Day 61: Whakapapa Village to National Park (20km; 1165km total)

Tossed and turned a lot last night...not helped by the fact I forgot to turn the heater down before I went to bed (you think I would have learned from Matt turning the heater onto full yesterday; I forgot to mention it at the time but I got back to the room that night, opened the door and nearly passed out--it was like walking into a furnace!).

I woke up at 8:30, showered and went to have breakfast. Adrian, Maya and Yettie were there and all were surprised to see me--apparently hikers are meant to make early starts, all the time. I'm not sure why, but I'm obviously either breaking the rules or the mold since I took advantage of late check out, took my time getting ready and didn't set out until 10:45 (after most other people had already left)! I handed in my key (well, Matt's key really) and set off up the road when the girl on the desk (a different one to yesterday) came running out to check I'd paid. I assured her I had and did a mental head slap that I'd ignored my 'wait a minute' instinct from yesterday to keep my receipt. I described the girl who'd taken my payment and explained the trouble she had had adding on the cost of a Nippy's chocolate milk I had bought at the same time.  This rang a bell with the current young woman (either that or I have an honest face) and she cheerfully let me go on my way.

Golden Rapids

It was a spectacularly sunny day again today and within a short distance up the road toward Mt Ruapehu I turned off into the beech forest on the right to follow the Whakapapaiti Track as it skirts the base of the mountain. This is a well graded, gently undulating track and very pleasant walk through mixed forest and open alpine swampland (where the track is board-walked). Early on the trail crosses a few small streams, one at a place where the rounded boulders lining the stream bed are completely coated in a bright golden-red iron+clay deposit. This drops out of the mineral-laden thermal spring-derived water coating everything it touches; small wonder this section of stream is called 'Golden Rapids'.

The alpine swamps are a similarly a lovely mix of golds and reds. Apparently the red tints help the plants keep warmer in the alpine environment by absorbing ultraviolet rays.  I was keeping my eyes out for carnivorous sundews, always one of my favourites, and had crosses several bogs before I suddenly realised that all the little bright red flecks on the ground were just that: absolutely tiny little sticky sundew plants (the ones I saw doing the Overland Track in Tasmania were small, but not that small!).

But the highlight of the things to see today were the mountains, in particular Mt Ruapehu. Each time the track pops out of the forest Ruapehu rises up beside you, and within a short distance out of the trees, Ngauruhoe and Tongaririo rise up behind. With barely a cloud in the sky the bright white of Ruapehu's snow-covered slopes was a vibrant contrast against the deep spectrum of blue sky beyond. I'll try not to wax on too poetic about it but I love mountains, and there and then, on that stretch of easy track through colourful bog plants and surrounded by lovely beach forest and gorgeous mountains under a crystal-blue sky, with just enough cool breeze and altitude to keep it from getting too hot, I was in my happy place. And I had it all to myself! I'm not ashamed to say I tarried, I tarried a good deal, and took far too many photos.

The distinctive cone of Mt Ngauruhoe (aka Mt Doom) 

Looking across alpine swampland up toward Mt Ruapehu

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

Once the track crosses a large bridge over the Whakapapiti River Te Araroa branches off onto the Mangahuia Track...and the grade deteriorates rapidly. The graveled track peters out to weathered clay-base and bog sections are no longer board-walked as the new track veers away from the mountains and off in the direction of SH47. The transition isn't so bad for much of the way but the short steeper sections down and out of small gullies are slippery and some of the boggier bits will get your feet wet and muddy. Not far along I went for a slide and collapsed like a house of cards when I simultaneously lost my footing and plunged my hiking pole (which might have caught me) into bog rather than firm ground. I landed with my left leg buckled up underneath me and in the moment afterward had to check that it had buckled a natural way. Fortunately it had and I was able to stagger to my feet again, all connective tissues necessary for walking intact...though warning me not to do that again in a hurry. I walked more carefully from that point on, until the trail became firmer once it entered the forest a couple of kilometers on.

As I made my way down the track I met a Canadian guy coming up. His name was Ron and he's a TA alumni back to do some of the other tracks around the country, as well as the rivers. While he's currently doing the Round the Mountain Track, apparently he has a 50lb inflatable kayak back at the hostel that he plans to use to do the Whanganui River, plus any other navigable rivers he can fit into his itinerary. Sounds awesome! From him I learn that there's a TA hiker, another Canadian called Brett, about an hour ahead of me. Someone new to meet at the YHA tonight perhaps?

Not a bad spot for a lunch stop

Wishing Rob good walk I set off, determined to make it into the forest and off this slippery track. The only downside is when I do finally arrive, it's time to say farewell to the mountains, at least for now. Not too far into the trees an easy rock-hop across a stream (for those in leather boots) had me at a lovely little shady spot for lunch beside the stream, sitting on large mossy boulders on the far side (there's actually room to pitch a tent here if any hikers were so inclined). I sat and made and munched on a tuna wrap, dangling and then airing my feet, curious as to whether the few drops of tuna oil I accidentally spilt in the water would attract eels. Moving on again I strode cheerfully through the forest, singing softly to myself. I haven't sung for several days, but sunny weather and being by myself for long stretches puts me in the mood for it. Today it was folk songs. Unfortunately I don't know many, so folk-like songs, mostly taken from movies, had to do. This led on to other movie songs and 'Let Me Teach You How To Dance' soon became the song of the day. It had the right lilt for  a peaceful walk through the woods.

The beech forest eventually changes to scrub and the track becomes wider as you near the Mangahuia Campsite.  I stopped singing abruptly when a jogger came round the corner toward me (earphones in happily) and carried on in silence, shortly arriving at the campground.  A young woman was having as best a wash as she could at the sink outside the vault loo.  I got the feeling she'd been trying to gauge how busy the place was and whether she might risk whipping off a few more items of clothing to wash more thoroughly when I showed up. Sorry lady. I used the facilities and then had a muesli bar break sitting on a rock in the sun by the gravel road leading out to the highway.

