Day 76: Bulls to Feilding (16km; 1450km total)

Another good sleep--I officially love my Downmat. I'm less fond of the constant truck traffic that never abated all night, going to and fro along the highway a stone's throw away (ok, a stones throw for someone with a good arm). There wasn't a dew overnight, nor rain, so it was a treat to have a dry fly to pack up this morning. I was up and away before Tom but we chatted briefly while he had breakfast and I filled my water bottles. He reminded me that there's a section of trail south of Palmerston North that is only open on weekends due to logging operations. I resolved to check this out once I got to Aevryl and Kenny's this afternoon--I don't want to show up at the forest and have to camp out at the gate for a day!

Setting off I somehow managed to find a gap in the traffic and scoot across the road to the pedestrian walkway over the bridge. Once across I had to wait rather longer for a gap big enough to get back across the road to take the first side road which mercifully heads off into farmland and is little used except by the odd car. This morning is a case of zig and zag, taking a left to follow one straight road for a few kilometres (and passing the airforce base band rooms), before taking a right to follow another straight road for a similar distance, then another left, and another right (at the junction next to the airforce communications building, with satellite dishes protected by barbed wire fences, and aerials being grazed around by sheep). Things then get shaken up a bit by taking a second right before soon taking a left. It was along this stretch a kind old man in a can stopped to ask if I had plenty of water. Certainly I was hot but I set out prepared and assured him I had plenty.

Thankfully that last left puts you on Sandon Rd which the trail follows all the way into Feilding. It even shakes things up a bit by adding the odd bendy bit. I'm being a but harsh really; the day's walk is easy and passes through golden yellow pasture land that seems to have been carved out of an ancient plain to leave remnants of a flat-topped terrace incised by variably narrow-broad valleys. Such is my impression of the Manawatu.

I would have enjoyed the walk even more if my feet didn't hurt so bad, my right foot in particular. I had to stop barely 2km out from Aevryl and Kenny's (but in a shady spot) to massage my feet into walking the remaining distance. I'm concerned now that there aren't even knots to massage out (since I've been doing this so much) but my right foot still hurts. I'm conscious of the fact that Philippe reported on Facebook shortly after completing the Tararuas that he had been diagnosed with a fracture metatarsal from repeated stress on his feet. I hope I'm not on the way to doing the same!

1km out from A&K's a familiar white station wagon appeared round the corner and my sister stopped to offer to take my pack. I politely declined--I'm doing this pack and all...besides, my hydration bladder is easier to carry in the pack! Soon enough, on the outskirts of town I recognised the now familiar gate and hobbled up the drive, arousing numerous barks from Ellie. After saying hello and a quick catch up on the Piggy situation (turns out she'd escaped from the neighbouring high school farm and the manager showed up yesterday with a few kids in tow to wrestle Piggy into a crate and take her home) Aevryl went off to work and I stumbled into the shower. 16km is a short walking day but I honestly don't know if I could have managed much more. All this road walking is playing havoc with my feet! The right one in particular. I think it's because, in addition to the repetitive flat-footed walking motion on hard tarseal, the camber of the road and walking facing the traffic most of the time means my right foot is also acting as a bit of a brake in a sideways direction to keep me and my pack upright. All in all it's proving a bit much for my poor right foot to handle. If I do need to burn a day to wait for the actively logged section of trail to be accessible then maybe I should go see the doctor, just to check in not going to do any real damage if I keep walking...?

Ken was at work and Marj had eaten so I made myself a sandwich from leftovers in the fridge, put a load of washing on again and dove into another Georgette Heyer. I managed to get my clothes dry in time to go with everyone to Fiona and Phil's for a BBQ dinner. It was a lovely evening, topped off by Fiona giving me some Anica cream which helped ease the pain in my right foot to the point where I could walk to the car without hobbling on the way home!

Day 75: Koitiata to Bulls (28km; 1434km total)

After a 6:30 start to get ready I had a leisurely breakfast polishing of the leftover sourdough bread from last night. Aevryl and Kenny then kindly dropped me back in Koitiata before getting on with their day.

Turakina Beach is very much black sand and white logs, which it quite picturesque in a slightly desolate kind of way. The say was a flat calm, with only the occasional wave breaking with white water across an intermittent shallow sand bar just offshore. At one point I saw a smallish fish jump and skim a few metres across the water.

I pretty much had the beach to myself, except for two fisherman long lining from winch-controlled lines attached to quadbikes and who busied themselves with seeking out shellfish in the sand while they waited, and one old guy who road up on a quadbike to stop and say hello, and then went about collecting trash from the beach--explains why the beach was in general so rubbish-free.

Despite being overcast it was still very hot, especially in one little stretch where a talk dune on one side blocked the breeze as the sun was peeking through the clearing clouds and the heat was being radiated back up by the sand. I pushed on through this and sat on a log to have a break, and watched two pilots in airforce aircraft (no idea what kind sorry, but nothing so sleek as a spit nor so lumbering as a Lancaster) doing figure eights and loop-de-loops, one inland from me and one some way south. Ohakia airbase is around here somewhere...

After 8km I spotted a cutting in the dunes that proved to be the track leading out to the forestry road which TA follows out through mature pine trees to Santoft Rd and then carries on for 5km through harvested pine plantation. The runway must be somewhere south of here because as I walked something like a Hercules took off and turned overhead to fly off to the north. There's no shade along here and I resolved to stop at the first shady spot I came to along the road at the other end to rest, cool down and have lunch. I stopped for a good hour when I did, eating but mainly resting my poor feet. They were okay on the beach but they're really not coping too well on all this flat, hard ground.

Walking out along Brandon Hall Rd my breaks got more frequent. The last 5km was very hard and I finally hobbled into Bulls--after 5:30 so all the shops were shut and I couldn't get the smoothie I'd been craving all day (I'd even rung the visitors centre to see if there was anywhere that might sell me one).

To late for cafés I hobbled through town to the campground. I'd phoned ahead and spoken to a cheerful woman who assured me there was loads of tent space left. The man who met me at reception wasn't quite so friendly and instead looked me up and down with an expression that said "well you're not going to pay for our nicest cabin". Still he dutifully showed me the facilities and later redeemed himself by surprisingly more cheerfully offering me the two bottles of water left in the kitchen fridge. I offered one to a fellow TA hiker named Tom who had shown up as I emerged from the shower block (incidentally the showers are great--hot and good pressure--as long as you don't mind sharing the cubicle with at least four daddy-long-legs).

I'm stoked to meet Tom. Having had such a long break from walking I feared I would have been left behind by all the other hikers and have been worried that I might not meet any more. Turns out Tom, a Kiwi from Auckland, stayed at Koitiata  campground last night and followed my footprints all the way along the beach--apparently the fishermen told him there was another hiker ahead if him, a girl who was "kicking your ass!".

I also found out that Rotten Orange, our poor ill-fated canoe is STILL in the Whanganui River! Tom paddled past it only a week ago, and fell about laughing now when he found out I was one of the pair that put it there. He was impressed that anyone could do that to a canoe at that point in the river, saying that it couldn't have been more expertly done if we'd planned it. Oh dear. There's a chance Taylor and I are going to be notorious...

Tom and I chatted for an hour or so, relieving our favourite moments from the trail so far. I had scroggin for dinner (am not planning to resupply until Palmerston North) and then fended off cattle in the neighbouring paddock who had become a little to interested in the clothes I'd hung out to air/dry on a string between the fence and my tent. Erring on the side of caution I reclaimed my clothes to air in a pike on top of my pack before going to bed.

Day 74: Zero Day 11

Wow, stayed up FAR too late reading last night...was fun though, and there's nothing better to do when you know you don't have to be up early the next day. That said I did haul myself out of bed in time to see Aevryl and Ken off to church.

After a late breakfast I finished the final chapters of the Georgette Heyer and then wandered around wrapped in a towel for an hour and a half while I washed and dried my washing (it was far too hot to wear long John's and fleece which is the on trail I'm-washing-all-my-other-clothes alternative). Sure I'd only worn the clothes for a day/night but it was hot, I sweat and they already stink. Plus I think it's another trail rule: always take advantage of a free washing machine.

I spent much of the rest of the morning trying to catch up on blogging. After Aevryl and Ken came home we all piled into the car and headed into Palmerston North for part two of Aevryl's birthday celebrations: lunch at the Plaza food court with all the sisters and their families.   It was nice to catch up with everyone again, and indulge in a curry!

I was in the Macdonalds queue to buy sundaes for desert for Marj and I when Mum txt me about a 5.7 quake in Christchurch. Everyone was very interested and we were all soon googling to find out more and check to see if there was any significant damage. Happily it seems that everything that was going to be has already been shaken loose by the previous quakes. Turns out Marj and I started a trend with the sundaes...everyone else soon shot off to get ice creams too.

