Day 16: Waikare to Helena Bay (24km; 288km total)

What a dew last night! Woke up and for the first time there was condensation inside the tent (NB: tends to happen if it's a cold and still night, then even the ventilation flaps don't really work...). Got up and everything outside was saturated: tent fly, grass, you name it. The orher's weren't up so I packed up my sleeping bag etc and got out my breakfast things. I've got a horrible feeling I might have kept them up last night as I'm pretty certain I was snoring like an ogre, at least for the first few hours. My feet weren't that sore when I went to bed but as I tried to go to sleep I got shooting pains in my right foot and both feet started aching. The only way I could make it stop (short of popping some Panadol) was to massage my feet then roll onto my stomach and dangle my feet in the air. Not comfortable but I can sleep like that, and apparently I did...and I'm pretty sure I snored so loud I woke myself up. Foot pains had subside so I flipped back into my back-side-side routine and (I think) slept the rest of the night snore-free.

Joanne was first up and we made porridge breakfast sitting in the school bus shelter across the road--the only place to sit that was dry! Scott soon joined us, breakfasting on muesli bars; apparently two weeks in he's sick of porridge.

The others were quicker at packing down than me and set off ahead, eager to make a toilet stop somewhere in the nearby bush. I split struck the tent in a vain attempt to keep the innards as dry as possible. I set off about twenty minutes behind them, stopping to chat to some school kids who by now were in the shelter waiting for the bus. They were suitably impressed at the walk I was undertaking, wanting to know how I managed to fit 6 months' worth of food in my pack :)

I caught up with Scott and Joanne not far down the Maori road that links up with a trail that cross-crosses Papakauri Stream about a dozen times before emerging at the Russell Forest Shelter. We hopelessly lost the slightly overgrown trail early on and ended up bush-whacking back down to the stream. Poor Scott was wearing jandals in an attempt to keep his boots dry, but the bush-whack reduced him to bare feet--not fun! Poor Scott was not a happy man. Not far up the stream we found the trail again and we're able to follow it a ways before it threatened to become a narrow up and down path in the same vein as the Omahuta River Track. Deciding to cut my losses and save my knees for better things I jumped down into the stream and waded on. Scott and Joanne kept to the track.

In truth I thought I'd meet up with them round the next loop in the river where I expected the track to cross the stream again...only it didn't. Bend after bend I sloshed on, looking vaguely for the flash of an orange triangle marking the track making a crossing. When I found one I tried to discern from the banks and track whether Scott and Joanne had gone passed already or not. I couldn't be sure, but I thought someone had been through fairly recently, and with hiker poles. With nothing else to do I kept on going, following the trail where I found it, but I think often missing some of the exits from the stream and ending up spending more time in the stream than necessary. It little mattered...the stream flows almost right past the shelter so even if I followed it the whole way and ignored the track I couldn't really get lost unless I overshot (cue GPS "find waypoint" function to let you know when you arrive at a location). I managed to get up the stream without striking anything too deep, at least not deep enough to wet my gear (if I was a bloke there'd be one or two bits I might have unintentionally hit a couple of high notes).

Being a stream-slosher from way back I made fairly good time, arriving at the shelter at 11:30, fairly convinced Scott and Joanne were ahead of me. Just in case I sat in the shelter and wrung out my socks, then decided to let my feet air while I enjoyed an early lunch: the last of the tortilla and the gifted orange (best orange ever!). Nothing and nobody came past so after half an hour or so I put on dry socks, laced up my boots and headed on up the hill, following an old 4WD track. I'm happy to say I've developed this sort of low gear slog that gets me up all but very steep (or really long) hills without having to stop and rest or puff too hard ('is this me getting fitter?' I ask myself...). Having done Disney and musical songs to death, today's soundtrack was, off and on, Maori songs from my Kapahaka days; seemed appropriate since we'd traversed a Maori road--plus the beat for most of them fits my slow walking pace.

At the top of the ridge a sharp corner was perfectly oriented to catch the noon sun so I gladly threw down my pack and hauled out my gear to dry it out. I crudely put up my tent in two parts and laid out my wet socks. Then I sat in the grass and poured over my map, read some trail notes and, once my feet were dry, redressed my blisters (getting wet feet always makes the tape come off).

After about half an hour the tent was dry and my socks noticeably less damp. I packed everything up again and headed off down the track, by now convinced that after over an hour's delay in total with no sign of anyone that Scott & Joanne must be ahead.

The track through Russell Forest comes out onto Papakauri Rd, and then it's a road walk for as far as you want to go for the rest of the day. We were all attempting to reach Helena Bay, with no real idea of where we might camp, but knowing that there must be somewhere. I felt a new confidence about asking people after our success from yesterday.

My confidence waned somewhat as I kept walking, my feet kept hurting and Helena Bay only got very slowly nearer. I'd get to distinctive bends in the road or intersections and check the map and think 'what?! Surely I've come further than that since I last checked?!'. It was tough, the last 3km down into Helena Bay brutal. I began eyeing up grassy pull-ins on the side if the road, but none were large enough to fit and hide me and my tent from view so I pushed on. Nearing my goal I passed a very flash set of fenced paddocks with a nice little stream flowing through, a house at the top of the hill...and an intercom on the gate. Also a sign saying "24 hr video surveillance". I eyed the flat grass with proximal fresh water source greedily and mused that the intercom meant I could ask if I could pitch my tent in their paddock without having to walk all the way up to the house, and that the surveillance meant I'd probably be safe camping there despite being in full view if the road. If it had been getting dark I might have pressed that intercom button, but as it was I thought a place like that probably didn't want a scruffy hiker camped out in their front paddock and kept trudging.

Finally around 6:30 I staggered into Helena Bay and heard a wonderful sound--someone mowing their lawn. This meant I could ask about camping without having to actually go in to someone's house and knock on the door (which despite my new found confidence still feels awkward). Just as I approached an Asian guy on an expedition road bike (fully laden) came passed and stopped to chat. He too was looking for somewhere to camp but didn't seem inclined to ask the nearby man mowing his lawn. I had no intention of walking all the way out to the beach to find a 'no camping' sign, and more than half hoped the elderly gentleman mowing might let me camp on his lawn where I might feel a little less exposed and alone. The cyclist carried on off in the direction from which I'd just come and I approached the man mowing. His smile suggested he knew exactly what I was after. As politely as I could I asked if he knew of anywhere nearby it would be ok and safe to camp and to my immediate relief he said those magic words "my lawn". I gratefully accepted and offered to finish mowing his lawns for him. He laughed and said he'd do it, but would I like a shower? And actually, they have a spare room so just come on in and you can have a bed for the night. Joy overflowing I followed him up to the house where he said "come meet my wife" before hollering "Colleen! I've found another one!".

Turns out Barry and Colleen get lots of hikers passing by as the trail follows the road right in front if their house...but I'm the lucky first they've taken in for the night. In a flash Colleen took me to the spare room (complete with granddaughter's soft toy bunny on the bed) and fixed me up with a towel and showed me to the shower. It's only been two days since I'd had one, but there's nothing (and I mean NOTHING) like hot water down your back and splashing over your feet at the end of a long day's tramping. I changed into my cleanest clothes and joined then in the lounge where they were watching TV. My feet were killing me so I tried massaging them as discretely as possible...promoting Barry to ask if I had tinea! Gross! Not yet Barry, not yet.

I was wondering how to ask if I could use a pot to boil some pasta when Colleen asked if left over home made Irish stew on toast would be alright for dinner...heaven!! I offered to help but she said no, she'd grab me if she needed me, so I went to chat to Barry in the living room and become acquainted with their two adorable twin cats, Squeaky and Pinky. Squeaky is half the size of her already small brother and VERY cuddly (to the point of claws when she gets excited). She's also moulting so my navy shorts soon had a new veneer if fine white fur. It was lovely to have cat cuddles again, but sitting their in a families living room with them and their pets did make me more than a little homesick...

Soon enough Barry asked if I wanted to do any washing and I gladly took the opportunity for a free clothes wash (even after a day my walking clothes reek!).

It turns out Barry is a retired train driver who was also seriously into rugby back in his day and travelled the world playing for different NZ representative teams. He and Colleen are both retired but still have the travel bug and so make sure they go away on holiday at least a couple of times a year. (I hope that'll be me in a few decades time!).

One amazingly yummy dinner and some washed clothes later I was tucked up in bed, scarcely sble to believe my luck. The satisfying thought of 'so this is trail magic' flitted through my mind as my head hit the pillow and I passed out, utterly exhausted, but warm and clean and dry and very well fed.