Flicking my phone on I soon received a txt from Mum. Oh dear, one of our two cats has gone missing and hasn't been seen for two days. I decided not to call right away and that it was better to wait until I had got to the end of my walking day before making a phonecall that wasn't going to be a particularly happy one.  This was a good call as not twenty minutes later as I was striding out toward the highway my phone pinged again and it was a new txt from Mum: Tsaana had turned up, missing a few tufts of fur but otherwise OK. Phew.  Reaching the highway I parked myself on a grassy shoulder next to some kind of treatment station and called home. It was nice, lying there in the sunshine talking to Mum, both of us relieved the cat was back and doing well. Turns out Mum's also had some tests at the doctor this week that came back all clear. I was a little unnerved to discover I was being told this only after the fact and that if they hadn't been clear I wouldn't have been told at all as Mum wouldn't want to spoil my trip. On the one hand I'm grateful for this and on the other I'm uneasy about not being given the opportunity to be there for her if needed. For the rest of the trip now I'll have a little tiny spark of a question in my mind about whether everything is alright back home as it seems I won't be told about it until I get there myself! (I've got friends keeping tabs on other friends for me and keeping me in the loop while I'm away as a few of them have some serious things going down at the moment, but Mum it seems is very good at keeping shtum...).

From the campsite it's a 6km road walk out to National Park and the junction with SH4. I decided if I could max-out my road pace I should be able to do it in just over an hour. One hour and five minutes later I was at the junction, reaching it just as the cops pulled over some young idiot for speeding. Giving the merest of glances in their direction I checked SH4 was clear before scooting across and heading straight into the 4-Square in search of my by now customary can of fizzy fresh-up orange...no such luck at first but then I found it: a 1L bottle! 100m along the highway I found the YHA and checked in. I'd rung them the night before to book a single room for two nights (this place is packed so chances of getting a dorm to myself are nil). The guy at the desk, Daniel gave me my key and directions to my room just around the corner. I dumped my stuff and was soon back at the front desk to enquire about getting change for laundry, purchasing laundry powder and borrowing a towel. I asked about the towel first and Daniel replied somewhat oddly that he was supposed to hire them out for a dollar.  Supposed to? Do I or do I not have to pay a dollar to borrow a towel? I thought. I felt bad because Daniel seemed like a nice guy and probably felt awkward having to enforce such a rule for such a negligible amount of money, but I was impatient to get clean and get my clothes on to wash so I forked over the dollar plus money for laundry powder and went in search of a washing machine. Curiously the laundry is located off of a large gymnasium-type room that has three sides dedicated to climbing walls. I had seen from the signs outside that the YHA was proudly home to a climbing wall, I just hadn't expected to walk through it to get to the laundry.

Clean, dry, and with all the clothes I could spare washing I went and made dinner in the kitchen. I wasn't feeling particularly social this evening, plus almost everybody here is about eighteen or nineteen and travelling in groups, and not at all interested in a slightly more weathered-looking solo hiker (although it turns out Matt was only nineteen and we got on great so I shouldn't and will try not to judge by age alone!). There's no sign of Brett or any other TA-ers except for one guy who was at reception when I was chasing up a towel. He didn't sound happy then and didn't look particularly cheerful now sitting at the computer (and overpriced internet terminal) outside the door. So with no one to chat to I sat and ate and sipped tea (from a mug, yay--Whakapapa Holiday Park doesn't provide crockery or cutlery so even though I got to cook on a hob, I was still eating out of a pot with a spork and drinking tea out of my bowl). The evening was still light and clear and you couldn't beat the view looking directly out at Ngauruhoe through the dining room windows. I had a chat to Alyse on Facebook and then rang Taylor to make plans for tomorrow. He's staying in Ohakune, which surprised me at first--I'd foolishly assumed he'd be staying here and that we'd both hitch to town and back together tomorrow. But staying in a bigger town fits his hiking MO so on reflection I'm not surprised. This does leave me with the prospect of getting myself to Ohakune and back by myself tomorrow however, which I'm a little apprehensive about as I'll most likely have to hitch. I did a quick check online but while a bus can get me there or get me back it can't do both in one day. If I'd been thinking I'd have stayed in Ohakune tomorrow night, but I'm booked in here in a expensive (for a hiker) single room ($60/night) and don't want to forfeit that money by checking out early, whilst then spending even more on buses and accommodation in Ohakune. My hitchhiking experience is limited to the short trip (1km) John and I took into Mercer and the similarly short trip Matt and I took to the campground at Taumarunui, and it's not something I'm eager to do by myself. But still, needs must, and I need to get there...

Taylor and I agreed to meet in Ohakune at noon tomorrow. I'll confess that I'm sort of keen to give hitchhiking a go. I'll almost certainly have to do it in the South Island at some (multiple?) points as there's nowhere near as many resupply towns on the trail as in the north, so part of me feels like I should get used to it now. I'm keen to see if I'm any good at it; I'm sure your technique helps determine how quickly you get picked up (and by whom). So while I'm keen to take any other option if it arises, perhaps tomorrow I'll find out how good my hitchhiking thumb is!

Day 60: Zero Day 7

I didn't decide until about 10:30 this morning that today was going to be a zero day, mainly because I didn't get up until 10 (yes! Slept in!). This wasn't without some guilt however...Matt and I accidentally stayed up chatting away for hours until at midnight there came a delicate knock on the door and a small Belgian-accented voice saying "I know it's fun to catch up and I'd love to do it to, but is it sleep time now...?". We felt awful! We'd had no idea we'd been that loud (or the walls that thin) and had been keeping Nathalie awake when she was planning to have an early start to do the Crossing. We appologised profusely and fell instantaneously silent...except for a mutual whispered admission that if we'd been Nathalie we wouldn't have put up with us for that long and would have hammered on the wall long before now!  I txt her when I got up this morning to appologise again and wish her an awesome day on the mountain.