After lunch we all dispersed to do whatever shopping we needed to do. I headed off to JB Hi-Fi to grab a more powerful USB charger (turns out I grabbed the wrong one when I packed and it can't charge my external battery pack). On the way I unexpectedly bumped into my brother Merrick and said hello. After JB's I shot to Kmart to buy new sunglasses (my old ones broke when I was checking in on the flight out of Dunedin); seeing as they were only $6 I bought two pairs...I'll probably manage to break another set soon enough! Poor Marj was waiting for us so it was time to meet back at the food court and do a final grocery shop before heading home (FYI interested walkers: in lieu of groceries I invested in a pair of Countdown undies. I bought a pair on a whim earlier in the trip and, made of thick stocking-like material, they're breathable, have proved super comfy to walk in AND are quick to rinse out and dry--recommend!).

Back at the house we had a swim (thanks Aev for the loner togs!) and spent the remainder if the afternoon relaxing. It's funny to watch Pufgy trundling round the yard behind Kenny like a faithful dog.

We had a ploughman's lunch and the last of the chocolate cake for dinner and afterwards sat down to watch a few episodes of Firefly before I packed myself off to bed. Back on the trail tomorrow! I expect to be back walking past the gate in two days time, but it will be good to feel like I've earned my sister and brother-in-laws hospitality by walking all the way to their house!

Day 73: Zero Day 10

I woke up around seven after one of the best night's sleep I've had in my tent. The Downmat looks like it's going to be worth the investment; I was warm and could roll over without ever digging my few bony bits into the ground. Winning!

Reception is patchy here so it's been difficult trying to arrange with my sister when and where to meet up. I'm not going to make it to their place by foot in time for her birthday BBQ so they've offered to come and collect me then drop me back on the trail. Trouble is there's a 12km stretch between Koitiata and the nearest publicly accessible road. Having not heard back I decided to set out along Turakina Beach; if the worst came to the worst I could always turn back.

Which is precisely what I did about a kilometre down the beach when my phone finally pinged as it received messages that had actually been sent last night. Aevryl and Kenny could pick me up around 9:30, and we'd all be back well in time for me to get clean and fresh before the BBQ lunch. So I walked back to the campground and sat at a picnic table in the playground to wait. A nice couple in a caravan asked where I was going and offered me a lift, and a few people out walking their dogs stopped to chat, and soon a familiar white station wagon appeared round the corner. Poor Ellie the dog didn't recognise me right away and growled a bit before she let me scratch her ears. I tried not to be offended.

Back at Aevryl and Kenny's I got clean and then, while Aevryl and Kenny were out, got into the kitchen and raided their pantry to whip up a chocolate cake for Aevryl's birthday.

Around lunchtime another of my sisters, Fiona and her family arrived, followed by a contingent from Kenny's side, and we all settled out on the deck for a wonderful meal. In between discussions ranging from Stevens solar cooker (a tinfoil lined box that in 1.5 hrs cooked a very nice gumbo) to the Americanpresidebtial candidates, we were amused every now and then by the antics of a young sow pig who had showed up unexpectedly the day before. Then she had been in company with a young boar, but when Kenny phoned Animal Control they only managed to catch the boar before the sow scarpered back over the paddocks from whence she came. But today she was back and since Animal Control wouldn't be called out again til Monday she rapidly made herself at home. While shy and cute at first she rapidly got bolder to the point where she would nip Kenny's heals, and even come into the house if we left the door open. She's also leaving lots of very smelly piles on the lawn (that even the dog is taking exception to) so the sooner Piggy's owners are found the better.

After lunch we all chilled out and I engrossed myself in a book. Marjorie has a collection of Georgette Heyers I've not read so I'm eager to devour at least one while I'm here.

Day 72: Whanganui to Koitiata (30km; 1406km total)

I tumbled out of bed at 7am and after a bit of trial and error during which time I found one of my two new hydration bladders leaks (grrr....but it was only $12 so what can you expect really?) I packed everything up, thanked the hosts at reception and set off into town. I had a green supermarket bag and box of additional supplies that I planned to send to myself using NZ Post's Poste Restante service. At 8:45 the Post Office on Victoria Avenue wasn't open so I backtracked up the street to the nearest cafe to buy a sandwich for breakfast. The cafe wasn't particularly nice, and certainly not particularly clean. As I paid for my sandwich I eyed a stale french fry lying on the counter, expecting at any moment for the woman serving me to sweep it up, but she never did. As I sat by the window two sparrows fly in the door to perch on some unoccupied seats (I was the only one in the cafe). After checking the coast was clear for a moment they flew over the cabinets of food into the unattended food prep area and out of sight, though I imagine they were feasting on any and all discarded food scraps that, if they littered the visible counter-tops, surely must litter the floor behind them as well.

After breakfast I joined the throng of people milling around outside the post office waiting for it to open. When it eventually did (at 9am and not a moment before) I was necessarily delayed in getting to the counter by having to find a post bag big enough for my box. Consequently I was forced to join the back of the rapidly formed queue. So much for getting my planned early start on the day!

Happily there were sufficient tellers and people with easily attended to business that I soon made it to a friendly lady who cheerfully informed me that despite my fears my box was well under the 5kg weight limit designated for the pre-paid post bag I had selected. She also kindly sealed by box with some tape. I paid and was thankful not to have to rejoin the everlasting queue to put the freshly addressed and sealed parcel in the post, opting instead for the parcel post collection bag set against one wall. It was a close run thing however as the parcel only just fit in the aperture of the collection box, and even then only when inserted in a specific orientation that hand to be changed mid-way. This took me a minute to manage though trial and error, but eventually the parcel slid into place into the bag (I pitied anyone else who wanted to fit a parcel that big in the box that day). I turned to find the entire queue of people had been watching my efforts with some amusement--one old guy even looked like he wanted to give me a round of applause. I smiled and said cheerfully "it fits!" as I walked past them to the door.

Out on the pavement and extra bag-free, I set off, bound for the bridge at the end of the street that would signify the picking up of Te Araroa once again. I crossed the bridge, stopping only to take a photo of the river only to find that not one but both of my camera batteries were flat. This is in addition to the fact the the USB charger I brought with me this time is different to the one I had previously and--as I found out last night--apparently struggles to charge my phone and is completely incapable of charging my external battery pack. Well organised much?

Once across the river I set off down SH4, unable to keep a slight spring for my step despite the 20kg pack on my back. I've cut out some of the excess trifles I had with me previously, saving a few hundred grams, but also treated myself to an Exped Downmat 9 in place of my thin foam bedroll. At 960g it actually makes my pack a little heavier than it was, but I've decided that getting a better night's sleep in the tent is more important than either the additional weight or expenditure. Indeed I expect it might actually save me some money in the long term if it proves as comfortable as it did in the shop, because I will hopefully now be more inclined to take the cheaper tent option rather than cabin options when I stay at campgrounds along the way!

Unfortunately there isn't much to look forward to today in terms of appealing trail. It is quite literally a road-walk for 30km, and most of this down the shoulder of busy SH3/4. Most unfortunately the highway is particularly heavily trafficked by trucks, which are more than a little unnerving when they fly past you at 100km/hr, barely two meters (and sometimes a lot less!) from where you are striding at a mere 5km/hr or less (in the opposite direction).

There are two big changes since I was last on the trail: the cicadas are singing (sometimes screaming!) from the trees around me, and it's extremely hot. As the day progressed I rapidly set down a new hiking rule; in addition to the already established "Never waste a good seat" and "Never turn down the opportunity to use a flush loo", I now stand by "Never waste a shady spot".  The first decent one of these as the day heated up I reached around 11am, at the intersection with the road to the prison was bordered by some bushy trees shading a large patch of long grass. I loosed my pack and sat down gratefully, fishing out some scroggin and muesli bars. I was glad to see that my 'road pace' (c. 5km/hr) remains in tact and began to be hopeful that I might reach my aim of covering 35km today. I'm trying to get to my sister's house (which lies right on the trail about 70km away) by tomorrow, in time to celebrate her birthday. I would soon discover that the heat would contrive to make 'road-pace' impossible to maintain. This in addition to the fact that despite my early optimism, rather predictably seven weeks of no walking or serious exercise whatsoever meant that while I still had the strength I'd had on the trail previously (my pack wasn't causing me any more problems than usual), I no longer had the same stamina. Consequently, I hobbled into Turakina in the early afternoon, barely managing 3km/hr, after two more long shade stops along the way: one at a nice little rest area next to the Whangehu river bridge, and one in a scant patch of shade under a cluster of gumtrees beside the road where a flat-topped bank on the shoulder of the highway afforded me a nice place to sit with my boots off again for a while and, as it turns out, take a 20 minute nap. While not asleep I sat and watched the traffic. Unless you're on a long straight, if you don't move hardly anyone notices you are there.

At Turakina I planned to stop in a cafe and hand out there through the hottest part of the afternoon. Fortunately there was one before reaching the main town and the turn-off to Koitiata which TA follows out to the coast (we walkers never want to walk any further than we have to!). Opened last year as part of the Antiques and Collectables shop I was a little dubious, but thought I'd try my luck; all I wanted was a cold flavoured drink of some kind and an enormous jug of water (despite setting out 3.5L I was sweating buckets and starting to run low). The kind lady happily sold me two bundbergs (one gingerbeer and one pineapple and coconut that tastes gratifyingly like a non-alcoholic pina colada), and a positively enormous jug of cold water. I took these out to the surprising large outside seating area and settled in a shady spot to see out the hot afternoon.

