Day 94: Wellington to Picton (ferry!)

After a wonderful sleep in, helped by the fact that Mila didn't seem inclined to come and jump on me, I got up, got clean, and made French toast for Kyla and I for breakfast (Kyla is shortly going away for ten days so I like to think I was helping empty out her fridge).

After a slow start we then had a busy hour or two in town; Kyla was free all day and very kindly was happy to play chauffeur. First we shot to the supermarket where I bought 16 days' worth of food. After quickly packing this down by removing unnecessary packaging (standing round the boot  of Kyla's cute little blue car parked in the carpark), we next headed to the post office. Kyla stood in the growing queue while I hastily grabbed a box and stuffed eight days worth of good and a few other regular essentials into it, taped it up, and joined Kyla in the queue just before a teller became free. Box posted, bound for the backpackers in Arthur's Pass (I called ahead to ask if it was okay to send them a food parcel; this is a common food drop on TA), we leapt back in the car and headed out to the ferry terminal, arriving just in time for check-in (after a shirt unintentional detour resulting from missing the exit off the motorway). Entourage I got a call from Alyse--she got the job! Woohoo! Congratulations Alyse!

Thanking Kyla very much and apologising for the short and rushed stay, I wished her all the very best for her imminent trip home to Dunedin (Mila is going too. Yay-- else who doesn't think it's so unusual to take their pets on a plane!).

Turns out there was loads of time to check in as the ferry was an hour and a half late. I was hampered a little by the fact that it turns out they only let you carry little backpacks onto the ship, like on a plane; my big pack would have to be checked in. There went my plan to repack all my food etc so that it actually fit in the bag properly, at my leisure once I was on the ferry. So I found an empty space against a wall and re-packed everything into some semblance of walking-configuration (ie. the best-fit version of backpack Tetris). Once complete I was able to check my backpack, keeping only a shopping bag with my boots, phone, fleece, camera and water bottle to carry on the ferry.

Along with everyone else (the majority seemingly late-middle aged tourists from the UK!) I sat in the terminal to wait for the delayed ferry, buying myself a juice to savour in the meantime. I also used the time to book both a bed in Picton for the night, and a spot on a water taxi going out the next morning to take me to Ship's Cove--the start of Te Araroa in the South Island!

Finally the ferry appeared and went out with a bunch of others to watch it come in (I guess that's something you just do?) and then lined up to go aboard along with all the other walk-on passengers.

Once aboard I made a B-line for a comfy seat in the bar up front, but was so put off by both the TV and lack of a view, I moved back to a table seat next to the onboard restaurant/cafeteria. This proved wise as through a combination of hunger, boredom and opportunity I would visit the  food dispensary three times in three hours, and never had to leave my stuff unsupervised. (The roast pork and veges, though overpriced, was good).

I managed to get a few more blog entries done, and had a chat to Mum on the phone during the crossing. Once we were in the Marlborough Sounds I went out on deck to take in the beautiful scenery and sunshine (the crew kindly let me leave my bag behind the bar). I feel I'm going to enjoy the Queen Charlotte Track! Not only is it meant to be fairly easy, the views over the sounds are sure to be beautiful.

The ship docked at 6:30 and we all milled around the door waiting to disembark. When we did it was a straight shoot down to the baggage claim to collect and shoulder my backpack before setting off on the short walk to town. I'd Google-mapped the backpackers, and sure enough, within a couple of blocks, there it loomed on the corner--Atlantis Backpackers--looking rather dishevelled I thought. Obviously it's the place where people on a shoestring stay, and a shoestring wearing thin at that. Right now that's me!

On the inside it's a quirky wee place with super-friendly staff and bright sea-themed coloured walls and decorative knick-knacks to match the name. I'd gone for the cheapest bed, which turned out to be in a 28 person dorm with bunks mercifully separated into little alcoves of two or four. I dumped my pack and headed straight out, in part because I had an errand and in part because it was so hot and stuffy in the dorm I thought that if I stayed more than five minutes I might keel over. How I was going to sleep in there I had no idea.

I headed up the road to the YHA (which was full as otherwise I'd have stayed there and got a member discount) to get a Queen Charlotte Track Pass. The last 2/3 or so of the track crosses private land and is administered by a cooperative which require you to purchase a pass (QCTLC Pass) in order to help pay for the maintenance of the track etc. You can get a 2-day, 5-day or annual pass; I could probably get away with the two, but went with the five just in case ($25). Normally you'd probably get one from the Visitors Centre, but it was shut by the time I arrived and wouldn't open again until I was supposed to be boarding the water taxi in the morning. Happily a web search determined that the YHA also sold passes, and like any backpackers, they were open til late.

Having got the last thing I needed to begin the next section of TA, and not feeling altogether social enough to hang out at Atlantis (even to partake of the daily free evening desert) I took myself off for a wander round town and along the waterfront. It's a very picturesque little spot with a nice grassy area, several park benches, and regularly spaced thickset palm trees lining a footpath that curves round the bay to the docks. The beach is pebbly and the water surprisingly clean and clear given the amount of boat traffic. One guy was swimming. I settled for a paddle, kicking my shoes off and wading along the shore. There were little fish in the shallows, and then something caught my eye that was swimming rather like a tiny sea snake. Closer inspection revealed it to have lots of bristle-like legs down either side of its body. It was swimming furiously trying to get to the pebbly bottom, but kept getting caught in  the low waves lapping the shore and being tossed about. I figured it must be some kind of polychaete worm, so I gently picked it up and slid it back into the water a meter or so out from the rippling waves which to it must have seemed like massive rollers. This manhandling it didn't appreciate and excreted some no doubt disgusting bodily fluid at me (and fortunately missed), but finding itself in non-turbulent water, seemed to swim off and out and down to the bottom happily enough. I washed my hands in the water just in case it was some kind of irritant-producing animal and went on my way.

Inspired by a bunch of people sitting in the park with fish n' chips for tea, I went in search of some myself. Unfortunately the fish shop was closing up by the time I got there and then I got distracted by the Fresh Choice supermarket (which is way cheaper than the 4-Square!). Spotting a solitary loaf of sourdough in the bakery display I opted for smoked salmon and cream cheese on bread for dinner, along with a peach, as the peaches looked absolutely scrumptious.

Filching a knife from the Atlantis kitchen I went to sit and eat in the fading light down by the waterfront...but soon got completely eaten alive by sandflies and beat a hasty retreat back to the backpackers. There was an interesting mix of people there: mostly young, foreign, late-teen to early twenty-something backpackers travelling in pairs or small groups. There were also a couple of older guys ranging from middle aged to retirees, travelling alone but who were easily able to join in a developing teams pool game, and one guy who had been loitering outside smoking when I arrived, looking dishevelled and homeless, and who was playing online porkies at the internet kiosk when I returned for dinner.

I seemed to be the only lone late-twenty something about, and didn't have the energy to do more than smile at people who acknowledged my presence by making eye contact. So after scoffing my salmon and savouring my peach, I washed the knife, returned it to the drawer, brushed my teeth and went to bed. Thank goodness someone had opened some windows and turned on the overhead fans! The room had returned to a breathable temperature.

The Atlantis bunks are good in that they each have a little curtain you can pull for privacy and to shut out the light of the room (they also have mostly children's single duvet covers; I got Winnie the Pooh). The curtain is not much of a barrier between you and the other people coming and going and who almost invariably go to bed much, much later than you (the last lot of people rolled in at about 1am) but it's a whole lot better than nothing!

Day 93: Zero Day 15

Today I slept and then had left over cake for breakfast. Do I know how to have a day off or what?

I spent the morning trying to work out if and where I need to send food parcels for the South Island leg. I think I can get away without in St Arnaud as I'll hitch up to Nelson to resupply and have a day off (I assume I'll need one after the Richmond Ranges!). I'll have to try and organise to send something to Arthur's Pass, and perhaps one more later on further along the trail. But right now I think I can get away with just jumping on the ferry.

Alyse and I headed into Upper Hutt for lunch, stopping to try one of the several cafés, Cafe Rome, which was nice but not AMAZING. We then trundled round a few shops looking for furnishing ideas for Alyse and Pete's new house. We then went back to barracks where I took an hour and a half to inventory and pack up my gear...oops. I also burnt off the last iddy bit of gas in my old gas canister before throwing it out as there's no room in my pack for the next leg for a gas canister that isn't going to last til the next resupply. While the thing sounded damn near empty it turns out there was enough left to have made a cup of tea or two. Oops again.

