk back in to Hacket Hut and continue the trail. I'd said I'd call him from Rocks Hut to confirm, falsely assuming there'd be reception on the ridge. Oh well. I walked on and hoped for the best, checking my phone at intermittent high points to see if I could get a message out to say I was on schedule. Finally I did manage to get first a txt and then a call through. All systems are go!

It's supposed to be a 4-5hr walk to Brownings Hut, so I broke it up by stopping every 1.5hrs or so for a rest break and a snack. The walk along the ridge is nice with a few ups and downs and a section through one epic tree fall. Basically the entire forest on one side of the hill has been pretty much levelled, and we're talking big trees. It isn't recent however as young trees have begun growing up through the carnage and the trail is a well beaten route around the upended root-bowls and trunks. All the damage looks like it is around the same age however so at some point several years back there must have been one hell of a storm up here!

The Desolation of ...some massive storm. I must find out which!

After travelling along the ridge, popping out of the forest and crossing over low scrubby hillsides with some excellent view, the trail follows a long decent down to the hut. This passes the turn off to Roebuck Hut where TA used to go (I would find out later that Richard had been in touch with my Mum and told her I was at Rocks Hut, at which point she thought I'd got lost as it turns out that she was looking at an old map of the trail route, which bypasses Rocks Hut and instead goes from Middy to Roebuck...let it be noted that I did provide Mum with a digital copy of the UP-TO-DATE trail route maps, she just reverted to the slightly outdated (but still good!) book of the trail instead).

Lovely view on a lovely day

Looking back toward, Mt Richmond...?

After a steady decent and then a scramble down a section of track-come-dry-stream-bed you're at Brownings Hut. It's a nice hut (though very bright green!) set in a grassy clearing which today was bathed in blazing sunshine--so much so that I nearly got sunstroke sitting at the picnic table outside to have lunch! Unfortunately some idiot had left toilet paper scattered about. Fortunately it didn't look particularly soiled so I gathered it up as best I could and disposed of it down the bog before lathering my hands in hand sanitizer.

Brownings Hut

After a nice long lunch and perusal of the log book I set off. The sign says its three hours to Hacket Hut from Brownings but that's generous. After clambering down through massive boulders to a river bed you think it might take more, but the timing is fairly generous. I took the turn off a kilometer or so back from the hut to veer out to the road end.  I had a break at the junction where a second track leads down from Hacket Hut. I was running early and Richard and I had agreed to meet somewhere between here and the carpark, so there was no hurry to make it out to the road. I set off again at 3, thinking I could probably do the 4.7km to the road end by 4pm.

Yep, that's the track down from Brownings Hut coming
down there on the left hand side.

The track sidles alongside a river, passing under the eves of a pine plantation, crossing an ultramafic belt, past the turn off to an old titanium mine, and then back through pine country before crossing a very sturdy swing bridge. It then makes its way along a 4WD track to one final footbridge over the river to picnic area at the road end. I got there smack on 4pm and sat to have a snack while I waited for Richard. In ten minutes or so he arrived, pulling up in his zippy little blue car. I felt bad when I saw the walking poles in the back that I had deprived him of a walk, but I was pleased with myself for making good time...getting faster, getting fitter!

Richard astounded me by producing an amazing picnic afternoon tea including the choice of cold beer, iced coffee or iced chocolate (no contest there...I went with the chocolate), grapes, yoghurt and an apple. OMG hiker heaven! When the grapes and iced drinks were gone we bundled my gear into the back of the car and set off for Nelson. Over the course of the next couple of hours I was able to shower, plan the next section, take a trip to the supermarket to buy the 8-days' food I'd decided I wanted to take (2 days' spare), returned home, and was being treated to a home-cooked steak dinner. Incredible. I did the dishes while Richard beat his ailing washing machine into submission so I could wash my clothes. After I'd hung my clothes out to dry under the porch (protected from the forecast rain) Richard took me through some old family photos of he and his kids hiking in the Richmond Ranges. It's obviously a part of the world they all love very much, and after having just a taste of it myself I can see why.

For a trip down memory lane, and I suspect for my amusement, Richard also showed me some other photos of his family growing up. Richard's son was my first boss, through whom I met and am now friends with his family, and it was weird to see him as a young twenty-something...with long hair! What my ex-colleague Kristen would say if he could see! (Although if memory serves me right Kristen once showed us a photo of himself as a young man and he'd had a haircut very similar!). Richard also introduced me through photos to the beloved old family trekka jeep. It certainly looks like they have had many excellent adventures in the hills behind Nelson!

I crashed into bed at 10pm, I'm looking forward to this next section...it's supposed to be one of the highlights of the TA...although the forecast really doesn't look good. The thought of hiking in the rain over Mt Rintoul, about which the trail notes say that "particular care needs to be taken and trampers should be prepared to wait out adverse weather" is not all that appealing! Not to mention there probably won't be a view if it's raining! Fingers crossed the weather holds a few days more.
 

Day 102: Captain's Creek Hut to Rocks Hut (9.5km; 1836km total)

Another cold night. I went to bed with my hat on to save having to fish it out in the middle of the night. Jeff was keen: he went and camped down by the river!

I got up around 7:30; Slater was up by the time I came back from the loo. I had breakfast and packed up. I was moderately surprised the boys were making such a late start--Mt Richmond is no easy climb and is supposed to take a full day. Mind you they're fitter than me so will probably run up the mountain in an afternoon!

I set off at 9:25; the sign says it's 3hrs to Middy Creek Hut. I tried to do it in two, but it took two and a half. IT's a nice undulating walk along the riverbank, spoiled only by the numerous wasps! The forest was positively vibrating with their buzzing, and clouds of them were semi-settled on the trunks of the black mould beeches. There weren't many other insects, but after watching a wasp take on a weta five times its size when I was on the Queen Charlotte Track I'm not surprised. Curiously the wasps don't appear to want to attack each other. It's a pity, otherwise they could make like the orc packs in Cirith Ungol and all kill each other off!

After one scary swing bridge yesterday there were a few more today, over a river, then a stream, then another river. Finally, in another grassy clearing on the bank of the Pelorus River you come to Middy Creek Hut. It's similar to Captain's Creek Hut except it's dark red instead of green. I'd barely been there fifteen minutes and was halfway through reading the logbook when Jeff and Slater showed up. We all sat outside and had lunch, chatting about DOC and pest control, before moving onto other trails we'd walked. Jeff recommends doing the Larapinta Trail (223km trail near Alice Springs, Australia). Before we knew it and hour or so had gone by. I was still surprised when I set off again just before 1pm that the boys still didn't seem to be in any hurry. I wished them good walk and set off.

Scary Swing Bridge #...oh I'm losing count now!
But check out the colour of that water!

Beech forest along the Pelorus River

Middy Creek Hut

A short distance upriver the trail crosses  a swing bridge over the Pelorus River and then veers off up a ridge, slowly rising through open beech forest. After climbing steadily for a while the trail then undulates up and along, and then climbs again. While it was warm and humid down in the valley, it got cooler and drier on the way up...but I was still sweating buckets. I stopped every kilometer or two to hydrate and rest my legs, but I must slowly be getting fitter as my heart never pounded in my ears. Winning!

Gradual climb up out of the Pelorus Valley

The rocks change as you head up the ridge. First they become poxy and rotten and I was half thinking they looked baked when I came across a serpentinite dyke (for the non-geos: iron-magnesium rich rock intruded as a semi-molten sheet into another rock). Point to the rusty field geologist! The dyke wasn't very big and soon we were back in sedimentary rock territory, but then further up there was an abrupt vegetation change coincident with a change back to ultramafic (Fe-Mg rich again) rocks variably on the dunite-harzbergite-peridotite spectrum (but I couldn't tell you with a hand lens, or more likely a thin section!). Almost at once I felt like I was hiking through one of my field areas back in Tasmania. Since several NZ plants hearken back to Gondwana, even much of the vegetation was the same, or at least very similar, that is, woody, dry and scrubby.