As Matt set about packing up I debated staying put for a day over heading on to National Park. It's a 20km walk but a lot of it on good track or road and so perfectly doable even with a late start, and despite my big day yesterday I was feeling pretty refreshed and up to walking if it was necessary; but I don't need to be in National Park until tomorrow. Taylor and I are going to meet up there or in Ohakune the day after tomorrow to go food shopping and make final arrangements for our canoe trip, so even if I walked to National Park today I'd just have a day to kill there...and it's cheaper to stay here and more likely get a room to myself than at the YHA there, and it's a nice spot here in the trees at the foot of Mt Ruapehu. Plus I could use the day to rest, have a wander round...and catch up on some blog entries! So while Matt began packing up all his gear into his panniers (to be slung either side of his bike) I showered, dressed and wandered off to reception to book another night's stay at the Lodge. Terry wasn't working but a nice girl took my booking and payment. She was obviously new and had some trouble getting the system to work so I half-wondered if I should keep my receipt as proof of payment, but thought 'nah, it'll be alright' and binned it.

Outside Whakapapa Holiday Park--not a bad spot

Back in the dorm I wished Matt safe travels before setting off into town in search of some breakfast. Outside the visitors' center I found Sean and Co. relaxing in the sunshine, chatting to Lars and Romena. I was surprised but glad to see them again; last I saw them they were about to take a week off in Te Kuiti to rest and see a physio about their knees. Happily both of them are now well on the mend, although while Lars' knee was an easy fix, Romena apparently had an infected knee-cap that sometimes requires it to be put back in place now--yikes!  All six of them had enjoyed their day on the mountain yesterday; turns out the four guys (who I'd spent the entire day assuming were ahead of me) were actually behind me and went up Ngauruhoe. I'll admit to being envious of their fitness and stamina!

I had a quick look around the Visitor's Center before joining Lars and Romena at Fergusson's cafe across the road for brunch. We were soon joined by one of the Israeli brothers (I'm sorry I can't remember his name--I'm sure one of the brother's was Avnul, but I can't remember which!); he's suffering from shin splints so whilst the other three are walking out to National Park today he's going to hitch and meet them there. We four sat in the sun swapping stories until everybody had drunk and eaten their fill (my hot chocolate was alright but the spinach and feta filo decidedly average) and then went our separate ways: hitchhiker to the highway, walkers to the trailhead and slacker (me) back to the holiday park.

In the kitchen I tried and failed to get the wireless code I'd been given to work on my phone. In the end I gave up and just sat typing offline and connecting to mobile data to upload when I'd finished a blog entry. There's no computer for guests to use here so I'm still typing out longwinded blog entries on a battered iPhone 4--a tedious process, but I did promise to do it, and if I'm brutally honest, I enjoy writing up. It's fun reliving your adventures and trying to turn them into a string of text that faithfully records what happened in an attempt at an entertaining manner. Whether or not anyone reading this finds it enjoyable (but I know for a fact at least a few of you do--thanks for the feedback guys!) I hope this will all be a good (if verbose) record for me to refer back to in my...ahem...later years...so I can relive my adventures, and no doubt have an amusing snapshot of myself in my late twenties!

While typing I got talking to a late middle-age Canadian couple, Adrian and Maya, who are spending the day planning the next leg of their trip. They come to New Zealand a lot by the sounds of things (and would have moved here if the prospects for retirees hadn't been better back home in Canada), so it's a delicate balance for them to find places they've not been to before and/or wouldn't mind seeing again. They were interesting people to talk to: he's a geophysicist and she's a geoscientist currently doing data management for trace elements in soil. Seeing me tapping away furiously on my phone Adrian was kind enough to lend me the detachable bluetooth keyboard off his tablet when he was finished with it. It took a minute or two to get used to the new configuration but soon I was furiously typing away twice as fast as on my phone. Thank you Adrian!!

I managed to get a few entries done by 6pm when my stomach started growling so I returned the keyboard and went to fetch my dinner. As I made pasta (again) the kitchen began filling up and I got talking to the tall 40-something woman working the hob next to me. Her name was Yettie and she's an environmental scientist from Holland out here exploring New Zealand on a solo car-camping adventure. It turns out she is also a musician so I asked her if she wanted to check out the live piano music at the Chateau down the road with me after dinner. Matt had told me about it last night and said it was worth a look. I had been hoping to go, but couldn't really be bothered now...unless of course someone else wanted to come too. Yettie was keen so after dinner we reconvened outside reception and set off on the short walk down the street to the Chateau.

The Chateau is a large 4-star hotel built in the style of a European castle/country manor that dominates the small skyline of Whakapapa Village and was apparently a gift to the daughter of a wealthy Malaysian family from her parents. Obviously it's a fairly exclusive spot (by NZ standards) but they have a public lounge and bar with live piano music played every night.  After briefly stopping at the wrong place, a restaurant built into the side of the building, we went around to the main entrance (up a vehicle ramp) and soon found ourselves in a large lounge area, complete with comfy seats and chandeliers. Near the middle of the room a grey-haired man was tickling the ivories of a shiny grand piano and just happened to be playing 'Memory' from Cats as we walked in. I couldn't resist singing softly to myself as we sank down into armchairs nearby (it was probably going to be the comfiest seat I'd have all trip so I was intent on making the most of it!).

After playing a faithful rendition of the song first the pianist then played a jazz version which was unexpected and very cool indeed. He then moved on to some Beatles ('Hey Jude' and the like--one Asian guy got up and requested 'Let It Be' and stood, one hand on the piano, obviously in raptures as his favourite song sprang forth), before playing some more musical numbers (including 'All I Ask of You' from Phantom of the Opera) and then moving on to popular Christmas songs and carols. Yettie and I knew most of the tunes and sang along quietly to several songs in between sipping our beer and cocktail (respectively). We sang quietly so as not to disturb other patrons, most of whom were dressed at least to the eights (if not the nines). In younger days I'd have been completely intimidated sitting there in my thermal top and cargo pants, and have been far to self-conscious to sing (though I would have sorely wanted to). I reflected that this thru-hike has been wonderful for developing my 'don't give a damn' attitude that enables me to be myself even if people are likely to judge me for it. There's something about walking the length of the country that make you feel entitled to be able to sit and listen (and sing along) to nice music in a swanky lounge even if you're under-dressed and not able to afford anything the place offers besides what's on the drinks and bar snack menu. Having company helps and if Yettie hadn't of been there too I may not have been bold enough to sing along...so I still have some way to go before I become a complete weirdo don't worry (once I get to Bluff perhaps?).