When I was finally ready we jumped in the car again as Alyse and Pete very generously offered to drop me off in town one last time. I was a bit sad to hand I my visitors pass and was half tempted to souvenir it (apparently that happens a lot), but I did the honest thing and handed it in. I never in my life thought I'd ever go onto a military base, but then you never really know where you'll end up--especially while doing TA!

Incidentally, shout out to Sergeant Major Nicols, whom I've never met, but who apparently told Pete over lunch in the mess hall to pass on his regards and encouragement for my trek!

In town I said I final farewell and huge thank you to Alyse and Pete. Hopefully I'll be up again to see them soon, at which point I'll have numerous favours to repay!

They dropped me at Kyla's place and I shouldered my pack down the drive to the door and fished out the key from where Kyla had txt to tell me she'd left it. She wasn't home from work yet so I let myself in, to the overwhelming joy of her adorable dog, Mila. Curiously enough it was all happiness and excitement when I walked through the door, which only became barks when I lugged my big pack in after me. I like to think it was barks along the lines of "what?! An overnight bag? Are you staying?! She's staying!!", or at least something of that sort.

I made a cup of tea and sat down to continue my perusal of the South Island sections of trails. Loosely planned it looks like it will take me 85 walking days to get to Bluff. I only hope the snow holds off that long! If it doesn't I'll most likely be forced off the trail (I've no gear for or experience in snow), so I'll just have to take each day as it comes and be grateful for each day of decent weather I get.

Soon enough Kyla came home and we had a good catch up before making a proper plan to meet up with Josie for dinner. In the end we jumped in the car (Mila too), went to pick up Josie, stopped in at the Thai takeaway on the way home and then sat down to eat and chat and watch a movie. We couldn't decide what to watch but eventually settled on Magic Mike--it didn't look like my kind of film but I was curious to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out it was about nothing and we switched back to chatting. I also commandeered Kyla's kitchen to make a batch of chocolate brownies for desert.

After dropping Josie home we crashed into bed. Mila was at first keen to sleep in the guest room with me but I must wriggle too much as she soon abandoned me to go sleep on the couch.

Day 92: Ngaio to Island Bay (21.5km; 1700km total--end of the North Island!)

I slept late this morning. We'd discussed this yesterday as heading into Ngaio this morning we'd be in peak Wellington-bound traffic. I'd rather have a late start walking because I chose to than because we got held up in traffic so a sleep in was the welcome order of the day. There was still a bit of traffic as we headed in after 9am but I was underway by 10am, after wishing Alyse all the very best for her interview this afternoon. If she lands this job it means her and Pete will have got married, moved cities, found a new house and both got new jobs, all within a calendar month!

From the townhall I set off down the street and soon followed TA down a walkway into Tressilick Park. The walk drops down into a narrow river gorge lined with bush that was a wonderful surprise to find in the heart of Wellington. It's so quiet down there. I sat on a bench to eat my sandwich (it was supposed to be for lunch but ended up being breakfast) and could hear nothing but the trickle of the stream, birds singing, occasional dog walkers passing by (one dog, a cute little white snowball of a terrier, eagerly snaffled up a bit of chicken I'd dropped) and the odd train running along the tracks at the top of the gorge. But there was no traffic noise and no sirens. It didn't feel like being in a city at all.

The route through the gorge soon becomes complicated by a maze of little paths going this way and that, but I followed the main path and didn't go astray...unlike a dog walker who stopped to ask me directions to one if the streets. Unfortunately I couldn't help her, but hopefully some other dog walkers coming along behind us could (yes there were a lot of people out walking their dogs this morning!).

Climbing up out of the gorge it's a steep climb up a couple of short streets to the entrance to [sp] Reserve. From here a broad track sidles along the hillside beneath pine trees and bush before zig-zagging down to emerge on a road a couple of blocks from the Botanical Gardens. I stopped for a break on the way down. Having breafast so late was a bad call, but after having a muesli bar, a pear and a still-cold coke zero (Alyse seems to have an almost limitless supply) I felt much better and pushed on down, along and in through the Founders Gate to the Gardens.

There's so many paths through the gardens I struggled to which TA follows, and quickly enough I decided not to bother. I knew the trail went up to the Cable Car terminus so I just followed whichever paths took my fancy to get there.

On the way I walked past two people sitting on a bench and did a double take--I know those people! It was Hilary, a director, actor and drama coach I've worked with and taken a couple of lessons from, and her husband Richard, my third year university Professor! Accordingly I stopped to say hello and it was their turn to double taken, laden as I was, not wearing my customary jeans, and wearing a most uncustomary hat. After a moment they did recognise me and it was cheerful greetings all round. I'd actually had it in the back of my mind several days ago that it would be nice to bump into them at some point, but I expected it to happen (if it was going to) walking down the Kapiti Coast near where they live, not here in the heart of Wellington. Sometimes things just work out I guess.

After a quick catch up I wished them all the best, promised to keep in touch, and headed on up to the Cable Car. Coming back down again it feels almost like you are going down the same way you came up but eventually the path arcs around and down and pops out next to the cafe. Perfect--just in time for lunch!

The food looked nice but over-priced (welcome to Wellington). Undeterred I opted for the fresh fruit salad, a slice of orange cake and an iced chcolate (Trail 007--licence to eat!).

I sat outside in my sweaty and worn outdoor gear, making myself at home among the urban Thursday afternoon luncheon set. Unsurprisingly no one stopped to chat, and while one waitress was perfectly friendly, another looked as if she didn't think I was worthy of service...but then again some waitresses are like that with everyone (bad ones!).

After a nice lunch I set off again, down the street, through Memorial Park Cemetery and over the pedestrian bridge over the motorway. From here TA leads you down past the Beehive and Parliament and then off around Lampton Quay. Like any main street in any city the pavement was packed with an assortment of people, usually in a hurry to get somewhere, but I think I can safely say I was the only one striding down the street with shouldering an enormous pack, wearing a sunhat (once it's on it can't come off without leaving me with truely scary hat-hair), and with two walking poles clacking along on either side (it's true I could have packed them down into my pack, but a) I couldn't be bothered, and b) they give my hands something to do besides swing idly by my sides!). Figuring I was going to stand out anyway I decided to stride (and clack) down the street like I owned it. I did keep the clacking to a minimum as it seemed to unnerve a couple of people as I came up behind them to pass when a gap presented itself. Stopping to take a photo of a Te Araroa plaque in the pavement also scored me several odd looks but I didn't care. I like plaques and the like acknowledging the trail. They remind you that the stretch of track, road or footpath you are currently treading is part of something bigger, something epic, and that you have followed it here from far away. How many people in Wellington walk down Lampton Quay each day not realising they are walking part of a route that stretches all the way to Cape Reinga in the north and Bluff in the south. I'm reminded of a quote from Lord of the Rings (where else)..."it's a dangerous business Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

I've always liked that idea, being swept off on an adventure. I haven't exactly been swept (it's been more of a slog), and daily I've had a route planned of where I am going, but it's definitely been an adventure! And soon my North Island adventures would be over and my South Island adventure would begin.

'Here's to the North Island!' I thought and strode on...then shortly stopped when I spotted a Macpac and remembered I needed to buy a new gas cannister.

Turning off Lanpton Quay TA cuts through the Civic Centre and over the bridge to the water front. Heading off round the harbour, passing markets, Te Papa, music festival stalls setting up for a big night, eventually the numbers of people drop and you head out along the footpath round Oriental Bay. I stopped in a shady spot to reapply sunscreen before  continuing on and then crossing the street to head up Mt Victoria. From here a semi-continuous trail--the Southern Walkway--undulates along the variously grassy, scrubby or forested ridge top from Mt Victoria, round the reservoir stop Mt Albert and then down into Buckley Rd before diverting down to Hougton Bay. It's a pleasant enough walk with occasional nice views over the suburbs that slowly pass by.

Turning a corner on the approach to Houghton Bay I suddenly saw the sea, close now, so close! Shortly I'd made it to the road that sidles along the coast between the shore and the houses. I was astonished at how huge the waves were in Houghton Bay! Along the coast to either side the waves were comparatively normal (chest-head height?) but the narrow confines of the bay they built up to three or four times the height of a man!  And there were surfers trying to catch them! I stopped for a minute or two to watch but soon continued on. It's a short walk round the coast to the end of the trail in Island Bay.