Rocks! (ultramafic rocks no less)

As you near the top of the ridge there are some larger boulder outcrops. Then after crossing a small stream you come round the corner and there's an unexpectedly flash hut--Rocks Hut. While the hut is large and modern, I was even more surprised when I went to use the facilities and found flush toilets! Was the rock just too hard to dig a sizable hole in? I wondered. The hut was already occupied by a Canadian couple, Simon and Melissa, who are TA NoBos (north-bounders) and unbeknownst to me were asleep in the sunshine. My arrival woke them up and they were surprised to find they'd been asleep for a couple of hours, having arrived at 1pm--I arrived shortly after 3.

I had a wash and got changed and then hung out my tent and wrung out shirt etc. to dry. Melissa, Simon and I chatted, swapping stories about the trail and the people we've met along the way. Apparently they encountered a pair of SoBos who were taking ultralighting (hiking with minimal and very light-weight gear) to the extreme. Apparently they had a muesli bar each for breakfast, a wrap for lunch (with nothing in it) and shared a pasta snack for dinner. I had no idea how they'd stayed upright. Apparently they'd run into trouble though, having developed black lines on their finger nails and eventually needing to get medical treatment for calcium deficiency. Go figure.

Rocks Hut

While we were talking another solo hiker passed through; he signed the log book and set off again, spending several days exploring the Richmond Ranges. Then in the late afternoon another TA NoBo arrived--Audrey, from Scotland. It transpired that Audrey was from Dunblane and that today marks the 20th anniversary of the school massacre there. Understandably Audrey had a somber moment as she filled in the logbook, but after acknowledging the anniversary, cheerfully joined in our discussion. It turns out she has a fantastic idea for getting fresh vegetables on the trail: she buys a bag of lentils or split peas and soaks them overnight. Then she drains them and seals them in a resealable bag, rinsing them through with fresh water once a day. Within a day or two they sprouted and she gets to eat fresh sprouts for the next several days--yum!

I asked the NoBos about the major river crossings coming up: the Rangitata and the Rakaia. In the trail notes these are "hazard zones" and it is advised that people get a lift around or over them and don't attempt to ford them. That said, popular trail wisdom seems to be that most people have been able to ford the Rangitata without too much trouble...however "most people" are walking in pairs or small groups and I am a bit reluctant to take on the Rangitata solo. I can just see myself crossing 19 or 20 different channels (the river is after all braided) and then getting to one channel I simply cannot cross and having to go all the way back and hitch round anyway. Melissa and Simon forded the Rangitata and hitched around the Rakaia. Audrey on the other hand benefited from what has to be the most unlikely piece of trail magic I've yet heard of: she plane-hitched across. It turns out she spent the night in a hut where a recreational pilot also stayed after spending a day or two hiking. When he heard she needed to get a lift over the river he offered to fly her over, landing (apparently) on one of the rural airstrips on the other side. Incredible. (Sometimes other hikers' stories seem a bit far-fetched and part of me wonders if such stories, like plane-hitching and people basically starving themselves on the trail aren't told by some hikers for their own quiet amusement at stringing others along. Though fearful of seeming gullible, I figure in such instances it does me no harm whatsoever to believe them. And besides, it's Te Araroa and I really wouldn't be surprised by anything happening to someone at some point).

Today I was super-hungry. For lunch I'd had a salami and cheese wrap, then had a tuna wrap when I got to the hut, and now for dinner I was having a pasta snack fortified with salami, cheese and mashed potato (flakes), then a few spoonfuls of peanut butter for good measure. And I was still hungry. This doesn't bode well for the Richmond Ranges! Some people try and do the entire Richmond Ranges leg in one go, and notoriously they run out of food. I'm planning to walk out half way and resupply in Nelson, so I'm not really in any danger of running out, as I explained to Melissa and Simon when I offered them some choc-banana loaf (oh yeah, I had some of that today too). They couldn't quite believe I was willing to share it with them and turned down my offer at first, despite saying that banana cake was their favourite. But as greedy as I am I don't mind sharing food with people (having heaps for a 3-day stretch does help) and eventually they did have some with me.

Oh yes, the final piece of exciting news for the day: I saw my first bush robin of the trip. In fact I saw two! I remember when I was a pre-teen walking in the bush one day and a robin popping out and sitting on my boot and pecking at my shoe laces. I hope to have many more close encounters of the robin kind as I make my way south through the South Island forests!

Day 101: Pelorus Bridge to Captain's Creek Hut (22.5km; 1826.5km total)

Brrr! It was cold last night. So cold I woke up and had to fetch my woolly hat out of my clothes-bag-come-pillow. There was no dew on the outside of the tent, but my breath must have condensated in the cold as the underside of the fly was coated in a thick film of water. Who knew you gave off that much moisture in your sleep?!

I woke at 6, but went back to sleep and didn't get up until 7. My German cyclist neighbour was still asleep so I quietly got up and went to have breakfast before striking my tent and packing up, chatting to the UK guy every now and then as we crossed paths during our morning routines. It's funny really; after so much talking yesterday and today we seem to have entered that grey area between strangers and almost-friends that would exchange email etc. in order to keep in touch. Neither of us felt quite inclined to push things that far however (probably because we'd both forgotten each other's names and felt rude asking again) and we merely bid each other farewell and safe travels. This was reiterated with the American couple from last night; they showed an interest in reading my blog so Hello! if you're reading this. I hope you had a blast in NZ and had a safe trip home!

The Pelorus River

Setting out just before 9:30 I re-crossed the bridge and paused briefly to chat to a stop-go sign operator at the intersection with Mangatapu Rd. Fortunately whatever was going on did not effect my route for the day and off I went, reassured in the knowledge that it was a "long walk" up the road to the start of the track...

Mangatapu Rd follows the Pelorus River upstream, wending its way through rural farm properties that steadily get more remote. Several of these look like lovely lifestyle blocks and one in particular, bathing in sunshine on top of a low hillock and with a lovely view down the valley, struck me as being a place I would be very happy to call my own. Sure enough the farmer looked like a happy old chap when he waved to me as he drove past in his tractor.

A cool sculpture along Mangatapu Rd

Some way along the road I was passing another farmhouse when the resident dog took exception to my presence. It came barreling up to the fence barking its head off. I carried on, telling the dog to "shush", more because I felt like I should make some effort to quell the racket than because I thought the dog would listen, which it didn't. Then suddenly another dog came hurtling out of nowhere from the road behind me, went right up to the fence and barked back in Dog #1's face. Dog #1 got the message and let me walk on with only the occasional "woof!" for good measure. Meanwhile Dog #2, a friendly-looking sheep dog, jogged back onto the road, turned round to look at me for a moment, and then set off at an easy trot ahead. It wasn't long before it went round a corner and out of sight. I followed--not at an easy trot--and when I came round the corner, there was Dog #2 sniffing around the side of the road at the next corner. Shortly after I came in sight the dog turned and trotted off out of sight again. We continued in this way, with the dog waiting for me each time I fell behind and out of sight, and then carrying on ahead once I came into view. I only managed to draw level with it once when a particularly interesting ditch by the roadside occupied the dogs attention long enough for me to catch up.

Several kilometers later I'd come to accept the dog as a walking companion, and was feeling quite chuffed that the dog had chosen me this. But I was beginning to wonder when the thing would turn around and go home. Surely it wouldn't follow/lead me all the way into the Richmond Ranges?

Things came to a head when we passed another farmhouse that had a kenneled dog in the front yard. My companion saw this as an opportunity too good to miss and shot in the gate, sniffed around the yard for a bit, and then squatted right in front of the dog kennel and did an enormous poop on the farmer's front lawn. I was waiting for an irate farmer to come roaring out of the house (the hysterical barking of their own dog surely having alerted them to the fact that something was up), but apparently no one was home. A few carefree kicks of grass later my hiking companion trotted back out of the gate and went to set off along the road again. But I decided that enough was probably enough. Calling to the dog as it went to trot past me it stopped, a little suspiciously and let me catch its collar. I'd noticed that it had a yellow cattle's ear tag attached when I first saw it and I soon found out why. Written on the ear tag in faded permanent marker was a note: "My name is Missy. Please tell me firmly to GO HOME!". Huh, I guess I'm not that special after all. Apparently Missy follows people a lot. I gave her a pat and then said in a firm but not unkind voice "Missy, go home!". Well, the reaction! The poor thing leapt away from me as if I had struck her and stood back looking at me with a very sad and uncertain face (yes, dogs have faces). I felt bad--clearly she's had the instruction reinforced by being hit at some point--but knowing it was for the best I repeated the order. Deciding I was clearly as nasty as I sounded Missy turned tail and set off at a brisk trot back the way we had come, leaving me to head on up the road alone. Part of me couldn't help wishing she'd ignored me.

