I'd slept in the top bunk this time, mainly because, though the hut is nice, there is a little but of mould growing on the wall along the bottom bunks. Plus the top bunk had a stop-Jen-rolling-out-of-bed rail so I figured I'd be fine. I slept like a log.
I rose quickly when my alarm went off, made porridge for breakfast (two sachets; it was going to be a big day) and then packed up. The fire had burnt itself out, leaving only a small stump of a log for the next person to use starting it again.
Though I felt I moved fairly efficiently it was 7:30 by the time I had boots on and set off back to the trail. It seems that no matter how hard I try, my morning routine takes 1.5hrs to complete. Certainly I'm no seasoned thru-hiker yet (I remember Cloudwalker went from wake-up to walking in under half an hour).
It's 6km down and out to the road end, followed by a 32km road walk to town, and, unfortunately, a further 4km to get to the campground at the far end of town. The first 6km down through the bush is supposed to take 2hrs...within twenty minutes I was laughing bitterly at the prospect. 2hrs meant an average pace of 3km/hr; I was going as fast as I could whilst not risking a sprained ankle and still I would barely have been averaging 2km/hr through some of it. The track is muddy in places and there are a couple of root-scrambles, one of which I took a little too quickly and slipped, landing hard on my right side on roots and one of my hiking poles. Fortunately the pole didn't break! Struggling to my feet I carried on at a rather slower pace, resigning myself to the fact that today's walk would take as long as it takes.
As today was about 'getting there' I took rather less heed of the forest than I had over the previous two days. The first section along the ridge is cloud forest as before (which guarantees two things: i. It will be pretty, and ii. you will get wet), but the mossy blankets slowly shrink and disappear as you descend down the ridge. The forest becomes more scrubby, and grass starts to appear in patches and along the side of the track--usually a sign you are nearing the trailhead.
The last couple of kilometres are broad and mostly easily traversed quadbike track and I was able to make up some time, miraculously passing the sign marking the start of the trail almost exactly 2hrs after I set out. Who knows how DOC come up with these trail times. Yesterday I'd dawdled and done a 7hr track in approximately 6hrs and today I'd gone as fast as I reasonably could and only just completed the section within the 2hr suggested time period. Makes no sense.
I sat on the raised edge of the road (still scarcely more than a quadbike track at this point) and had a museli bar whilst psyching myself up for the epic road walk ahead. There was no Andy or Taylor to help me this time. This time I had to burn some boot leather all by myself. My strategy was to break the walk into 10km sections, if I could go that long between breaks, whilst trying to maintain a good pace and not drop into slow-gear. The terrain should be fairly easy, so the main problem was going to be, I assumed, sore feet from constantly pounding the hard flat surface of the road.
Getting up I donned pack and checked my watch. 9:40am and I was at the 1020km mark. I wanted to get to the 1030km mark by 12 if I could. I set off.
Following the quadbike track out (it really wasn't a road yet) it gradually improves and eventually becomes a gravelled farm track that passes out through a tall farm gate made of railway girders. The gate was locked so the choices were up and over or to squeeze through the gap between the gate and the post where the long chain securing the gate meant someone my size might just make it through. I passed my hiking poles through the gate then took off my pack and pushed it through, giving it a good shove so that there'd be room for me on the other side too. Bobbing down I squeezed delicately through, no doubt getting covered in rust, but trying not to tear my clothes on any bits of pokey out metal on the way through. Just as I eased out the other side there was a disturbing tearing sound from the vicinity of my backside and I straightened to see a torn piece of thick wire cable poking up out of the ground. I did that whole ineffective twist thing to try and see where i'd torn my pants, but had to settle for feeling with my hands. Fortunately all pant material and Sean's seemed in tact and I decided the sound had been the sharp cable ends brushing against my trousers whist not actually tearing them. Good news!
Donning pack once again I set off at a good pace down the road, which winds gently down the hillside to the valley below. I met a car coming up and the driver, the local farm owner, stopped to chat. He was a nice Maori guy who asked about the water at the hut (he'd heard there's been problems and it seems he's one of the people that helps maintain the hut) and also wanted to know if I'd see any fresh pig-root along the track. True there is a lot of pig-root along the track, particularly between Bog Inn and Hauhungaroa, but there was nothing I'd seem that looked less than a few weeks old. The guy then commented on the number if hikers that had come through and mentioned that he'd given one of them a lift into town. I wasn't sure if he expected me to ask him to do the same for me or not, but I of course I didn't and he didn't strictly offer. We wished each other good day and set off on our different errands.