I'm a little concerned by how much my feet are hurting, my right foot in particular. From the outset back on 90 Mile Beach my right foot has always played up more than my left, always getting more swollen, sorer sooner, and sorer in general. Consequently previously I've been massaging my feet each night, popping knots in my foot muscles and clicking bones until full motion is restored and pain diminished. But now my foot was as sore as it ever had been and I was quite glad no one else was in the cafe to see me hobbling about. Happily the compression stockings are helping to prevent my foot from swelling, but the flip side of these is that they make walking in the heat ever hotter.

A few people stopped by to browse the beautifully arranged antiques and collectables while I was there. I too had a wander round after I'd rested a while, spotting several nice things and several horrible things amongst the varied collection of goods. Casting my eye over some prices I was more than a little shocked, and made extra certain to keep my elbows in and not trip over anything as I browsed. Not that the shop is a cluttered mess like most shops of the sort. It is jam-packed certainly, but everything is meticulously laid out and well organised. I tried not to look to closely at anything I liked the look of, knowing I could neither carry or afford any of it.

After nearly two hours, in which I also amused myself watching the rooster out the back spend my entire visit standing nearby incessantly preening himself and watching a young kune kune pig in the pen next door try to wake its mother up (to no avail), I put my socks and boots back on and carefully carried my pack back out through the shop. I thanked the shop's owner, Shona, very much before setting off down the highway once again. It was 5pm and maybe a little bit cooler than it had been...but not much.

Fortunately it wasn't far to the Koitiata/Turakina Beach turn off and from then on the volume of traffic was much lower. I hadn't eaten anything during my stay at the cafe (due to an equipment malfunction the selection of food was limited and it didn't seem the thing to dig into my own rations) and it wasn't long before my stomach rumbled. Suddenly realising I was starving I sat down for a spinach wrap and a few spoonfuls of peanut butter. Feeling much better but hotter (there had been no shade to sit it) I set off again. Unfortunately I was not only hot but tired (even after my long break) and still had sore feet so the 9km walk out to the beach was not particularly pleasant. Happily I still managed to make the most of it, stopping to take a picture on my phone of one of the numerous corn fields and send it to a friend with the caption "corn! corn!" (private joke initiated by my friend's young nephew mis-hearing the sound made by one of his toys).

Finally, at nearly 7:30 I staggered through the town of Koitiata where a local woman who had kindly stopped to offer me a lift about two hours before spotted me again and encouragingly said "you're nearly there! The campground is just round the corner!".  I was at the same time relieved and concerned that just round the next corner seemed like miles for my aching feet, but I made it! I left my pack on a bench (hidden from general view and next to a prim looking caravan that didn't look like the occupants would be at all interested in rifling its contents) and went across the road to the camp office/house where I met Trish and her two little poodle-pommer crosses (Missy and Mindy?). Turns out camping without a car is only $2 per head, but TA-ers stay for free, they're only obligation being to sign the guest book. I asked Trish if there'd been many people through, and like Shona in the cafe she said there'd been a near constant stream all summer. That said, the entry immediately before mine was over ten days old! apparently a lot of people pass through Koitiata and don't stay, preferring to free camp on the beach. Funny, when they can free camp next to a flush loo here!

The gap in the book renewed some nagging concerns I've had that in taking such a long break the bulk of walkers will have left me behind and that I will bump into fewer people from now on. Certainly I appear to be the only TA-er in the campground this evening. Oh well. time will tell I guess.

I stumped/staggered/hobbled back across the road, retrieved my pack and went to scout out a campsite. There was a lot more room up beyond a bunch of guys who were sitting around their car, beers in hand, and though probably perfectly nice people, looked a little intimidating for an exhausted solo female hiker. I opted instead to pitch my tiny tent on a flat patch of grass near the concentration of campers (where more than one group were within hollering distance). Seeing no reason to wear my feet anymore than I had to I managed to pathetically pitch my tent without actually getting up off the ground until it came time to put on the fly (and even then I could have done it from ground level, but felt lazy!). I then broke out my new inflatable mattress for its first use. Feeling rather awkwardly like someone trying to give an inanimate object CPR I pumped it up, which took longer than necessary as I was so tired. I've definitely lost some trail fitness while I've been away. Oh well...only one way to get that back! As I was setting up two women who had stopped to talk to me as I came into the campground walked past again. They had not heard of Te Araroa before, been impressed at the feet I was undertaking, and felt sorry for me looking as I was on the point of exhaustion. They now said that upon reflection they'd wanted to wrap me up, take me home and give me a good meal. If I hadn't already put up my tent I might have been tempted, but as it was I thanked them very much for the offer and assured them there'd probably be other hikers passing through you would be just as grateful and take them up on their offer.

After laying out my sleeping bag and liner I crawled into my tent, got changed and lay down with an epic sigh. I roused myself just long enough to pop outside and watch the sunset from a small wooden platform which the friendly local had suggested I do. I took the opportunity to stretch and chatted briefly to a French car-camper with a curly moustache who joined me. But as the sun dipped below the horizon (surprisingly quickly once it got going!) I too felt my last bit of energy failing and crawled into bed. While I'd been hungry on the road right then all my body was crying out for was sleep. It was too hot to get into my sleeping bag but the liner sufficed, and while the rest of the campground stayed up chillaxing, some well into the night, I nodded off, happy to have day one of being back on trail complete.

Break

Well, what a seven weeks it's been. I'm sure I must have had plenty of time to be bone idle, but I don't specifically remember any of it as there always seemed to be something to be done.

I arrived home on Christmas Eve and went straight into festive celebrations with Mum and the animals; Bard made the mistake of playing with the pompom on the little Christmas Elf outfit designed for small four-legged friends and soon found himself stuffed into it. After Christmas I had a Post-Christmas Christmas Party with friends, and then joined everyone again at another friend's house to see in the New Year. I then realised I had but a week to finish one half of the online TEFL course I had only half-completed prior to setting out on my walk and spent the first week of 2016 finishing off modules and spending three days tearing my hair out as I struggled with the final assignment. My first attempt was not accepted and I don't take failure well (one of my biggest faults!). Que thundercloud, broomstick and minions again, but I worked through it and finally managed to pass the course.

In mid-January I was invited to visit with Australian friends, a family over for the festive season who were staying at their batch near Lake Wanaka. I drove over for a few days, revelling in being able to drive once again, and through some of my favourite parts of the country. I'd visited last New Year and been disappointed not to catch a fish from the lake. Happily this year I caught two! I also shamelessly drilled Kiri (an ex-english-as-a-foreign-language teacher) for advice about how to go about doing this myself, should my interview for such a position (which I learned I had got while I was with them) prove successful. It was also great to catch up on news of some of my ex-colleagues from Australia; I have (mostly) such good memories of working with them all!

Back home I began helping my friend prep for her wedding, and also prepped for my interview, which was conducted via a whirlwind trip back up to Wellington. I was stoked to be able to have a better catch up with friends there, whilst also taking in the current exhibitions at Te Papa.

Back home once again, I had a follow-up appointment with the doctor which for one startling minute seemed it might have put a crimp in my plans to resume my walk in mid-February. Happily, walking would be allowed, but I would have to wear compression stockings for a while. Going to be hot!

Meanwhile wedding preparations had gathered momentum. I was thoroughly excited and honoured to be one of the bridesmaids, but was a bit anxious about how and when to help the bride. You'll have gathered that I'm not good at either a) keeping my opinions from my face or b) asking too much of people, but I tried my best not to be a bridesmaid-zilla, and to the bride's credit she only had one (and a half) bridezilla moments. It was only after the wedding I realised I'd been on some kind of alert the entire time should anything go wrong and we of the wedding party were called into immediate action. Happily everything went off without a hitch (except for the appropriate one) and a wonderful and unique ceremony was followed by an equally awesome reception, separated by three freezing hours of getting wedding photos taken. We soon warmed up again however, particularly once it came to the newlywed's first dance:

And so January and the first week of February passed in a bit of a blur, but all too soon I had only a couple of days left to get my self sorted and ready to jump back on the plane to make the journey back to Whanganui. Bidding farewell to everyone once again I flew to Wellington, bused to Whanganui and put myself up for rejoining-trail-eve at 42b College House Backpackers, where you can get a room to yourself for the remarkably low price of $35. The staff were super-friendly and eager to give me information about what to see and do in the area, but I'll admit to being focused on getting back on the TA. I dashed out to grab dinner from the nearest take-away and then returned to my room to rearranged my pack contents from flight configuration (everything stuffed inside it) to walking configuration (tent poles and walking poles on the outside, making enough room for a full hydration bladder inside). Any worries I might have had about whether I'd be too excited to sleep were quashed as I crashed-mid pack and fell into bed. The final packing up of gear would have to wait until morning!

So...back on Te Araroa! Que music..."Tell everyone I'm on my way! New friends and new places to see!..."

PS. Over the break I got an email from Taylor. Yup, his phone was toasted. Between that and the canoe excess the whole trip proved way more expensive than he ever anticipated (true of us both!). This understandably put an even greater damper on what he already saw as a disastrous adventure and I was sorry to hear that the TA was not redeemed in his eyes after he pushed on through to Wellington. He's now decided to abandon the walk and see the rest of New Zealand by car. I hope he gets to see the South Island and finds some part of it he enjoys!

