For some unknown reason my stomach felt like waking me up this morning at 2:30am with a massive "I'm hungry!" message. Since I was awake I used a trip to the loo as an opportunity to stretch my legs and then tried to appease my temporally-challenged digestive system with a museli bar. It took several mindless games on my phone before I could get back to sleep and eventually I woke up again at the much more reasonable hour of 8:30am.
Shower, breakfast (yep, still hungry) and then I managed to meet Brett, the Canadian guy I'd followed out from National Park yesterday, but only ever laid eyes on as a slowly moving black dot in the shimmery distance. He's hoping to begin his canoe trip down the Whanganui River on Monday so he'll be two days ahead of me in no time. I told him my plans to hitch into Ohakune and how nervous I was about it and he suggested phoning the kayak company I'd booked the trip with to see if I could gt a lift to Ohakune with them, since at this time of year they're doing daily runs to Whakahoro and back. Great idea! I gave them a call and they agreed to get the driver to pick me up outside the service station in National Park between 10 and 10:30am. Sorted! Or so I thought...
Taking only my phone, cash card and a shopping bag with a few essentials for the day (maps, pen, shopping list, and drink bottle) I went to wait out the front of the service station just before 10am. At the last minute I also stuffed my pocket knife into my cargo pants pocket; I had half an idea the lift with the kayak company wouldn't pan out and I'd end up hitching anyway, and I was still nervous about it.
Half an idea turned into a full figured conclusion when, after waiting for over an hour the van returning from delivering kayaks to Whakahoro still had not come. During this time the Indian guy behind the counter at the service station had at first told me off for sitting on and squashing the boxes of kindling stacked out the front of the shop, then took pity on me and re-stacked the boxes so that I could sit on them, out of the intermittent rain, without causing undue damage to the cardboard cartons...awww, Also during this time I'd watched two pairs of prospective hitch-hikerss attempt to catch lifts, one pair heading north and one pair heading south. The pair heading north looked laid back, casual and more than a little scruffy in a "we're backpacking on a shoestring" kind of way rather than a "we've escaped from a mental institution and are not particularly good at washing or clothing ourselves" kind of way. They stuck their thumbs out hopefully and bugger me if the second car that drove past going in their direction didn't pull over and give them a lift. Barely two minutes after they arrived on the roadside they were bundling themselves and their packs into an ever so slightly battered sedan and heading north. A few minutes after this a couple of rather more well dressed and a little more stuffy looking guys took up a position and began trying to hitch a lift south, the same direction I was trying to go. They were much less enthusiastic in their hitch-hiking, one guy sticking his thumb out lazily while another talked on his phone. Neither looked particularly friendly. Perhaps they'd had a bad or unexpected start to the day but I couldn't help feeling their approach wasn't going to be as effective. Sure enough they stood there for a good twenty minutes while several cars drove past without even touching their brakes.
Meanwhile I was reassessing my own transport plans. I didn't want to leave things too late as I had no idea how long it would take to get to Ohakune if forced to hitch. I was going to have to hitch back anyway so finally figuring that there was no point delaying the inevitable or wasting more time I crossed the road to be on the side of the traffic heading south and walked a short way along to where there was ample room for a vehicle to pull over (and where I was a respectful distance away from my fellow hitchers). Turning back to face the traffic I stuck my thumb out, trying not to think about all the things that were unlikely but could potentially go wrong. Instead I focused on mimicking what I had observed of Matt's technique when hitching: stand straight, head up and smile, look drivers in the eye as they drive past, and hold thumb up high but relax the elbow. All this serves to make you look confident but friendly, and harder to ignore as you basically beg for a lift. Assume this position as soon as a car approaches within a hundred meters or so and maintain it until after the car has passed so that you still look happy and hopeful when the more conflicted drivers take a glance in the rear-view mirror as they drive past.
You're probably reading this and laughing but I swear it worked! Within ten minutes and maybe a dozen cars a shiny white 4WD pulled over and a young couple gestured to me from the front seats. The odd thing was they appeared to be going in the opposite direction to what I wanted. When I pointed this out they assured me they were heading south but that they'd doubled back to offer me a lift. They'd gone past both sets of hitchhikers but, possibly by virtue of being single, female and the second beggar in quick succession (not to mention my awesome hitch-hiking technique!) they'd taken pity on me, pulled over, turned round and come back to get me. Then again, maybe it was just beginners luck.