Somewhere along the way the road passed through a pine forest and I stopped for a break on a small grassy shoulder of the road that was one of the few patches of sun now that it was hemmed in by trees. While having lunch I watched as numerous bright golden specks fly back and forth across the road: bees shining like tiny beacons in the shafting sunlight. Far from being haphazard there were definite highways coming out of the forest as two major angles and disappearing into the trees on the opposite side. I hazarded a guess there were at least two hives, or alternately two rich pollen-collecting areas on the far side of the road. After lunch I sat for a bit, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the sounds of birds and crickets singing, and bees buzzing through the dandelions at my un-booted feet...and the slightly deeper buzz of a solitary wasp. (Thwump! Having heavy boots to hand comes in handy for doing your bit for pest control). One car drove past, but other than that the road was deserted.

Pelorus River - just gorgeous

The sun tracked overhead as I was having my break and when the last of grass was thrown into shadow I laced up my boots and set off again. The road continues to wind up the valley and has occasional views of the beautiful Pelorus River below. I wandered along in a bit of a daydream until at last the road plunged into native bush and I figured I must be getting close to the start of the track. Finally, around a corner I came to a carpark (read "broad clearing near the end of the road"), where the car that had passed me during my break was now parked. A runner was stretching next to the car, apparently having just returned from a run along the track. I wasn't encouraged at first by his assessment of it being "horrible", but felt more hopeful when he added "but it would be a good walk". Not far away the walking track begins, dropping down into bush and following the road for a short distance (which continues on to the gate of the last farm) before veering off and following the river upstream. While the track is not difficult, I could see why someone running would have trouble; placing your feet properly among roots and round holes at speed would be difficult, but at a walking pace wasn't bad.

3.5km through mixed beech and podocarp forest brings you to the Emerald Pool, where a large bend in the clear blue-green river offers a nice spot for a swim. There's a picnic table among the trees, and a short rough track leads down to the river. I left my gear at the table and went for a swim. While I'd intended to have a decent paddle, the water was so cold I barely managed to get in and under and gasp before having to paddle back to shore and clamber up and out onto the boulder bank. I lay in the sun for half an hour or so to dry, by which time the sandflies had found me and I beat a hasty retreat back to the picnic table. Shortly before 3:30 and after a quick afternoon tea I set off again. From the Emerald Pool its 5.5km to the hut and supposedly takes 4hrs. I thought I might be able to do it in 2.

Emerald Pool

From the pool its a steady climb up but not so steep that I had to stop. Before I knew it I was up and had begun the sidle around the hillside. The track had gotten more difficult by this stage but still wasn't too bad. After 4km I was getting tired and a bit stumbly so stopped for another break, just before the track begins zig-zagging down the hill. Even with the rest I still managed to nearly twist both ankles on the way down, so I slowed right down and dawdled the rest of the way up-down-up-down to the hut.

Captain's Creek Hut

Captain's Creek Hut is just off the trail, down in a flat grassy clearing on the river bank. It was a gorgeous spot in gorgeous weather and I had it all to myself. The hut itself was nice and tidy and I was encouraged by the fact that the logbook had no mention of rats for several months. There were several other amusing entries, including one about a dog hanging around the hut; I wondered if it had been Missy. TA hikers were well represented in the book. This is the first hut heading south in the South Island so its a bit of a landmark for those who are only doing the South Island leg of Te Araroa, as it is either their first or last hut depending on their direction. Consequently several people write some poignant things. One person squished a load of sandflies, suggesting they could be used as nutritional supplements. My contribution was not very poignant or practical, but ran thus:

"There once was a hiker who went for swim,

Then she rinsed out her socks on a whim.

She sat down to dry, got eaten alive,

And now she has slap marks all over her skin!"

Epilogue: several tiny fish came to investigate

and enjoyed eating the sandflies post-slap

A...er...practical?...contribution to the logbook

While I had the hut to myself upon arrival, just as I was having dinner I heard voices and popped my head out the door to see two guys striding down the track. They turned out to be two Americans, Jeff and Slater, out here doing seasonal work in the vineyards. Slater returns to the States to guide white-water rafting trips in their summer; I couldn't help thinking he would have been a handy companion on the Wanganui River (not that that had what any pro would call white-water!). The two of them were a nice but funny pair. They'd had night out last night and so set out late today, severely hungover. They're planning to head up Mt Richmond tomorrow, while I will be following TA, hopefully as far as Rocks Hut.

Day 100: Havelock to Pelorus Bridge (21km; 1801km total)

6am. Up, shower, dressed, tea, 4 slices of toast and a final pack later I was ready when Duncan came to pick me up at 7. Promising to come for a proper visit another time I thanked Stewart and Hazel very much for having me and hugged them goodbye.

It was a short drive to Marlborough girls where I switched into a second shuttle driven by a guy named Andy who was doing a regular run taking girls through to Nelson for a course. Fortunately for me Havelock is on the way and I would be slotting in and being dropped off at the hall to resume the trail. While we waited to depart I met the school principal who had come to see the girls off. She was interested in my exploits and asked after my blog, so hello if you're reading this! (Sorry it's taken me so long to type up!).

Before long we were motoring out of Blenheim. I sat up front with Andy and chatted to him; he's lived in Blenheim 46 years and consequently remembers Blenheim "before the grapes". For my part I couldn't even imagine Blenheim as an apple orchard town minus the great swathes of vineyards that it has today!

Andy dropped me at the Havelock Hall steps. Before setting off I sat and strapped my feet (there was to be some road walking this morning) and also second-breakfasted on all the food that couldn't fit in my pack (two peaches and a muffin).

One thing I've been wanting to get and keep forgetting to buy is superglue, so I tried the Four Square on the way out of town, but they only had 2-packs and directed me to the tackle shop across the street--success! Finally I set off down the shoulder of SH6, heading west!

Fortunately it's not far before TA leaves the highway and follows the gravel Hoiere Rd that is much less trafficked (you only have to dodge the odd logging truck and farm ute) and crosses the river in two bridges, one either side of the valley. I stopped for a snack at the intersection with Kaiune Bay Rd beyond bridge No. 2. The road here has kilometre markers so setting off once again I was able to count down my progress as I walked.

The road undulates along the edge of the Pelorous River valley, through farmland and flanking forestry blocks on the neighbouring hills (alive at one point with the sound of active tree felling). At some point a car loaded with women and backpacks came toward me and stopped to chat in thick European (Scandanavian?) accents. They were heading out to the eastern end of the road to do a short multi-day walk and wished me best of luck with TA. 

I stopped for another break in a paddock that had an old stile leading over the fence and an old trail marker on a fence post. There was nowhere on the narrow shoulder to stop so taking the stile and marker as a sign that I *might* not be trespassing I went and sat in the shade under some large kahikatea-like trees to munch a museli bar and slurp a juicy orange. Not 100% sure I was allowed to be where I was however I kept an eye out for the farmer, and wrapped up my break pretty quickly when I heard a quadbike approaching in the neighbouring paddock.

A few kilometres down the road, during which timed I daydreamed up another scene for my story, I arrived at Dalton's Bridge. There was an old campervan parked here beside the road looking lived in but showing no sign of life. I strode past and up and over the stile onto Dalton's track in the paddock beyond (I use the term "onto" loosely as it is little more than a marked route along the edge of a series of paddocks lining the river bank...still, my gratitude to the landowners; without this track we'd be walking SH6 all the way to Pelorus Bridge!).

Happily the paddocks, though housing cattle were not puggy and I was able to make good time. I stopped for lunch under a large kahikatea, sitting on the small patch of ground that seemed the clearest of cow manure. Still every now and then a breeze whipped up and blew specks of dried God-knows-exactly-what into and over all my stuff. I was careful to keep all my food bags closed and secreted away in my pack after the first gust...