Day 71: Whanganui River Lookout to Whanganui (1376km total)

I woke with the palest light of dawn, and as traffic was picking up on the road I dropped my tent and packed it away, again without needing to get up or out of my sleeping bag. I then snuggled back down to get more sleep if I could since the ground was hard and sloping and therefore not really conducive to having had a good night's sleep (possum and bugs aside).

As the day really got started Taylor stirred and we both packed up our gear and adjourned to the picnic platform for breakfast. Casting one last appreciative look at the river below we set off down the winding road that would meet up with SH4 and take us into Whanganui. We made good time and with only a short break or two we soon were back alongside the river (now muddy and nowhere near as picturesque as it had been upstream). We marched along the bank, Taylor going on ahead, eager to get into town and get to a shop that might be able to tell him if his twice-flooded phone was salvageable. I had warned him at Pipirki after its first dunking that he should turn it off and not turn it on again until he was sure it was 100% dry inside and out--which might be expected to take a few days if left alone and dry, but might be expedited if necessary by utilising the oven at the Pipiriki Campground (on very low heat! c. 40 degrees) to make sure all the water had evaporated from its innards. Taylor meanwhile was keen to see if the thing still worked, and without the heat-treatment turned his phone on. I winced and resolved to say nothing when he explained that it had come on and worked fine for a few seconds before turning itself off again. I greatly feared that would be the last thing that phone ever did.

With Taylor rapidly gaining ground I gave up trying to keep up and stopped to take in some of the few sights along the highway, including a historic Maori site and the remains of an old brickworks. Finally we reached the outskirts of town where Taylor had stopped to wait for me near where, on the opposite side of the river, we might otherwise have expected to be putting in our canoe anytime now and leaving it for Yeti to collect. We couldn't help but laugh. We'd made it to Whanganui...just not quite in the manner we had expected.

Taylor calculated the fastest route into town to the i-Site where he planned to charge his phone, specifically which bridge to cross, and for once I was grateful for his insatiable desire to take the most direct route. Being the end of my trip for a while I was rapidly declining into physical and emotional exhaustion and was as keen as he was to just get there, though I planned to bypass the i-Site and make instead for the nearest cafe to buy a late second breakfast and a smoothie. I had a hankering for eggs benedict if I could get it! this isn't to say that I didn't stop to admire the refreshing assortment of sculptures lining the riverbank on the approach to the city center. One comprising oversized HB pencils made me chuckle as I was reminded of my school days, filling out computer-read multiple choice exam answer sheets with the prescribed soft HB pencil that was the only lead the computer was guaranteed to be able to detect. I also particularly liked one composed of native timber and stone entitled "From Mountains to Sea".

Taylor had gone on ahead again and I didn't catch up with him until he was already installed in the i-Site, obviously stressed about his unresponsive phone. I let him know I was heading to the cafe next door and wished him luck. Aware that I, or at least my clothes, smelled (bad!) I stalked the fully occupied outside tables for a few minutes as one group was finishing up. As soon as they had left I muscled in and claimed the table with my big pack leaning against the railing. Collecting up the previous group's dishes it wasn't long before they were taken away and a waiter proffered a menu. As desired I ordered eggs benedict and a smoothie. The eggs were good but by no means the best I've had (that honour goes to a quaint little cafe somewhere in Edinburgh), and the smoothie hit the spot. Unfortunately as I camped out there for the day and later moved on to an iced chocolate my final impression of the cafe was of this fairly average beverage.

I was mid-eggs when Taylor came past. He could get no response from his phone and no help from the people at the i-Site so was off in search of the Vodaphone shop to help him out. though I felt sure the phone was toast now was obviously not the time to say anything so we merely thanked each other for our respective parts in our combined adventure and wished each other well on the trail. Taylor set off and I sat to wait for my sister and brother-in law who had offered to come and pick me up. I had hoped to walk to their place--the trail goes right past their gate--but I had not been fast enough on the trail and was still 2-3 days out from their house. Walking this would mean I would miss my flight home for Christmas and they had very kindly offered to pick me up and take me home for a shower and a bit of a rest where I could join in the family BBQ planned for the next day, before they would also very generously drive me down to Wellington where another friend would put me up for the night before dropping me at the airport for the first flight out in the morning. Honestly, where would we all be without such wonderful relatives and friends to help us out on our adventures?!

Mid-afternoon a white station wagon pulled up and my sister and brother-in-law climbed out and, despite my sweaty-bushy-rivery-dusty aroma gave me a big hug. I'll admit it was with a sigh of relief that I slid into the backseat of their car. I'd made it to Christmas, after 71 days on the trail, and now I was indulgently getting a nice long break to go home and see my family and friends. I was sorry to be leaving the trail--taking a break in this way means that I am technically not "thru-hiking" any longer, but "section-hiking"--but as I planned to pick up where I had left off in the New Year and still finish TA over a single summer I figure it amounts to nearly the same thing.

With everything already arranged I had nothing to do but enjoy and look forward to the break ahead. Between Christmas, New Year, a possible trip to Lake Wanaka, a potential job interview and a wedding, I'm sure I'll be able to keep myself plenty busy over the next few weeks, but I also have no doubt that I'll be dead keen to get back on the trail as soon as I can. I'm not quite half way through after all and so there are plenty more adventures to be had along Te Araroa!

Day 70: Whanganui River Non-Canoe Trip

Cautionary note to readers: an alternative title for this entry would be "In which Jenny loses her temper"...it's not a flattering tale, but I shall tell it none the less.

So after our canoe-destroying adventure of that morning (see previous post) Taylor and I were waiting at Mark and Claire's for Yeti to come and collect their gear. Around 3pm a van hauling a canoe trailer pulled up and the two guys who hopped out were understandably curious to hear for themselves the story of the day's adventure. We helped load the barrels etc. into the back of the van, joking that we'd managed to save everything...except the canoe. Bidding them farewell I went back to relax a little more in the sunshine. Taylor and I had discussed what to do next that afternoon but seemed to have come to no real conclusion. Yeti had offered to give us a lift into Whanganui we knew, but as I was not hurt and had all my gear in tact and nearly dry, I saw no reason why I shouldn't walk the rest of the way out. I set out to walk this thing, and while not fastidious enough to hitch back up the road to where we had come to grief and walk out from there, I felt almost obligated to walk from this point on. There's a road out which is actually the official trail route (the official canoe trip stopping in Pipiriki), so really there was no excuse.

Taylor at first was keen to take the lift, but since he has also taken pains to walk the entire way thus far (canoe-trips aside) he came to prefer the idea of walking as well, but only if he started walking today. Taylor likes to get into towns in the morning and setting off now would be the only way he could manage this if he intended to walk the whole way. I on the other hand am not fussed when I arrive in a town as long as I can get settled somewhere before it gets dark, so was leaning toward taking up Mark and Claire's kind offer to let us camp on their lawn that night if we wished--not least because it would mean access to facilities, but also would give my still a-little-damp gear the rest of the afternoon to properly dry. It would mean a largish walk tomorrow but still I was confident of being able to get to Whanganui by late afternoon. As either way I would not need a lift from the Yeti van there seemed no hurry for me to make up my mind. I was therefore shocked when Taylor suddenly turned to me as the van prepared to leave and demanded to know what I wanted to do, start walking out now or not. He obviously preferred to walk out, but either way he was determined to leave right now and it hadn't occurred to me that what I wanted to do would influence his decision in the slightest, nor apparently to him that he was free to walk out now if he chose, whether or not I tagged along. Maybe it was a reflection of the fact that I was tired after the day's adventures, but this is no excuse for what transpired. I instantly resented being forced into a decision right then and there, particularly since I appeared to have been given only two options. I didn't have the presence of mind myself to tactfully point out in that moment that there was nothing to stop Taylor walking out now if he wanted to, whether or not I went along...and I'm afraid I snapped.

Those who know me well will probably (hopefully!) say that I'm generally a fairly tolerant person but sometimes I do fly off the handle for the most trivial of reasons and I'm afraid this was one of those times. And when I fly off the handle I mean I launch off a precipice into a thundercloud, straddling a broomstick and flanked by a battalion of soul-sucking minions. The logical thing to do would have been to tell Taylor to take the lift (since he seemed unwilling to walk alone), as then I could have made up my own mind at my leisure whether to put in a few kilometres that evening or not. But for whatever reason I came down on the side of "fine, we'll walk now!" and stalked off to start packing up my gear. In my defence I think the spur of the moment decision was made with the awareness that Taylor's preference was to walk, and to have said "fine, take the lift!" would have brought our transient little partnership to an abruptly and, I felt, impolite end (sounds like a load of nonsense now but it's what went through my head at the time).

Taylor didn't seem to notice anything amiss and went to tell the Yeti guys to leave without him (had my mother been present she would have heard my tone and advised everyone present to jump in the van and head for the hills!). Certainly poor Claire seemed to take a step back and watch in silence as I packed, snarling in disgust as I was forced to stuff a few still-damp things into my pack. Of course within a few minutes I realised what the logical thing to have done would have been but by then it was too late. The van had left and Taylor stood waiting for me to be ready. I could not understand why he couldn't just leave now on foot if he'd wanted to, but I'd said I'd go now too so there was nothing for it.