It was getting on 5:30pm and the after-work runners and beach goers were heading home for dinner. I got the fright if my life when I walked close past an SUV and a large dog barked savagely at me out of the window. But up ahead I could see the quaint little park in which I expected to find a quaint little monument to the end (or start) of Te Araroa in the north island. In truth both the park and the monument are a little underwhelming (I was interested to see the trail has gained 80km in length since the plaque was installed), but it was still nice, nice to know that after 92 days on trail I had done it! I had walked (or paddled) the length of the North Island!!

Far from being over-excited my mood was more contemplative, only without much contemplation. On the whole I think I was just plain knackered after spending a day walking under a hot sun, just like any other fair-weather day on the trail. But I think a sense of the first part being complete also added to my general lethargy as I waited for Alyse and Pete, perched on the seawall. I always crash after completing any big project (and walking the length of the North Island is arguably one!), so I allowed myself to crash, knowing I had tonight and tomorrow to get it together, ready to take on Te Araroa Part 2: The South Island.

Soon enough Alyse and Pete pulled up and we had a short celebration consisting of "Yay!"s and "congratulations!", as I had finished the North Island, Alyse's job interview had gone well, and Pete had had another good day at work.

We swung past a chippy and had chips (as well as pork bun and wontons on my part) for dinner, sitting in the car down by the beach by the airport, intermittently watching waves and planes. Then we headed to Bex's to say hello and hear about how the previous two-days' work retreat she'd been away on had gone (they went quad-biking!). I took the opportunity to shower and pick up the rest of my gear (Alyse can have her mattress back tonight!). Then we all hoed into a packet of champagne-strawberry flavoured Tim-Tams that came as part of a "Black Box" package of free samples Alyse received today (they were nice, but not a patch on the dark chcolate and raspberry ones!).

Bex was feeling a little under the weather so she stayed home while Alyse, Pete and I went into town to go and have celebratory desert at award-winning Strawberry Fare. I had Devil's Cream Cake and even I was beaten, opting to take the rest home in a carton. Pete was also beaten by cheesecake for the second time in two days (and recorded history).

Back at the barracks all three of us crashed into our respective beds after Pete and Alyse retrieved their second mattress. I'm taking a day off tomorrow to chillax and hang out with them. Pete has work as usual but Alyse and I fully intend on sleeping in.

Oh yeah, did I mention I finished walking the length of the North Island today?!

Day 91: Porirua to Ngaio (23.5km; 1678.5km total)

I was having a dream about driving. There I was driving along when I had to pull over to wait for something but I didn't know what. Just as I pulled over a cornet rang out playing Revelli. It was 6:15. Welcome to life on a military base.

I waited until 6:30 to get up, thinking I'd give the enlisted lady a chance to shower before I got in there. Went I went to go she was still in there so I busied myself packing up my gear. After a shower I dressed and had some of Pete's weetbix and Milo cereal and a banana for breakfast. I feel like such a bludger!

We stopped at a bakery to grab a sandwich for lunch and then Alyse dropped me off in Porirua. Just as we were saying farewell she got a call--she has a job interview tomorrow afternoon! We had a brief celebration before I set off down the riverside walk and she went about her day, no doubt with a bit of a spring in her step.

The river walk doesn't last long before the trail diverts through town to the Raiha St Walkway. The sign for this is on the corner of an intersection backed by a vast expanse of park-like grass. Trouble is there didn't seem to be a walkway in sight. Two kids in school uniforms were making their way up the grassy hill however do I followed, and sure enough, up the hill and round a corner past the school a rough pathway led off into a patch of woods.

The walkway skirts some industrial precincts before emerging on Raiha Rd as it runs along the back of Porirua, across the lower slopes of Colonial Knob. This TA climbs via a walking track that starts just across the road. Onward and upward once again! Thankfully there was a bit if a cold southerly so even on a gloriously sunny day slogging up the hill didn't get too hot.

Actually TA follows one of a choice of tracks at this point. For some reason I don't have the notes for this bit so I could either follow the TA map or find my own way up using a map of the reserve that duely presented itself on a billboard on the other side of the road. Seeing that the route on the billboard would get me where I needed to go I set off, eventually meeting up with the official TA route on a high shoulder of the hill, before following it to the summit. The slopes of Colonial Knob are grassy and only lightly grazed, and there are impressive views of both the coast and the Porirua Valley, for miles in both directions, all the way from Kapiti Island and Paraparaumu in the north to the outskirts of Wellington in the south. And there, out to sea, the surprisingly high looking hills of the Marlborough Sounds. There it is! The South Island!

Heading down from the summit I was walking through lovely golden grassy fields that were shimmering in the wind. I met a guy on his way up for a day walk who is keen to do the TA next summer. I offered lots of encouragement and wished him all the best.

From Colonial Knob TA drops down and follows a zig-zag path out through Spicer Forest (pines) to the Ohariu Valley. There very last bit of track before the road was awash with blackberries (and the sign of people harvesting them) so I helped myself to a tasty morning tea treat.

Trundling down the road for a few kilometres I passed a trio of women out day walking who stopped to chat. They were impressed at my doing TA and astonished at my doing it alone. One women in particular sounded like she thought I'd get snatched into a passing car at any moment. Happily getting into a car while wearing a monster back pack, let alone quickly, is damn near impossible...

Around the next bend was a long straight, at the far end of which I spotted two guys ambling along with largish backpacks, at a pace that suggested they expected to be walking all day. Good grief, could they be TAers? Southbounders even? I haven't seen any other TA-SoBos since meeting Tom all the way back in Bulls. Still, while I upped my pace I didn't flat out try to catch up with them. Fortunately a couple of kilometres up the road I came round the corner to an intersection and there they were, taking a break.

At first glance they look like chilled out types, and chatting to them does nothing to dispel that impression. Billy from the UK has long messy blonde hair, and Mario from Sri Lanka the same in black curls tied back. They're both career backpackers, working seasonal jobs as a means of travelling. And they seem to have made a profession of travelling on a shoestring...and I mean a shoe string, tied up in whatever way suits their needs. I soon discovered as we walked up the back of Mt Kaukau together that their plan to get across Cook Strait in a couple of days time is to hide in someone's boot to avoid the $55 or so dollar walk-on passenger fare. Entrepreneurial, I thought, and unlikely to work in NZ unless they were very lucky with who they picked to approach with the scheme. But I said nothing. They seem to have got by on such enterprises before now so who am I to comment. Me, I plan on doing the honest (and easy) thing and paying the fare, although it's going to be an expensive two days between that and a $50 water taxi to get to the start of the trail in the South Island...oh well, that's not even tomorrow's problem (it's at least the day afters!)

We three stretched out after a while as we each went at our own pace up the winding farm track that slowly climbs to the summit of Kaukau. There's an elevated viewing platform up there but you don't need it. Standing on the curving crest of the hill the ground falls away below you as a vista over greater Wellington opens up and stretches all the way to the horizon. I sat on a bench taking it all in. I also txt a few friends to see how they were going and arranged to meet up with Kyla and Josie on Friday night. Kyla's also able to put me up for the night so at this stage it looks like I'll finish the North Island tomorrow, have a day off to prep, then jump on the ferry to begin the South Island. I'm nervous and excited about this. Also, somewhat irrationally, I'm anticipating feeling..."safer" isn't the right word, but something in that line, because from then on I'll be within driving distance of home. I feel like, if anything bad happens, there's no longer a plane ride or a ferry ticket involved in getting home. Mum would be able to jump in the car and come and get me. Not that I would ask her to! It's a hellova drive! But I find comfort in the imminent circumstance of such back-up or assistance being logistically (if not realistically) possible. This is completely irrational as I've already had and been offered so much help from friends in the North Island. But there definitely something comforting about soon being on the same island as home.