Setting off again I traversed paddock after paddock, mostly grass, but some with crops of cattle feed (turnips etc). Near the western end the route cuts down and up short sections of beaten track across small gullies and I stopped in the shade of one to have afternoon tea. If it sounds like in having a lot of breaks today you'd be right. I have a lot normally anyway, but having just resupplied my pack is on the heavy side and breaks serve two purposes: to rest, and to lighten the load by eating more food!

The last kilometre of track before reaching Pelorus Bridge is a beautiful native bush walk along broad forest pathway which forms part of a loop walk accessible from the road. The only thing that spoiled it was a large feral ginger cat that had been hunting in the undergrowth until it caught sight of me and fled. I was torn between wanting a trap to put a stop to it feasting on native birds, and being sorry it wasn't the cuddly sort of cat I could take up in my arms and scratch its ears. In that moment I really missed my cat.

At the bridge I left TA and crossed the river to the cafe and campground in the other side. I've only just resupplied so the good lining the cabinets must have looked genuinely scrumptious; I settled on a can of Fresh Up, a caramel slice 'bite' and an ice cream. Outside a young girl was gearing up for an epic tantrum and eventually was whisked away by the group of adults who hastily finished their afternoon tea. It was not much past 3pm and I could've gone further today, but here was a nice place to stay and so I stayed put.

The campground office is adjacent to the main cafe and I sat at a table outside waiting for the British guy at 

the window to finish checking in. He took forever and I wondered if he was trying to negotiate a rate. Seeing an opportunity (perhaps Billy and Mario have rubbed off on me a little) I offered to share a campsite with him with my small tent and split the cost, but it turns out the $15 charge is per tent, not per campsite so I went back to my caramel slice to wait.

When the window was free I got up to check in again but was only half way through when the phone rang. I indicated the lady at the counter should answer and sat down nearby to wait again when it transpired that it might be a long conversation. From what I overheard it sounded like a reporter or some other interested party was asking the lady her opinion on people free camping in the area. She answered candidly enough but eventually flashed me a shy smile as she closed the window to prevent me from hearing what was said; I assume she launched into some kind of tirade about 'entrepreneurial' TA hikers trying to wiggle out of paying any kind of fees. I sympathise with campground owners, and with hikers (being one myself!). It's a delicate and often difficult balance between giving people their due financial credit for the facilities they provide and having enough money to keep doing that to everyone you encounter for six months. Thank goodness for the people who have taken me in on the trail or else I'd have run out of money eons ago! Really, thank you!!

Finally I was able to check in and given directions to where the 'walkers' camp. I gathered my things and set off down the gravel road through native bush to the campground. It's a lovely spot, but unfortunately all the nice riverside (and sunny) sites are reserved for car-campers. I found the sunniest spot I could in the 'walker' area, trying to anticipate where the sun will be to maximise tent exposure. Afterall, even when dry, a sunny tent us so much nicer than a shady one.

I had a shower (ok, it's $15 but the facilities ARE good), then retired to the kitchen/dining area to try and do some blogging. I wasn't surprised that not many TAers names were in the logbook, but a few were.

Over dinner I got chatting to the guy from the UK and a couple from Moab in Utah, USA. Mum and I drove through there on our trip to the States last year and I was interested to learn the guy was an artist based in Moab. I wondered if I'd seen his work while I was there! His wife was here for a work conference--hence their whirlwind trip to NZ--but was also taking the opportunity to be a shoe tester for a outdoor footwear manufacturer. Rather than wearing each pair of shoes separately she had been hiking wearing one of each, one kind on one foot, and the mate from the other pair on the other. Fortunately the shoes were quite similar so she wasn't experiencing any trouble from differing foot support etc., but she definitely had a preference, for the look of one pair and the comfort and wear of the other. Isn't that always the way? Conversely, the guy from the UK was using severance pay from his position as a consultant in business efficiency to come out to explore New Zealand. I was glad to hear they were all having a great time here. We kept chatting after dinner, over a communal desert offering of chocolate, cookies and wine.

Eventually it was time to hit the hay. I resolved to have another shower in the morning...it's back to huts tomorrow and the shower is too good not to make the most if it!

Day 99: Zero Day 16

With all my clothes in the wash and hanging out I dry Hazel kindly lent me some clothes to sleep in and wear the next morning. I slept til 8, relishing a big bed and pillows. You wouldn't think it had only been four nights since I'd been in one!

I got up to find Hazel busy in the kitchen making preparations for dinner; veges were chopped, meat was prepared, everything! All the breakfast things were laid out for me as well. I felt awfully as if I was putting her to extra trouble, but seeing as it was all done thought the best way to make all her efforts worthwhile was to utilise their fruits to their fullest extent, so I had toast and cereal and fruit and tea for breakfast.

Happily my clothes had mostly dried overnight and after breakfast I was able to dress and we all set off in the car to explore Blenheim. Stewart drives a shuttle part time so he knows all the roads intimately. He took us out down a long stretch of road lined with loads of new subdivisions (niether Hazel or I could believe how many) down to a park at Te base of the hills from which numerous walking and mountain bike tracks set out. I however am having a zero today so we stayed in the car and drove on, all the way out to a honey shop in the middle of nowhere. Bees were buzzing through the air as we crossed the carpark and went into the small shop. We made a bee-line (pun intended) for the tasting stand where, I was surprised to find, my favourite honey was the cheapest, and hat for the record, I'm not a fan of manuka honey. Give me the sweet, clear and nectary honey every time! I guess that means I'm no honey connoisseur. Oh well.

While we were there a local guy came in and filled up a pail from the handle-pull honey dispensers on the wall. Hazel settled for a small jar of her favourite and I bought nothing at all...fortunately saving both weight and money! While Hazel was paying the phone rang, and then a couple of guys showed up that had 'potential foreign export customer' written all over them and the poor woman behind the counter--who had the air of a PA rather than a shop girl--was obviously torn between serving local customers and giving the potential business clients the welcome they no doubt expected. I pitied her a bit. Happily the phone call was easily dealt with, we didn't dawdle about paying, and she was then free to take the clients through to see the boss without leaving them to long. The demands of a growing small business...

After the honey shop we checked out the aerospace museum (a place to go back to when I've got more willing museum feet) before heading back into town. We went to the Railway Station Cafe for lunch; it's a combined French-Kiwi affair offering traditional French food with a Kiwi twist. The staff all had French accents and as you might expect, the food was delicious! The patrons seemed to fall into two categories: locals out for a nice get-together lunch (the minority) and backpackers of all shapes and ages but each toting one or more large backpacks. A few more were milking around outside and I hazarded a guess we were in the middle of intercity coach and coastal train arrival and departure times.

After lunch we went shopping for groceries and I swung by the chemist to try and get some cream for my ankles. They've been coming out in red blotchy hives for several days (ever since I last strapped my feet) and don't seem to be getting any better. I'm hoping it's simply the glue I'm allergic to has spread through my socks and that washing them now will solve the problem, but just in case I thought I'd try getting something to put on them as well. I've already exhausted my limited supply of antihistamines just trying to get to sleep without scratching the skin off my feet, which have been dangling out the end of my sleeping bag for days as the heat inside only makes the itching worse. Fortunately the lady at the chemist was able to recommend a cream to put on them. I'm dubious but I hope it works! I also restocked my supply of Aquatabs; a lot of people on the trail are getting by without treating their water but personally I think treating water on trail is a definite case of it's better to be safe than sorry!

Back home we had a cup of tea and Uncle Stewart had a nap while I tried in vain to catch up on some blogging--it just gets away on you so fast! Even using Stewart's computer to type it proved to be a slow process as I still can't type up my journal verbatim but have to process the notes as they jog my memory and figure out what an earth to write. I hope you're appreciating this Mum ;)

Around 5 o'clock the dinner guests began to arrive. As well as Judy and Duncan, their daughter Caitlyn, and their crazy boxer Belle, friends of Stewart and Hazel's, Ngaire and Graeme also came. They are super-keen hikers and were extremely interested in the trail, where it goes and my experience of it. They've walked a lot of the South Island sections before and were able to get me suitably eager to walk them myself. I'm a little apprehensive about the next few sections as parts of them are supposed to be quite difficult, but we'll see how we go--one step at a time!