Poking my head above the clouds I thanked Claire very much for her and Mark's hospitality, then (unfortunately) descended back into the tempest once again as I set off down the road. Those who know me will also tell you that once I'm in a temper there's nothing to be done but let it burn itself out. I'm perfectly aware of this but as yet lack the willpower to do anything more than try to isolate myself from other people until I'm able to be sociable again. All this poor unfortunate Taylor was about to discover. I did manage to hold my tongue and not say anything unreasonable to Taylor (or anything much at all) until he asked. A couple of kilometres up the road he began to sense that something was up and eventually asked "Jenny, are you upset with me right now?". I admitted that yes, I was, and bit back a retort when he explained that he couldn't understand why, and that he regretted walking with me now as it was no longer fun. He did ask why I was upset and I explained as reasonably as possible given my unreasonable state of mind that I was less than impressed by having a decision forced on me on the spur of a moment that only included two of the range of possible options. Privately I also couldn't help but resent the fact that he now felt like the injured party. What can I say, I'm not that big of a person. Sorry universe, but I do try to learn from such experiences!

For the first time I properly realised that the possibility that he could have walked and I could have stayed at Mark and Claire's hadn't actually occurred to him--to me it had seemed so obvious! The next morning he came up with another option that would have been for us both to stay at Mark and Claire's and then for me to walk out and him to hitch the next day; this would have got us both to Whanganui at our preferred times and prevented leaving in a rush this afternoon. Happily by that time my anger had long since dissipated and I merely sighed. As it was, then and there, I was pounding along the road propelled by angry energy (one of the rare occasions when I set the pace). I apologised for being unduly angry, and also for no longer being an entertaining walking companion, explained that I wasn't always the 'jolly' (his word) person he had come to take me for and that sometimes I needed my own space. by this time I was aware my anger was irrational, but also knew that the only way to rid myself of it was to physically burn it off. I felt sure that if I knackered myself missioning up the rapidly approaching hill I would soon be too tired to be angry. As Taylor digested what I had said he fell back and I steamed on ahead, pausing only to take a photo of the river from a view through the trees half-way up the hill. I checked periodically to see if Taylor was still behind me. By this time I was beginning to feel bad for being in a snit and I was worried that Taylor might have decided to hitch a lift with one or other of the passing cars in order to avoid further confrontation. I don't like parting with people on bad terms unless its actually warranted.

At the top of the hill is a lookout area with a picnic platform so I sat to wait for Taylor to catch up, taking in the spectacular view of the river meandering round a large bend in the valley below. It took an unnervingly long time for Taylor to appear, so much so I even stopped a passing car to ask if there was still another walker behind me. Thankfully there was, and soon Taylor came striding up. He seemed perfectly cheerful, laughing ironically when he saw me perched on a perfect spot for a break when it turned out he'd stopped for one with nowhere to sit and not such a good view just a few hundred meters back down the road. Apparently my "need for space" was something he had quite understood, and he was happy to pass off my tantrum as nothing more than that. I was relieved. I hate conflict, especially when I feel responsible for having caused it, and since Taylor seemed willing to admit he hadn't considered all the options I was satisfied. That, and I had knackered myself as planned, and while waiting for Taylor to catch up had managed to regain both my breath and my usual cheerfulness (which is a lot more commonplace than off trail--part of the reason I am enjoying this so walk so much!). Still, the experience goes down as the first proper fight I've had with anyone in over three years (and I had better clarify here that I mean 'fight' as in being angry at someone, rather than just being angry in their presence...sorry Mum!). That's the trouble with being a free spirit (aka loose unit), you are not used to having to take other people into consideration or having your decisions influenced by them...and I fear I'm only going to get worse as I get older! (Sorry universe).

Peace restored, Taylor and I sat and snacked at the lookout, and decided that it wasn't a bad spot to camp for the night. Certainly the view was spectacular and was only improving as the sun was sinking and the light changing. Taylor set about doing some minor sewing repairs to some of his gear as I investigated the road cuttings either side of the lookout. There was a large and diverse shellbed exposed in the sandstone and I occupied nearly an hour gently picking out examples of different species of fossil, laying several that I didn't not want to keep out on a post lest other visitors might find them interesting...in vain as it turned out as Taylor later amused himself jumping from pole-top to pole-top and crushed a bunch of them. Having learned from the afternoon's experience already I merely sighed, and fingered the few best preserved fossils I'd been able to extract that were wrapped safely in tissue in my pocket. God knows what I'd do with them when I got home, but still.

Having decided to camp there the night but unwilling to set up until it got dark lest we be asked by someone to "move along" we sat out the remainder of the daylight on the picnic platform and made dinner. As it began to get dark and the traffic lessened we thought about where to pitch our tents. We both felt a little too exposed right here by the roadside, but the only other even nearly flat ground was a dusty logging track leading off from the lookout and snaking its way off through the trees round the hillside. Unfortunately the only spot suitable for tents was still within partial site of the road and while Taylor's dark green tent would surely not attract attention my bright white and red one might. In the end caution won out over comfort and I merely laid out my bedroll in the middle of the track, hidden behind Taylor's tent, and snuggled into my sleeping bag. The sky was clear and though I was worried about both dew and bugs, being my last night on the trail before I went home for Christmas I felt it was almost fitting to spend it literally out under the stars.

This worked fine until a possum in the bush on the bank above us became interested in us, and in making its way closer managed to dislodged the odd cascade of small pebbles and dirt that clattered down onto the track somewhere below my feet. I was tempted to put my tent up then, but settled for making enough strange but quiet noises to keep the possum at bay without waking Taylor up. Later that night clouds skudded across the sky, obscuring the bright moon and it got properly dark. Even this I didn't mind--at least I no longer had to worry about dew (thankfully the clouds didn't look heavy enough for rain). What I did mind however was when, just as I was finally drifting off to sleep after watching the stars intermittently and finally permanently disappearing from view, was unidentifiable insects of various sizes dive bombing my face. I'd lathered up with insect repellent borrowed from Taylor (mine had washed out of my pocket in the river--the only thing we lost besides the hapless canoe), but to no avail. Moths and God-knows-what started bouncing off my face and there was nothing for it to grab my tent (left out in case it proved necessary) and put it up. I managed to do this without getting up or even getting out of my sleeping bag. I did not put the bright white fly up as I was still concerned about being illuminated in the headlights of the odd late-night/early-morning car, plus it was unnecessary. Safe from insects inside my little nylon and mesh enclosure I finally drifted off to sleep.

While the trail has been fun, I am very much looking forward to meeting up with my sister in Whanganui tomorrow, and bidding temporary farewell to Te Araroa as I return home to spend Christmas with my family. Still, it has been an eventful near-end to the first part of my Long Pathway adventure!

Day 70: Whanganui River Canoe Trip Part 5

I was the first to wake up, having taken up the middle mattress beneath the window, through which the early morning sun was now shining. I quietly crept out to the loo and back, stoked that I managed to do it with only Marie seeming to stir. After a while the guys began stirring as well and we all got up and went about our morning routines, namely breakfast and pack up.

Taylor and I were ready first (Marie and Eddie never seem in a hurry to get anywhere which I admire) and soon had all our gear packed into barrels and had carted these back down to the river. As we were pushing the canoe into the water a jet boat came from downstream and pulled in, and two men, after saying a brief good morning, headed up to the hut, presumably to carry out some maintenance work. Marie and Eddie were ferrying their gear down as Taylor and I set off, each pair calling out a cheerful "see you downstream!". I'm not sure when but at some point Taylor said he felt like Eddie was like our guardian angel, looking out for us on the river. We both agreed it was reassuring to have an experienced kayaker paddling down the river behind us and part of me wondered if Eddie and Marie weren't deliberately setting out after us now (whether or not they had been before) in case (expecting?) we would get into further trouble on the river. Already grateful, we little anticipated just how grateful we would be for their help before the day was out. While I cannot confidently recall the precise order in which some details of our days' adventure played out, I've tried my best to tell the story as accurately as possible.

Taylor was steering today, seemingly happy enough to let me be the power in the front (or lack there of). consequently we moseyed on down the river at a rather more sedate pace than on previous days. It became apparent that the rapids weren't as big as they had been upstream, several merely disturbance of the surface water as it sailed over patches of shallow rocky bottom, but it becomes apparent that the lower reaches of the river are much more susceptible to log jams than the steeper and faster flowing upper stretches. The really impressive ones are easily avoided, being a complex graveyard of chaotically deposited branches--sometimes entire trees--that scream "stay away" even from the uninitiated. But sometimes there is just a smattering of stumps protruding here and there from the water and it was in a semi-rapid section littered with such stumps that we came to grief.

