Day 57: Taumarunui to 42 Traverse (25km; 1081km total

I'd set my alarm for 7:30am. I'd taken Taylor's external battery pack to charge overnight in my room and he was going to pick it up on his way through at 8. I showered and dressed and managed to make it into the kitchen by ten past. Apparently I still don't move fast in the mornings, even after a rest day.

Taylor, Matt and Anneli were already there, looking far more alert than I felt, despite a shower. But there was no reason to rush. My sister and brother-in-law are going to be passing through along the highway on their way back from Taupo today so we've arranged to meet up in Owhango for a late lunch. They're leaving Taupo around 12 so I don't need to be in Owhango until around 2 and can afford to dawdle a bit.

I toasted my last ciabatta bun and Matt kindly let me have some of his marmite (Mmm...marmite on toast...how I've missed you!). Anneli asked, slightly incredulous, if that was all I was eating before a walking day, but I then went on to make up a sachet of porridge as well, and a cup of tea, and a hot chocolate. Never fear Anneli, a Stein never starves.

Before long Taylor set out on the trail and Anneli headed into town to the post office. I wished them good walk. Taylor and I have arranged to meet up in National Park in a few days time and I might see Anneli again; if I get ahead of her today she'll overtake me soon enough.

Matt is dawdling this morning too, trying to dry his tent before he packs everything onto his bike and sets off. He's heading to National Park today. It seems everyone is trying to get in place to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing on Wednesday as that's supposed to be good weather. That means I've got two days to get there. I've budgeted three to do the 42nd Traverse that lies between here and there, but depending on the track I might be able to do it in two and therefore have a day up my sleeve (which I suspect will be needed as a rest day after the crossing).

Matt and I both packed up and headed out around the same time at 10 o'clock, wishing each other all the best and safe travels. I returned Phil's towel along with a pair of pliers he'd lent me (my Christmas decoration proved too big so I cut it down to size), and thanked him very much for the stay. Then there was nothing for it but to set out along the highway to Owhango.

The road to Owhango

I'd only been going an hour or so when I got a txt from my sister: they were on the road and already at Turangi. We modified the plan for them to meet me somewhere along SH4 as they headed south. I told them to keep a weather eye out for a hiker in navy trousers with two walking poles, a green pack, blue bedroll...and a miniature Christmas wreath.

TV anyone?

At the small settlement of Piriaka I initially stopped at the shop (long closed but with a dishevelled picnic table to the side), but thinking I had time to find a nicer spot kept walking. Another K up the road I came to the Piriaka Lookout at the top of a hill, complete with two picnic tables, one of which had a large TV sitting on top, looking as if all you needed to do was pull up a chair and flick over to whatever channel took your fancy. It had clearly been dumped, along with an oil heater and an assortment of other stuff piled in a corner. I stopped somewhere visible and had just lent against the fence when the newly purchased grey van closely followed by a white Mazda pulled in and out jumped Kenny and Averyl, respectively. Hugs all round! It's been over a year since we've seen each other and it's great to see them again; they're a very cheerful pair and Kenny especially has a wicked sense of humour.

'Bringing something from the bakery' turned out to be a small mountain of food including apricot slice, fruit mince pies, pate and crackers, raspberry and white chocolate muffin, savoury scones and fruit juice. In addition they'd also bought me a bag if aeroplane lollies and a bag of superboost scroggin. Over the next two hours we are and chatted; both if them were very keen to here about life in the trail. Apparently it suits me: they both commented that I'm looking really well. Come to think of it Lulu said the same. Maybe people just expect you to look completely exhausted and so when you're not you must look comparatively fit and healthy? Come and see me at the end of a long day guys, then I'll show you exhausted.

It was a wonderful little roadside picnic at which I pretty much are myself to a standstill, which was a good thing as Averyl packed up the leftovers for me to take with me, so in making a guts of myself I ultimately had less to carry. Having just resupplied my pack was already almost full, but I managed to squeeze everything in (including the precious fruit juice !), much to Kenny and Averyl's amusement. I think they actually cringed when I hefted the pack onto my back, Kenny commenting that my pack was creaking like a ship in a storm. Good pack...you can creak all you like, just don't give way!