They say you decide whether you trust someone within the first few split seconds of laying eyes on them. These two seemed perfectly normal and nice and I fervently hoped my instincts hadn't let me down as I clambered into the back seat of the car. Sure enough, when the road was clear we pulled a U-ey and set off south again. I felt more than a little bit bad for my fellow hikers left further up the road in the lightly falling rain...
Turns out my lift was with a couple from Taumaranui bound for an end-of-year work function in Palmerston North. It sounded as if it was going to be a very grand affair. She was excited to have a chance to doll up and he was more than a little uncomfortable about deciding to wear a suit...but I sensed that despite his protests he was taking more than a little bit of pride in the fact that he was one of those farmers than will don dress pants and shirt sleeves when the occasion calls for it.
We chatted for a time and I told them a bit about the trail before she took a call on her mobile. This lasted the remainder of the way into Ohakune where they kindly dropped me off in the middle of town (despite it being a bit out of their way). Since the phonecall was still in progress I said a short goodbye and thanks that was more than half hand gestures and bundled out of the car onto the sidewalk.
I don't know what I had expected but it wasn't what I saw. I hadn't previously known Ohakune was a tourist town, but one look at the main street made it immediately obvious. The collection of shops lining the pavement has that slightly crisper, cleaner feel about it that towns acquire when the local council and shop owners are aware they come regularly under the scrutiny of foreign eyes--eyes belonging to people looking for a good time and eager to spend money. Also, the visitors' center is an easy to spot building right in the middle of town. I had arranged to meet Taylor at 12 outside Yeti tours so I popped over the road to the Visitors' Center to ask where that could be found. Turns out it was less than a block up the road, and easy to spot from the center. Despite the fact it was barely 11:30 Taylor was already standing outside, fossicking through his pack. I went to meet him and soon felt that odd conflicted emotion of sympathy for someone else whilst being chuffed with your own good fortune when he told me it had taken him two hours to get a lift to Ohakune the day before.
Turns out Taylor had already confirmed our kayak booking with Yeti and all we needed to do was provide them with the food for our trip that they would deliver to Whakahoro along with our canoe. Speaking of food, I was once again hungry so I suggested a trip to a cafe before we went to shop. Taylor said he wasn't hungry but was happy to go so we wandered a short way down the street and soon found a likely spot that wasn't particularly busy but still had several tables occupied. I eagerly ordered beef nachos and an iced chocolate. I offered to get Taylor something but he wouldn't have it and seemed content to sit and watch me eat. We chatted about our experiences of the trail since we'd seen each other last and I was sorry to hear that he had not enjoyed the Tongariro Crossing. This is kind of understandable given the woeful condition of his shoes (he had to stop every two minutes to force his insole back through the hole in the toe of his shoe from where it had slid out), but even so I'd have thought he might have been able to appreciate the stunning surroundings on top of the mountain. But no, he had hated all the uphill, which seemed to be the overwhelming memory he had of the day. That and his shoes giving him hell (he showed me where Terry's sail-cloth repairing needle and thread and Matt's sewing had repaired his shoes). I'm concerned, in a disconnected sort of way (we each have to walk our own walk after all), that Taylor hasn't seen nothing yet and that the Tararuas south of Palmerston North are going to be a new kind of hell for him. I jokingly told him so and a little more seriously advised him to get a new pair of shoes in Palmerston North before attempting that section of the trail. He's understandably reluctant to spend the money, but I made the point that even a cheap pair of shoes that only lasts until Wellington has to be better than the ones he's wearing now. But it's not my place to push the matter and so I didn't. Turns out he has decided to stop in Wellington and not attempt the South Island. I can't help feeling that this is probably a good thing. By all accounts the Tararua Ranges are a step up from the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, and I expect the South Island to be like the Tararuas...on steroids.