Being in the front it was my job to spot the hazards and call them out to Taylor so he could choose how best to steer around them. On this particular section there were too many to call all of them out individually but there appeared to be a clear way down the center of the river, if one prominent stump in the center could be avoided. I left the decision to Taylor to choose whether he wanted to veer to the right or left of the stump...but as we approached in the accelerating current and we continued to aim directly for the stump. Growing a little concerned by this I think I quickly said something along the lines of "Taylor...? Pick a side Taylor....!". The boat did not turn. I stared in disbelief as we bore down on the log, saying in a voice that I remember rapidly rose in volume and pitch "Taylor...Taylor!....TAYLO--...[gurgle]". Seated at the front as I was I  had a clear view as almost as if in slow motion we hit the stump head on, bounced back a little, got caught by the current on either side, rapidly swung round 90 degrees, hit the log again side-on and were flooded, capsizing into the current that came rushing into the boat. It all happened in an instant. There was a moment's desperate floundering to grab the end of the canoe as I was swept past it, and in a few moments more I'd hauled myself up onto the strangely stationary canoe, wedged my paddle in amongst the mercifully double-strapped gear and sat on the up-turned edge of the canoe to take stock.

I quickly spotted Taylor who had been washed down to slower water and was now swimming for a large gravel bank on the left hand side of the river. Seeing he was alright I turned my attention to the canoe. It was standing on its side, 3/4 submerged in the water, perfectly balanced by the water rushing in and over it on either side, pinning it to the stump. I shuffled my seat to the end of the canoe and bounced up and down a couple of times in an attempt to get one side further into the water than the other in the hope the force of the water would tip the balanced and wash the canoe round one side of the stump to freedom. While it tilted slightly it didn't budge. One small branch protruding from the unfortunately non-rotted log had wedged under the rim of the canoe and was helping to hold it in place. I tried to snap the branch or maneuver the canoe off of it some how, but the shear weight of water pounding against it was impossible to counteract. After while checked to see that Taylor wasn't jumping in to try and help--what if he got swept away and drowned while I was occupied with the canoe. I can't remember if I motioned him to stay put on dry land or not, but I remembering thinking I should.

For what felt like half an hour I tried to free the wedged canoe. Standing precariously on one end and jumping up and down as much as I dared without breaking it succeeded in getting one end further into the water (and consequently the other further out). Unable to push down any further I alternated between trying to push down one end and lift the other. Turns out that right in from of the stump (upstream) was another large log that if I carefully lowered myself into the water I could use to deflect the worst of the current and brace myself against whilst trying to lift one end of the canoe, and or push the other enough to get it to give just a little...but not enough.

Eventually Taylor did jump in and wash/swim down and to help. By some miracle he made it and we both attempted to use our combined weight to tilt the continue sufficiently one way or the other. Taylor tried also to snap the branch pinning the rim of the canoe but to no avail. Meanwhile I had clambered out to either end to loose the tie ropes and tied them together. I had half an idea that the combined rope might be long enough to tie to one end of the canoe and hook (with a very good throw) around another stump in the river, from which we might be able to haul the canoe off the stump.  But I could not throw the loop of the rope far enough. I was onto my fifth or so attempt when we spotted Marie and Eddie come floating around the bend upstream. What they must have thought on seeing Taylor and I marooned mid-current on our near-submerged canoe!

We watched as they skillfully negotiated the rapid until just past our position, turned their boat 180 degrees and paddled back up in the lee of our stump to where we caught hold of the nose of their canoe. Understandably they did not want to tie up to the stump unless our efforts to free the stranded canoe should cause a collision with their's if it were to come free, so Marie held on to the log to keep their canoe in place while Eddie assessed the situation.  He and Taylor were soon able to snap the branch wedged under the rim of the canoe but the canoe still would not budge. After a few more failed efforts to force the canoe to wash one way or another Eddie made the call that we should try to rescue our gear. By this time most of it must have already under the water for nearly an hour so this seemed like a good idea at the time, and was probably the wisest option...but in hindsight it was also the undoing of the canoe.

With Taylor and I on either side we were able to carefully loose each barrel one at a time, handing them off to Eddie who loaded them into his and Marie's canoe. I thought at least they would unload their own gear first but Eddie seemed to think they could manage, so within minutes there they were in a double-loaded canoe floating barely an inch or two above the water at the middle where it was piled high with all our gear: loose barrels, my pack (which though empty did not fit in a barrel), our paddles and even the bail. I thought all was lost when Eddie had to half jump into the back of the canoe and it listed terrifyingly to one side. I had a brief vision of our unstrapped gear being dispersed down hundreds of meters of river, not to mention Eddie and Marie having to flounder for shore, but in an instant he'd corrected for the motion and they paddled carefully round to face downstream and paddled across the current to put in on the gravel bank. Not for the first time I admired their significant skills!

They quickly unloaded all the gear, ours and theirs, and paddled out to the lee of the stump once again. Marie held their canoe steady while the three of us, occupying whichever bit of sure footing on the stump we could find tried to get the canoe to move...and it did...a little. It was then I noticed that something wasn't right with the canoe. It had developed a distinct bend in it, like a gymnast attempting to lean over backwards to drop their hands to the floor behind their feet. It had also sunk lower in the water so that both ends were now completely submerged. It was then I realised that the gear (specifically the air trapped inside rigid barrels) had been the only thing keeping the canoe both afloat and straight. Now, with this vital structural integrity removed it dropped down to become close to wedging between the stump and the submerged log, and only had it's light wooden skeleton to maintain it's shape. The thin wooden frames weren't up to the task and as our attempts to move the canoe renewed I felt a late splinter poking up from a large crack in the frame. Obviously the thing would never float again, but we felt almost honour-bound to free it if we could...and so for a little while we kept trying.

At some point during the entire operation I lost my footing and made a grab for the end of the canoe to keep from being washed away. There I was floating at the surface thanks to life jacket and current, but there was so much water bearing down on me as it washed over the edge of the canoe that it was all I could do to get the odd gasp of air in between what I soon realised were great mouthfuls of water. I was dimly aware of Taylor standing right beside me on the stump telling me to climb out again, but it was all I could do to hang on to the canoe with both hands to keep from being swept away. I wished nothing more than for him or Eddie to realise my predicament and grab me by the scruff of my life jacket and haul me up. But in the eon (second or two) I was there they were preoccupied with the canoe. I distinctly remember a sardonic voice in my head saying "well this is a good way to drown" and let go. I managed to grab the side of Marie's canoe as I washed past and haul myself back along and onto the stump and out of the water, spluttering. Taylor asked if I'd swallowed any water and when I said 'yes, a bit' I saw in his face the memory of the rotting goat carcass we'd floated past the day before. Banishing thoughts of potential future gastrointestinal problems I turned my attention back to the task at hand. We all assessed the situation. Despite near self-induced drowning I was otherwise okay, but I was tiring quickly. Beside me Taylor was shivering and said he thought he needed to get out of the water soon. This was despite the fact that hauling on a canoe on and off for over an hour is an ok way to keep warm, and the water itself wasn't that cold, so I guessed Taylor might have gone some kind of mild shock. Then again I'm much better insulated than him so maybe it was cold!

We all took stock and Eddie suggested one last method we might try to help free the canoe. He and Marie took their canoe upstream and paddled it down as fast as they could. As they winged us we threw them the tail end of the bow rope and they pulled with all their might to try and slide it round the stump. But the canoe didn't budge. They were gearing up for one final try when we heard the sound of an engine...

From around the upstream bend shot a jet boat--it was the guys who'd been doing maintenance at Downes Hut that morning. They spotted us and slowed to a stop. After a moment they drive down a second arm of the river (turns out that large gravel bank wasn't actually 'shore') then carefully came up into the lee of the stump. They took one look at the canoe, which was gradually succeeding in emulating a gymnast who can bend all the way round backwards to put her hands on the ground behind her feet, and said "that's had it. Climb aboard!" Magnum(?) and Mark (aka M&M), after determine that we'd (meaning Marie and Eddie) had already rescued our gear, effortlessly hauled Taylor and I onto the bow from where we clambered over the windscreen into the seats. They took us the short distance to shore to collect our gear and said they'd give us a lift down the river to their base. What luck!! Our alternatives would have been either to get our gear to the proper shore, somehow get it up the bank to the road and hitch, or push the 'non-emergency assistance required' button on the beacon Eddie carried...which would have involved Gavin back at the Yeti office chartering a jet boat to come and pick us up. But they we were by pure luck, already with a willing jet boat to help us!

We said a short-term farewell (and a massive thank you) to Marie and Eddie, who would continue their trip, stopping to collect Taylor's paddle and hat from the end of the sandbar as they past and dropping it off when they reached the boats base. Then Taylor and I loaded our gear and sat back to relax and enjoy an unanticipated jet boat ride down the Whanganui River. I was quite excited by the whole adventure but Taylor sat warming himself in the sunshine, eyes closed, with an expression that suggested he was trying to find a happy place.