I liked the songs played solely by the piano the best; some were with a pre-recorded backing track and weren't as good, and after an hour or so the pianist took a break.  In between sips and songs Yettie and I discussed music (she plays saxophone in a duo called Ladies in Music), and then she asked me the very simple and at the same time infinitely complex to answer question: "So, what's New Zealand like? What's it's situation?". We had nothing but time so I thought about my answer before explaining about a number of the wonderful things there are here (friendly people, beautiful landscapes, laid-back lifestyle etc.), whilst also tempering them with several of the decidedly not-wonderful things (binge drinking culture, generally bad driving, high family violence and child abuse rates, uninspiring politics, overpriced locally grown foodstuffs etc.). I covered the little I knew about recent events included the TPPA and flag referendum, not sparing Yettie my immensely negative opinions about both. Understandably Yettie was interested to know if we have similar immigration problems (crisis) to that currently being experienced by Europe. In short, I answered that no, we absolutely do not...yet. Our relative geographical isolation has spared us up until now (I think), and may do so for a few years yet, but I think anyone of sense will see that something that is only getting steadily worse around the world will eventually have severe ramifications for little ol' NZ [insert startling, ironic but not unreasonable parallel to Hobbiton and the troubles of Middle Earth?].  As more people from underdeveloped or war-ravaged nations, the vast majority of whom simply want to establish a safe and secure living for themselves and their families, see people from other countries living it up with all the mod-cons and, quite understandably, want to have all that themselves and decide to up sticks and move (if they have not already been forcibly displaced), it's only a matter of time before the unresolved conflicts resulting in other areas make NZ a desirable destination despite its isolation. One of the side-effects of globalisation and modern international media: everybody can see just how green the grass is somewhere else. While our news media numbs us to the atrocities occurring elsewhere and we think 'thank goodness it's not us', people in such places must see coverage of political stunts, sports games and pop-concerts and think 'there's a chance for a better life. A life not in danger and fear and uncertainty, but a life where you don't have to fight for basic necessities, and people have time for comparatively frivolous, enjoyable things'...is it any wonder they'd want to chase that chance? Wouldn't we all??

Trouble is, Europe, New Zealand, the world cannot absorb everyone who's going to want (or be forced) to move and resettle elsewhere, and the cultural clashes that are already resulting are going to make it very difficult for both new migrants and the communities that receive them to preserve their own colourful (wonderful!) cultural distinctions without instigating mistrust and fear of each other. It's not a nice thing to say but unfortunately that's just how human beings seem to work. If it were me and it was New Zealand I was having to flee from I'd do so very reluctantly--New Zealand is my home! If a faltering NZ could be restored to something vibrant and functional I'd much rather stay and I'm sure most other people feel the same way about their homelands. Consequently the obvious solution is to help people restabilise their own countries so that they don't feel like they have to leave in the first place...but I don't think bombing the bejeezus out of them is going to do it (quite the reverse!).

Sorry for the tangent; I know this is a blog about hiking Te Araroa which, you might think, should have absolutely nothing to do with issues such as immigration and global politics...but I would argue that it does. One of the wonderfully unexpected things about doing this hike is the variety of people I've met from all over the world. How ignorant and arrogant would it be to share in their adventure exploring our (mostly) lovely little country without stopping to ask about or reflect on where they have come from and the problems they face. This is true whether it's a local hunter concerned about 1080 poisoning local kiwi populations, or someone from Europe experiencing a snowballing immigration crisis. I love how this hike has reintroduced me to (I like to think I'm at least vaguely aware of important things going on around the world...) and got me seriously thinking about important issues both here at home and abroad. It's doing it in a way that is interesting, interactive, and not overly negative (unlike watching the news!), a way that makes you think, having met people directly or indirectly involved or affected, that although it seems tough, individual people are for the most part reasonable human beings and that there might be, there must be, an answer. That gives me hope and it makes me want to help...I don't know how and I don't with what yet, but maybe that's something I'll discover as I go along. I hope so!

After an in depth discussion, a cocktail and a couple of sets of live music Yettie and I set off into the darkness and newly settled mist back to the holiday park. We wished each other safe travels and I went to bed in my dorm room all to myself, brain buzzing...and still quietly singing to myself.

Day 59: Tongariro Alpine Crossing to Whakapapa Village (34km; 1145km total)

I'm awake. It's dark, but the white fly of my tent means it's still surprisingly bright inside. There's no noises except for crickets...why am I awake? Maybe my alarm is about to go off? I'm one of those people that if I'm worried about over-sleeping I tend to wake up ten to fifteen minutes before my alarm sounds, which is quite handy really. I feel about for my phone to check the time; after two months of this everything has its proper place and I no longer have to feel about in the dark to find things (usually...). It's 4am. My alarm isn't supposed to go off for another hour. I lie there for a few seconds gauging my sleepiness...bugger it, I'm awake, why not get going and get a real head start on the day?!

As quietly as I could, being conscious of campers nearby, I eased out of my sleeping bag, dressed and put my camp clothes and sleeping bag away. Doing that ease-the-zipper thing I managed to extricate myself from my tent to find a spectacular starry sky overhead. Just magic! It's going to be a cracking day to walk over the mountain.

I grabbed the bag of food, stove and pot-set I'd organised the night before and set off for the kitchen. The stars were bright enough that I didn't need a torch and only flicked on a light once I was in the kitchen block--which unsurprisingly I had all to myself. Hot chocolate, porridge, dishes, wipe bench and I was heading back across the quiet campground to my tent. One or two people are up by now, shuffling sleepily to the toilet block and back.