Day 15: Paihia to Waikare (20 km; 264 km total)

Slept quite well in the 4-person cubby. One if the German girl's alarm went off about 6:30...and again about 15 mins later. She didn't get up but I did, had a quick shower and then carted all my stuff down to the common area of undercover seating to pack without disturbing anybody. I spoke to the kayak operator yesterday and got prices for kayaking up Waikare Inlet. Had hoped Joanne and Scott might be keen to come too but nope, this would be a solo expedition...or would have been.

I stopped by a Mexican cafe that was just nearly open, in search of breakfast. I had a hankering for pancakes but the cafe was on the way to the kayak place and so I enjoyed baked eggs in salsa with jalapeños for brekky ('huevos rancheros'). Super tasty!

Got to the kayak place to find the guy was no longer keen to do a kayak pick-up run for just one kayak. There's was a chance two other people might be keen so while we both waited to hear back from then I went to the chemist to stock up on plasters and cotton wool as my hiker's wool has nearly run out and blisters look to be an ongoing problem. Despite saying he'd get back to me within an hour I didn't hear back from Dan the kayak man until past 11:30--by which time I'd already re packed my things into walking configuration and was about to depart. Taking it as a lesson in 'those who hesitate miss out' (if I'd said yes the day before I could have had a nice day out on the water today!) I saddled up and trudged out of Paihia on foot.

It's a nice 7km coast walk round the bays south to Opua where I stopped and had a late lunch (tortilla wraps with cheese slice, beer stick, red capsicum and the last of the avocado and tomato...heavy but fresh treats I picked up in Kerikeri). From Opua it's a $1 ferry rude across the inlet to Okiato.

Despite my late lunch my mood hadn't really lifted as the prospect of a further 22 km walk lay ahead to get me to Waikare by the end of the day as planned. The official trail goes by water taxi...but with no one else making the run that day I'd have to pay the full $100 myself for a boat trip just for me. (Kayaking would have been $135, but I figured that was a day out on the water and an experience as much as a mere transport option...plus I'd still be getting to Waikare under my own steam).

Landing at Okiato at 2:30pm there was no chance of me walking to Waikare by nightfall and I was anxious about finding a spot to camp along the way...enter Lynn, a friendly ticket clipper on the ferry who had just finished her shift and was about to drive home, and offered me a lift part if the way to get me started. I gratefully accepted, reasoning with myself that it wasn't cheating as the 'official trail' utilises the water taxi...I was just using a more conventional (and free!) land taxi/lift. After a 5 minute drive Lynn dropped me at the bridge on Paroa Bay Road. I thanked her very much and sighed at the short trip in a car that had saved me at least two hours of walking. With 10km to Waikare the day suddenly seemed much more doable and I set out with much more elevated spirits.

It's a road walk the entire way, asphalt for  3km then gravel along Waikare Rd. Waikare Rd was surprisingly busy. One guy stopped to offer me a lift, but I declined thinking I could handle this walk.  2km later I was wishing I'd taken up the offer...it was all subbing for a boat rude anyway right?!

2km out from Waikare my feet were killing me and I'd slowed to a trudge when another guy stopped to offer me a lift. He was on his way back from a long weekend away fishing and pays diving with his kids and said I was welcome to ride along in the small boat he was towing. With it gone 5:30, I accepted, as I still had no idea where I was going to camp when I got to Waikare. There's the number for a woman named Sheryl in the trail notes who can provide advice to hikers, but I'd tried ringing multiple times testerday and today with no answer.

So off we went, me rattling along the road in a little boat--was fun! Just over the small hill the guy (I never did catch his name) yelled back at me "is that you're mate?" and I looked up to see Scott flagging us down. He seemed surprised to see me pop out of the boat being towed by a driver he'd completely independently flagged down for help. Apparently Joanne had gone in ahead and had missed the turnoff (about 150m back up the road), and he therefore wanted the driver (ok he needs a name...Helpful Diver Guy) to tell Josnne to turn around and come back when he passed her (lucky Scott flagged us down or I'd have missed it too!). We both got out GPSs to check and 5 mins later Helpful Diver Guy returned and this time Joanne popped out of the boat. We all thanked him very much before setting off along the trail together.

I'm a bit in awe of Scott and Joanne. Granted they set out nearly 4 hrs ahead of me but they walked the entire way (excepting necessary ferry ride at Opua) and clocked up over 30km in a day--immense effort! Not sure I could have done it, even with an early start and sufficient motivation!

The guys were out of water so we stopped at a farm house to ask for some and the kind lady filled our water bottles and gave us fresh oranges off her tree. I stuffed mine in my pack to save it for later. We asked her if there was anywhere we could camp for the night and she suggested Philippa's place "just up the road, past the bridge". We set off, all going slowly and poor Jo and Scott understandably a little stumbly. The bridge proved a little too far for us and we stopped at a house that had flat grass outside between it's paddock and the road, where a woman was working in the yard. The woman's name was Tina and she was a little bemused but happy for us to camp for a night (she offered us one of her paddocks but with cows in one and calves in the other we didn't want to risk damaging our tents). So we pitched by the road, to the surprise of several locals as they drove by. We sat down to tea and dinner together, discussing trail experiences, people we'd met and comparing gear (generic but interesting trail talk) before all retiring to bed. I felt bad for not having walked the whole way like they did, but I'm glad I did it--I have camp buddies for the first time this trip :)

Day 14: Kerikeri to Paihia (20km; 244km total

Yesterday it rained all day and it was nice sitting inside watching the rain drip off the verandah and be glad that I didn't have to be out in it. Today it was blazing sunshine and so there was absolutely no excuse not to hit the trail.

I set out from the Stone Store feeling that, despite having re-supplied and now being full to the gunnels with food, my pack didn't feel as heavy as I'd expected. Marching up the first hill around the headland seemed...easy. Part of me wondered if this was just early morning energy, but as the day progressed and the pack weight started to bite into my shoulders and my feet and legs began to tire, they still didn't feel as tired as I remembered. It seems a rest day did the trick and I am now rid of latent fatigue...at least for the time being.

The trail today lead out of Kerikeri, over a bridge across a mangrove-lined estuary and then was mostly a gravel road walk through the Waitangi Forest. I didn't get off to the best of starts as I took a wrong turn (that curiously was still marked by trail markers...so an understandable mistake I think) and ended up on completely the wrong road out of Kerikeri. My options were to continue with long unintentional detour of to back track...I chose to back track and had to go almost right back to the start to find the right trail. This made for an extra 2km or and wasted a good hour.

More than a little grumpy about this I made off round the headland on the right road and my mood recovered as I made good progress. It's still a bit intimidating sharing a road with cars, but I had to laugh when a van load of guys came up from behind yelling "good on ya dude!" as they drove past...and their look of surprise when they suddenly realised I was a dudette. Oh well, so I look like a guy...might be a good thing.

Talking to people I've encountered they seem to either be shocked that as a woman I would do this trek on my own, or alternatively they know of other women who have done it. Either way their response has usually been an encouraging "good on you!". One guy was recently involved in the search and rescue for a solo female hiker (she was pulled off Te Werahi beach the day before I started, suffering from dehydration and hypothermia). We discussed the fact that while a lot of information is disseminated about hiker safety from the elements, there's very little about personal safety of solo hikers from other people. Apparently it's something the emergency services have discussed, specifically in reference to solo female hikers on remote parts of Te Araroa. There isn't really much advice out there on this front. The best I could do for my own (and more importantly my mother's) piece of mind was to take a self defence course before embarking, which was at the same time useful and really good fun!

Anyway, back on the trail I spent the day traversing the pine forest, which is closed to cars but which is a haven for mountain bikers, as well as dirt bikers. One mountain biker stopped to chat while I was having a long lunch break beside the road. Apparently a friend of his son's is planning to do the trail once he finishes high school. Not a bad ambition for a teenager I think.

After lunch it was on and out of the forest, past the cairn and plaque commissioned in 1995 when then Prime Minister Jim Bolger opened this, the first official part of the trail (the entire trail was not officially opened until 2011). I performed the hiker rite of picking a fern frond and sticking it into the cairn before heading on past Mount Bledisloe and down to the Waitangi Treaty Grounds. There's some large construction going up next to the road here, but it was getting late and I didn't stop to find out what.

Over Waitangi Bridge and I'd made it to Paihia...pity the hostel is up the other end of town! I sat by the water for a bit to check where exactly the hostel was, rest my feet, and soak in the atmosphere of families and tourists soaking up the late afternoon sun on the beach. The reggae beats of Kiwi chillax music emenated from more than one house and car along the waterfront.  All in all the scene was like a Kiwi summer postcard brought to life.