Hazel out did herself with corned beef and veges for dinner and I gladly went back for seconds even though I don't normally like corned beef. Then while Hazel was distracted with conversation Caitlyn and I muscled in to so the dishes; I'd tried the night before but Hazel wouldn't let me. Caitlin's a senior at high school and it turns out loves travelling and last year went on a council-sponsored trip to Japan. Naturally then we had loads of non-trail stuff to talk about as we washed and dried, shortly under Hazel's discerning gaze.

After an evening of great conversation all round everyone headed home or to bed. I packed up my things as best I could to help streamline the morning and finally flopped into bed around 10 o'clock. Mmmm bed...I'm going to miss you! It's going to be worth it though--bring on the Pelorus River!

Day 98: Davies Bay to Havelock (19km; 1783km total)

I slept well from midnight onwards (after the possums had scarpered) and woke moderately refreshed. I struck the tent and then made breakfast, using my sandal to thwack any wasps that came with in range in between mouthfuls of porridge.

I set off just after 9am on the short 3km to Anakiwa. I was soon passed by a mountain biker who stopped to chat. His name was Redge, a retired accountant from Whangamata who, after several minutes of walking, pronounced that he liked wailing better than mountain biking as you got to see more. I chuckled. I like walking for that reason too...plus it's easier...and you can go more places on foot than with a bike...and it hurts less when you fall...usually...

We chatted all the way to Anakiwa and the end if the track, having to stop and step aside every now and then as around a dozen runners came through behind us who were obviously running some kind of race. At the jetty we heard the hollers of another race taking place as the Spirit of New Zealand students raced each other in groups to the shore, furiously paddling rubber dinghys. One group had their paddles well coordinated and were streets ahead of the rest.

Redge said farewell as he rode off to check out of his backpackers by the 10am deadline. I hope it was flexible as it was nigh on 10 already.

From the end of the QCT TA follows the waterfront through Anakiwa and joins the Link Walkway--an intermittent footpath which when completed will link Picton and Anakiwa with Havelock. I stopped on a bench to apply sunscreen, before setting off along the path that follows the road but happily gives you an equally easy to traverse alternative to walking along it.

From the turnoff to Linkwater you have to walk the road shoulder. I stopped for a break in a Totalspan "Undercover Kids" bus shelter before setting off again. I passed two guys painting the roof of a house. They called out to see if I wanted a job. After first hollering back that I'm not good with heights I decided I could spare an hour if they needed help so went to offer. They laughed at my having called their bluff and said they'd be right so I continued on.

Not far down the road a laden cyclist stopped to chat to me. Her name was Kay and she was one of 230 cyclists who set out from Cape Reinga over three days who aim to do the cycling equivalent of TA over the course of a month. My mind boggled at the thought of covering that distance in that amount of time...but then I'm no cyclist. We wished each other well and she cycled on. I continued at a rather slower pace, managing to spook some cattle who refused to walk through the underpass beneath the road until I'd walked all the way across it. Further on I passed a school and a civil defence hall. The school had a small peach tree in the carpark straining under the weight of numerous peaches, with several more falling into the gutter...so I relieved it of a couple of its burdens (trail magic!). There's also a public loo at the civil defence hall, although rather unfortunately there's also a sign saying "no camping". Happily for me it was only late morning and I pushed on to the Linkwater service station to have lunch.

While I pondered the age of the sausage roll I was buying a guy at the counter appeared to be trying to sell a handful of dream catchers to the lady for her to put I her shop of touristy nick-knacks. She served me mid-negotiation, and there were two dream-catchers remaining on the counter when I went in a second time to buy a ice cream for desert. The salesman had driven off in a box-laden can while I slurped a coke outside at a picnic table, leaving me pondering the unknown life of a travelling dream catcher salesman.

After lunch I set off again, following the road down to Pelorus Sound. The sun was shining and it was a very pretty sight, looking out over the estuary-like arm of the sound toward the larger sound and hills beyond. I stopped to don sunscreen and hat.

As I came into a more populated area my immediate problem became water. TA hikes up and over a 400m high hill to get to Havelock (rather than going round the headland), and in the hot sunny weather I didn't have enough water to manage it. I eyed houses as I passed them...one in particular looked empty AND had a hose tap in plain view, just a scant few metres across a lawn from the road. But I couldn't quite bring myself to trespass and hoped a better option would present itself before the climb.

It didn't, so at the last house before the climb I stopped to ask for water. No one was home and I could find a hose so I tried the neighbours. The builder said it would be alright for me to fill up from the hose, but as I did so the owner appeared and kindly offered to fill my bottle from his newly installed UV filtered kitchen water. His tone indicated that this was where his generosity would end but I was supremely grateful all the same--the tap water had smelt strangely sulphurous!

Laden with wonderfully cool, fresh water once again I set off up the track over the hill. I soon got distracted by a nice, well benched track leading off to one side. The TA notes say nothing about this track so I followed it for a bit, but it soon became apparent that it was heading around the headland rather than over it. With no guarantee that it would go all the way to Havelock it was more kilometres than I was willing to risk so I doubled back and followed the TA-prescribed route up and over the headland via a steep and eroded transmission line service track. It was hot and hard work and I stopped twice on the way up to sit in the scant shade cast by overgrown gorse bushes. There was the odd view on the way up but nothing from the top (maybe if you climb all the way up but I wasn't in the mood). Havelock comes into view on the way down the other side but here the track is steep, eroded AND overgrown with gorse in places so my attention became fairly fixed on just getting down. I stopped at the bottom to massage my feet back to life, curious to know whether the signposted link pathway I discovered there connected up with the side track I'd first explored. Send TA that way next year if it does guys! The up and over route is not fun.

From the base of the hill it was a short 2km walk to Havelock (past another peach tree whose fruits were going to waste...minus two), and another 1km to the steps of the community hall where I was to meet Uncle Stewart at 5. It was only 4:30 so I had intended to make a B-line for a bakery or cafe, but the bakery was shut and across the road the cafe was closed permanently due to fire damage. Not quite believing it (surely someone on the TA grapevine would have mentioned there's no cafe in Havelock? In fact I was sure I'd been told there was one!) I flicked on my phone and sure enough, it turns out the cafe only burnt down last week. Poor buggers. I ceased feeling miffed that I had not heard about the closure of the Havelock Cafe. (And for those of you whose minds work that way, yes there was a pub but I didn't fancy it).

I killed time reading about the achievements of Lord Rutherford in a small park adjacent to the hall. Although he wasn't born in Havelock he did spend a large part of his youth here and is consequently a treasured son of the district.

Shortly before 5 I returned to the steps to wait and not long after a 4WD pulled up and out popped a dark-haired woman I vaguely recognised. "Jenny?" she asked.

When I replied "that's me" she responded "Gosh you look like Averyl!". Yep, that's definitely me. The woman was Judith, Stewart's daughter and my cousin, whom I haven't seen since her wedding when I was about 12. It turns out Uncle Stewart is a bit under the weather today so asked if Jude could pick me up. Thanks guys!

In the car we caught up on about fifteen years of various family news and I told her all about the trail. Before too long we pulled up outside Stewart and Hazel's house. Jude said farewell, with the assurance she'd be back with her family for dinner the following night to hear more.

Stewart and Hazel bravely hugged me the smelly hiker before I was ushered inside and shown to the spare room, two of them actually--one for me to sleep in and another for my gear if I needed it! Then Hazel showed me to that little piece of heaven that is a shower and I disappeared into it, emerging from the bathroom twenty minutes later (probably more) back to my old clean and slightly knackered self once again.

We had a brief catch up over dinner (Mmm...devilled sausages and vege--fresh vege!) before Stewart and their son Craig headed off to band practice. I busied myself with washing and putting my tent up to more thoroughly dry. We had a time keeping it upright in the light wind in the yard, and eventually Hazel told me to move it into Stewart's study where it was warm and dry, and not windy. Lucky it's a small tent!