I packed down (and up?) as quietly as I could, fortunately remembering to fetch my travel towel from the drying room and remembering to brush my teeth on the way back. I feel like I'm moving fairly efficiently given the hour, but it seems no matter what my morning routine takes approximately 1 1/2 hrs. The sky is rapidly turning grey and brightening as I set off at 5:25. There's been the occasional sound of a car or large truck on the highway and it's an 8km road-walk to Ketetahi Carpark at the start of the track, so I set out with my high-vis vest wrapped around my pack and visible either side of my shoulders--don't want to get run down by a sleepy driver! Especially since it's bright enough for me to walk without headlamp by now. As the stars quickly disappeared I was almost sorry I hadn't got up even earlier so I could walk under the starry sky for a while. Still, it's nice walking at this hour of the morning.  It's cold though and I soon regret not leaving my gloves out of my pack. Thankfully my hiking poles have foam grips but my fingers are still going numb and I try to up the pace a bit to warm up.

As the sun rises I'm treated to the gradually changing shades of light on the mountain on my right, Mt Tongariro...good grief, I'm about to climb up there! The dawn light briefly makes the plume of steam rising from Te Maari and the Ketetahi Hot Springs stand out starkly against the sky.  The steam is rising vertically, there's not a breath of wind up there yet. It is definitely going to be a great day to go over the mountain.

The world gradually wakes up around me as I walk. Traffic steadily picks up and soon great tour buses are whizzing past. Passing by a skinny horse in a paddock I stopped to offer it some of the tall juicy grass that was out of its reach on the road shoulder.  Despite the fact its ribs are starting to show the stubborn beast isn't interested. Why is it all the horses are snubbing me on this trip?

After what is beginning to feel like an age (and has been almost two hours; I couldn't find my road pace this morning) I make it to the turn off up the short gravel road to the carpark...and it is busy! There's cars everywhere, already, at not even 7:30 in the morning. The carpark is full and traffic control people are directing cars to park along one side of the road or directing them to park at the large parking area back at the highway. I can't understand it, and then as I gain the picnic area at the start of the track I click: everyone is parking their cars here and catching the bus to the other end of the track so they can walk out this way. My theory is confirmed when, after a quick museli bar break and putting my high-vis away I set off up the track and the hoards of people suddenly disappear. Off into the beech forest I go, heading on up Mt Tongariro! This isn't my first time, I've done this before, but last time it was in the other direction (with the flow), with a random bunch of people I didn't know, in increasingly inclement weather, in brand new boots that by the end of the 19km trip had given me some of the worst blisters of my life! I'd still had a wonderful time that day, and while I expect today to be hard (I'm a lot fitter now than then, but I also have a near 20kg pack this time!) I'm hoping to love it just as much.

Early on, as you approach the mountain from the north, there's a short stretch of track that crosses a valley. Warning signs tells you not to go on if you hear any kind of roaring-like noise from upstream, and not to stop whilst crossing the valley.  Lahars have wiped out this section of trail before and as you follow the relatively newly constructed trail you can see the gravel deposits among the trees from the last time the unassuming little stream nearby flooded.

The first part of the track is an easy gradual climb, and then it become a zigzag up the steep face of a ridge which, fortunately, looks worse than it is. There's a couple of spots to sit on the way up, and--adhering to my rule of never passing up a good seat--and grateful for an excuse to catch my breath I take a break on a large wooden bench. It's good opportunity to put on the first layer of sunscreen for the day as, if I remember rightly, at the top of this ridge the track emerges from the trees and begins the long slow climb up through the low scrub on the flanks of the volcano.

As predicted, at the top I pop out into blazing sunshine. A young German couple are sitting on the seat here, laughing and taking their time applying their sunscreen. She has no pack, curiously only a couple of large pieces of cardboard, but he has a pack even bigger than mine, 80 or so liters. I offer the usual hiker hello and enquiries but they assure me they're just up here for the day. After a short stop I leave them to it and head on, privately coming up with plausible occupations that would call for an enormous pack and random bits of cardboard...are they going to do some painting up there?

As the track winds on up through the pretty low and golden alpine scrub plants it's surprising how much height you've gained already. As you climb up the view only gets wider of the country below, dominated by the bright shining blue of Lake Rotoaira, and soon the hazier, paler blue of Lake Taupo in the distance behind the nearer hills. Up ahead Ketetahi Shelter is perched on a round ridge above. My early morning is catching up with me and I stop for another museli bar break before heading on.  I can see one or two people already heading down; they must have made a VERY early start, or else they're TA hikers who have camped on the mountain. Despite being a Great Walk, camping is allowed on the mountain as long as you're 500m off the trail and out of sight (which, apparently is true of all the Great Walks...?). Lo and behold I round a corner to find Anneli striding toward me, sporting her new shoes and her old, attractive wooden walking stick. We stop to say hello and I discover from her that yes she camped on the mountain and found it very cold, and also that Taylor is no more than an hour or so ahead of me--he and Anneli had crossed paths at the shelter as Taylor is doing the track north-south same as me, but Anneli is doing it south-north as is the day-hike preferred direction.  I know that the four guys from yesterday camped around here somewhere as well; it looks like there's going to be a lot of TA-ers on the mountain today.

Wishing Anneli good walk I continue on up along the well graded track, and eventually reach Ketetahi Shelter. I gratefully used the loo before checking out the shelter buildings. The shelter used to be an overnight hut until the 2012 Te Maari eruption sent boulders flying through the air that plunged through the roof and one of the sets of bunks, and left the surrounding area pock-marked with numerous small boulder-centered craters (luckily no one was in the hut at the time!). It's a good reminder to those who might otherwise forget: it's an active volcano you're traversing guys! (And if they forget, here's a couple videos of a subsequent eruption later that year that gave a Napier School Group and other hikers a more hair-raising than usual day out on the mountain).

