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!
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