The exercise was shortly to be repeated as I had forgotten to put on more sunscreen and had to take the pack off again to get it (this happens a lot).

We had a chat to a council worker who came to collect the dumped items just as we were packing up. Apparently this is a problem spot for dumping. As he and Kenny man handheld the big TV into the back of his ute I told him that if he wanted a second one there was another one down the bank (I'd spotted it when having visiting the bushes). The guy looked at me in grave amusement before saying "there's no way I'm looking down that bank!". I couldn't blame him. Seriously people, why can't you take your stuff to the tip like everyone else? That way all the rubbish is at least contained in one place and not scattered across the countryside. Plus Kenny and the council guy made the point that the money they spend on petrol driving to illegal dumping sites would probably cover the cost of the drop-off fee at the local refuse collectors!

Finally I was sun-blocked up and ready to set off. A couple of huge hugs later Aevryl and Kenny drove off, and I followed, rather more slowly, on foot (they'd offered me a lift to get me ahead--but that would be cheating!).

So green!

So cute! (the foal barely topped my knee)

It was a quick 8 km road-walk, with one short stop, to the outskirts of the small town of Owhango. I passed paddocks of miniature horses and called out a friendly hello to a woman leading two of the tiny horses (NOT ponies, apparently) toward the gate. In a minute the friendly woman had kindly invited me in to meet them. Unfortunately the act of taking off my pack frightened the two she had just tethered to the fence, one of whom is still learning to tether; I only hope I didn't scar the poor beast for life!  In amongst the horses I met two adorable little foals (literally the size of a medium-large dog), their mothers, and a heavily pregnant mare named Posh who was a sucker for a neck scratch, and due to drop a foal in the next few days.

While we were admiring the horses we were joined by a bloke who was a cheerful enough guy and who obviously thinks I'm bonkers to be walking the length of the country and doing it with a pack like mine.  Unfortunately he also turned out to be one of the most racist people I've ever had the misfortune to meet.  I'm not willing to repeat in print the things he said (however they are firmly imprinted in my mind) but after beginning with some fairly harsh comments in reference to local Maori he then moved on to Chinese immigrants, making light of the recent death by drowning of a Chinese student in such a way that it was clear that he regards Chinese immigrants as second-class human beings (forget second-class citizens--honestly, the stuff he said wouldn't have been out of place in the Nazi script of a film about the holocaust). I felt like I had been physically slapped in the face. Maybe I have led a charmed life and am fortunate enough to be able to surround myself with mostly tolerant, open-minded folks who have a decent sense of humanity, but it came as a great shock to me to come face to face with such blatant, ignorant racism, on full display with absolutely no filter, in front of me, a perfect stranger. I didn't even see why the topic of different races needed even to have been raised; we were in a horse paddock discussing horses and my walk for crying out loud!

I was so shocked I didn't know what to say, and only thought later I should have looked him hard in the eye and said something along the lines of "my Grandmother was Maori and my best friend is Chinese", which of course isn't true (my grandparents were English and Scotch), but I should have felt justified in a white lie for being able to put this redneck in his place. Unfortunately at the time I could think of nothing at all to say, so horrified was I at what I was hearing, and could only think to bring the conversation to a rapid close, thank Lynn for her time and introduction to the horses, then quickly don pack and set off at a rapid, anger-fueled pace down the road. How...how in this day and age can people think, let alone speak, like that and it be okay?  I guess now I have an inkling of the problems facing the world in terms of racial and religious tolerance. If such awful things can be said (and meant) by someone with no obvious political leanings, motive or agenda, how much deeper and more awful are the views held by those attending demonstrations and race riots around the world? It baffles me...how can anyone look at another person and not see them as anything other than another human being, with a life, a family, a need for food, shelter and other basic necessities, and the understandable desire to make the most of opportunities for them and their loved ones...not to mention the right to pursue those things as much as you or I or anyone else!