My next few days thus organised I took my sandwich up to have lunch on the platform and chat to the others. Turns out Mario is very into rocks, claiming to have married one at a music festival last year. I'm not sure how serious he was about this but was pleasantly amused when he described how excited he was when he found out what kind of rock it was--conglomerate. They asked me how it might have formed, so I told them (in a nutshell: by the erosion, transport and redeposition of other rocks as rounded fragments and sediment, which is then then compressed by burial to form new rock, which may then be uplifted and exposed at the surface...beginning the whole process over again). Billy and Mario were impressed and fascinated by the amount of time contained in such a process, and thus, in Mario's happily wedded rock. They asked me what the oldest rock I'd ever seen was...this caused me to reminisce a little before answering. What sprang to mind was my time spent at ANU zapping zircons (technically a mineral not a rock, but oh well). Back then one of the zircons I zapped came out at 4.1 billion years old. I remember sitting back and thinking about that for a minute. The Earth is 4.6 billion years old, and the little grain of sand I'd just lasered had been in existence for nearly 90% of that time, going through numerous crustal cycles. We humans by comparison have only been around for less than 0.001% of that time. The things that zircon must have seen! Probably a load of magma and then a whole lot of nothing much while it was bound up in one rock or another until finally being eroded into the sand of the Australian desert...where someone collected it amongst loads of other sand grains and it wound up on my desk in a tiny paper envelope and baggie, from which I selected it under a microscope, stuck it to some tape along with numerous others, coated them in a disc of resin and then zapped them each with a laser. Unfortunately the laser proved to much for the enduring little grain and I only just got enough data before it exploded into dust. But of all the grains I analysed (some 800 or so) that's the one I remember. My very, very very old microscopic zircon.

But I digress...

Mario and Billy seemed to like the ancient zircon story, but our chat soon drew to a close as we all went to fish jackets out of our packs--that southerly was cold! So cold in fact I soon packed up and got back underway. The boys lingered for a bit but said they'd see me down the hill.

TA follows a track along the ridge before turning steeply down at a saddle to zigzag down through low scrub to emerge in the hill suburb of Ngaio. I got as far as the library and neighbouring town hall and public toilets before stopping to use the convenience and top up my water. Though I could have gone further, in my heart I felt like I was done for the day. Stopping now would leave 21.5km to do tomorrow to finish the Nirth Island--perfectly doable.

It was nigh on 4:30 so I txt Alyse to see how she and Pete were tracking. They were 20 minutes away so I sat down to wait on the ramp up to the door of the hall, resting my feet and soaking up the sunshine. Billy came past. Apparently he and Mario were stopping at the library, I presumed to print the final maps of the route through Wellington, or else investigate the upcoming South Island (I'd asked them if they were going the food parcel/bounce box route or planning to hitch off trail to resupply to which they had rather confusedly asked why it was necessary; I cautiously explained that TA doesn't go through near so many supply towns in the south as it does in the north, sometimes only crossing a highway between long sections. They decided some investigation was necessary before they left Wellington).

While I waited for my by now very generous and yet already routine lift, I returned a call from Richard Owen. He's my ex-boss-come-friend's Dad, whom I saw when I went to stay with them in Hawea at New Year. Richard lives in Nelson and is keen to help me out with my adventure. I gave him a quick run down of my plan for the next couple of weeks, which happily seemed to fit in with his schedule nicely. We agreed I would call him when I was closer to Nelson to arrange to meet up when I divert out of the Richmond Ranges to resupply. Stoked! One difficult section of the South Island just got a whole lot easier! Thank you Richard!

I also rang Mum--no answer. Must be gardening.

Soon enough a familiar white car pulled into to the parking lot and I bundled in. We headed back to barracks via the Upper Hutt Bakehouse for dinner (having got stuck in 5pm motorway traffic). I polished off a plate full of roast pork and veges which hit the spot just nicely. I also took advantage of the post-4:30 sandwich special again ($2.50) to have something for lunch tomorrow. Back at barracks I got clean and then we all sat down to play a game of Risk. I'd never played before and my board game tactics are bad at the best if times, but luckily for me Alyse and Pete got so fixated on competing to occupy most of North America that I was able to complete my own mission of occupying any 24 territories. This still took a long time and only really happened as Pete began forfeiting his turns once it got past his bed time (he has a 5am start every morning so I sympathise).

Fun had, game over, it was well and truely bed time. Tomorrow to reach the 1790km mark and finish the North Island!

Day 90: Zero Day 14

I crashed into bed last night and not having set my alarm, slept right through until long after Bex, Clay and Ali had left for the day. I feel bad for staying at their place and hardly seeing them!

Alyse didn't seem to be up yet either so I went in search of a cup of tea, and since I was there, quietly did the dishes. Soon enough Alyse emerged and I informed her that today "body says no". It's two more days' walking to get to the end if the North Island and rather than slogging it out to get it done I'd rather enjoy it. As Alyse pointed out there's no point having a day off with only incessant to go, but two seems a bit more reasonable (especially since I've already overslept!).

After getting ready Alyse and I headed down to the Newtown Bakery for breakfast. I had french toast with bacon and maple syrup which, for the price, was amazing. The only improvement I might have made would be to use a more interesting type of bread than sliced plain white French stick, but then I've never been a fan of French sticks (random synapse fire--remember when the French were doing nuclear testing in the Pacific and NZ bakeries did their bit to boycot France by renaming their bread sticks Kiwi sticks? Anyway...back to the present).

After breakfast we went by the Manners St Post Office to collect my Poste Restante parcel to myself containing my maps and notes for the South Island (incidentally Poste Restante is a great and often free service for posting yourself stuff to towns all over the country as required. Just show them your photo ID and they'll produce the parcel you posted to yourself at their address--easy!). We next stopped in at the Department of Internal Affairs for Alyse to pick up a copy if her marriage certificate. Then we headed out to Trentham to hang out for a bit. Alyse had a bunch of paperwork she needed to do re: marrying, moving and job hunting, and I sat on their make shift mattress-come-couch to go through the maps and notes of the South Island in detail and work out logistics. There's not as many towns in the South Island as the North so resupplying is a bit more difficult. Most hikers seem to send themselves three or more bounce boxes to save extended hitching trips off trail which, if I'm going to do, I'll need to organise fairly soonish. I also used the time to catch up on my journal.

We'd left the door open and at some point their neighbour George, an army captain, poked his head in to say hello. He was interested to hear of my exploits, but was thoroughly unimpressed by my tumble in the Tararuas (I'm not sure why that story sprang to mind but it did). Turns out George knows quite a few sections of the trail (he's run Burtton's Track for example...!) and is organising a trip next week for joint forces personnel to go on a bit of an outdoor adventure in the South Island. There will be tramping, rafting, 4WDing, mountain biking, flying foxing and other shennanigans. I jokingly asked "where can I sign up?". He just as jokingly replied "enlist". Hmmm, tempting but perhaps not the best reason to join the military.

I spent the afternoon going through the South Island maps and notes again. Let's just say, it's going to be tough.

After Pete finished work we had a late lunch (I also bought a cheap post-4:30 sandwich for lunch tomorrow) and did some shopping. Back at the barracks we chilled out in the lounge and watched Monsters Ball, the best of a bad DVD situation purely because none of us had seen it (it proved to be an unusual and fairly tragic film that earned Halle Berry an Oscar; don't watch it Mum, you'll hate it).

George recommended we try the Mess Hall for dinner, meeting the local off-site pub, rather than the on-site cafe, so off we went in search of dinner. It turned out to be a nice little well-patronised pub. Everything was as you might expect of a military themed but family-friendly pub, however women's cage fighting was unusual TV fodder (I thought).

As last night we went with mains over desert, tonight we went vice versa, sharing a bowl of wedges and shredded pork for an entree and then having desert. The waitress recommended the chocolate brownie and it was good. Also, in an unprecedented performance Pete was beaten by the cheesecake and unable to finish it, even with Alyse's help.

After dinner we returned to the barracks. Alyse and Pete managed to get permission for me to stay; apparently the powers that be were surprised by the request but grateful for being asked, and granted it happily enough. So here I am, settled into Room 4. The whiteboard on the door reads "Lt Peter Campbell & wife". I was tempted to add "& wife's friend" but didn't think it would be appropriate!

I feel bad though--my air mattress is still at Bex's house so Alyse has given me hers back. It looks like I'll being staying here again tomorrow though so I am resolved to return both mattresses to their proper owners as soon as practicable.

Day 89: Paekakariki to Porirua (24km; 1655km total)

I slept like the dead, waking up only just in time to meet little Ali before he went to crèche (last time I saw him was in Dubai when he was a very large bump in Bex's tummy) and see Bex off to work. I don't know how she does it.