It wasn't long before Stewart came home  and we all had a cup of tea and a chat. I've given up trying to befriend their shy boxer dog, who runs and hides under the dining room table every time she sees me (apparently I'm not to take this personally as she does it with everyone). I'm determined however, and will change tactics to the "I'm indifferent to you. You're barely even there" approach and see if I can't win her over that way. Not a good approach with people generally, but it can be just the ticket with shy dogs.

It's rapidly become clear that Hazel thinks I'm nuts doing the trail, but like most other people who think so she isn't going to try and talk me out of it. Now that I think about it no one has tried to do that. Curious...you'd almost expect someone would. Maybe I just know lots of cool people who are happy to support all my crazy schemes. Yay people! Or they all know I'm stubborn and don't want to waist their energy. Wise people!

It wasn't long before I crashed into bed, with grateful thanks to Stewart and Hazel for having me and the assurance that I would be better company tomorrow. I'm going to have a day off. Not sure what we'll do yet but we'll just take it as it comes :)

Day 97: Black Rock to Davies Bay (22km; 1764km total)

So the sleeping in the shelter to keep the tent dry idea worked well, unfortunately it didn't prove very conducive to actual sleeping. Even with my thick sleeping matt the hard wooden floor was uncomfortably hard, and it made the Nat squeak more that usual. Also, for someone reason I got paranoid that a possum was going to get bailed up in the shelter with me and wreak havoc on my tent, so I woke up at every single rustle...and with possums and wekas around the night was full of rustles. But the nail in the sleeping coffin was that after two days of sweating profusely and not washing I felt distinctly sticky and grimy...maybe I'm not walking hard or fast enough to be tired enough but I just can't sleep feeling that icky. Finally at 3am I gave up, went to pee and had a wet wipe wash while I was at it. Still not great but better. Sometime after 4am I fell asleep.

Then woke at 7...but didn't manage to haul myself out of bed til 7:45.

I had a leisurely breakfast, but Sven didn't seem in any hurry either, and we finally set off at 9:30.

Yesterday we traversed the highest point on the QCT, but today seemed harder as it involved not one but two not insignificant and fairly steep climbs and then descents to saddles. The first if these was a 2hr walk up and over through farmland scrub to the saddle above Cowshed Bay we we emerged onto the road next to a WWII monument. We chatted to two ladies from the Netherlands and snacked as it threatened to drizzle. Busting for the loo I scarpered off down the 200m descent to the campsite in the bay and back to use the facilities, only to come upon a vault loo scarcely fifty metres up the next hill. Dammit. They could gave marked it! 'Oh well, I got to use one that flushes AND had soap and hot water to wash my hands', I thought doggedly.

Though it had threatened to rain, by the time we made it to the top of the climb it was clearing. There's a number of benches but they were already occupied so Sven and I sat on the ground and  chatted to the Dutch pair a little more (they had beaten us up there). After a while a departing couple left a bench free and Sven and I quickly moved in to claim it as our lunch spot. We had a nice view eastward over the sound, although the cloud cover meant the blue of the water and green of the hills was not as vibrant as it had been on our first day.

Over lunch I phoned my Uncle Stewart. I've been promising to visit him for months and now I'll be walking within 45minures drive of him and want to see if he's free and able to have me come and stay for a day once I finish the track. We'd previously planned this loosely, but now it looks like I'll be finished earlier than planned so thought I better check that was OK. Happily it is, and even better, Uncle Stewart should be able to come and pick me up from Havelock tomorrow which will save me having to hitch. Phew! One less elevated heart rate journey for the trip.

I also tried to book accommodation in Anakiwa for tonight but there was nothing available. Hmmm, ok, so I'll just stay at DOCs Davies Bay Campsite instead. It's cheaper and only adds on an extra 3km to tomorrow's walk to Havelock.

After lunch Sven and I set off again, along the ridge and down. Passing a side track to a lookout Sven headed up and I sat to wait (he'd waited for me afterall) and spent the time catching up on my journal.  I'd barely finished one entry when he was back, saying the view was worth it, but similar to others along the ridge.

Twenty minutes later we passed a side trail to Mistletoe Bay and went our separate ways. Sven is camping there tonight and walking out to catch the water taxi from Anakiwa tomorrow. With nine more kilometres to go I still had some walking to do. Wishing him all the best with his remaining time in New Zealand and plans to train as an electrical engineer in Germany thereafter I said farewell. Something tells me he won't miss my company. I think I start to get on people's nerves after two or three days...sorry world, I guess.

I continued on down the main track to a saddle and back up and round the headland on the other side. It's a steady but gentle climb all the way up and round and down again. I stopped for a break on a large flat-topped boulder and was drawn to a nearby sign indicating potable water. I eyed the rusty tap doubtfully and sure enough no water was to be had. No matter, I had some left from Black Rocks still and fortunately it seemed to be devoid of obvious organisms.

From Puroa Point I spotted a three-masted square-rigger in the bay that looked familiar. I hazarded a guess that it was the Spirit of New Zealand and spent the next few kilometres reminiscing about my own 10-day stint aboard the vessel when I was in high school (the trip was awesome but being scared of heights and not able to support my own weight at the time I slipped from the rigging during a climb to the top of the mast and back and was left dangling in my harness several metres above the deck. I was the only student unfortunate enough to do this that trip and I'm sure it's what led to me being awarded the Jeweler's Award for Personal Growth at the end of the trip...and if it wasn't the fall it was probably the constant stream of profanity I let loose as I climbed back up to my anchor point and then back down to the deck. Who knew you could get a certificate for muttering "You bastard! I can't believe you beat me you complete bastard!", over and over again?!).

I saw no other walkers that afternoon apart from one young couple on a late ramble up from Anakiwa to the lookout at the point. From the point the track descends down into bush, leaves the farmland behind and is a lovely walk as you pass beneath various tall native trees, catching glimpses of the water below growing slowly but surely nearer. Soon you can make out ripples on it's surface, and before too long the track flattens out and your on the edge of a small bay. The sounds of boats are strangely magnified in the sound so that someone boating way off shore sounds like they're coming in to moor in the bay. It's a phenomenon that extends inland to the Davies Bay Campsite where, even a hundred metres up a short side trail I more than once thought I was about to get company. But I never did. I had the campsite to myself...well, me and the 40 million wasps that also call it home. Honestly the ground was alive with them buzzing amongst the grass every couple of feet. Signs indicated Fibronil poison had gone up in bait stations that very week but it didn't appear to have had much of an effect yet.

Leaving the wasps to settle at dusk I went to the toilet block to have a sponge bath in the sink. The women's sink was a little blocked so I used the men's, which also gave me a bit more cover should anyone happen along the path. Clean, and in my fresher non-walking clothes I returned to the half-hexagon shaped shelter to make dinner, pitching my tent in an alcove under some trees while I waited for the pasta to soak (saves gas). (There's something about pitching out on the open grass in a deserted campground that doesn't really appeal to me. It does however gavecthe advantage of not allowing a possum to sit on a branch right above you cackling, as I would later discover...).

Tonight would have been a good night to do some blogging but I didn't feel like it. Instead I settled down early to go to sleep. This was only interrupted twice: once by the affore mentioned possum in the tree above, and later a by an astonishingly noisy encounter between this and another possum somewhere on the other side of the campground. One could grow to loathe possums...if you didn't merely dislike them on principle already!

Day 96: Endeavour Inlet to Black Rock (27km; 1742km total)

Sven was up with the larks, rattling pots and going in and out of the wee cabin shelter. I eventually got up as well and joined him over breakfast. Liz emerged even later still, after Sven had left and while I was striking my tent. In her defence she doesn't have far to go today.  I on the other hand want to hike 27km to Black Rock Campsite and had intended on getting an early start to do so...oh well...best laid plans...

Early morning runners past the gate brought the two little dogs, Ruby and Chico, yapping down from the house. Happily once they'd ever so vocally seen the runners off they--Ruby especially--were happy to quietly contort themselves into odd shapes if you scratched them in just the right spot.