On to the hostel and I checked into my 4-bed dorm, which only had one other person in it, but was full before the night was out. I walked straight into the shower  and then tried to bury my smelly hiking clothes (even after only one day!!) under my other gear so as not to offend my fellow inmates in the confined space.

Clean and refreshed I wandered off down  the street in search of dinner. I had a pizza craving and was able to satisfy it at at upstairs restaurant called Ruffino, where the pizzas are big and the service super-friendly (the woman behind the counter addresses everyone as "Beautiful"). I splashed out on a gelato on the way home before being the first in the dorm to crash into bed.

Day 13: Zero Day 1

For the uninitiated a Zero Day is one where you don't walk anywhere (at least, not on the trail). Turns out I literally didn't walk anywhere. I had planned to walk to Kemp House and the Stone Store, and to walk to the supermarket to resupply.  None of that happened as it's taken most of the day to catch up on my blog (I hope y'all appreciate it!). I have also managed to suss out the next leg of the trip and done washing. It's been good though. Woodlands is a wonderful place to spend a day relaxing, and Wendi and Tony are wonderful hosts. I just finished putting away another plate of delicious food: this time lamb shanks and roast veg, plus more of that delectable salad.

I'll have to resupply with trail rations first thing tomorrow before checking out of my room. One more night in sanctuary and then its off to Paihia!

Day 12: Puketi to Kerikeri (25km; 223km total)

Exhaustion is good for something...once I finally got to sleep I slept quite well. My watch is running slow so although I woke up in daylight and thought I'd overslept and had a late start, but I checked on the GPS as I set off and I was underway by 9am.  Heading out of the campsite I passed a group of Germans who had car-camped but their readied packs suggested they were heading out for a day or two's hiking. We exchanged good mornings and I couldn't help thinking their pristine packs were quite the contrast to my scratched and mud-covered kit.

Noodles worked quite well yesterday but I don't have any more of those...so I had another pasta snack for breakfast. These are getting a bit old now. I made a resolve to try and find a steak in Kerikeri...

Today's section of trail follows gravel roads for a few kilometers before striking out over rolling farmland and sheep paddocks.  Then it's back on gravel road again for a few more kilometers and back onto rolling farm country.  Coming down through the farmland you connect with the Maungaparerua Stream.  The track follows this for a couple of kilometers as it meanders through flat, cattle-grazed farmland before flowing into the Kerikeri River.  The trail then follows this river into the town, crossing under the SH10 bridge and then running along the back of small farms and lifestyle blocks that abut the river. As you get closer to town things get more developed with some very flash houses going up on the blocks...so much so you almost feel like you're walking through people's back yards. Some of the residents obviously think so too as someone has gone along one part of the track and put up extra big orange markers in addition to the small official ones, denoting where the track goes (and thereby, where it does not).

About 5 kms out from my destination of Kemp House in Kerikeri Basin I ground to a halt. My blisters were hurting, but more than anything my feet just plain hurt. Three days compounded blisters on my heels are now the size of $2 coins but have fortunately not yet drawn blood...I like to think due to careful management. The more immediate problem was my feet were pruny...and I mean PRUNY. Rookie Mistake #2: I had worn my wet socks from yesterday again today.  The tingling sensation of the water had initially helped stimulate the soles of my feet providing a nice little massage as I walked. Then later in the day I had the strange sensation of feeling the texture of my socks where I had never felt it before. Well, turns out it was the texture forming on my feet! Honestly, John Wesley Powell could charter expeditions down the canyons that had formed in my feet. As well as this they were hot and swollen, despite being pale whitish-purple in colour. Dumping my stuff I went down to the river to cool my feet in the water before scrambling back up and drying them off and massaging some foot balm into them.  I got out the hiker wool and plaster stuff I have, cutting it to size and assembling custom blister-covers. Then I pulled out a dry pair of socks (not hiking socks, but still thick merinos) and left my feet alone for half and hour to recover.

I'd been there about 20 minutes when a dog came and found me, shortly followed by his owner, a kind woman with a South African accent.  She asked if I was okay, and when I explained I was doing the trail and resting my feet she offered me a lift into town.  I thanked her but assured her that I'd be alright. I was determined to walk and not take vehicular short cuts except at the 'utmost end of need'.  Treatment and rest did the trick and I eased my boots back on and did them up...and stood up...and walked...and my feet were okay! It took a minute or two for the plasters and socks to come to an agreement about what was going to give and pull where, and then I could walk on, pain free except for the residual ache of already having walked 20km that day. I was concerned my boots would now start rubbing around my unprotected ankles, but they're well padded and caused no problems despite the short socks.

The trail soon intersected with the Kerikeri River Track, a DOC footpath through kiwi habitat along the banks of the river that begins near Rainbow Falls and undulates along the river bank all the way to Kerikeri basin. It's a lovely walk and despite my exhaustion I thoroughly enjoyed the majority of it (the last kilometers are always the hardest and in this case aren't quite so pretty). Finally you emerge at a broad park with a footbridge over to the quaint and picturesque Kemp House--the oldest house in the country (1821-22), and the Stone Store.  It was gone 5:30pm so they were both shut, but I resolved to come and visit them tomorrow as I had decided to have a rest day in Kerikeri.  Stopping to have a quick rest and take a couple of photos I slow-trudged up the hill to the motel (mercifully only about half a K away) and checked in.

Wendi, the wonderful woman behind the desk, showed me to my room, bringing along a plate of strawberries and cookies.  I walked in and immediately felt too dirty to be in such a nice room. Wendi said not to be so silly.  The though of a muddy, smelly hiker in her pristine establishment didn't seem to bother her at all. When I asked about dining in/delivery options she explained they do cook in house...and offered me the long desired steak! Steak and salad--sold! With an hour until dinner I staggered into the shower and managed to scrub myself clean without my feet or legs giving way. Wrapped in towels (actual towels!) I lay down on the bed...and felt my body shut down.  While you are going you don't really notice the accumulated fatigue...but as soon as you stop, everything that's been holding its collective breath lets it go. I suddenly became acutely aware of every bump, bruise and ache, and they were everywhere, mostly in my feet, but everywhere.  I decided a rest day was a very good call.

A bit of a contrast to the tent...

At 7pm there was a knock on the door and there was Wendi with a tray containing a plate of steak and mushroom sauce with a fresh green salad and handful of beer battered chips. And it was not just any steak...scotch fillet, beautifully cooked, and quite possibly the best salad I have ever eaten (leaves, fresh asparagus spears, avocado, grapes, melon, strawberries...nom nom nom).

I was in heaven, lamenting the fact that I couldn't stay another night despite my decision to have a rest day in Kerikeri as unfortunately the motel, Woodlands, is booked out tomorrow night...or so Wendi told me when I enquired on check-in. As fate would have it however while I was lying there, clean, fed and a little less achy, I got a text from Wendi saying I could have the room for a second night if I wanted, but if it didn't fit my budget I should feel free to pitch my tent on the lawn free of charge. Wonderful, wonderful woman! I decided to give myself a birthday treat and took the room.

Cue Fred Astair..."I'm in heaven..."!

Day 11: Omahuta-Puketi Forest Track (25km; 198km total)

Quiet night. I half expected someone else to show up, a Speed Demon equivalent perhaps, but no one came. And there were only two moreporks who didn't sing long. I slept well. I think I'm getting used to sleeping on hard ground. I was almost, dare I say it...comfortable.

I was looking forward to today. Today there would be wading down a stream (something I always used to enjoy at work in Tassy...it's cool and often times it's more open and easier to traverse than the bush...and there's water to cushion a fall (though with the obvious disadvantage of getting wet). The track promised quite a bit of variety actually: gravel road, 4WD track, stream wade, bush track, ridge climb, and more gravel road out to the intended campsite at Puketi Forest Headquarters.  This would be a 25 km, a big ask for me, especially on harder terrain (previously I only managed 24 km, and that was on a beach), but I was determined to do it.

I decided I cannot stomach forcing down muesli for breakfast anymore, so with the prospect of ebing able to resupply in two days and having excess food I made mi-goreng noodles for breakfast. Something warm and tasty, much more like it!

A fair bit of condensation on the fly this morning so I split-struck the tent to keep the innards dry before setting off back onto the trail. It heads along the road where it comes to a concrete ford over a stream. The book says not to go on if this ford is covered by water as it means the stream wading ahead will be too hazardous, but with so little rain recently there was no chance the ford would be covered and it wasn't.  I took the opportunity (having washed myself the previous night) to wash a few items of clothing, most crucially my shirt. It's quick-dry material so it doesn't hold much water once wrung, and the cool wetness worked well as I slogged it up the next ridge and down to the Mangapukahukahu Stream (try saying that ten times fast...).