Alyse and I had breakfast with Clay and I got to try some Tanzanian tea he recently brought back with him called "Chaichai" (which is nothing like Indian "Chai"). Then it was time to change back into smelly walking clothes again (yep, they stink, even after only one day) and we bundled in the car and Alyse dropped me back out to Paekakariki--after taking my camp clothes and offering to wash them for me! I've opted to action her idea of leaving tent, sleeping bag etc at Bex's in order to make my pack lighter.  I kind of feel like this is cheating a bit, but I did it at Ron's too so there is a precedent. Alyse and I agreed to meet in Porirua at 5pm.

Out of Elizabeth Park you walk through town along the head of the beach. A guy pulled up to take his dog for a walk and stopped to chat. Before I knew it he'd popped back to his car to retrieve a copy of his self-published children's book about an orphaned Tui he'd presumably adopted and other wildlife around Paekakariki. Though the man didn't actually introduce himself I noticed the book's author was Taffy the Clown; this explained the fellow's slightly unusual (Missionaries aside, how many people you just met give you a book for free?) and exceedingly cheerful character. 

Beyond the beach a short road walk heads up to the Paekakariki Escarpment Walk which leads through a small park along the heads. Though I hadn't been going long I stopped on a bench overlooking the sea, and munched a muesli bar while soaking it all in. On the way down I met a retired couple out for a walk and checking the pest traps they lay in the reserve; so far today from five of nine traps they'd caught two rats.

Down off the escarpment the trail crosses the Fisherman's Table carpark and then follows the Centennial Coastal Highway, SH1. This mercifully has a footpath running alongside it the several kilometres to Pukerua Bay. While it was nice not to have to worry about traffic there was no escaping the constant roar of vehicles going by. I distracted myself by bird watching along the shoreline, managing to spot several oyster catchers, seagulls, spur-winged plovers, pigeons (yes, the quaint city park kind--weird), a white-faced heron and a tern. I was also able to successfully gauge on two short sections that I had enough time between the biggest in a set of rollers to walk past before a large wave hit the sea wall and splattered the pavement. Winning!

Occasionally the roar of traffic was supplemented with the encouraging toot of a horn and at one point an excited repeatedly honking horn. I looked up to see an SUV drive past, heading south, the driver furiously waving an arm at me out the window. I don't think it was anyone I know, so guessed it must just be some very enthusiastic TA walker supporter. I half wondered if it might not have been Geoff Chapple himself; I think someone once told me he lives somewhere along the Kapiti Coast. I figure no one would be more enthusiastic in their encouragement than him.

At the last vehicle pull-in before the highway climbs over the headland TA veers off down a 4WD track/driveway, diverting just before the private gate onto the beach at Pukerua Bay. I walked along the beach until a road ran parallel, fortuitously with a set of public toilets (actually two). Shortly after I arrived a guy pulled up to clean them and hesitated about going in the female end. Having just come from there myself I assured him there was no one in there and he went about his duties.

From beach level TA follows a goat track up to a suburban road on top of the headland. I accidentally took the wrong goat track but the headland was only so big and I quite rightly assumed the road I came out in would meet intersect the other one before rejoining the highway. I was back on the official trail when I reached the shop, and celebrated by buying a can of fizzy and an ice cream (I'll admit I'd scouted the shop as an afternoon ice cream stop in the drive up that morning...two things thru-hikers inevitably take notice of: public toilets and places that sell food!).

From the shop at the top of the hill TA follows the Ara Harakeke ("flax pathway") down to the Paremata Bridge, via Plimmerton. The walkway follows the highway as it sidles down a valley dominated by Taupo Swamp, a natural flax swamp environment saved from development by early settlers and the later building if the highway only by its difficult to drain swampiness (eventually the settlers played to the swamp's strengths and used it to farm flax).

The walk/cycle way is a broad, paved route at least a stones throw from the highway at most points and affords a great opportunity for a hiker to walk along for a good hour or more in a complete daydream. This I did, managing to solve one of the many plot problems in a story/novel that I started working on when I was fifteen, and one day, several years from now, might actually finish! There was also the added bonus of being able to score a few deliciously sweet blackberries along the way.

Down and through Plimmerton and across the Paremata Bridge the trail crosses the highway then veers off down a parallel running street, then up a hill, then down through the grounds of [sp] House and the aptly named Adrenalin Forest (think aerial confidence course slung between pine trees on increasingly higher levels. I've been before on a previous trip to Wellington and didn't get past level 4. It's good fun and physical exercise but also fairly terrifying; Mum, you'd pass out just looking at it).

By this stage it was getting on 4:30 and my feet were killing me, despite being strapped. I'd nursed them along with a couple of boots-off breaks but now laid them down in determined strides as the end--Porirua--was in sight. Down a pathway and over the road bridge and I was there, fortuitously right next to Countdown. I txt Alyse to say I'd meet them in the carpark then ducked inside to buy a trio of Lewis Road Creamery caramel milks (I'd never tried them but it came up in conversation that they're Pete's favourite, and I know Alyse is keen on anything caramel). By the time I'd gone through the self-checkout they were in the carpark. Celebratory caramilks all round. And there in the back was a neat little pile of my clean clothes. Saint. (All this generosity and help is going to make fending for myself in the South Island extra hard!).

The guys took me back to the barracks in Trentham where they are staying until they can move into their new house in a couple of weeks. I was astonished how easy it was to get on site; Alyse and Pete both have ID cards but all I had to do was show my drivers licence and sign in to be issued with a visitor's pass. Maybe I've watched too many movies but I thought at least they'd run my name through a system to see if I threw up any red flags, but apparently not.

In the barracks I made use of the little utilised females' shower (apparently there's Alyse and only one other woman in this wing). Besides these facilities and the occupant's private rooms there's a laundry, a small lounge and a kitchenette. The whole place reminds me of the student hall of residence I stayed in at ANU, except there's a notable lack of excitable students and people walking around rather more sedately in various army, airforce or navy uniforms instead. I never really noticed before but military personnel do have a distinctive walk...as civilians I decided Alyse and I must stick out like sore thumbs. Oh well, no one seems to mind.

With everything of mine washed, dried and socially wearable again the three of us headed into Upper Hutt town centre to try out an Italian Restaurant one if Pete's colleagues in the mess hall had recommended. It proved to be authentic Italian made by authentic Italians; I had the fettuccine Alfredo and it was superb. It was also too filling to be able to have desert, even for a hungry hiker!

After dinner we dropped Pete off and then Alyse and I headed to Bex's again, after saying a brief hello to Pete's kids via Skype, and startling our friends Lisa and Carlos with a Whatsapp image of the happy couple featuring an unexpected photo-bomber (Lisa and Carlos hadn't realised I'd made it to the outskirts of Wellington already). Alyse and Pete are going to check with the necessary authorities whether or not I might be able to stay as a guest in the barracks tomorrow night (Pete and Alyse have been issued two rooms but are only using one) in order to save Alyse the drive in and out of the city ferrying me about day and night. But we'll see what happens. I don't want them to be pushing the rules so early into Pete's new job, nor do I want to be a transport baggage. I've let them know I can fend for myself at a backpackers if necessary but will leave it up to them to decide what they can and want to accommodate.

At Bex's I was interested to learn that Bex has applied for an author mentoring programme as she has recently embarked on writing a murder mystery novel. Having spent a good portion of the day theorising about my own epic work of fiction in progress it was a bit of a startling coincidence to find someone else who is doing the same, but taking it to the next level. I didn't know you could get mentors for authoring, but I wish Bex all the best in her application--can't wait to read her finished novel!

Day 88: Waikanae to Paekakariki (22km; 1631km total)

Mmm good sleep. You wouldn't think I slept well to look at the bed. All the sheets were torn loose and my the time I managed to get up they and the top blanket were all in some sort of knot on the mattress. But that's what happens when I get space to toss and turn and stretch as much as I like! Sleeping bags just aren't my sort of thing. They're more like sleeping straight jackets!

I was up at 8 and Penny, Roger and I had a nice breakfast of tea and toast out on the patio in the sunshine. They gave me the Guardian to peruse, but to be honest I'm so out of the loop when it comes to current events having it all suddenly packed into a newspaper in front of me was a little overwhelming. That's something I don't like about myself: I wished I was one of those people that likes to devour newspapers. At best I managed to skim the headlines, maybe an article or two, but invariably end up zeroing in on the cryptic crossword and not taking in much of the "news".