Another friend I made at Miner's Camp was a bold little fantail who quickly learned that if he came and twittered at me on the way to the loo, when I was done I would prop the door open for him while I washed my hands at the adjacent sink. This was his opportunity to swoop in and feast on the numerous little black flies that had collected in the cubicle. I listened to the tap-tap--tap I his beak on the wall while I brushed my teeth, happy in the knowledge that each yap was another fly meeting it's doom, without even a squashed body to show for it! On first opening the day before the number of flies in the cubicle had been extremely off-putting for human would-be users of the loo, but by the time I left this morning my fantail friend and I had managed to reduce this down to a much less disgust-inducing half dozen or so. Huzzah for interspecies cooperation!

Wishing Liz all the best for the rest of her time in NZ I finally set off around 9:25. Much of the morning proved to be an easy walk, sidling along around the inlet about twenty metres above the waterline. The early morning sunshine was becoming intermittent so on reaching a junction with the track to Camp Bay I stopped for a very early lunch to make the most of the last of the sunshine to try and dry my tent. A runner came past and told me off for covering the DOC signs, but I assured her I would remove fly etc from where they hung should anyone else happen along. No one did until I was already making moves to leave and the signs had already been relieved of clothesline duty.

From the junction the track climbs to the top of the ridge, and stays up there until descending back to water level near the end of the QCT. Consequently all salubrious accommodation options must be reached by diverting off the main track and down into various bays. Happily I'm doing the TA and require nothing more than a basic DOC campsite (not even that really) of which there are three on the QCT itself.

At the Kenepuru Saddle (accessible by road) I found Sven having a break and chatting to the French guy, who after spending the night in their car had still not managed to find his hiking companion and was resolved to wait at the car until he showed up. Poor sod. There are definite pluses to hiking solo--the only one who can get lost is yourself!

I joined them for a short break before Sven and I set off together, bound for the Bay of Many Coves Campsite. The trail from the saddle was a bit more challenging, with more ups and downs, and also crosses private land so rather than forest much of the track is scrubby or bordered by pine trees. We passed several walkers coming the other way, including one lady being given a lift on an ATV. She looked at me slightly concerned as she past, just as Sveb and I had laboured to the top of a small hill. I told her not to worry and that the sweat, which was streaming down my face, was a permanent feature. Glamourous hiker I am not, but for my part I was privately pleased that although I was sweating I wasn't breathing particularly hard. Must be getting fitter!

Sven snd I stopped for an unintentionally long break at a picnic table blessed with both a view and a nearby loo. We'd already been stopped a while when two of the people passing us caught sight of my maps and one said "you look like TAers!". In a few minutes we'd introduced ourselves to Katie, a Kiwi from Auckland, and Flo, a crazy-fit German guy--NoBo's one day away from finishing their TA adventure. They had left a lot of their gear at the hostel to do the QCT, and seem to have been semi-ultra lighting anyway, so merely had day packs and were difficult to pick as TAers--with the exception if the fact that they were young, fit and doing the QCT in half the time it takes most other people. Katie seemed keen to get on but Flo was a chatty guy, keen to share lots of advice for what lay ahead for me in the South Island. He found it all very straight forward so I wasn't sure how beneficial his advice might be to someone like me, who will likely find several sections something if a challenge!

Eventually we each went our opposite ways, them North and Sven and I South. I was feeling a little bad as I inadvertently put an emphasis on "I" when I said "I am" in response to Flo's question "Are you guys doing the TA?". From his reaction Sven hadn't missed this slip, but I swear it was from an innate desire for accuracy rather than any wish to be a trail snob, but I suppose if misinterpreted it amounts to the same thing. Oh dear. I tried to redeem my snobby ways by later commenting that although Sven wasn't doing TA he sounded as though he'd walked most of it already as multiple short trips.

We got to Bay of Coves Campdite just before 4pm. I was completely out of water and dehydrated and so made topping up water from the rain tank my first priority. As I cracked two Aquatabs into the bottle to let it treat for the required half hour a couple of white specks caught my eye. The water itself was a little yellow in colour and the white specks in my bottle were moving...not just moving, swimming, darting about. As I looked closer it turned out I had bottled my own little aqua zoo. As someone who was incredibly thirsty I was unimpressed and sat watching, waiting for the things to die as half an hour slowly ticked by. In the meantime Sven and I chatted and snacked. I ate the last if the fruit and shard some brownie with Sven. Unfortunately half an hour passed and one or two of the little organisms were still alive. Unable to wait any longer I fished out my Lifestraw from my pack (something I chucked in on a whim while I was home at Christmas) and put it through it's first use. It seemed to work surprisingly well and in a minute I'd slurped down over a litre. Sven, minus a Lifestraw, contented himself with drinking from his treated bottle. His zoo hadn't seemed to be as populous as mine.

At 4:45 we set off again, knowing we were pushing it slightly to get to Black Rock Campsite before it started getting dark, but Bay of Coves wasn't the most inviting campsite in the world. As Sven signed the book, for us both it turned out, I couldn't help hoping the water at Black Rock would be better.

The next climb along the track wasn't as bad as I had expected and was over before I knew it (being hydrated again probably helped). The track then sidles along the ridge for a bit before descending gently to a but if a saddle and then climbing gently back up to Black Rock. There are lovely views of the sounds on either side along the way.

We made it to camp at around 7:20. Sven pitched his wet tent in one of the designated tent spots, while I--seeing as we were the only people there--erected mine inside the roofed shelter. Being freestanding my tent doesn't need to be pegged out to stand up, and I figured there was no point in getting a wet tent again if I didn't have to. Plus the shelter buffered the brisk breeze, and had a wonderful view right up the sound to Picton. Sven and I made dinner at a picnic table and then shifted to the shelter to sit and watch the light fade and the twinkling lights of Picton and Shakespeare Bay begin to glow in the dusk. A cruise ship must have come in to dock sometime that afternoon, and every hour or two a ferry came or went. It was a beautiful slowly changing scene and we both attempted to take photos, Sven's SLR doing a much better job of it than my beloved point-and-shoot. We talked about Tolkien's Middle Earth (turns out Sven is also a fan) as it once again grew dark, and eventually we each went off to bed. A weka was foraging around most of the evening and as I was just getting to sleep a possum cackled nearby. I growled back, hoping that would be enough to keep it at bay, if not for the night then at least a little while as I got to sleep!

Day 95: Ship Cove to Endeavour Inlet (15km; 1715km total)

I had set my alarm for 7:30, but woke up at 6:30 when the first wave of people got up. I went back to sleep and when my alarm went off at 7:30 it still felt far too early to be getting up...

After a shower I had a hearty helping of toast from the free breakfast Atlantis provide. For a free brekky the selection wasn't bad: with toast you can have marmite, marmalade, jam, as well as muesli or porridge, with cinnamon and sugar (premixed). While I suspect the cinnamon and sugar mix is meant to go with the porridge, I know from past experience that it also goes well on buttered toast, and consequently had four slices with four different toppings. A Stein at a buffet, what can I say?

At 8:30 I headed down to the dock and to the Beahcomber office to confirm and pay for my water taxi booking ($50). They were quite busy with people from a cruise ship in town, but I soon had my little ticket to ride. A pair of backpacks sitting by the door looked familiar and I wondered whether Billy and Mario would be joining me on the boat ride to the start of the track in Ship Cove...

I chatted to a couple of cruiseship passengers while waiting to board. They seemed a bit suspicious of me and my massive backpack, but then I got the strong impression that they were categorically NOT hiking types. Once on board I found a place out of the way in a corner of the bridge to stow my pack and then sat on the nearby side bench as the other passengers filled up the toes of individual seats. At the last minute Billy and Mario scooted aboard and joined me on my bench. As the boat set off we caught up on each other's exerperiences of walking through Wellington. I was amused but not surprised to hear their plan for sneaking aboard the ferry hadn't worked and that they'd been forced to pay the pedestrian fare like everyone else for their crossing yesterday morning.

After catching up Mario offered me some chocolate (oh, go on then...thanks Mario!) and then settled down for a nap. It turns out they'd been up since 5am trying to score a cheaper boat ride with some local fishermen but had had no luck. I couldn't help feeling the extra sleep would have been worth the extra money.