At the base--Mark's house--we unloaded the gear, bid farewell to Magnum and gratefully accepted hot showers and hot cups of tea. Mark rang Yeti and explained the situation. They were most concerned that we were alright, and having ascertained that, said they would divert a couple of guys doing a canoe pick-up in Whanganui to come and get us. Meanwhile we emptied the barrels and laid our damp gear out on the lawn to dry in the sun. Mark's wife Claire and their adorable daughter came home and we all sat around their outside table chatting and reliving the morning's events. Presently Marie and Eddie arrived, added the last paddle to the collection of gear for Yeti, and joined us for a picnic lunch. By early afternoon they were on their way again, Mark had gone off to work and Claire got on with some errands (including finding their friendly wee dog that seemed to have gone walk-about sometime over lunch), leaving Taylor and I to wait for Yeti. We joked that the day's events had been the canoe's way of getting back at us for having the temerity to christen it the "Rotten Orange" (after its colour and state of repair, but further inspired by my having found precisely this inside my food parcel on the first day).

While we waited I rang the Yeti office to ask about paying the insurance excess on the canoe; this would be $500, so $250 each, and the woman on the end of the line promised to txt me the company's bank account details so that we might transfer them the money. She seemed a bit taken aback by my enquiry and willingness to pay up on our part...but then I'm sure if she'd actually laid eyes on the canoe she might have understood. At least it can be said of Taylor and I that when we do something we do it well...if only when it comes to totalling watercraft!

It turns out that Taylor and I have come out of the ordeal with polar opposite experiences and concluding points of view.While Taylor admitted to having gone into the trip with a high level of confidence, he now felt that the main thing he had learned was never to climb into a canoe again. I was sad to hear this, but not really surprised. I on the other hand had gone into the trip a bit nervous, but my confidence had grown as I made mental notes after each capsize, and I now felt that if I were to do the trip again I would have a much better chance of being able to negotiate the river without ending up in it. Next time I would however choose to go with someone with an approach to canoeing that is much more like my own (and I daresay Taylor would say the same...except of course he's resolved never to go canoeing again). Either way I am determined not to be self-peer-pressured into "just going for it" (and by 'self-peer-pressure' I mean not having the guts to metaphorically rock the boat in order to prevent literally doing so!).

In short (ironic given the length of this account) I feel like the Whanganui River and I have unfinished business and I have promised myself to return and complete the trip one day (though after reading this any potential canoeing partners will probably be put right off...but on the off chance, any takers?!).

Day 69: Whanganui River Canoe Trip Part 4

Day 4

We awoke to a lovely sunny morning. Josephine kindly gave us and our nearly-dry gear a lift back down to the river--only my toilet paper supply was irrecoverably water damaged, but this was easily replaced by raiding the campground supply. Thanking Josephine very much we loaded up our canoe and set off. Taylor didn't see the point in double lashing the gear down as we had been instructed and unfortunately I didn't push the matter...

The river south of Pipiriki is not as picturesque as it is no longer National Park and the river banks quickly become farmland, but there are still some lovely wild stretches. A a road follows the left bank of the river all the way from Pipiriki to Whanganui so the whole area feels more civilised and less adventurous...except for the rapids. We'd been assured there were no more serious rapids south of Pipiriki, but we still managed to get into trouble (we were later told the severity of the rapids changes a lot depending on the water level of the river...which makes a good deal of sense).

Taylor paddled extremely hard all day, so much so that I could not keep up at all and eventually had to say so. Apologising in advance for seemingly slacking off I eased off, trying to keep pace with him but not paddling as hard. Only at the end of the day did he tell me he'd been paddling hard to try and make up for lost time the day before; admirable perhaps but I wish he'd said something at the time, not that I think I could have persuaded him that it wasn't necessary.

We stopped for a break under a rickety looking bridge. The sun was blazing and Taylor was finally able to get his sleeping bag properly dry. Eddie and Marie stopped to have a snack as well and the four of us looked up in astonishment as a quadbike followed by two guys on foot and a possy of dogs went over the bridge overhead. Expecting the bridge to disintegrate at any moment we all breathed a sigh of relief when they disappeared down the road on the far side of the river without having plunged into it.

None of the stops are signposted south of Pipiriki so you have to identify landing spots by sight and descriptions in notes provided by the tour operator. None of us paid as much attention to the notes as we should and so we sailed right past Jerusalem without even realising it. Consequently I was still steering (Taylor and I had agreed to swap at Jerusalem) when we came upon a fast and frothy rapid flowing round a willow-tree lined corner. Having learned from my previous experience I lined up dead center down the rapid, but was unable to bring the head of the canoe round once we were in it. Within moments we were swept straight into the willows. I had a moments horrific image of Taylor being pinned between a low branch and the canoe before the water built up behind us, flooded the canoe and forced us under...and we capsized once again. Happily the capsize freed us from the tree and I was swept off down the rest of the rapid, desperately hanging onto the canoe with one hand and my paddle with the other. Unfortunately I was traveling headfirst so with every wave I was plunged under and up again, spluttering for breath. I was also bounced off multiple boulders, one in particular would have knocked all the air from my lungs (and possibly cracked a few ribs) if I hadn't been wearing a life-jacket. Funnily while plunging down the back of this boulder I felt the water washing the sunglasses off where they had been perched on my head. I remember making a furious swipe at my head to jam them back on again before floating down into slower water and desperately striking out for the nearby shore, canoe in hand.

I made it to the bank but wasn't strong enough to haul the waterlogged canoe out of the current that threatened to wash it further downstream. I was hampered by the fact the only single strapping our barrels meant that although none had washed away, they'd all popped out of where they'd been wedged and were dangling chaotically in the water around the canoe. But gear be damned, where was Taylor?! Hanging onto the bobbing canoe I desperately scanned the rapids. If he didn't appear in the next few moments I'd let the canoe go and have to try and find him. For a scary half second I envisioned him drowning, but then I saw his head pop up among the willow trees where we'd first come to grief, a look of pure frustration on his face. He was furiously swimming against the current looking for something. As he was seemingly okay for the moment I turned my attention to the canoe and began furiously hauling on it to try and get it and the tray barrels at least partially out of the water. Taylor eventually washed down and swam in to help, closely followed by Marie and Eddie in there non-capsized canoe. By some miracle everything was present and nothing had washed away--not even my sunglasses! The only casualty was Taylor's paddle that he had dropped and which had become wedged under a branch of the willows. It was that he had been trying to retrieve. I commenced a check for leaks in the barrels while he set off along the bank to try and retrieve the paddle. Gear okay I set off to help, but turned back when I saw Taylor once again washing down the rapid, this time with paddle in hand. Eddie was impressed and turned to me saying "You've got yourself an action man!". I laughed in agreement, but did wonder why he'd jumped back in the water and not simply retraced his route back along the riverbank. I know I was in no rush to be bounced off boulders any more than was necessary and I couldn't help but smile when Taylor, previously dubious about the necessity for life-jackets, said how glad he was that he'd been wearing one.

In the excitement of the moment we all discussed what had happened. Marie and Eddie had seen the whole thing. Eddie offered lots of advice for next time, most crucially to make sure I entered a rapid on the angle I intended to exit it, so as not to have to haul the nose of the canoe round mid-rapid. I wished he'd told me that before! But I made a few more mental notes:

Mental Note #4: Paddle harder going into rapids.

Mental Note #5: Enter rapid on the angle you intend to exit them.

Mental Note #6: Strap all gear down as much as possible so that it stays in the boat in the event of a capsize.

Somewhat understandably Taylor decided he no longer trusted me to steer and as we set off again I was in the front of the canoe. No other rapids that day proved as challenging and we managed to make it all the way to Downes' Hut without further incident, although I sensed Taylor's patience with my paddling was wearing thin. We ended up switching again in the afternoon as he decided I couldn't paddle hard enough; we'd ended up zig-zagging down a long stretch of the river as his more powerful strokes from the stern made mine seem like mere splashes in comparison, whilst also dominating the steering. Taylor understandably found this frustrating, but as I was physically incapable of making a difference to our progress and previous suggestions to ease off and follow the current hadn't been entertained, I settled on being merely bemused. After we switched places we stopped zig-zagging and made better time, but frustration remained when I tried to follow the current as it meandered down the broad channel and Taylor curtly asked if I realised I was unnecessarily crossing from one side of the river to the other...

While the view along the river wasn't as impressive as it had been, there were still lots of goats to entertain, and even at one point a small herd of horses that saw us coming down the river and took off at a canter along the river bank and out of sight. There's something about horses running that is strangely peaceful and captivating to watch.

Downes Hut

Thanks to Taylor's intense paddling we spotted Downes' Hut in the trees on the right bank of the river sooner than we had anticipated. Hauling out on the gravel bank downstream as the notes instructed we began the search for the track leading back up to the hut. Unfortunately cattle had worn tracks criss-crossing in all directions and eroding the bank in several places, so much so that the track to the hut was completely obscured until well into the trees. Marie and Eddie weren't far behind and in two trips apiece the four of us had hauled all of our barrels up to the quaint little ex-homestead turned DOC hut. There's a slepeing platform along one wall with room for five mattresses arranged cheek-by-jowl, a fireplace in the opposite wall, a sink bench by the door and wooden table and benches in the middle of the room, on which we found the hut log book. I went through it, recognising several names, but none from the party of fifteen TA-ers Nathalie and Andy had been a part of--understandable since they wouldn't have all been able to fit in this hut. Outside there's a water tank and sink, and a short distance away a vault loo that was much more appealing once I'd taken to the seat with a handful of wet-wipes.