Whilst a few clouds are starting appear from over the summit to the south, its still blazing sunshine so I take the opportunity of a large outdoor deck and handrail and having the place to myself to lay out my tent, fly and sleeping bag to dry. There was a heavy dew overnight and everything is soaked! Shortly I am joined by a solo German day-hiker coming down from the top. He started from the Mangatepopo Carpark at 6:30 and is the first sign of the flood of people I'm to expect coming this way. I hope to make it to the top before the bulk of them come through, but for now I'm happy to sit in the sun and munch and chat to the few people passing by while my gear dries. Shortly two more TA-ers arrive, coming up the same way as I have. They are Catherine from the USA and Elene from Germany, and whilst they set out to do the whole trail are now cherry picking the best parts and plan to head to the South Island after this.  They snacked, we chatted, and in the end I had lunch as I wasn't in any hurry to move on and my gear wasn't quite dry. We discussed why the trail to the Ketetahi Thermal Springs is now closed. I guessed the ground was dangerous or unstable whilst a sign saying the area is private land and walkers have no right of access made me suspect it is sacred Maori land who's owners have denied access (I found out later that while this is true, the owners did allow access until a tourist got scalded to death in the 1990's). Consequently walkers now have to content themselves with a view from afar as the climb up to (or descend from) Ketetahi shelter.

After a while the German guy headed down, the girls headed up and I sat by myself watching an upright and daring little grey bird search the decking for dropped morsels. Finally, a full hour after I'd arrived, I packed up and headed on. I was more than a little intimidated by the numerous switchbacks rising above me, now with a trickle of ant-like people heading up and down. Fortunately the switchbacks aren't nearly as bad as they look from below and never really get that steep, so you just keep walking and almost before you know it you've rounded the ridge can see the track disappearing over the crest of a ridge at the head of the valley you're in, having climbed past Te Maari steaming away on the far side. No eruption today...I'll confess a small part of me was disappointed...but I wasn't half way over the mountain yet!

Te Maari

Around a corner I came upon the young German couple again. They had passed me while I stopped at Ketetahi Shelter, stopping only briefly themselves. He had put down his pack that clunked with a distinctive rattle of glass bottles, though he smiled cheekily and said "rocks!". I'd decided they must have one hell of a picnic planned up the mountain, and now I discovered it wasn't a picnic, but a rather cunning venture: they're were selling beer to thirsty hikers! He'd hiked up here with an enormous crate of export gold and ice and now had it laid out invitingly on a raincoat beside the trail with a cardboard sign indicating refreshment for sale for $5. I came up to them just as an Irish lady came down who thought it was absolutely marvelous, gave them full points for entrepreneurship and bought a beer directly. I'm not really a beer drinker so wasn't even enticed, but did found the whole scene rather amusing, and was pleased to have found the answer to the riddle of the oversized clinking backpack.

Refreshments anyone?

At the ridge crest the track emerges onto the rim of Central Crater and skirts the edge of the aptly named Blue Lake. Here I encountered many more hikers and could see the track stretching away across the eastern side of the crater and up toward Red Crater beyond, the people striding along it looking almost exactly like a line of ants on the march. The line stretched all the way round and up to the summit of Mt Tongariro (where the line grew thinner; the summit itself is an additional side trail). Stopping briefly at Blue Lake I set out across the crater under thickening but still high cloud that was only just obscuring the very top of Tongariro and the neighbouring cone of Mt Ngauruhoe. In my mind I relived my first crossing of this crater when the weather had closed in causing everyone to either up the pace or turn back and I'd set out alone into windy, rainy cloud that had obscured the far side of the crater (let alone any view from the rim). The weather had cleared a little by the time I reached the far end a scant few hundred metres away, leaving me alone on the trail with wisps of steam and cloud eerily scudding across the crater as the wind whistled in my ears (for the record I was wet, cold and loving it!). Not today though. Today the sun was intermittently out as a thickening roof of cloud moved overhead, propelled by a wind that was strengthening, but which was still tame by alpine standards.

Looking south across Central Crater toward Red Crater

Heading down into the crater I unexpectedly heard someone call my name and looked up to find Matt striding toward me, along with a fellow-Australian hiking buddy he'd found for the day called George. Matt is staying at the holiday park in Whakapapa and recommended it as although he'd paid for a bed in a dorm, it wasn't busy and he'd had the dorm all to himself. Sounded good to me. I planned to make it to Whakapapa Village tonight if possible and so we agreed to meet up at the holiday park later. Matt was also going to meet Taylor and show him how to repair his shoes as apparently he's now having to stop every so often to ram his insole back into his shoe from where it's falling out through the great gaping hole in the front!

Saying farewell to Matt and George I went on, but hadn't gone far when I also encountered Sam walking with a couple of her fellow hiking friends who'd caught up to her. I was sorry, but not surprised, to hear she's packing it in as a thru-hike and is skipping ahead to the South Island; apparently she's not "feeling the love" in the North Island.  I was particularly sorry to hear she didn't think much of today's walk either; such a shame as it is supposed to be one of the best day-walks in the world!

Emerald Lakes looking up toward Red Crater

Reaching Emerald Lakes I stopped to sit on a rock and have a snack, along with a couple of hundred other people who had the same idea. Happily there were still plenty of spare rocks to sit on. It's funny how people naturally space themselves out, only sitting close to people not of their particular group when there isn't sufficient space to do otherwise, and even then trying to remain evenly spaced...except where particularly good sitting-rocks offer opportunities too good to pass up. While I do this myself it's only the first of second time I've been consciously aware of the unspoken social rule of personal space: it doesn't matter how big it is as long as it's the same size as everyone else's.

I munched my muesli bar, sizing up the short but steep and unstable scramble up a scree slope to Red Crater that was immediately before me. Going up was going to be hard enough with a pack, let alone against the tide of people slip-sliding their way down. I figured it was early afternoon and we were probably reaching peak traffic (I would find out later that some 2000 people had traversed the mountain today). I watched as two hikers with packs who I suspected were either TA-ers or else Northern Circuit-ers (the multi-day walk that takes in the day-hike that is the Alpine Crossing) made painfully slow progress up the slope. Oh well, no sense putting off the inevitable; I donned pack and set off.

