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.
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