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').
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| 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!
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