2.5 km wading between gravel banks brings you to the confluence with the Waipapa River and I made good time...including stopping for a quick swim in one of the larger pools. And I mean a QUICK swim. You barely have time to get in, get under and gasp before you're reflex action is to get out again--so cold!

After a snack break at the intersection with the river I waded across and headed off along the Omahuta River Track. In this case the word "track" should be interpreted loosely.  It's a mostly one foot-width wide worn path along the steep semi-gorge side of the Waipapa River. Parts of it have slipped away and its a scramble to get across without slipping down the bank yourself. Then when you come to one of several small incised trickles running into the main river you often have to jump the gap...not something I'd be confident doing even without a massive pack on.  Less than a kilometer in my hip was playing up with the constant up and down and bracing and I was tiring quickly. It was only a matter of time before I slipped and ended up sliding down into the river anyway I decided to try the alternative--wading up the river, the same as I'd waded down the stream.  It's listed as a viable alternative in the trail notes, and really, having done it, you'd be silly not to choose the river over the track. Granted there hasn't been much rain, but even at the deepest point at which I was forced to cross the river only got to just above my knee (though there are much deeper pools you wouldn't want to inadvertently walk into).

Unfortunately all good river wades must come to an end and this one did with a junction with the Puketea Ridge Track.  Not far up there's a nice little campsite flanked by branches of the river on either side, but before long the track heads up, and up...and up...onto Puketea Ridge. It's a hell of slog, but the track is dry and it passes up through a lovely grove of Kauri trees.  Once on top it runs along the ridge, up and down as required, similar to but in moderately better condition than parts of the Raetea Track. The Puketea Track continues until it intersects with Pirau Ridge Rd, from which it is a 9km road walk out to the Puketi Recreation Centre and campsite. I got to the junction just before 5 pm. There was a campsite a short distance back up the track, but that would mean an extra 9 km to get to Kerikeri tomorrow, which let's face it, was unlikely to happen on top of the 25 km already needing to be covered. Consequently I had a short break, scarfed some chocolate and a cookie and set off.  Time to break out the trail tunes. Much like on 90 Mile Beach a Disney medley got me through the first 4.5 km and a musical song medley through the next 4 km (the last kilometer or so was a simple exhausted slog to the finish).  I find myself wondering why I don't sing pop songs instead, but I've come to realise I like singing songs with which I have strong visual images associated. For one thing I'm better at remembering their words, and also this way they play a movie in my head as I sing and therefore help to better take my mind off my aching feet and fatigue. (So be prepared, and I apologise in advance, for no doubt more Disney and Musical interludes along this journey...just be glad you aren't walking alongside me!).

With the sun getting low on the horizon I staggered into Puketi Campsite, receiving a few odd looks from the other campers, mostly camping out of the backs of cars or RVs. I seem to be the only hiker.  Ironically the car-campers had taken all the obvious grassy spots so I retreated into a dirt floor spot under the trees away from the others and cleared cones and needles from a space large enough to house my tent.  I got the fly up as quick as I could, hoping it would dry in the warm wind by the time I was ready for bed (which it pretty much did).  It was getting dark as I made myself comfortable and ate pasta by torch-light.  I figured with it being a long weekend I had better not leave accommodation in Kerikeri to chance, so taking advantage of mobile reception I did a ring around the backpackers. It's funny but even after spending five nights in the bush by myself the last thing I want to do is share a room, so I passed on the few available dorm beds and decided to splash out and get a motel room. It'll be $115 for the night, but I'll have it all to myself with my own facilities to I can clean and cook and moan and groan in private, and sleep to my hearts content. Am SO looking forward to it!

It's been an epic and enjoyable day, but I'm utterly, utterly exhausted. It's taken three massages to get my feet to stop aching, and I'm lying here with tremors.  I know this means I've got some good exercise today but right now, really I just want to sleeeeeppp...

Day 10: Mangamuka (20km; 173km total)

What a night! Hands down the worst sleep of the trip, and it was all due to the noise and my own paranoia. As you settle down to sleep you become acutely more aware of all the sounds going on around you. Also, as the sun goes down the amount of noise animals make tends to ramp up a notch. Being near the end of the track I was close to farms and from the valley below came the sounds of dogs barking and cattle bellowing...not lowing...BELLOWING. One of them sounded like he was trying to out-bray a donkey. What also had me concerned was how close they sounded. It had me convinced that at any moment obviously discontented beasts would come lumbering round the corner...and what they would make of my tent and me in it I had no idea.  The cattle bellowed off and on for what felt like (and surely must have been) hours. Then as soon as there was a bit of quiet first one possum cackled in a tree close by on my right, shortly followed by a second  close by on my left. One farther away on the opposite side of the track made a half-hearted effort to cough (or something) but it was the original one on my right that launched into a repetitive hacking cackle...which abruptly came to a halt when I finally lost it and yelled "Shuuut Uuup!!". Silence prevailed, at least for a little while, and for the rest of the night the possums mercifully keep the noise to a leaf-rustling minimum. Possum Right clambered down his tree at one point and cautiously approached the tent. Feeling a bit vengeful for being kept awake for so long I lay in silence and let him get right up close before saying "boo!" and couldn't help chuckling as I heard him scamper away at top speed.

The next noisy shift was the moreporks, which I don't really mind as I love listening to them and can usually fall asleep to their calling...usually. Turns out when you get six of them going at different spots in the same valley the combined stereo sound of "more-pork!" being sung in an overlapping round is quite distracting to a semi-conscious brain.

The best noise was amongst a morepork or two once the main choir had retired, leaving only a duet...the repeated rising trill of a kiwi...and then another. The first one didn't sound too far away so I lay quietly listening, hoping to hear it again, maybe closer, maybe with a rustle of leaf litter as it foraged nearby.  That excitement and anticipation kept me up even longer, but eventually the forest critters and I all must have got some sleep because eventually it was morning...and I was SO tired. Consequently I had a lie in and did not get underway until 10 am.

It turns out I camped in the last possible spot as right around the second bend I popped out of the trees and into a grassy paddock the fell in rolling hills away into the valley below.  On a nearby hill was a cluster of sizable bulls who I can only assume were the bellowers from the night before, and I felt that my anxiety over the possibility of an unpleasant nighttime encounter with a herd of marauding cattle had not been entirely unwarranted. They stared and bellowed a bit as I made my way down the hill opposite them, and once I reached the valley between they made off, mercifully over the hill and out of view (I had been traversing the slope with half a mind to break out my hiker poles in case they were required to fend of unhappy bovines).

Down a farm track and out onto a gravel road, a couple of kilometers brought be to SH1. It's then a 5 km hike along the highway to Mangamuka Bridge.  The shoulder is broad so its'not as scary as it could be, but I always made sure to get well out of the way of any of the many trucks that came by during that slog. There's a wonderful little dairy at Mangamuka Bridge that makes (as it turns out) great burgers and yummy kumara trips.  Lyssa (Eliza?) keeps a visitors log of hikers who come through; there seems to have been about twenty so far this year.  Reading the log it turns out Scott and Joanne only came through yesterday, along with Speed Demon (who it appears is also called Scott, and apparently almost concust himself on a log whilst doing the Raetea track at his customary high speed).  Curiously there's no sign of Nathalie or Niko in the book, but maybe they just didn't sign it.

I made a long stop at the dairy of about and hour and a half.  I scarfed down my burger and chips, along with a juice and a can of lift. Normally I wouldn't have any trouble with this volume of food, but things have changed already on this hike, and I couldn't finish my chips (and probably shouldn't have had them at all, as I would later discover).

I finally got back underway at 2 pm, with 12 km between me and my planned camping spot at Apple Dam or Apple Tree Campsite (depending on what sign you read). Happily only the first 2 km of this are along SH1 before you turn up gravel Omahuta Rd and carry on to the small settlement of (surprisingly enough) Omahuta, before diverting up further gravel roads into the Puketi Forest.  I passed a guy in an excavator who was clearing culverts on the way. He stopped to talk to me, happily hailing me as "the first one through for the day". He confirmed what the book had said, that Scott (x2) and Joanne had come through yesterday (although his descriptions were a jogging guy, a big guy and a lady).  I don't remember Scott being big, but then maybe he looks it in his special pack that has pockets on the front harness to store stuff and help balance the weight (that Scott fondly referred to as his "man boobs").