What I heard that afternoon sickened me and left a bitter taste in my mouth all the way through the small town.  The cafe was shut and I was not done walking for the day so I bypassed the motel/campground and set off toward the 42nd Traverse. I met a local guy out for a walk on the road down to the bridge over the Whakapapa River and was relieved when our short conversation didn't lead to further racial slurs. I found myself irrationally suspecting Owhango of being a hotbed of racist intolerance, and as nice as the town probably is, I wanted nothing more than to put as many mile between it and myself as possible. It's sad but true that unpleasant experiences poison other experiences afterward until you've had a chance to drain the venom. I would just have to walk for a bit before I could make like Frozen and 'Let It Go'. 

Crossing the 39th parallel south at Owhango

On the way to the bridge a walking trail leads off which, confusingly, has a small orange triangle on it.  Off I set, until I saw the road turn away below, but the path kept on going (through a rather lovely patch of native bush). By this stage I was getting a bit tired and lazy. Backtracking a little I could see the road through the trees below and so cut down the steep slope of the hill, expecting to be able to pop out on the road at the bottom. Not so.  I got to the bottom of the forested slope to find a ground-fern covered drop off that was a near vertical 20-something foot drop to the road, which I nearly slid over. No go. Cursing my "short cut having made a long delay" I scrambled back up to the path, backtracked to the road, and followed it down to the bridge at last.
There's a large flat patch of grass, a picnic table bench and a vault toilet just before the bridge that would have made a great place to camp. There was a small unofficial-looking sign saying surveillance cameras were operating in the area and I tried to decide if this made me feel safer camping there or not (what goes on here that necessitates the installation of surveillance cameras anyway?).  I used the facilities but decided against staying, and instead set off across the picturesque Whakapapa River and began the long slow climb up the hill on the other side.  I hesitated part way up, thinking it might be difficult to find a decent camping spot on the hill, but pushed on regardless.

Crossing the Whakapapa River

There were fresh shoe prints visible in the softer sections of the old 4WD track that is the 42nd Traverse; they looked about the right size and tread pattern to be Taylor's and I wondered vaguely if I kept walking late if I'd come across him camped by the road side in one of the occasionally flat and sometimes grassy pull-ins.  These got smaller as the track got higher and far from anticipating coming across someone else's campsite I began to worry about finding one of my own. Knowing the track is regularly used by bikers of all types (mountain, motor and quad) I didn't feel particularly safe camping alone beside the track...but as it approached 7:30 I began getting more desperate. I had peered into the forest at a few flat-ish spots, but nothing really screamed "camp here!".

Home for the night

Scoping out a small flat grassy shoulder, a flattened brushy patch turned out to be the concealed entrance to a quad-bike track leading off into the bush. In comparison to the main track it was a little overgrown and did not look regularly or recently used. Better still, within several tens of meters it crossed a stream--water source! I determined to camp somewhere here and soon found a doable spot in the brush to one side. The ground wasn't flat but it was at least mostly clear, and five minutes work with my pocket knife managed to clear sufficient brambles, ferns and the odd cutty grass leaf to be able to pitch my tent (it was then I noticed my spare 750mL drink bottle was missing; it must have fallen out during my scramble back up the slope from my unfortunate off-track diversion down to the bridge). I had been hungry while walking, but now I was just tired, dog tired. I skipped cooking dinner, telling myself I'd have a wrap once I got changed and into my sleeping bag, but by the time I'd done that I couldn't be bothered making a wrap either.  Instead I lay down to sleep, trying my best not to slide downhill and put undue strain on the downhill tent wall. There was a tense moment as I heard the sound of a motor bike coming up the main track, pass the point where my hidden track turned off, carry on a short way, stop, then turn around and come back...but it kept going all the way back down and I heard no more traffic after that.

It was not the best camp spot after not the best afternoon, but it was enough. I told my legs they weren't allowed to be restless tonight and went to sleep (honestly, I think my restless legs are all in my head!).