Part of the problem was I'd bought too much food and my pack wouldn't quite shut! Consequently I sacrificed the rest of the cream cheese and hummus, and a packet of dehydrated peas (which I didn't think I'd miss). Finally around 9:30 I was ready and set off.
Back on the trail the route out of Hamilton leads past Lake Rotoroa (yeah, that confused me for a second too, but there are three 'o's and not two plus a 'u' so they aren't duplicating with a much larger lake further south!). The route is then a road walk (mercifully on footpaths) out to Tills Lookout. I had been going to stop at a post office if I passed one, to post a few oddments home, but after stopping for a can of fresh-up at the service station I headed toward the post office, only to spot another hiker up ahead. Keen to catch them up I skipped on the post office and caught them as they took a seat at a bus stop. He was a TA hiker alright--a German by the name of Celestino. A German with an Italian name confused me a little; I'm sure there's a story there but I never found at what it was as it turned out Celestino was not keen on the road walk and intended to take a bus. I of course would be walking so I wished him 'good walk' and carried on (I couldn't be bothered back-tracking to the post office).
Beyond Tills Lookout the trail goes on to pass through the Taitua Arboretum. I've been to one or two arboretums before and been a little underwhelmed, and entering through the back as TA does I was preparing for the same, but was pleasantly surprised when I came across meandering paths through themed groves of some rather lovely trees (and got the fright of my life when a large chicken emerged from the undergrowth the first time; I got used to it after that). It was such a nice place I made it an early lunch stop.
Beyond the arboretum the trail is a road walk out to a farm where negotiating a curious set up of a gate hinged above a fence with a stile leads to a boardwalk over a pond in the corner of a paddock. I just managed to reach out and latch the gate behind me without falling in, then followed the short, semi-submerged boardwalk to the grass beyond, sending shock waves of fighters tadpoles skittering ahead as I went. Once out of the small paddock the trail follows a small thoroughfare between deer paddocks (complete with curious but rather skittish deer) until crossing into cattle paddocks (and presumably the neighbouring farm?) beyond. A straight shoot down the common fenceline emerges onto a road which leads out to SH39. I stopped en route for a boots off break, taking advantage of a clean knee-high ditch where I could sit, prompting the guy in the house across the street to come and see if I was ok. I assured him I was fine, which was more than I could say for a large work I noticed at my feet while I munched. I felt bad, thinking I may have unwittingly stood on it. It didn't look stood-on however, just dry and disorientated, so I dribbled some water on it and kicked a leaf over it to give it some shade. Crazy Jen the worm saver, though really I think it was probably a bit beyond saving.
Break over I rebooted and donned pack (taking care not to stand on the worm) and followed the road to SH39 and on to SH23 where I came to the small settlement of Whatawhata, a service station and the Lizard Cafe--and thus an excuse for another stop. There was some confusion over which types of cold chocolate beverages the cafe could provide so I opted for a ginger beer instead, but then it transpired iced chocolates could be made so I got one of those too. I sat in the outdoor seating area out the back (shred with the neighbouring pub) which comprises a large swathe of lawn surrounded by high fence and trees, and dotted with larger hexagonal picnic tables and benches. It would be a great place I have an informal outdoor function, and also apparently gives the bikies a safe tamper-proof place to park their bikes when they roll through town.
Never one to pass up the opportunity to use a flush loo before heading into the bush, I made the most of the facilities before hedging out into the sun once again.
Across the bridge the trail diverts onto the Waipa River Walk, wihichbinitually runs long the back of people's backyard fences before skirting paddocks. At one point it follows three sides of a paddock as the river bends, so you end up one length of fenceline from where you entered the paddock; this seemed a little pedantic even for TA. In one paddock an entire herd of cows found me so intriguing they followed me all the way up I the stile, one particularly curious beast sniffing and lipping my pack as I walked. I turned and gave the cow a scratch on the forehead before hoisting myself over the stile. I'm not sure what she made of that but she and the others stood there and watched me out of sight.
The Waipa River reminded me a little bit if some if the rivers I saw in Thailand: mud coloured and windy, with steep vegetated banks. I half expected to see some sort of crocodilian basking on some of the exposed mudbanks (not sure why, as I never saw one of those in Thailand!).
Toward the end the trail led into a field full of young corn; this didn't seem right as surely the farmer wouldn't want to risk his crop being trampled. Though there was probably room to walk carefully along the outer row of crop I wasn't in the mood for tiptoeing through the corn plants and instead jumped the fence to walk the last 2km along the parallel running road. This led to the desired turn of onto Old Forest Rd.
A few kilometres up I came upon the Karamu Valley B&B where I intended I make enquiries about camping possibilities. At the start of the driveway is a small bench seat and a sign saying "Tramper's Rest" with tramping boots dangling on either side. Underneath the main sign "enquire within" had been scrawled by hand with and arrow pointing up the driveway. So this is exactly what I did.
I recognised the car in the driveway as one that had driven past me earlier and the lady who answered the door seemed surprised to see me--apparently I had looked like I intended to keep walking (hooray, maybe I don't look as knackered at the end of a day as I used to?!). Turns out it's $30 pith your tent and I was left in the hands of an Argeninian woofer named Adelaide. She's living in a small cabin at the top of the garden that has two neighbouring little cabins housing a small kitchen in one and a toilet and shower in the over. The three building looks almost like upmarket old-time miners huts on the outside, with a wooden deck connecting them. On the inside the bathroom has a nice cobbled river stone floor and a large, polished, flat-topped biotite-quartz-muscovite (read: black and white) schist boulder servin as a counter top, into which an oval shaped basin has been carved. It was awesome and I want one, for home some day, not on the trail...
Adelaide and I chatted for a bit before she provided me with a towel and I went to shower. Once I emerged she'd gone iff to help cook dinner for the B&B guests so I pitched my tent in the small flat lawn out the front of the deck and set about making a pasta snack for my own dinner. I'd got the gas cannister going with my pot of water before it occurred to me that there was a kitchenette with a small portable electric hob. I set the jug to boil for tea and transferred the pasta pot to the hob, just as the gas ran out. I was actually pleased about this. It means I can ditch the old empty cannister here and not have to worry about carrying it anymore (I already have a fresh cannister that I've been carrying since Auckand Airport since I knew the gas was running low. One cannister has got me all this way though--I'm impressed!).
While I was making dinner the B&B guests--a small tour group from the UK-- came out for a tour of the garden. They asked me questions about the trail for a wee while before moving on. They went up to a small lookout point next to the cabins; I debated going up there to eat when my pasta was ready shortly afterwards, but I already had maps and diary etc. spread out on the table up there, and afterall I'd paid $30 for full use of the garden facilities. So I decide to make the most of them and went up there as well and sat down to eat. I figured if they didn't like my company they could head back inside to their much more interesting meal (good grief...it appears I have a spiteful streak!), which of course, in time, is exactly what they did. I sat in that of the evening sun, munched on my pasta and updated my diary with notes on the day. It was a pleasant spot, but a lonely one.
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