Just before heading into the Puketi Forest I came across a roading crew working on the forestry road. Most of them weren't at all interested in me passing by, but one chatty guy sized up me and my pack and wanted to know if I was "into this sort of thing?". Here I am so I suppose I must be, I thought, but audibly I laughed and said I needed the exercise. He laughed in turn, saying he thought there were easier ways of getting it. He didn't know where the road I was following went so I vaguely answered that it goes through the forest, up a river, and pops out at Kerikeri. He nodded ok and wished me luck, watching in amusement as I trudged past.  Incidentally I've managed to take the odd unflattering selfie of me saddled with my full kit and I'd like to state that on most days, up until the mid-late afternoon, I don't actually feel as knackered as I look!

But this afternoon I did. I had the long slow slog going that gets me up hills...kind of like a human cable car: one super slow speed only and you can hear the clicks and cracks of the gears grinding as it goes.  Unfortunately I'd had indigestion all afternoon, partly I suspect from eating too much at the dairy and partly from having my waist belt part of the pack harness done up too high and tight (in an effort to give my shoulders a bit of a rest).  The fact that I'd been downing lots of water in the heat probably also didn't help. The result of all this was about halfway up the hill I began to get the telltale tummy trembles that usually alert me to the fact that my stomach is not particularly happy and may opt to empty itself in the near future. I pulled over and flopped down under a fern tree on the drop-off side of the road, fortunately having the presence of mind to place gear in a manner that meant it would not roll and tumble down the slope.  I was sitting there contemplating life and digestion when a an elderly couple drove past, presumably on their way up to visit the Kauri Reserve at the road end. They looked at me a little quizzically as they went by.  They'd have looked a little more quizzical if they'd driven passed five minutes later when I was head down bum up under the tree fern, losing the undigested half of my lunch. Still, afterward I felt much better and donned pack once again determined to make it to Apple Dam before nightfall.

The campsite is 500 m off the trail...a suspiciously long "500 m" I think. But eventually I got there, with plenty of light to spare, but not one once of energy. No one else was there...not really surprising as what had been described as a "pretty campsite" with a "water tank and a long drop loo". I'll concede to "pretty" as it's a nice little spot nestled in between the hills next to a broad pond (dam?) filled with reeds...but the water tank is the old concrete sort with a hole in the roof and God knows what festering in the bottom but a surprisingly shiny (new?) stainless steel tap, and the long drop loo has long been off DOC's radar in terms of scheduled maintenance.  First off there's no path to it (at least, not anymore), the front wall is collapsing, the door has fallen off its hinges, and there's no seat. It's basically in the same condition as the abandoned logger camp I passed on the Herekino Track, with the more recent addition of a token roll of yellowed toilet paper I suspect some kind hiker has left but which no one seems to have used. Still, it was a loo, and the chipboard around the bowl was clean.  Half expecting a bat to come flying out as I went to sit down I none the less decided that just at the moment, with my tummy still funny, I preferred this option to the cat mound approach that was my only alternative. Happily I emerged from the disheveled wooden shack feeling much better and minus any startled bats or other critters.

Returning to the small patch of clipped grass (so I guess someone does some maintenance here...) I pitched my tent and flopped down inside.  It had been a hard day.  I am now nursing some nice blisters from by adventures on the steep sections of the Raetea Track, and three days compounded sweat and lost lunch all combined to make me feeling altogether pretty average. In a snap I'd had enough. I had plenty of water (and besides there was a water tank and failing that a pond nearby), and I still have plenty of fuel, and I'm not going to be having any dinner tonight, so I fished out the pot and cooker and heated some water. Tipping the water into the pot container sack (which is marketed as doubling as a small sink) I added my little bar of soap and soaked my mud-stained hands.  In a few minutes I'd managed to cleanse even my black finger nails back to their normal pinky-white. The joy was palpable...and addictive.

The problem with cleaning is as soon as you clean one thing you spot dirt on another.  There I was with beautiful clean hands and the rest of me was filthy, and feeling like it.  What the hell, I had the time, I had the means, and I had the place all to myself.  Half and hour later I'd had a full sponge bath in lovely warm soapy water (I tried to be sparing with the soap and dutifully discarded it away from the natural waterways). OMG I was clean! What a relief! Feeling much better I doctored my blisters, took an ibuprofen-panadol combo to combat residual aches (am determined not to make a habit of this, but today I needed the boost of not-sore body) and settled down to sleep. Ahhhh....

Day 9: Raetea Track (13.5 km; 153km total)

Slept quite well last night, waking up only a couple of times when a morepork called out. They have much higher pitched voices than I remember...is this a Northland morepork thing? Plus I think I might (might!) have heard a kiwi...

I dreamed I was supposed to go to Speights for a chicken shamrock salad lunch but that I missed out because I got roped into helping set up for a festival at my old high school. Disappointing...but accurate. I woke up of course to know prospect of a chicken shamrock salad. Still, I guess I should be pleased; it's taken a whole nine days for me to start dreaming about food!

It didn't rain like I thought it might, so it was a dry pack up. I was sitting on my rolled up tent and bed roll having breakfast when a back-pack burdened figure laboured into view from the track below. I called out good morning, recognising Speed Demon. I have no idea what his real name is, but I met him at the YHA in Ahipara.  He was checking in while I was busy arranging food supplies, having just arrived in Ahipara after completing the Cape Reinga to Ahipara leg in TWO AND A HALF DAYS. Like I said, Speed Demon. He's a fellow Dunedin-ite and I knew that after his rest day in Ahipara it wouldn't be long before he overtook me on the trail. Turns out he did yesterday what it had just taken me two whole days to do, minus the couple of kilometers I'd missioned it up the Raetea track the previous evening (if I'd camped on the road at the bottom, by 9 pm I would have had company). Lucky him not having any quarms about pitching in the dark; personally it's something I want to avoid as long as possible. Not wanting to break his stride I wished him a good day's walk.  He said he'd see me at the top.  I just laughed. Unless he breaks something crucial or takes about three rest days in Kerikeri (or I suddenly find the speed of Grease Lightening) there's virtually no chance we'll cross paths again!

I took my time cleaning up and ten saddled up ready to take on the last of the climb up the ridge to the first peak at 580 m...even having done the first two thirds the day before it was a gut buster. Steep and muddy, you finally emerge at the top to follow the track as it runs up and over successive ridge highs and saddles. Raetea summit (721 m) is the second and tallest, with several false tops that are a test in mental determination.  You finally emerge on a narrow rocky ridge, with the odd glimpse of a view on the way up and along.

Finally at the top and I realise I have a problem and curse myself for making a rookie mistake. Despite not wasting water, I haven't been particularly conservative either (especially during the long slog up the ridge)...and I've only got about a litre and a half left. It's a 9 km ridge walk to the end of the track (where I'd intended to camp) on a rough track in hot weather, so I'd normally drink quite a bit anyway. But the key word here is "ridge walk"...that means there'll be no streams and virtually no chance of topping up. I cursed myself. The book says it's a ridge walk, but there'd been so many streams up until now it just didn't click and consequently at my last opportunity on the way up from Takahue I hadn't refilled to full capacity (trying to save weight and therefore my knees on the steep sections). There wasn't anything for it, I had to push on and get out or off this track to have any hope of finding water. I considered if things got desperate navigating off track down into a valley to find a stream to refill, but with the weather so dry and so many streams not running I had no guarantee of finding a stream even if it was marked on the map. Add to this the fact that the bush was quite thick, and as much as downed logs and vines made the track a pain in the butt to negotiate in places, following it was still the fastest way out. Even if I had to push on into the night, I would eventually make it to the end of the track and within a few kilometers the road beyond reached the highway and a river--guaranteed water if I could find none beforehand.

So while a large part of me wanted to just sit and do nothing, I set off with a strict water ration in place: one mouthful per kilometer, a little more if it was steep.  Steep uphills I took even slower than usual, trying to minimise the amount of sweating I was doing.  Unfortunately this all meant the track became a section race to earn water, and my memory of the details of it are a blur (being dehydrated probably also had something to do with this). One clear recollection was getting clotheslined twice in immediate succession by a branch and a vine. I'd lifted them overhead and thinking I'd cleared them stepped forward, but first the one, then the other caught on my pack and nearly tipped me backwards. I don't remember the particulars but my verbal outburst at this point was on the colourful side of vehement.