To my surprise I didn't find the slog as completely breath-heaving and heart-pounding-in-your-ears knackering as I'd feared. I did stop to rest a little a few times, but far more often to get out of the way of people coming down (that's another unspoken social rule: if you're going against the tide you have to give way...particularly if you're on a slope and you have people unsteadily toppling down toward you. It's self-preservation as much as it is politeness!). Quite a few people commented on my keenness or madness on climbing up the slope as they passed and several people, mostly English or Canadian, happily admired and commented on the Christmas decoration affixed to my pack (note to self: English and Canadians have a proper sense of festive occasion!). I'm no pro-scree slider, but even I was amused at how scared some of the people were who were coming down, most of them putting all their weight on there toes, which makes no sense as it at the same time raises your center of gravity (making you less stable) and shifts your weight forward (making it easier to topple in that direction, that is to say, down the hill). On a slippery hard surface you don't really have a choice, but this is like coarse sand... dig your heels in people! You at the same time lower your center of gravity and shift your weight back (so if you fall, you're only going to land on your ass...and maybe slide a short way), and then the compacting sand/rock under your feet acts as a break so you have more control. This seemed like good advice and I eventually offered it to one pair who looked at any moment like they were going to pitch forward and take out the people below them (which included me). I moved off to the side to let them pass before finishing the climb and emerging at the top where there is a great view down to the very aptly named Red Crater. It's not active any more and the scarlet rocks were the same but as impressive as they had been the first time I had seen them.  I felt strangely as though I was catching up with old friends!

Looking north across Emerald Lakes

Red Crater

I was stoked. I'd reached the top of the day's climb and it was all downhill from here. I was also treated to my first close-up and unobscured view of Ngauruhoe. I set off down toward and around South Crater, still passing hoards of people on the way up.  Some of them I recognised as people who had been milling around Ketetahi Carpark at 7:30am this morning. Some of them were obviously struggling and I tried to offer a few words of encouragement to those who met my gaze. Happily, most people seemed to be enjoying the walk, whether or not they were finding it tough. I like it when foreigners like NZ (but really, why wouldn't they?).

Heading out across South Crater I caught up with Catherine and Elene. We walked together to the lip of the crater and saddle between the two neighbouring volcanoes. Traffic had dropped significantly and only a few stragglers were still making their way up past us by now. The fitter looking ones would be fine, but I privately hoped the less athletic weren't planning to do the whole walk today...but if they were I hoped they'd brought jackets and torches.

Catherine and Elene went on but I stopped for another break at the saddle, where the rough track to the summit of Ngauruhoe branches off. Two DOC guys came up and began shifting the sign to a more appropriate place as I rested. They casually quizzed people coming down from the summit, trying to gauge the cultural and safety awareness of the walkers hiking up the sacred and dangerously unstable rocky slopes. Most of course were completely unaware of the cultural significance of the area to local Maori, or of the high chance of someone above them accidentally sending large rocks careening down toward them as they hiked up from below. Most people know Ngauruhoe as Mt Doom, and I confess I am no less eager to climb up there one day...but not today. I was already getting tired and I still had several kilometres to go to get to Whakapapa. I knew the track would be good as far as Mangatepopo Carpark, but beyond that it was no longer Great Walk and while the terrain looked easy, there was no telling what condition the track might be in.  Casting one last longing look up at the summit (it being obscured by cloud helped me not feel too much like I was missing out) I set off down the layers and layers of lava flows flanking the mountain (the most recent from 1976) into the valley below. At the toilets (bring your own toilet paper) I caught up with Catherine and Elene again and we stopped and chatted over a prolonged snack break. Moving on again we set off along the easy track out of the valley, with long board-walked sections over the

Track out toward Mangatepopo Carpark

delicately vegetated areas derived from a stream flowing out of Soda Springs. Catherine refilled water bottles at Mangetepopo Hut and then the three of us headed on, eventually branching off onto the track to Whakapapa Village. The girls were interested to hear about New Zealand, and in particular Maori culture, so I told them a little of what I know. This, I am realising, is a disgracefully small amount of information, but I did my best, telling them the obvious stuff like the Treaty of Waitangi and how it continues to influence NZ politics to this day, as well as about some of the more common Maori customs. On our way to Whakapapa put me in mind of the traditions around powhiri and how one introduces themselves on a marae by reciting their whakapapa--their genealogy or heritage. Like most foreigners they find the pronunciation of 'whaka' highly amusing but they were genuinely interested and, I hope, inspired to find out more beyond the little I could tell them.

As feared, the less popular track to Whakapapa Village proved to be narrow and exceedingly washed out in several places.  Had it been the start of the day I wouldn't have minded so much, but at the end of a long day I rapidly began to deteriorate and soon fell behind. One thing that buoyed my flagging spirits was the spectacular view you get of snow-clad Ruapehu as you round the base of Ngauruhoe and and begin traversing the lowermost, stream-incised slopes of New Zealand's most famous volcano. I stopped several times to rest--my feet hurt and I was generally just very tired. I had an "Awww" moment when I came around a bend to find Catherine and Elene resting and snacking on the track (waiting for me?). We had four kilometres to go to get to the village--let's go!

Looking back toward Ngaurauhoe

Mighty Mt Ruapehu

Catherine is fast and soon went on ahead (much to Elene's annoyance; I get the feeling this is a bit of a contentious issue between the pair as, while they have both agreed to walk at their own paces, apparently Catherine doesn't stop often enough to let Elene catch up, or at least come back into view, for each to ensure they are both alright). I was soon soon struggling and told Elene to go on. I knew it was just tiredness but there was the odd moment when I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere and my eyes prickled.  I was kind of glad the girls had gone on ahead again; if they'd stayed I'd have bottled my exhaustion at immense physical effort, but as it was I was able to stumble along by myself, glad I could gradually fall apart in private as I walked...as long as I did just keep walking. Like I said in an earlier post: the beauty of hiking is that even when you've had enough, if you just keep walking you do eventually get somewhere...and so I did, finally arriving at Whakapapa Village, exhausted and it turns out, disorientated.  The immediate problem became I had absolutely no idea where the holiday park was. Catherine and Elene were there discussing their options--they were keen to hitch to National Park village but weren't sure they'd swing a ride this late (it was gone 6pm). I summoned the effort to say it was lovely to meet them and all the best with their trip before ambling off, first in the wrong direction toward the Skotel (which is decidedly not the holiday park), and then back the other way into town. I txt Matt to ask where the holiday park was, but after not getting a quick reply I decided I didn't have the energy to get lost in even this tiny town and sat on a step to break out Google Maps...just as a man walked by who looked like he knew where he was going.  I asked him if he knew where the holiday park was and he said he was on his way back there and would show me the way. Hallelujah.