It was with satisfaction I got to the intersection marking the 6km point, and with relief that I got to the next one, fortuitously just passed the 10km mark from my starting point. I flopped down on the grassy bank beside the road and immediately took my boots and socks off. I had been starting to tire, but was stoked I'd made it, and even more stoked when I checked my watch and saw I'd done it in almost exactly 2hrs. 5km/hr...I think that's a new PB as well.
A couple of cars drove passed while I was there, seemingly amused at the hiker by the highway, massaging her feet with boots and socks strewn on the grass nearby. Leaving my feet to air I dug out my food bags and made a tuna wrap for lunch, washing it down with some cordial. Got to keep the internal fires burning today!
After half an hour I put on fresh socks and re-booted and set off again, mentally saying nothing more than: "annnnnd...repeat!". One hour and fifty minutes later I'd done another 10km, had a new PB for the second time in four hours and had earned another break--this time taking it on a pile of road metal rock chips left in a cleared area just before a bridge. Something must have been caught in my sock above my big toe as it had rubbed and was now bleeding. I strapped the offending socks to the outside of my pack and, after another half hour break, put on my third and last (almost dry) pair. Take me to Taumarunui socks!
Not far up the road I can to a junction where the road sign indicated I was halfway between Auckland and Wellington, which were 330km either way...by road. Unfortunately TA has a lot more than 330km to do before it reaches the capital.
I carried on down the road. The entire day I would be walking through farmland and small settlements until things became a bit more populated closer to town. A few kilometres out of Taumarunui, near the airfield, I came back into mobile reception and stopped to txt Mum and let her know all was well. I tried to ring the campground but couldn't get through. Moving on I made it to the outskirts of town, and at the 9km mark from my last stop passed by a school with big flat tree stumps (aka: hiker seats) in the driveway, so I stopped there for break #3. It was about 4:30 and I was only 3kms from town--I was stoked! Tired, but stoked. Unfortunately I was still 7kms from the end of the day's journey, but still, I was going to make it!
I aired my feet and socks and scarfed down some chcolate and cordial before moving on. About a K down the road I suddenly became aware that my back and bum were wet...really wet! I had thought it was just sweat, but I'd just had a break and hadn't been sweating. Uh-oh. Dropping my pack and extracting the contents I fished out my hydration bladder which had, as I suspected, sprung a leak. It wasn't bad--I couldn't even see it--but there was a continuous drip...drip...drip that must have been going for a while now and had soaked the lower half of me pack, and me. I was not pleased.
Downing the last of the cordial from my drink bottle I tranferred the remaining water from the bladder into the bottle and drank the excess. Fishing out my travel towel I towelled off my pack and the contents of the lower compartment--fortunately my sleeping bag was in a dry sack!
The only other things that were wet were my tent and rain gear, so that wasn't so bad. The episode did put a dampener on my day however (no pun intended) and I suddenly felt very tired. It was a slow final couple of kilometres into town. Happily one if the first things you come across are a gas station and a New World. I hadn't been going to resupply on the way through, but figured I might as well, and then I could head off straightaway tomorrow.
Unfortunately the gas station had sold out of gas canisters (damn hikers!). It was gone 5pm so any other shops that might sell them would be closed, and tomorrow is Sunday so half of them wouldn't be open tomorrow, and definitely not early. Damn. I'm almost out of gas (as you might expect, Warehouse gas canisters are way less efficient than ones from proper outdoor stores, at least in my experience. This one had lasted barely two weeks whilst the first one I had lasted all the way to a Auckland!).
Moving on to the New World I chucked my pack and poles into a trolley and pushed them in, feeling a little like a cross between a mother with a baby-seat in her trolley and a bag lady. Unfortunately I was aware I smelled rather more like the latter so during the course of a cursory inspection of the isles 'tested' one of the deodorant fragrances. Feeling slightly less self conscious about sharing narrow isles with other shoppers I set about sticking up for the next section of trail. Whilst there are towns en route they have a reputation as being expensive resupply points so I decided my now standard 6-day resupply list would suffice (6 days is easy as most things--museli bars, wraps etc--come in packets of six). I also got some Greek salad, ciabatta, cream cheese and salmon for dinner...mmmm.