Happily the dehydration never got too bad; dry mouth and cracked lips aside, I never got to the swollen limb and head spinning stage I have experienced on a previous occasion (in a desert). Toward mid afternoon I combated my now customary evaporation of energy with the most energy-rich, minimal digestion-requiring solution I had at my disposal--chocolate! (I'd already skipped lunch as I know more food requires more water for the body to process it...and I've got plenty of fat reserves so I figured now was the time for my pampered body to start tapping into those!).  It was all kind of ironic really...its a friggin' rainforest up there with moss on the trees! But the weather has been so dry most of the most looked as thirsty as I was.  The occasional shaddy hollows had water-logged moss still...and I picked and sucked a few bits experimentally on thirsty stretches between by designated drink breaks. It was cool and refreshing, if a little mossy...and minimal in quantity. But every little bit helped with motivation if not actual hydration.  The hardest part was walking past the occasional pool of muddy water left in boot prints in the frequent muddy sections of track.  As the afternoon wore on I began eyeing up even those, trying to think of ways I could extract the water into a bottle and treat it (drinking untreated water wasn't something I was going to contemplate even in my thirsty state; there's cattle and pig or goat tracks at frequent intervals along the track and who knows what's mixed in with the otherwise 'good clean mud').

This sign cheered me a little...several people had written on it that they hate the Raetea Track.  Despite its difficulties, compounded by my own stupidity, on some level I still enjoyed it as a day out in the bush.

Much of the last several kilometers of the track are an old quadbike/4WD track and at one point deep ruts had accumulated a puddle deep enough to sink my 600mL bottle in.  This I did and filled it up with the uninspiringly brown water before popping in a treatment tablet.  I still had some good water left and had absolutely no intention of drinking this unless it became absolutely necessary (what if I fell over and broke an ankle or something and had to wait for someone to come and get me?).

Happily the saga came to a merciful end near the end of the track. The track down the hill curves past a small stream bed that was not flowing but which had a large clear pool preserved in the shade of the trees. Judging by the tracks and a discarded label-free milk bottle I was not the first hiker to seek reprieve at this pool.  Mercifully there was nothing obviously dead or otherwise disgusting in the water. In order not to disturb the clay-covered bottom and muddy the water I had to go around to the far side where a fallen tree meant I could kneel over the water and scoop up 600 mL at a time into each of my hydration bladders (the previous puddle water had been discarded...waste of a treatment tablet, but needs must).  Happily with 3L of water in each hand I sloshed back to the track and dispensed three tablets into each.  Now I only had to wait half an hour before I could drink as much water as I wanted...and the last 200 mL or so I'd had with me would tide me over in the meantime.

With a 6 kg heavier pack and feeling extremely happy about it I set off down the track once more, intent on finding a spot to camp before the track emerged onto private farmland. Options were few.  The track was well trampled by cattle, and so were most of the semi-flat spots in the surrounding forest. One non-trampled spot was in a hollow that looked like it would fill quickly with water should it rain overnight. Finally I settled on a spot that was a broad game trail between two tree ferns next to the track. It was a tight squeeze for my tent but we managed it in such a way that I could run out my bed roll lengthways along the flat part of trail.  It was a pretty average spot after a pretty average day...but there's was lots of water for tea!

Day 8: Takahue Route (19.5km; 140.5km total)

Though the surrounding trees sheltered me from the wind, the cleared tent site was fully exposed to the rain overnight. Happily it wasn't heavy and I slept ok, but it was enough to make all the bush, and my tent fly, wet.  Happily my tent is two-walled and the inner wall was dry--and detachable. I packed tent and fly up separately so as to keep the inner dry (I HATE putting up and bedding down in a wet tent). Feeling chuffed with my forethought on this occasion (which helped make up for my less than satisfaction with muesli for breakfast...tastes like soggy cardboard...especially if you try to heat it through and turn it into something resembling porridge), I donned jacket and over-trousers and set off down the steep and occasionally slippery track out of the Herekino Forest. It was very slow going, and quite hard on the knees, so I was glad to finally emerge into lush green farmland.  I chuckled to myself feeling a little like I'd just emerged from the Old Forest onto the outskirts of Buckland...

By now the sun was out and it was getting hot so I de-waterproofed and sunblocked up before following the farm track out onto Diggers Valley Road.  On the way the rubbing of my pack on--there no other way to say this--the top of my bum, became unbearable.  It's impossible to slip-slide down a bush track without getting muddy and some combination of mud and motion had wreaked havoc on my behind so that I now had a lovely painful rash. Trying a plaster-type covering failed spectacularly. It was one of those moments when you know you've done something foolish as soon as you've done it. I'd just stuck something directly to the sore spot, so even if it prevented abrasion right away, inevitably it would have to be torn off the sore spot...happily "inevitably" turned out to be only about a minute after I moved off the plaster covering tore free. Yow!  Ok, Plan B...and it was simple and effective. I thought of tying my fleece round my waist, but it was too hot and I didn't want to get it muddy if I could avoid it. Buff (equivalent to a bandana) to the rescue! This strategically tucked into my underpants and folded over my waistband provided a nice cushion for the back and clean, mud-free surface to cover the rash. I moved off again, pain free, with a mental note not to bend over in front of any cattle I may encounter (or any people for that matter) whilst I had a red bandana hanging over my butt.

I read somewhere that a thru-hiker should never waste sunshine. While clouds were constantly passing overhead there was enough consistent sun to warrant a stop when I cam to a broad and sky-exposed shoulder of the road, to lay out my wet gear (particularly the tent fly) and dry it out. 30 minutes later I had rested legs and dry gear and moved on again.

The route follows gravel forestry and public roads...all day. This is very hard on your feet and mine were quickly sore. I took a load off while refilling water from a stream, but wasn't impressed when an intersection in the forestry section wasn't marked and I ended up taking a wrong turn and having to back track. I finally found the unlikely road out of the forestry block, emerging at the top just in time to avoid a logging truck on its way down.  Feeling  a bit grim, I stopped to snaffle some muesli bars on a sunny shoulder of the road down into Takahue, hoping I could get a break in without another truck coming past and showering me in dust. Happily this I was able to do, but had to yield to a couple more forestry trucks, two utes and a miniature fuel tanker on the way down the road to the town.

In vain I tried the door on the town hall...there's something depressing about seeing a doorway leading to a flush loo and finding the door between you and it locked. It was hot, it was humid, and my feet were killing me, but I trudged on walking on the softer grassy shoulder of the road where I could.  Residents drove by, a couple amused to see me, most bemused, and some ignoring me altogether. Alternatively cattle only seem to have two reactions: flee, or stare for a bit before following along behind you for a bit. Oh to be such an object of bovine curiousity. Calves in particular seem to find my lumbering form fascinating...

As the road continues the signs of civilisation becomes fewer and farther between.  As the road began to rise I passed a nice little patch of long springy grass in the shade of a tree and suddenly found I couldn't take another step.  I flopped down in the grass and lasted about 10 seconds before my feet demanded to have boots taken off and bones massaged back into proper alignment. Ten minutes of popping and that odd bursting sensation you feel when you massage muscle knots and my feet were content to be left alone for a bit while I had a snack. I must have been there for well over half an hour, but it was worth it. Massaged, balmed, and with fresh hikers wool applied I set out again in the late afternoon with feet feeling, if not as good as knew, at least a million times better.

The road carried on up a valley and beyond a sharp bend across a stream and past a disheveled caravan in a paddock from which very loud music was blaring, and it diminishes to a 4WD track that heads up a long hill toward the bushline. On past a the run down, prayer-flag draped entrance to an eco-sanctuary (commune?) and the old private driveway the road finally reaches a saddle.  The road continues on down the other side, but off to the left runs the Raetea Track and that was my way. There was room to camp next to the road, but I don't like camping in such exposed places, no matter how remote the road, and decided to gain some distance up the track.  The guidebook calls it a "rough climb", and it is. In wet weather it would be a complete boggy mudslide, but happily mostly sunny weather in recent weeks meant I experienced a track that was a lot drier than that encountered by many of my unfortunate predecessors (judging by the depth of the footprints in the hardening mud--something true of all the tracks I've encountered thus far).  I still got muddy, but the mud line was well below my knees, so I got off lightly. Still a knackering climb though.

About two thirds of the way up the ridge I found a nice spot on a small shoulder out of the wind where someone has obviously camped before. Relieved (as it was getting late and there had been no likely spots before this) I dropped my gear and made camp. One super quick dinner later and I was in bed. I felt better for some tea and pasta, but it had been a tough day and I was glad to see the end of it.

Day 7: Herekino Forest (20 km; 121km total)

Turns out I wasn't lucky enough to have the dorm room all to myself.  A Taiwanese couple also checked in, along with a Canadian mother and daughter duo who are touring the North Island together. They were headed to Coromandel today, but as for me, after a shower and pack up, I was bound for the Herekino Forest.