As the boat jetted out into the sound I turned my attention to the view--it was an absolutely stunning morning! The green hills bounded above and below by gorgeous blue sky and water was glorious, and as we shot along listening to the intermittent commentary from the captain, I couldn't help feeling like it was a wonderful way to start the South Island leg of Te Araroa.

Early on we saw a fur seal, and later we nosed into a rocky promontory to take a slightly closer look at a small colony of rare king shags. Swaths of forest either side of the sound have numerous skeletal trees that while not exactly pretty, are the result of DOC's attempts to kill off all the invasive wildling pine trees. (Apparently after hiking out to poison all the trees proved too labour intensive DOC experimented with shooting trees from the air with poison-laced bullets for a while before finally settling on a guy dangling from the helicopter and spraying each tree as being the most time, cost and lethally effective method).

After briefly bouncing off the larger swell coming in from Cook Strait (which gave one or two passengers a bit of a fright) we picked up some early morning visitors to an island in the sound, then motored round to dock at the jetty in Ship Cove.

Everyone went ashore to look around for half an hour but Billy, Mario and I took our packs to one of the large waka-shaped polished wooden picnic tables to get ourselves ready to walk. None of us were in any hurry and I shared some brownie with the boys (Kyla had insisted I take the rest with me--thanks Kyla!). After a snack I went and had a look around the monument to Captain Cook before going to get changed into my walking clothes. You know it's a popular tourist spot when they've gone to the trouble of putting flush loos in the middle of nowhere!

Back at the picnic table the wekas were out and about, cautiously trying to get a look at our gear and any edible morsels it might contain. One if them spent several minutes eying up the once again napping Mario's sandals.

We all took our time getting ready, meanwhile two backpack-bearing Frenchmen showed up: Sebastian and Antoine, fresh off the boat and about to start their own TA adventure by doing the South Island SoBo. We chatted briefly before all wishing each other good walk and "see you on the trail". Mario slept, Billy went for a swim, and after a very slow repack I set off up the track, soon to be passed and left in the dust by the fit French duo. I did manage to catch a mountain biker who was forced to push his bike up the first zig-zag up the 250m high hill, and we walked and chatted for a bit until the change in gradient enabled him to ride off once again. I was stoked that I also managed to pass a bunch of other people sporting day packs on the way up, but they were all nearly twice my age so I probably shouldn't crow too loudly. Still, I must be getting some of my trail fitness back or else I wouldn't be able to pass anyone at all!

The entire Queen Charlotte Track (QCT) is  wide enough and well maintained enough to travel by quadbike--for a TAer it's practically a boardwalk. TAers don't make up the majority of walkers however, which instead seem to be retirees (or near-retirees) doing an assisted multi-day walk. They stay at swanky accomodation en route and have the bulk of their gear ferried from accommodation to accommodation by water taxi. A pleasant but no doubt expensive way of tramping...one I couldn't help but envy a little, but only a little. You come to take a certain amount of pride in carrying everything you need with you when doing the TA. And it gives the assisted walkers something to goggle and exclaim at slog their way!

The first part of the QCT traverses a narrow bottleneck of land between the mainland and a small peninsula making the peninsula an ideal spot for a predator-free zone to be established and maintained. As such the track across the bottle neck is lined with traps of one sort or another every 3-4 metres. And while the intensive trapping may look unsightly, sure enough, there do seem to be a lot more native birds along this section of track than the rest of it.

The lookout at the top of the first hill has a nice view over the azure sound. I stopped for a drinks break (the only problem with fine weather is you sweat like nothing else) and got talking to a couple from Washington DC. After first admiring the fact that I'd got up the hill with my big pack the guy then shook my had when he found out I'd carried it all the way from Cape Reinga and intended to carry it all the way to Bluff. It's a funny gesture but I always get warm fuzzies when people do it, which (it still surprises me) they do now and again. I guess I've met so many people who are also doing the trail that I no longer feel like I'm doing anything that amazing, but I'm reminded I'm one of a select few hundred when people take my hand in a 'hats off to you' kind of way. It's nice.

I helped the German mountain biker take a photo of himself with his bike, and then had an extended rest break as he told me and the couple from DC all about the Black Forest where he is from. Meanwhile a lot of the people I'd passed on the way up went by, but I soon caught most of them again on the way down, including an American quartet of retirees, composed of a couple from Florida who are doing the track for a second time, this time with friends, a couple from Hawaii. Of the Hawaiian couple the woman was very excited to be doing something that had been on her "bucket list" for several years, and that her husband had brought her over to New Zealand to do...'even if it kills him' I thought as I watched him come labouring along behind her. Hats off to you mate! (I mentally shook his hand).

Further along the trail another top of a lesser climb also accumulated a few people stopping for breaks. One was a French guy carrying an enormous camping stove (of the car camping sort) strapped to his pack who had become separated from his German hiking companion and was waiting hopefully for him to show up. There was also a sextet of Western Australians who were very interested in the trail and the fact that I was doing it alone ("your poor mother!"). 

Moving on again I passed a few people who had stopped for lunch I soon did the same, polishing off the last of the bread and cream cheese while sitting on the ground beside the trail  where a small gap in the trees afforded a nice view across the sound. Of course about 300m up the trail I came across a picnic table...oh well.

Most people walking that afternoon kept crossing paths at one lookout or another and so loose conversation was maintained between several different groups throughout the day. One guy, a very enthusiastic young German who was far more knowledgable than me about the TA's route through the South Island kept pace with me for a while and we chatted about the trail. Unfortunately I had little to contribute as most of the sections I haven't done yet!

Back down at near-water level the track sidles round into Endeavour Inlet and starts having side tracks leading this way and that to people's holiday houses. I passed a group of Australians as we entered this more settled area, but they weren't far behind me once we got to Furneaux Lodge--their up-market accommodation for the night. I would be moving on to a much cheaper (free?) campsite at the head of the inlet, but I wasn't about to walk past a reasonably priced cold drink if I could get one. A quick enquiry revealed that yes the restaurant and bar were open and I soon found a nice table out on the verandah to sit down and enjoy a cold ginger beer. There were a few other people about including the couple from DC, and soon the Western Australians and the Anerican quartet. One couple I hadn't seen on the track kept themselves to themselves and seemed to have spent their afternoon relaxing and reading at a table on the verandah; I wondered if they might be the owners of the impressively large and well-kitted out launch that was anchored in the bay (the thing had a small helicopter on the back for crying out loud!).

After savouring my ginger beer, downing an entire pitcher of water and catching up on my journal, I wished those I had spoken to that day good day and set off along the track the short distance to the head of the inlet.

Here on the grass outside a gate hung with a sign saying "Miner's Camp" I found the enthusiastic German, Sven, and the unexpectedly solo-Frenchman (I never discovered his name) who still had not managed to locate his hiking companion. Sven informed me that Miner's Camp was $10 a night, to pay up at the house, while his conflicted companion eventually decided to push on up the trail further in search of his friend. I wished him luck and headed in through the gate, past and opportunistic large shelved box offering various edible supplies for sale (2-minute noodles etc).

Through the gate, down a path, past a vault loo, across a small orchard and up another path I came to the house, to be met by a elderly chap and two tiny yappy dogs that fortunately were happy to stop yapping in favour of a petting. $10 duely paid I was invited to make myself at home down by the little cabin at one end of the orchard. Sven was already in residence, along with another hiker, an American named Liz, out for her first overnight hike in NZ. We all said hello and got to chatting while Sven and I pitched tents and we all moved on to making dinner. We also explored the fruit trees, having been invited to help ourselves. The paddock next to us was crammed with kiwifruit trees but unfortunately the few fruits were not ripe. I did manage to pocket a few pears and apples though.

Liz, Sven and I stayed up chatting long into the evening as the light faded and we waged the stars come out over our heads; the Milky Way never fails to impress when you see it away from terrestrial light pollution. The three of us talked about all sorts, hiking, travelling, venemous creatures and the military. I couldn't help but laugh when Sven pointed out the apparent irony of the NZ airforce having the Kiwi--a flightless bird--as its emblem (though no doubt some would say that far from being ironic it is nowadays somewhat apt...).

Finally, around 10:30 we all went to bed. It had been a great first day on the South Island leg of the TA!