After breakfast I had a thorough repack of everything, which took a surprisingly long time. Finally, after strapping my feet, I was ready to go. Penny kindly gave me a handful of apples. In return I could offer nothing but my mobile number and an email address and an open invitation to her and Roger should they ever find themselves down Dunedin way.

As promised, Penny dropped me back at the spot from which she'd collected me, minus about 10metres. I wished her all the best and thanked her very much before slathering up with sunscreen (yes, sun!) and shouldering my pack. In several minutes I'd made it past the residential streets and across the railway line to town. I diverted off trail to go to Countdown and stock up on good. While I'll be town hopping all the way from here to Wellington, I figure if I have a pack full of good I'm less likely to blow time and money at cafés along the way.

I got some odd looks with my big pack and poles, not to mention walking clothes (however clean), sitting on the bench outside Countdown downing a chocolate milk and ice cream (I also bought real food too Mum, I promise).

One little boy mistook a dog tied up outside as mine and asked if he could pat it. Happily the actual owner soon appeared and the little boy got to pat the dog. I was irrationally pleased by this as I think it's a very important part of childhood, learning how and when to interact with animals.

Happily full of slightly less processed dairy than the powdered milk that is a trail staple, I set off back to the main road and along the footpath until TA turns off and follows a pleasant little walkway down along the Waikanae River to the sea. It's a healthy little river by all accounts; the water is clear, there's little to no rubbish and, peering over the bank, I often spotted small fish in the shallows, including only larger black fish that definitely looked like some sort of freshwater native.

The walkway goes past parks and horse paddocks and is extensively used by dog walkers, runners and cyclists. Several people commented on my pack, and one or two people 'in the know' offered nice words of encouragement. "Are you doing Te Araroa? Good on you!".

Once you get to the estuary the walkway is mostly boardwalk through weedy marsh that is slowly being reclaimed and rejuvenated back to its native state. A short walk along the road at the far end brings you to Paraparamu Beach. I couldn't believe how much wood was washed up! Also in one spot several rotting blue jellyfish, at least, that's what I took the weird little piles of blue jelly-like stuff to be.

As you walk along the beach Kapiti Island slowly slips by. I stopped on an exposed section of concrete retaining walk to sit and have lunch (ham, lettuce and tomato buns; I'm a bit shocked at how quickly my lettuce has wilted since this morning!).

It's funny, along the walkway from Waikanae lots of people stopped to comment or chat briefly, but along this stretch of beach, not a soul said even a friendly hello. Is this a suburb thing? I wondered.

I stopped for water at a public park in Paraparamu, managing to walk right past both the drinking fountain and a tap out the back of the toilet block and having to stop and ask a couple of people, the second of which kindly pointed out the tap (doh!). He had two kids who soon joined me at the tap and pelted me with questions. The little boy in particular wanted to know if I was going skiing and if not, why I had ski poles. Aww.

Down the beach a ways I got caught between an impassable retaining wall and the high tide (doh!). I backtracked a little andcwebtbup what I thought didn't look like an especially private track and which I hoped lead out to the road. It didn't, only past a disused tennis court to a patch of grass walked in by houses. I noticed two people in the top floor window of a neighbouring house watching my progress with amusement (incredulity?). They waved me round the front of their place into their front neighbour's backyard. Unfortunately their neighbour was at home, currently sitting in a deck chair reading a book, overlooking her otherwise private patch of beach. Acutely embarrassed I excused myself and asked if there was any way out to a road. She said no there wasn't but if I cut across her lawn and went out through the neighbour's driveway I'd find the road. Thanking her very much I beat a hasty retreat. Something tells me I'm not the first hiker to intrude on her in this manner. I didn't look back to see what my watchers on the top floor made of the escapade.

Safely back on public land I followed the road along through residential neighbourhoods until I once again could divert out to the beach at North Raumati. I was well in need of a rest break but unfortunately every single picnic table seemed to be out under the beating rays of the by now very hot sun. There's a restaurant here, built up to a second level with a large outdoor seating area built out as a tall deck. The grass underneath this was shady so after making use of the public convenience I settled down in the shade, kicked my boots of and perused my map to determine progress. Two girls in beach attire who were sitting on a bench in full sun nearby looked a bit scandalised. I wondered whether they thought I was sitting in a place I shouldn't be or whether they were gutted they hadn't thought of it first. Oh well. No one bothered me so I happily sat for twenty minutes or so, cooling off, rubbing my feet, watching the beach goers, and listening to the scrape of knives and forks in plates above my head.

Setting out along the beach again the tide soon forced me up onto path that although makeshift is obviously frequently used and which runs along the various forms of retaining wall that protect the houses on one side from being eroded into the sea on the other. This time I checked by asking a fellow out walking his dog whether I could follow the pathway all the way to South Raumati Beach at the far end without reaching a dead end. He assured me I could. Phew!

At a couple of places roads run down to the beach to provide access and I stopped on a bench at one of these. There was an older guy with a cane sitting on the neighbouring bench and we got to chatting. Though he wasn't as forthcoming I was strongly reminded of sitting on a bench and chatting to and old guy with a cane whilst overlooking a beach north of Auckland. How long ago that seems, and yet I remember it like it was yesterday.

Finally I followed the path down off the retaining walk and into proper beach once again. You can follow a route through Queen Elizabeth Park into Paekakariki but I opted to keep walking along the beach; in the home stretch for the day I'd found my beach pace once again.

This pace saw me keep in close stride with a couple out walking. While trying to maintain a respectful distance it became apparent that we three were all going at the same pace and so eventually they said hello and we got to chatting. Their names were Chrissy and Robert and they proved to be very keen travellers. Rivert is from Germany and so they spend a lot of their time there and use it as a base to explore Europe on numerous occasions. They were very enthusiastic and full of advice about the best places to go. They were also very interested in Te Araroa as they are planning to do it themselves in a couple of years time, so I shared some of my favourite bits so far with them. In mentioning seeing kakariki in the Pureora forest they pitched in that there were some around Paekakariki too, Robert pointing out that the name "Paekakariki" means "perch of the kakariki". Unfortunately as with everywhere else they're very rare and hardly ever seen.

I asked Chrissy and Robert where the best place to leave the beach was to go to the campground and they kindly offered to show me. We soon left the beach and were just heading up to the road when the "March of the Dwarves" them from the Hobbit movies started emanating from my waist belt. Startled at first I quickly pulled out my phone. It was Alyse and Pete wanting to know where I was...Queen Elzabeth Park...them too! The sneaky little buggers had jumped online to find the TA route to Paekakariki (I'd told them that's where I was headed today) and were lying in wait for me at the entrance to the park. Unfortunately I'd thwarted them by coming along the beach, but we soon agreed to meet at the southern entrance. Thanking Chrissy and Robert very much (both were highly amused at my friends having stalked me) I went to wait on a picnic table by the gate. Ten minutes later a familiar white car pulled up and two familiar people climbed out, one holding a very familiar type of can of fizzy fruit juice. Alyse you Saint!

We had a bit of a catch up about their recent move to Wellington while I knocked back the fruit juice. Then I went to freshen up a little and change into camp clothes as we decided to head down the road to Fisherman's Table for tea. Apparently it was all arranged, whilst I was free to stay at the Paekakariki campground if I wanted, our mutual friend Bex was happy to out me up for the night, and Alyse was happy to deliver me both there and back to this point tomorrow morning to continue my walk. More than this, this arrangement could be conducted all the way down the coast into Wellington. Friends eh? Amazing.

By the time we got to the restaurant I was very stiff and sore. I shouted a round of drinks while we waited for a table, on a whim getting myself a traffic light since I saw one being made and hadn't had one since I was a kid (probably the last time I was at Fisherman's Table!). Unfortunately it wasn't as good as I remember. Food colouring just isn't as good when you're an adult. Perhaps they used to be made with lime and raspberry not food colouring?

Funnily enough, after going to a fish restaurant none if us ordered fish, but we made up for it by making the most of the all you can eat buffet salad table. Every time I sat down I stiffened up and then would hobbled comically back to the buffet after each empty plate.