The Taiwanese couple were still asleep so I moved all my gear out into the common room to pack. Phil, a Malaysian guy travelling round NZ with friends shared his baked kumara breakfast with me while quizzing me about the trail. He was in awe of anyone who would attempt to take on such a long hike (he said he found just doing the one-day Tongariro Crossing hard enough, without a pack). I laughed when his final words were "I salute you!" as he and his mates headed out for the day. I guess now that I'm actually doing this I don't actually see it as that extreme; you just take each day as it comes, and as long as you keep walking you eventually get somewhere.

One of the subtropical trees I'm not familiar with. There's quite a few dotted around the hedgerows in Northland.

Finally packed up with a fully refreshed and restocked kit (if not quite refreshed body...), I traipsed off down the driveway to begin the 9 km road-walk to the start of the Herekino Track. The route takes you through Ahipara and out past more remote properties and farmland up to a saddle where the track starts. I set off a lot of peoples' dogs barking as I passed.  One man came out to quiet his dog and said hello. Always second guessing myself I took the opportunity to ask if I was on the right road. He assured me I was, at least, "that's where all the others go".

Just shy of the saddle is an old quarry where I stopped for a short rest.  I couldn't help checking out the rocks; a cursory glance had me guessing it was a serpentinite quarry (I must remember to check up on things like this). Not much farther and I was at the saddle, Te Arai, the place the spirits pause before continuing their journey to Cape Reinga. This spirit paused as well and fueled up on muesli bars for the steep uphill slog that is the start of the track.

The track passes up through variable bush.  It's a shock for me, being from the South Island and having done
most of my prior bush experience in Tasmania, to see palm trees mixed in with the more familiar NZ/Australasian native ferns, manuka and assortment of broad leafed trees.  Some patches are dominated by rimu and more than a few lancewood.  Scrubby patches with few tall trees and lots of clumpy not-quite-cutty grasses I first took to be to do with altitude, but the track doesn't climb that high, so I hazarded a guess at an underlying geological cause (more than once geo-botany has come in handy when mapping for work; in Tassy the scrubby stuff always grew on the ultramafics, such as serpentinite, as nothing much else could handle growing there).  Of course what Northland is famous for however is the kauri trees, and there are some lovely big specimens on the way up the Herekino Track. Fortunately these are not yet succumbing to the Kauri Die Back disease that is killing off trees elsewhere.

One of the mighty Kauri trees.

I stopped for lunch and to refill water at Rangiheke stream. Carrying on I crashed at 2:30 pm, but managed to get a second wind around 4:30 that saw me push on past the old logging huts and along the 3 km or so of old forestry road. It felt so familiar I half expected one of my old Tasmanian colleagues come riding round the corner on a quadbike.

Back on bush track there's the long slow climb up to the summit of Taumatamahoe (557m) and the end of my day. It was 6 pm and there's a small cleared space just big enough for a tent at the top (what makes you think people have done this before?). Also mobile reception so I checked in with Mum to let here know not to panic if I am a day or two late getting to Kerikeri. I've not managed to make the desired kilometres for the day (only 20 out of 24) and I figure this trend is likely to continue.

My knee was twingy today but other than that I didn't have any issues.  If nothing else I can feel my body saying "this is more like it!".  In comparison to the beach, the variable terrain of the bush utilises more muscles with more variety of movement, and constantly having to watch where you put your feet so you don't trip on a rock or a root also gives you something to do with your mind.  So all in all a good day and a happy camp for the night.

Reflections: 90 Mile Beach

Ok so my blog posts to date have focused mainly on my own physical experience of spending five days walking along a beach without to much about the beach itself. One reason for this is that there was a lot more going on with me than on the beach, but that isn't to say there was nothing to see.

Obviously the beach is LOOOOOONG, but it subtly changes as you walk mile after mile (NB: I know we're metric, but "kilometre after kilometre" just doesn't have the same ring to it!). Every day, depending on the time and cloud cover the sea changes colour, varying in shades of blue and green.  There are a lot of different seabirds including gulls, oyster catchers (black and pied), pied stilts, sandpipers, godwits, cormorants, curiously enough kingfishers (one followed me for a bout half a K, flitting ahead in about 30m intervals), and a few birds about the size of a gull that look more like a tern, with a black face. There's also these little brown birds, I don't know, they might be sparrows, that fly up out of the dunes into the wind, flapping as hard as they can to stay stationary for as long as they can, singing their little hearts out.

The dunes vary from being low and rolling and covered in marram grass, to high and storm-ravaged, to a range of shapes with no vegetation and wind-rippled patterns.  Their are a number of different microhabitats, from barren sand to grassy, to hollows with lupins, succulents and wild flowers, and even pockets of marshy reeds.

Sand, especially wet sand, is a pain that gets everywhere and sticks to everything. That said, there's nothing quite like lying on the dry sand (out of the wind) and running your hands through it, feeling every individual sand grain tingling against your fingertips.

I really like that I spent five days walking along the same beach and saw a grand total of three ships, and fishing boats at that. I remember passing through Surfer's Paradise (at least I think it was there) a few years back and counting over twenty freighters out at sea while standing in the same spot!

One odd thing about the beach was how clean it was. That isn't to say there isn't rubbish; it collects in pockets and is particularly concentrated around streams outlets.  There's also the odd bit of unidentifiable flotsam (some of it quite large) that has obviously come in from the ocean and during its journey across the sea has become home to numerous strange tube-worm-like bivalves which now hang from it dead/dying where they've washed up upon the sand.  Other walkers have played "count the dead fur seals" but I only saw one, right near the start. Unfortunately no live seals and looking out to sea as fairly often I never managed to spot a dolphin or anything of that sort. There were several dead seabirds on the beach though, one buried up to its head with only the shoulder of one wing and its beak protruding from the sand like some strange macabre sculpture. There's the odd patch of seaweed and every couple of kilometers a sizable log. But other than that, at least at this time, the beach stretches on and on and predominantly empty sand.

The least pleasant thing about the beach is the wind, the constant wind that it is almost impossible to escape from, even behind larger dunes. It peels your face and chills your bones, and haunts your dreams. Curiously the sound of the wind and the waves changes depending on what side you're lying on.  I think my hearing must be better in one ear than the other as there were a couple of times I rolled over in my tent and startled at the sudden change in intensity in the noise of the wind and the surf, particularly on nights when I camped in the dunes and was conscious of the fact that if there was a tsunami a) I wouldn't know until it hit and b) I'd be a gonner.

And on that note...it's off to the forest for me!

Day 6: Waipapakauri to Ahipara (14km; 101km total)

Best sleep yet--no surprise really, being indoors out of the wind, in a bed with sheets and a pillow...spoilt!

I woke up at 6:30, achy but rested and muscles no longer tight (I have decided my thrashy sleep pattern must work out all the kinks in the nights and that it works best when not constricted by a sleeping bag!). It was only a short run to Ahipara today so I took my time getting ready and caught up on my trip diary. My face is peeling again (for the third morning in a row, despite daily use of dry skin cream). I have been diligent with the application and timely reapplication of sunscreen so I can only assume it's from the wind. Some wind.

I had the last of my porridge for brekky and washed my pot set (with actual dish washing liquid for the first time), then packed up and headed off at 9am.  My pack feels light now I'm only carrying a day's water and have virtually no food left...but I'm sure resupply in Ahipara will fix that.

My hip and knee are still a bit twingy so I took care to walk along small ridges/runnels, to try and keep my footing even. I was able to make good time over the harder sand but slowed as the incoming tide forced me up the beach onto softer sand.  I passed little on the way except for a group of not-very-talkative people fishing for snapper, and a couple of cars making a late dash along the beach before the high tide. An oyster catcher trundled along beside and a little ahead of me for a while, snatching at slow-closing shellfish in the surf, and also a seagull shadowed me overhead for a time, presumably perplexed by this slow moving creature singing to the wind (anything to keep my mind off various sore and tired body bits).

Today's walking song was "Shall We Dance?" (from The King And I). It took me a bout a kilometre or so to remember all the words (or make up fitting alternatives...?) and also work out the correct notes (there's one bit I just cannot get right!). This was followed by a bit of a Disney medley before launching into the full length Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, followed be a full sing through of Phantom of the Opera. "Shall We Dance?" made a brief reprisal after each rest break...and with that I was Ahipara--and had conquered 90 Mile Beach!

Ahipara in sight!