I made curry for dinner, Taylor nibbled his usual rations and I watched as Marie compiled a two-pot culinary delight from dried pasta, fresh veges and sauce. Eddie also has a jar of vegemite and was hoeing into cheese and vegemite sandwiches while he waited. He kindly offered me some and I made a cheese and vegemite wrap to supplement my meager curry. I don't like it as much as marmite but sacrifices must be mad in the wilderness!

It amused me to watch the other hiker's routines. Eddie and Marie clearly have their agreed upon tasks while hiking that together make for an effective and comfortable unit. Sharing things like cooking gear also means that they collectively can carry more non-essential items (including an entire tarpaulin) than any solo hiker ever could. It's not the first time it's occurred to me that solo-hiking has its disadvantages, but after Taylor and I have been touching each other's nerves off and on I think it also has some distinct advantages as well.

Day 68: Whanganui River Canoe Trip Part 3

Day 3
Although it rained a lot in the night it was easing this morning. I didn't sleep well so I lay in a bit, listening to everyone else getting up around me. Eventually I got up. There was no sign of Taylor so I sat looking out over the river and munched my milo cereal (tasty, but not as sustaining as porridge). By the time I'd packed up my tent Taylor was also ready and we set out along the river, leaving Marie and Eddie to their leisurely breakfast (Nadine and Philippe had gone on to a further campsite the day before).

It's a nice section of river through cliff-sided gorge south of Tieke Kainga. We passed a couple of other canoers, and dodged the odd jetboat. There's very few places to haul out for a long stretch of river; we stopped on one--a small pile of mossy boulders--for a snack. It was a charming spot apart from the leavings of some river traveler who had been unable to ignore the call of nature.

Today we began negotiating more serious rapids. As mentioned in Part 1, taking my time deciding how to guide us down them was not something Taylor particularly approved of and so after carefully standing up and scouting ahead as Gavin had recommended and being told to hurry up I sat down and went for it. Another unfortunate difference in mine and Taylor's approach to canoing is that I try to paddle harder going into rapids whereas Taylor sees them as a chance to rest. Unfortunately this means you travel down the rapid at the same speed as the current so the boat is all but unresponsive--particularly to my weak arms hauling on the paddle (you may recall I have been forbidden to use the paddle as a rudder). I wasn't able to line the canoe up with the middle of a rapid containing two large standing waves and we went down one side, got swept sideways into one of the waves...and over we went. Perhaps we might have saved it if we'd both leaned into the wave, but being complete amateurs we didn't and within a few moments had popped up beside the canoe and went bobbing down the river at the mercy of the swift current. We were understandably shocked, particularly Taylor when, as the current slowed, he realised he couldn't touch the bottom--I would find out a few days later that he'd thought this was an anomaly and that the entire river was only waist deep! Um, no, no it isn't. For those who may not know the river is as deep in places as the cliffs are high towering up on either side of it...that is, tens of meters.

Once in slower water we managed to haul the canoe out onto the narrow shore at the base of a cliff and re-tip it to let the water drain out. Thankfully the water wasn't that cold and the two of us both found the unexpected dunking rather exciting. Laughing it off as all part of the experience, we climbed in again and set off. I did however make a couple of mental notes:

Mental Note #1: Always aim for the middle of the main current going down a rapid.

Mental Note #2: Lean into waves. Eddie would later relate this to me in thickly French-accented English as "keep your ass to the stream". Turns out he's an experienced river kayaker...something we would become exceedingly grateful for in the days to come.

It was not until we reached Pipiriki, had hauled out, walked up to the campground/sparsely stocked shop to buy a hot snack and returned to the canoe again (still soaking wet and rapidly getting cold again) that Taylor noticed condensation on the wrong side of the transparent panel in his dry bag full of gear. Though we had been about to climb back into the canoe and set off for Jerusalem (our planned stop for the night) our plans were scuppered by a rapid and long overdue gear inspection revealing that most of Taylor's electrics, essential papers and the bottom of his sleeping bag were wet (we couldn't find a hole in the malfunctioning bag and during a later conversation it transpired that no one had informed Taylor that dry bags need to be rolled a minimum of three times in order to establish a reliable seal...and that he had only rolled the top down twice). He upended the now empty dry bag in disgust and a good 2/3 of a cup of water poured out. One of my own barrels had leaked slightly and some of my things were damp, including my first aid kit, although thankfully nothing as critical as Taylor's.

Mental Note #3: After a capsize, upon getting safely to shore IMMEDIATELY check all gear for leaks!

As we had been laying out our gear to one side of the boat ramp two other canoers had pulled in and were being picked up by a guy in a van. The van had the logo of the Pipriki Campground on the side and I remembered seeing a whiteboard at the campground showing they had plenty of availability for the  night, both tenting and cabins. Inspiration struck and I suggested that we abandon the planned canoe to Jerusalem and stay at Pipiriki instead. It was still only early afternoon and though overcast it was not raining, so we might be able to dry out our gear and set out on the river again tomorrow. The guy loading the other canoe overheard our situation and offered to come back and get us in the van after he'd dropped the others off. Deal. We hauled the canoe out and when the guy, Ken, returned we bundled our barrels into the back and were driven the short distance up to the campground.

Long story short, after some confusion about the state of bookings, Ken's wife Josephine was able to offer us a cabin. (She was extremely helpful and also furnished us with a bag of fresh lettuce and zucchini from her garden). The cabin proved to be a simple but spacious stand-alone affair with a queen bed and a set of bunks, solar lights and curtained windows, but no power sockets. It was built from timber and the whole place smelt wonderfully of pine. Taylor kindly let me have the queen bed while he claimed the bottom bunk. It took over an hour for us to unpack and lay everything out to dry. Besides the gear that was wet from leaky bags and barrels (much of Taylor's essentials plus my first aid kit and toilet paper), much of our gear was wet from rain (our tents), or from direct dunking in the river (lifejackets, my waist pack), or both (the clothes we were wearing). Consequently the entire cabin, inside and out on the covered deck (it was still threatening rain) became covered in gear laid out to dry. The campground has no showers but there's a small enclosed outbuilding with a sinkbench and cold freshwater tap that I used to have a wash, using an empty ice cream container I found in the kitchen to ferry some hot water down from the kitchen. Cleanish, dry and warm for the first time in several hours I felt like a million dollars.

A lady staying in the neighbouring cabin was intrigued by our paraphernalia and came to chat to us. Upon hearing we were walking TA she offered us some of the Christmas cake she had packed on the solo roadtrip she was undertaking. 'Some' turned into and enormous quarter of an entire cake that Taylor and I all but devoured over dinner; Taylor liked it so much I had to portion some off for myself to make sure I got some! I had zucchini-fortified tortellini for dinner so I saved most of mine for later. With all the donated food we've been given recently it looks like I might not run out after all!  

Two Israeli guys were in the kitchen when we went to have dinner. Their English and interest in socialising was limited so apart from the standard niceties we didn't have much to discuss. Taylor and I were just discussing whether Marie and Eddie would push the 'everyone's okay' button on the beacon at the end of the day like they're supposed to if we did not turn up to Jerusalem as planned...when lo and behold Eddie went walking passed the window. We waived him in. It turns out he and Marie spotted our canoe and also decided to stop for the night at Pipiriki, although they're taking advantage of the free-camping available at the park down the road. We chatted for a bit and told him all about our capsizing experience before he headed back down to the park and Taylor and I retired to our cabin.

While pillows and bottom sheets were provided, additional bedding could be purchased for a small fee, which sounded like a good idea considering Tailor's wet sleeping bag was currently suspended spread-eagle from the ceiling of the cabin by a combination of mine and Taylor's rope supplies. Unfortunately he dithered with the decision and by the time he went up to take her up on the offer the office was shut. Josephine had said we could knock on the house door if they needed anything but Taylor was reluctant to disturb them. In the end stripping the top bunk of its under sheet and one of the curtains of its rail saw Taylor happily tucked up in bed. He scoured a stack of magazines on the small table in the cabin, finding sudoku for himself to do and a cryptic crossword for me. I spent a relaxing evening filling it in as we both decided that all in all, everything had turned out well. 

The convent that offers accommodation in Jerusalem is reportedly cold, and here we booth were, warm and dry, gear and persons intact after an adventurous day getting dunked in the river. I drifted off to sleep, waking up intermittently as my semi-conscious brain worked out another of the few remaining crossword clues. Rather infuriatingly I never figured out the very last one!

One piece of news: we bumped into Nadine and Philippe at Pipiriki and they've decided to cut their canoe trip short and hitch to Whanganui. Apart from not enjoying the paddle Philippe has come down sick. Luckily he'd already handed off the beacon to Eddie when we were all at John Coull Hut. Unfortunately aong with the four Germans they'd already been picked up by the time Marie and Eddie had arrived in their canoe; they in turn had been hoping to trade out their canoe as it has a leak, forcing Eddie to intermittently bail all day (from his customary perch on the very tip of the stern...incidentally I've tried sitting back there; it's easier to steer but someone of my weight sits perilously close to the waterline and tends to bounce off more rocks going down rapids than is strictly necessary!).