After dinner we headed to Trentham for Alyse to pack an overnight bag; she's going to stay over at Bex's too to have a catch up. Pete's got work in the morning so we left him behind when we headed into town. Had I realised it was so far I might not have taken Alyse and Bex up on their offer, not wanting to be such an inconvenience, but Alyse is adament she doesn't mind the driving. They're still settling in and she hadn't found a job yet so she says she doesn't mind the time. I went to offer them petrol money but they're avid AA fuel card users and when we stopped to fill up they got a full tank for about $10!

We got to Bex's just before 9. Bex's partner Clay and young son Ali were already in bed but the three of us girls stayed up til nearly midnight chatting. I was dog tired, but its just what girls do I guess. It's going to be tough getting up tomorrow, but then, that's tomorrow's problem!

Day 87: Puketeatua to Waikanae (16.5km; 1609km total)

The down side of sleeping on the track is that you spend all night unconsciously worrying that someone is going to come along and trip over you and your tent. This all makes for a bad night's sleep.

It's funny how without me actively choosing which songs to sing out loud (which oddly enough I haven't done for a while now) my mind feels the need to fill the void with random songs of it's own choosing. Which songs get playedon my internal radio tends to depend on the pace of my movement, which is fair enough, but weirdly they also run strongly toward musical numbers and Disney songs rather than pop, rock and other genres which--I assure you--I also listen to. Weirdly enough a popular song when I'm walking has turned out to be "Don't Call Me Baby", which I don't even know all that well (only the chorus) but it's a well paced song for walking and the pauses between the words on the title line can be stretched when negotiating a difficult bit of track, especially if it can be done in four steps: "Don't (step)....call (step)...me (step)...baby! (step, and we're away and normal walking pace again).

But what if I'm not walking? Well, if last night is anything to go by, lying down trying to go to sleep I had "Hubby Of Mine" from Chicago playing in my head. This is all very well as it starts slowly and sleepily but I couldn't help following it through to the rather more energetic end...and so was awake again. I also usually wake up with a song playing in my head. While not always paying enough attention to what song it is, this morning it was "Arabian Nights" from Aladdin. Eclectic personal radio much?

So with this as my background tune for the morning I packed up and them made breakfast. In hindsight I should have had breakfast first as it was very hard to get going this morning. I seemed to set off in a bit of haze that was as much in my mind as it was the cloud that had settled through the trees over night. One small piece of excitement was a curious insect that appeared out if the bush, scaled my pack just before I put it on, went down the other side back to the ground and set off up the trail, all in a rapid, halting, many spindly-legged gait with no pauses that made it impossible to get a non-blurry photograph of the curious beasty. I'd never seen anything like it, but if you imagine a large, slightly more robustly built jet-black daddy-long-legs with a long black protruberance from its nose and something yellow on its body you'll be close (I would discover later today that yes, in actual fact it was a type of daddy-long-legs, a male harvestman, but nothing like the spindly little grey things you get in your house. If they're the Bruce Brenner of Harvestmen then this thing is the Harvestman Hulk).

Over the next hour or do I gradually began to wake up a bit, during which time I emerged into the open scrubby top of Puketeatua, enveloped in cloud and completely silent every time the light and intermittent wind dropped. It was eerie, but kind of cool, and I stopped to munch a muesli bar and soak in the silence. Setting off again the trump-trump-trump of my feet seemed strangely loud. I got that weird feeling you get in silent forests that everything, even the trees, are listening...(yeah, ok, so I've probably read Lord of the Rings ten too many times).

Even in my sorry state I thoroughly enjoyed the Puketeatua walk. The track is easy and forest pleasant and variable. I met a day hiker half way down and she stopped to chat. She was very interested to hear about Te Araroa, though like most people I encounter these days she was already well aware of what it was. She lives in Waikanae, and offered to put me up for the night but admitted it would be hard to coordinate with me walking out and her driving etc. I thanked her very much anyway and we each headed on, me down and her up in search of the summit in the clouds.

Toward the end of the track you leave native bush and head down a ridge through pine forest. Soon you hit an old forestry road and follow this down to a nice little stream crossing (where I stopped to fill up my water bottles and splash my face) and then up and out to the end of the road. There's a small shelter there with information boards and I sat down to lunch, eating the last of the wraps, cheese, salami, tuna and chcolate. Two sheep were freely grazing the parking area and after deciding I wasn't a threat carried on unperturbed. 

After giving my feet a good rub down I set off down the road to walk the 11km out to Waikanae. As I passed I found the sheep settled down in someone's driveway to chew the cud. They looked perfectly at home and I figured rather than being escapees they were probably just allowed to wander around the quiet road end. There was only one car in the carpark, a bright yellow little runabout that I presumed belonged to the hiker I had met up the hill. I wondered if by astonishing coincidental timing whether she would drive past me just as I reached the outskirts of town...time would tell I guess. Her offer of putting me up for the night was still ringing hopefully in my ears.

The road steadily gets busier as you go along, and once past an intersection after 5km there was a car going back or forth every other minute. I stopped at a bus shelter at the intersection to have a snack and rest my sore feet, scoring some scrutinising looks from a pair of passing young guys on bikes. It's called thru-hiking guys, get over it.

I set off again, trying to lay down as quick kilometres as I could, this is road walking after all. 1.5km from Waikanae a little yellow car passed me honking its horn and pulled in just ahead. It was the hiker from this morning, with a renewed offer to put me up for the night and then drop me back to this exact spot to carry on in the morning. While internally I might have screamed "yes, oh yes please!" in practice I said something a little more subdued but in equally grateful tones like "ooh, go on then!". In a few moments my bag was in the boot and I was in the passenger seat trying moderately successfully to keep my muddy boots and trouser bottoms from dirtying the apholstery.

The time had come for proper introductions. The lady's name was Penny and she and her husband had recently moved to the outskirts of Waikanae from Wellington. Their section, when we arrived, proved to be a lovely spot with several nature fruit trees and a well-tended vege garden out the back of a lovely house they had built themselves.

Inside it wasn't long before I was showered and all my clothes were in the wash. Penny was kind enough to lend me a sarong which I was able to fashion into a kind of halter-top dress to wear while everything of mine was going through a severely needed heavy duty cycle. Penny showed me to the spare room and I think my eyes might have glazed over upon looking at the lovely big comfy looking queen sized bed. Ahhhh!

Over a gloriously enormous cup of tea and biscuits Penny and I compared maps and I showed her where TA comes through the Tararuas. We enevitably got to talking a bit more about ourselves and what we each do and I was very interested to learn she works as a counsellor for emotional trauma and is currently studying biogenetic psychotherapy--loosely, how getting people to physically act out things they wished they had done in a past traumatic situation can help as a treatment. Penny's husband Roger came home late in the afternoon and so I also quizzed him on his ex-profession (he's retired) as a quantities surveyor, something I'd heard of but never knew what it entailed. He's also a computer programmer, and let me use his computer to google the mysterious insect, which somewhat underwhelmingly proved to be a harvestman.

I chopped veges for dinner (all from their garden!) and Penny made a delicious stir fry of beef and veges. Sooo good! I had seconds, and soon thirds when they told me there was no point leaving the little bits left over. On top of all that there was stewed apples and ice cream for desert. Ahhhh!

After dinner I hung out my clothes and then we all sat down with a cup of tea and had a good long chat about anything and everything: work, travel, movies, counselling, the UK NHS and cloning. Mind buzz!

As I was heading off to bed I got a txt from Andy. He's a week out from finishing the trail! I wished him all the best for the final miles and will probably take him up on his offer of advice for the South Island. But not right now though, right now I am going to sleeeeep...in a bed with sheets and a pillow! Heaven!

Day 86: Waitewaewae Hut to Puketeatua (16km; 1592.5km total)

Yay! The rats don't appear to have made it inside! We woke up this morning gear and food intacta.

Nicky was up bright and early--I lingered in bed, eventually getting up at 7:30, feeling like I'd been for a ride in a tumble dryer, minus the heat. Nicky and I chatted over breakfast, she asking "is that all?" when I made my porridge. She'd said the same thing last night when I made my pasta...

Soon enough she was ready to set out so we wished each other good walk and set off. I got ready at a rather more stop-start pace, finally farewelling the hut around 9:30. There would be just no moving fast today, or so it would seem.