The YHA in Ahipara is a nicely set up holiday park run by a guy named Sandy and his Mum. They seemed a little suspicious of my cheerfulness, but after already having to take three hikers to the hospital upon arrival this season perhaps that's understandable. Check-in, room key, shower! It was only about 3:30pm so the place was pretty quiet. I was first to check into the dorm so I took advantage of the space (and nice weather) to lay out all my gear to let it air. Rejuvenated and with the critical process of clothes laundering underway I walked (very slowly and stiffly) the 2km into town to seek out something to eat and resupply for the next leg of the walk. Immediate food requirements were satisfied at the local chippy (chips and sausages...I don't normally order sausages but I'd been craving them ever since Asayako cooked herself some for dinner in Hukatere!). Unfortunately trail food supply options in Ahipara are somewhat limited.  The obvious option is the shop/post office, and I just about fell over when I went in and found pasta snacks ranged from $4.60-$5.90 EACH.  A bunch of other stuff in the shop seems reasonably priced so I figure the shop is making a killing from food-desperate hikers unwilling to hitch into Kaitaia to resupply. Unfortunately I pretty much fall into that category.  I have never hitch-hiked and honestly am a little scared of trying.  Add to this that today specifically the chance of hitching to Kaitaia were pretty good, but the chances of getting back again that night seemed somewhat remote. Abandoning the overpriced shop I returned to the chippy where this shop owner had also obviuosly realised there's a bit of a dehydrated food niche developing in Ahipara, and managed to score some pasta snacks for a more reasonable $2.50 each, along with a new bag of Farmbake cookies and a box of muesli bars. Remembering the holiday park had a good supply of stuff for sale behind the desk I trusted to hope that it would have what I need and be reasonably priced and headed back (passing a couple of weary hikers on their way out to the highway to hitch and stay the night in Kaitaia).

Back at the holiday park the food was reasonably priced (equivalent to the chippy) so I stocked up on all the rest of the things I needed. Unfortunately nowhere in Ahipara sells porridge so I'll have to content myself with muesli for breakfast for the next leg of the trip.

Fully restocked I made myself at home in the foyer/TV room. Content with a couch, a cushion and a cider I sat and caught up on some blog entries while watching "Speed". By 7:30 pm I crashed and went to bed. Time to take on the Northland Forests tomorrow!

Quick Update

Hi all! Sorry I'm so behind on the blog. Will catch up when I next get to civilisation (hopefully tomorrow). All is well...have spent the last five days conquering the northern kauri forests (and rivers, and roads, and mud wallows...). Absolutely knackered and a bit battered and bruised but still going strong. Looking forward to clocking over the 200km mark tomorrow!

Day 5: Hukatere to Waipapakauri (17km; 87km total)

I could hate my body...first the ground is too hard, and then when I give it a soft mattress it whinges about not having sheets and a pillow. Consequently I thrashed about a lot but slept better than in the tent.

Up with the larks I was intent on setting out early...but accidentally putting too much water in my porridge put paid to that. I could have just had porridge soup but decided to spend the half hour to boil it down as the others were getting up and we had a good chat over breakfast, swapping trail stories and discussing the importance of having different gear (such as PLBs). Niko and Usea made crepes with jam and choc-hazelnut spread. They were kind enough to give me one, and with that (and slightly less soupy porridge) I was ready to hit the trail.

Niko set out ahead of me and Nathalie not far behind. She overtook me ten minutes in when I stopped to readjust the hikers wool in my socks. She keeps a quick pace and Niko is even faster so they soon disappeared off into the distant haze and I had the beach all to myself again.

Despite being left behind I set out (after sock adjustment) with the best pace I've had all trip. After laying down a quick (for me!) 4km I was foolish enough to contemplate pushing through to Ahipara like the others were intending to...if I could keep it up. Of course my poor unfit body had other ideas.

In one stride there was a twinge in my hip and in one more a shooting pain that brought me to an abrupt halt.  Gingerly I went on and within ten steps the same thing happened. Uh oh. I very cautiously walked on, carefully placing my leg and foot so as not to initiate pains and twinges. After possibly the fastest 4km if the trip (excluding excitement-fueled day 1) I then had the slowest. The high tide forced me further up the beach into the soft sand: good for sore feet, bad for sore hip. About midday I suddenly felt very tired and so found a nice hollow in the dunes out of the wind and lay down for. It was nice in there, lying in the warm dry sand, with the dunes framing a little window out onto the blue-green ocean (ahem, sea). I closed my eyes for a nap and after about twenty minutes suddenly realised it was my birthday. I stupidly sang happy birthday to myself as I got ready to make off again...I got to the very last "Happy birthday to me..." and "Ow!". This time it was my left knee. I guess it had been taking up the slack from my malfunctioning hip and now my nap fad given it a chance to seize up. Come on! I thought. I'm too young for this shit!

Following a suspicion that all my problems stem from spending five days constantly walking with one foot higher than the other (due to the incline of the beach) I found some vehicle tracks and walked with my left foot in one for about 2km...and my pains dissipated, not entirely, but enough to be moving along at more than a snail's pace. For the rest of the high tide I followed depressions in the sand that kept my feet level or my left foot lower, and as the tide moved out I moved down the beach onto firmer sand, but still followed along the low runnels left by the waves to try and keep my footing as even as possible.

Happily the firmer sand and careful route choice (who knew you could choose a route on a beach?) meant I was able to up the pace and lay down another 4km almost as quick as the first...then ran out of energy. Cookies, chocolate or museli bars are good for 30 minute bursts, but they don't sustain you, and once I get tired there's no going back (apparently). I pushed on at the best pace I could maintain (with frequent stops) and finally made it to Waipapakauri. The holiday park is about a kilometre inland but happily once I got there I was able to get a room to myself (a bed with sheets and a pillow--birthday treat!) for $30. There's communal kitchen and bathroom facilities but as it was only about 3pm I had it all to myself. A lovely long hot shower later I was a new person. Now in my cleanest/least smelly clothes I managed to bully the worn out electric hob in the kitchen into boiling a pasta snack and also used the jug to boil water for cous cous (as well) and a cup of tea--I was starving!

One day out from Ahipara my thoughts are turning to the next leg of the journey--the Northland Forests. I read through the trail notes, looked over maps, booked into the Ahipara YHA for tomorrow night, and by 6:30pm was ready to hit the hay.

Day 4: Random Dune 2 to Hukatere (20km; 70km total)

Slept ok in my little sand crater; was out if the wind but I'm still not used to the hard ground (grown too soft!). Packed everything up and had breakfast before setting off into the wind once more. Another overcast day so at least it won't get too hot.

I was low on water (<1L) and planned to refill at the first stream...there had been quite a few up until now, but I was slightly concerned that on the map there were only little tiny ones for the next 30km--and they would most likely be dry.

After half an hour or so two people standing in the surf loomed out of the spray haze. Turns out they we're a local guy and a woofer surf casting for snapper. They offered me water and I happily took it, filling up 3.5 L from the sink in the back of their camper-car (where woofer #2 was sheltering from the wind). Bidding them good fishing and no longer anxious about water I strode off into the haze.

Parts of the beach where the dune-field is widest resemble a moonscape.

About 10am another hiker suddenly popped out of the dunes. He seemed surprised to see me. He took a second to gauge my pace, realised I was of the "ultra-slow" category rather than "ultra-light" like himself and we exchanged waves before he took off at a jog. Before long he'd jogged out if sight (and judging by his tracks he jogged on all day). I trudged in his wake and spent the next twenty minutes or so converting Elton John's "Rocket Man" to "Jogger Man".

Most of the morning I kept a good pace (for me!) and had only short stops as dune after dune slowly slid by and the surf kept on rolling. 10km down by 11:45...I should've known it was going to make the afternoon harder!

Museli bars for lunch just didn't match my porridge and hot chocolate (with a shot of condensed milk) and the afternoon got harder and harder. The last 3km were the hardest of all but at last a green flag in the dunes stood out like a beacon and told me I'd made it to Hukatere.

I wandered into Utea Park (right on the beach) and found a delightful little campground with tent spaces, little cabins and communal kitchen and bathroom facilities, lorded over by an enormous rheumy-eyed Arab bulldog called Cruise, and run by friendly Kiwis Paul and Tania, and currently also a woofer named Asayako(sp?). It's basic but comfortable and $15 got me a bed in a cabin out of the wind, and since it wasn't busy, me and the two other hikers each got a cabin to ourselves.

Asayako is from Japan where (I later found out) she used to be a kayak instructor. One hiker is a Belgian named Nathalie, who seems to have hiked most of NZ already, and the other is Niko, a Frenchman travelling NZ with his girlfriend  Usea(sp?), who's Czech. Niko spontaneously decided to do the trail and Usea is being his support crew, walking short sections and following by car. They've been here two days...and it's tempting: hot shower, soft mattress...AMAZING. But I've got a trail to walk (and my food won't last an extra day...)!