Happily everything fit into two shopping bags so I was able to pack down my poles and strap them to my pack before shouldering pack and setting off down the street with a bag in each hand. Curiously I got some odd looks from the locals. Surely they'd seen enough hikers passing through by now to no longer take a second look? Or maybe, in addition to smell, my appearance is rather more startling than what is generally considered normal...? Bring on that shower!
Unfortunately 'that shower' was still a 4km walk away. Off I went, not feeling very enthusiastic by that stage, particularly not about trudging down the busy highway. I stopped to take a picture if a rather cool driftwood Moa on the way through town, and then again at a Mobil I passed which, mercifully, was both open and still well stocked with gas canisters. Right, I had fully resupplied. Though I had half a mind to take a rest day tomorrow, I now no longer needed to and could push on if I felt so inclined.
Coming to a weird spilt in the road where the highway seems to both go over and bridge over the railway line and not go over the bridge over the railway line, I was about to follow it when some local kids called out to me, wanting to know where I was going. From them I ascertained that the smaller side road leading off at this point also goes to the same bridge over the river as the highway, and it has a pedestrian footpath the whole way. TA, why do you get us to walk down the shoulder of a highway when there's a perfectly safe footpath? Maybe they don't want to piss off local residents with too many hikers traipsing by, but I figured one knackered hiker burdened with shopping would be okay and set off. The road passes a couple of small paddocks and a park, but houses for the most part, and bends round toward the highway at the end where it encounters the Whanganui River. I stupidly tried to take a short cut across the railway line at this point, only to be foiled by a steep ditch full of brambles. Returning the road and following it under the railway line I found a footpath up to the road bridge across the river and at last caught sight of the campground on the other side.
The sun was starting to get low as I trudged across the bridge and then the extra 100m up the road to the driveway, and 100m back down the driveway to the campground by the river. A lady, Helene, came to greet me with a "here you are at last!" kind of air. When I couldn't get through to them I'd left a message saying I was about an hour out of town. That was at 4:30. It was now nearly 7. Oh well, I'd nailed a 42km day and resupplied. I'm knackered, but I'll take the win.
I shelled out for a private room ($50), deposited my gear and shopping an went for a shower. I looked forlornly at my travel towel, already wet from drying off my gear, and went back to the office to ask (beg) to borrow a towel. Helene's partner Phil was exceedingly obliging and soon tossed me an enormous beach towel--yes!
And the shower was everything I'd dreamed and hoped it would be: hot, high pressure, and no stupid timer!
Clean, warm and dry I considered doing laundry but decided it could wait until morning; it was only going to be a short day if I did walk anyway. Instead I opted for dinner. In the kitchen I met Anneli, an Estonian woman also doing TA. We had a chat and I found out there was another hiker staying here too, an American...I thought I'd recognised that blue shirt on the washing line! I stuck my head into the computer room to say hi to Taylor. He was surprised to see me. Apparently he'd only gotten here at lunchtime himself, having camped outside of town last night and walking in this morning. He sounds like he's had a rough couple of days; apparently overdosing on vitamin C on an empty stomach makes you vomit. Duly noted. He's looking and sounding a lot less fluey though which is good. Sadly the experience means he really didn't enjoy the forest, which for me has been one of the highlights of the trip so far.
Back in the kitchen Anneli was busy planning the next legs of the trip, specifically the canoe leg down the Whanganui River. She's solo hiking like me and needs to find someone to go with. We briefly considered each other but she's going to get there way before I do as she pulls bigger days (ok, I just did 42km, but she pulls consistently bigger days). This got me thinking about the canoe trip though. I hadn't been going to organise this until reaching National Park. I'd vaguely planned on seeing who's about there and booking something then, but maybe I should be doing that here, now...?
Apparently the same thought had occured to Taylor. He hadn't been going to do the canoe trip since he's solo-hiking (there is a walk around), but as the two of us discussed options the obvious solution presented itself. Only problem is we'd need to coordinate when we could both reach the river in order to book a start date for the canoe. Also there's a load of different operators to choose from, plus there's are range of different start and finish points...Oh well, there's probably going to be a rest day in the offing tomorrow, and even if there isn't I'll need to do a wash first, so there'll be time to look into things then. Right now there are more important things, like sleeeepppppp...
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