The helpful man's name was Jamie, he was from the UK and he and his wife were touring NZ in an apparently outrageously big campervan (it sleeps six but there's only two of them). Matt txt me back as we walked but in a mercifully short few blocks we turned into the holiday park and there was Matt sitting at the picnic table waiting for me. I was as happy to see him as I had been to see Ron driving up the road outside Matakana. Both times the person in question was like a great bright beacon saying "It's over. You've made it. It's finished for the day". Thirteen hours, 34km and nearly 1200m up and down again since I'd set out that morning I had made it to Whakapapa Village. I all but collapsed on the picnic table, but soon had to get up again as Matt quickly told me the reception was about to shut so if I wanted a room I needed to check in now. So off I went up the steps to find the sign on the door saying reception shut at 6pm (it was now 6:30) and the door locked--but there was a man inside! Before I knew what I was doing I'd quite literally plastered my face on the glass and done the sad dog-paw thing with my hand (something my family and friends get but few other people perhaps...). Fortunately the guy laughed and let me in.

It turns out this is one of those wonderful establishments that instead of filling up dorms one by one, puts different groups of individuals in different dorms until the dorms are all occupied before filling them (hence why Matt has had a six-bed dorm all to himself). Unfortunately all the dorms are occupied, but two by only one person each: one is Matt's and the other by a Belgian lady. I'll always pick staying with people I've met before and who are nice over chancing strangers so I asked Matt if he minded if I slotted in with him. He said it was fine so that's what I did. (As it transpired I could have slotted in with the Belgian lady as well...).

Thanking the guy at reception, Terry, very VERY much, I set off to find my bed for the night. Matt kindly offered to carry my pack but I'm a stubborn hiker on a solo trip determined to carry all of my own stuff, so that's what I did, to Matt's amusement. The holiday park dorms are housed in a building called the lodge, which has a communal lounge area but the kitchen has been blocked off and guests are directed to use the larger, newer kitchen block that services the rest of the campground. The dorms are sizable with sturdy wooden bunks (yay! no creaks!) and oil heaters to warm them. Matt ramped up the heater to full throttle as I, with utter relief, dumped my stuff on a bunk and collapsed.  I allowed myself a little rest and a brief catch up with Matt; apparently Terry was able to provide him with sail-mending needle and thread with which to mend Taylor's shoes.  I half expected Taylor to be here too, but he's apparently off stealth-camping in the forest somewhere. Before long though I headed for the shower. Terry forgot to give me a key so Matt gave me his and disappeared off somewhere to, well, I guess do whatever it is Matt does with his evenings in hostels.

A shower and some fresh clothes later I was feeling much better, if not rested. I flopped down on my bunk, touched base with some friends and then called my Mum. I'm pleased to report that as warned would happen by virtually all thru-hiking information, it appears I am about to lose my first toenails. Not my big toenails surprisingly, but the next ones in.  My big toenails snapped laterally early on (coming down out of the Herekino and Raetea) so since then they've had their own kind of expansion (or, more accurately, compression!) joints with which to take the strain of being jammed up against the toe box of my boots on steep downhill sections of track. Consequently they're still fairly happy and healthy in colour. My next toenails in however aren't big enough to have snapped under the pressure and over the past week or so must have been steadily been bruising. They've been sore at night for the past couple of nights, with even the weight of the sleeping bag on them hurting if I flexed my feet upward, and now I know why: they've turned dark purple. Oh dear. Oh well...I've lost a toe nail before and they grow back. And at least they don't hurt any more (which I guess means they've died).

After catching up with Mum I went in search of the kitchen to make dinner. I had know idea where it was but happily a nice Asian girl from another dorm showed me the way. It was around 8pm but the kitchen was packed. I found a free hob and set my pasta on to boil, and used the zip to make a cup of tea. I was sipping quietly when I heard a familiar voice amongst the chorus of chatter coming from the fully-occupied tables...Nathalie?! A familiar blonde head looked up and in moments Nathalie had jumped up, rushed over and given me an enormous hug. I couldn't think what on earth she was doing here! She's should be at least a week ahead of me, if not more! As it turns out, she is, she's already done the Whanganui River trip, having skipped the Tongariro Alpine Crossing because she'd done it several times before...but apparently the mountains were calling and she's backtracked to come and do it again (you go girl!). She's going to do the walk over the mountain tomorrow and then is going to hitch back to National Park and then go on to Whanganui to pick up TA again. Apparently she did the 7-day canoe trip down the river from Taumaranui--along with fourteen other TA-ers! I tried to imagine the flotilla that must have been fifteen hikers paddling down the river, all the way to Whanganui. Apparently Andy was among the group, along with a couple of other people I've met in passing or heard of through other hikers. It sounds like quite the trip! Although Nathalie says seven days on the river is a bit too long. I hope my six day trip will be alright, but I generally don't seem to get as bored as other people for the most part so I'm sure I'll enjoy it all.

Nathalie and I caught up while I ate. Matt came by and they greeted each other like old friends, having already met here at the park. It's funny how quickly you get to become friends with people doing this sort of thing. It turns out Nathalie is the Belgian lady I would have been bunking with if I hadn't gone in with Matt! Small world! After a while we wished each other good walk before each heading our separate ways off to bed.  She's getting up early to do the Crossing and I...well I'm just plain knackered! I'm not sure yet what my plan is for tomorrow. I made up a day on the 42nd Traverse in case I needed a day off tomorrow, but I'll decide in the morning if I want to walk or not. Matt's plan is to sleep in til 10 (apparently Terry doesn't mind a late check-out) before heading off. Sleeping in til 10 sounds like an AMAZING idea. I only hope I can do it. The thing about early starts is you get used to it and soon forget how to sleep in!