After lunch we headed to New World and roamed the aisles multiple times gathering up foodstuffs sufficient for six days. While I reveled in heavy and bulky foods (fresh fruit, sachets of curry, whole milk, and an enormous box of cereal, not to mention two 1.5L bottles of fizzy fruit juice!), I was astonished to see Taylor loading the trolley with the same kind of food I'd seen him eating while walking. As we'll be packing everything into barrels in the canoe I'm trying to make the most of not having to carry everything for the first and only time this trip, but it turns out Taylor eats the same kind of food whether he's hiking, canoeing or, apparently, even just at home. I can't understand how he doesn't get bored with it all, but figuring each to their own I merely shrugged as I tossed a 1-meal bowl of Thai-style chicken and noodles (hydrated!) into my end of the trolley.
Food bought and boxed we rang Yeti to ask where we might drop it off as their office was closed and apparently not due to open until 4pm. They told us to drop it all off at the visitors' center and they would collect it later. The lady at the visitors' center was a bit miffed at this storage service being forced upon her but agreed to take our boxes. Apparently Taylor had a not-too-friendly run in with her yesterday as well so I resorted to my default friendly smile and a quick "thank you very much" as a I slid my box under the counter before heading back out into the street. Aware that if either of these boxes were mistakenly left behind we would be drastically short of food for the river trip I'd taken the trouble of writing our names on them and "box 1 of 2" and "box 2 of 2" in big bold letters. It doesn't sit well with a Stein when there is the potential for food to go astray!
It wasn't much after 2pm but I didn't want to leave trying to get back to National Park too late. Ohakune is 9km from the main highway and there wasn't a lot of traffic heading out of town so I half expected to have to walk to the highway before being able to get a lift. So Taylor and I said farewell and agreed to meet up in Whakahoro in two nights' time. I set off along the road out of town and he headed back to the secluded little spot in the park where he had stealth camped the previous night (rather him than me!).
Once over the bridge out of town I set off along the highway. There wasn't anywhere really for a car to pull over but it was a long straight so I tried my luck with stopping, turning and sticking my thumb out each time I heard a car coming up behind me. Car Number 1 ignored me, and when I turned to signal Car Number 2 I dropped my hand a moment later as it was a traffic cop. I didn't think he was likely to offer me a lift, and I even had a moment's panic that he'd tell me off for hitch-hiking, but he carried on past without a second look.
Clouds were gathering and I dwelt on the possibility of walking 9km through a rainstorm for several car-less minutes, so much so I didn't hear Car Number 3 until it was almost right behind me. Just as before it drew level I was able to swing round and jab my thumb out and to my astonishment the little black suzuki swift's brake lights came on and it slowed to a stop about a hundred meters up the road. Unable to believe my good luck, and hoping the driver didn't look like an axe-murderer (or at least, what I would think an axe-murderer would look like) I jogged up the road to the car, just as the first great drops of rain came spattering down. The window rolled down to reveal a friendly woman who cheerfully asked where I wanted to go. She wasn't sure where National Park was, but she was on her way to Auckland, so I figured if she's heading north from Ohakune she's bound to be taking SH4 through National Park. I clambered into the passenger seat and off we went.
Turns out she's never picked up a hitch-hiker before, but apparently I looked nice (yes!) and she's part way through a long solo drive and was eager for the company. Not far along the road the heavens opened and the rain began pelting down and we paused mid conversation to acknowledge how lucky I'd been to get picked up when I had (barely half a kilometre out of town). As we drove I told her all about the trail and she told me how she had recently left her job with the defence forces and was squeezing in a trip to visit her sister before moving to Australia. With that we arrived in National Park and she pulled into the carpark beside the service station to let me out. Thanking her very much I waved goodbye as she drove away and set off through a break in the rain to the YHA, smiling sheepishly as I passed the traffic cop who had stopped to refuel and buy a snack at the service station/4 Square.
Back at the hostel I made a cup of tea and spent a relaxing afternoon in my room catching up with friends on Facebook and blogging. I had contemplated staying in the communal kitchen/dining room but it was full of disgruntled early twenty-somethings for whom bad weather had sabotaged their planned day-hike over Mt Tongariro. I popped back to the 4 Square in the evening to buy a sandwich, bag of chips and an ice cream for dinner, passing miserable cold and wet looking walkers stumbling out of the only tour bus that had not cancelled its operations on the mountain that day (much to the vexation of the other tour operators, as I gathered from the conversation in the 4-Square as I queued to make my purchases). Back at the YHA and with little else to do I happily flopped into bed for an early night. Fisher's Track tomorrow!
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