Not 2km from the hut along the undulating river-side track I ground to a complete stop. I was tired and sore and had no energy whatsoever. Why was this so hard? Nicky's words ran through mind..."is that all?". It suddenly occured to me why this whole section has been so difficult (apart from the weather)! I've brought along the same daily amount of food I've been having for the previous several sections, only those sections were virtually flat and easy walking. The Tararuas are certainly not flat or easy! While I haven't been especially hungry, I'm willing to bet I just haven't been eating enough food for the amount of physical work I've had to do. On top of that, I've forgotten to take any multivitamins this section.

Feeling like a fool I sat down and immediately took a multivitamin and had lunch/second breakfast in the form of a wrap with a double ration of cheese and salami. I soon felt much better and after half an hour or so set off along the trail with renewed vigour.

Laughing at myself for being such an idiot helped distract me from what in the map looks like a pleasant river-side walk, but in actual fact is an up-down-up-down route through the forest to divert around various slips. The trail notes mention that the route follows a new track upslope to divert around a particularly large and dangerous slip (someone wrote in the hut log they'd tried the old track despite the slip and regretted it). I wondered what other TAers make of the term "new track". Possibly the foreigners (particularly the Americans) think it means  'brand new track in need of no maintenance whatsoever'. Being a Kiwi I was much more inclined to think that a "new track" was some barely discernible route cut through the bush that hasn't been well trampled in yet. My interpretation was much nearer the mark and I laughed ironically when the other descriptor "benched" proved only really to be the case at either end of the new route, with not much evidence of any "benching" in between.

Happily the new track does eventually sidle back down to meet the old track: an old tramway track that's broad and flat (and benched). This is walking paradise for a few hundred meters until it leaves the beech forest and traverses scrubby farmland on the way into Otaki Forks. Incidentally upon emerging from the forest I also emerged into blazing sunshine...some choice words were said, but I was a big enough person to hope Nicky was enjoying a clear day up Mt Crawford. Walking out I could look back up the valley and see it's big bowl-shaped peak looking majestic against the  bright blue sky. 'Another day, another time, mountain', I thought.

There are several small slips along the way out of the steep-sided valley, and one truely large one that has exposed half the hillside beneath the narrow remnant of track that sidles across the top of it. No wonder this place is so prone to slips...the whole hillside is composed of unconsolidated sandy gravels!

Eventually, after crossing two swing-bridges (not nearly as scary as the last), and managing to score only a single rope blackberry from the various brambles, I came upon the intersection where one track leads across a final bridge to the road, and another leads to Parawai Hut. Though not my destination for the day I detoured to the hut. No one was there, but a pair doing day trips in and out had left a load of gear there, including a garbage bag I took to contain used items of clothing labelled with a sign saying "contaminated". If their clothes smelled anything like mine after more than two days walking and sweating I could understand the sign completely. I pulled on my shirt this morning and I'll swear it smelled vinegary; I've sweated it through so many times it's fermenting! (In deference to hygiene and my own and others sense of smell I rinsed my shirt out in the first stream crossing I came across this morning, which helped a lot. My shirt then only had a background stench of sweaty hiker, not a fermenting one. Oh how I long for a laundry!).

I stopped at the hut for an hour and a half, laying out all of my wet gear in the sun to dry. Meanwhile I soaked up some vitamin D and perused the log book. Finally, around 4:30 I packed up and set off again, out to the road.

The road to Otaki Forks has been shut for several months due to--what else--a major slip. Consequently the only route in or out is to walk in over twine part of the Tararua Ranges. Having walked in over the somewhat narly section behind me, TA leads out along the comparatively tamer track over the significantly lower summit of Puketeatua. A few kilometres up the road, past a couple of camping areas (all empty) and a vault loo (never turn down the chance to use a loo), a carpark sits at the base of the track. A solitary car was parked on the far side of the carpark, and I wondered whether it had been stranded there since the slip closed the road.

On the map the first part of the Puketeatua Track looks very steep. In reality it's a broad zig-zagging track of a gentler but steadily rising gradient that I managed to steam up without stopping. I did stop for a break in one of several grassy clearings that afforded me one last look at Mt Crawford. I couldn't help but fell a little bit beaten by the mountain and it's weather. Sure I'd made it over it, but having never actually seen anything but nearby bushes and cloud, I'd not actually "taken it all in" as they say. I hope to be able to one day.

Well into the track I began looking for a likely spot to camp. None of the open grassy areas took my fancy, but once I got into the forest proper again there weren't any flat spots sufficiently clear of vegetation. One possibility was a flattish spot left by a fallen tree that might have been just big enough for my tent, but walked in by the trees upright roots it was dark even without the growing twighlight, and being in a hollow, if it rained I was sure I'd wake up in a puddle. So I pressed on until after 7pm when my energy was failing and the trail itself afforded the only clear, flat spot I'd seen for ages. Judging that no one else was likely to come by (all the long-hour pulling Cloudwalker-types must be weeks ahead by now if not already finished!) I got a pot going for tea and pitched right there on the trail while my pasta was cooking. It's weird to be back in the tent after being in huts, but still familiar. Pot washed, teeth cleaned I crawled into bed. There's mobile reception up here do I phoned Mum for a chat...no answer. Finally around 8:30 I got through--she'd been out in the garden all this time as the weather is so nice. Fair enough, although I'll admit to bring a little surprised. Half the time Mum's already in bed by 8:30, not still gardening!

It was nice to hear a familiar voice. I'm very tired and glad to be out of the Tararuas. Also my food and gas supplies are running out so I'm very much looking forward to getting back to civilisation tomorrow. Waikanae, here I come!

Day 85: Nicols Hut to Waitewaewae Hut (8km; 1576.5km total)

You'd think that after yesterday's adventures I'd have gone out like a light and not moved til morning, but no such luck. I got the chills shortly after going to bed, not from cold but more to do with my funny tummy I think. I popped an ibuprofen to battle my aches legs and played games on my phone to distract myself from the niggling concern that I might be getting sick. I wrapped up in all my warm clothes and zippered sleeping bag and eventually must have drifted off to sleep. I then woke in the middle of the night sweating like a pig and had to shed several layers before going back to sleep.

I woke up this morning at 6:45am to the sound of rain on the roof and nothing but slowly brightening white out the windows...no change there then. Part of me contemplated staying put for a day, especially as my body didn't feel up to it. Eventually it was only the thought that the weather tomorrow might be worse instead of better that finally got me out of bed at 8. From here there was only one peak between me and a forest-sheltered track that would drop me 1200m down to the river valley and another hut, a mere 8km away. So I breakfasted, donned yucky wet clothes once again, and set out. It would be a shame to have come all the way up here and not see the view, but I'll decided I'd just have to come back another time, in better weather, because right now all I want to do is get off this mountain.

Not feeling very enthusiastic I headed up the short slog back to the main track. From there it's a climbing ridge walk up to the summit of Mt Crawford, from which the view is supposed to be spectacular. I wouldn't know. Not being able to see more than a few meters into the cloud whipping up and over my head the only indication I'd reached the summit at all was a random metal rod sticking out of the ground at the highest point within view. Happily I was going ok time and energy-wise and was able to enjoy the little nature had on offer today: alpine miniature gardens and cloud streamers.

Down the other side of Mt Crawford I unexpectedly came to the trail intersection leading to a different hut right on schedule. The track down from the summit to this point has nice flat or undulating ridge walk sections. Beyond the intersection are a couple of small but unnerving boulder scrambles. On the worst of these I was hanging on extra carefully, but on a comparatively benign one my foot slipped on the wet rock and I tumbled head over heels down onto the track below, and then--partly propelled by the rotating momentum of my pack--on down the mercifully not too steep ridge beyond. I came to a halt on my back, pack-side down slope, legs tangled in a low bush, poles poking out at odd angles somewhere around my knees. I lay for a moment waiting for pain or some other sensation to kick in from some or other bodu part, and when it didn't set about righting myself. After scrambling back up onto the track I took better stock: one twingey ankle, one twingey wrist, and a sharp pain on the crown of my head wear my sunglasses had dug in. I wear them on my head no matter the weather as it's the only place they seem not to get broken--I'm now on my third pair! (Fortunately I only buy cheap sunglasses...). By some miracle these hadn't broken now despite apparently being used as a shock absorber for my head. By another miracle neither of my poles was broken, or even bent! All in all I counted myself extremely lucky not to have come to worse harm, and set off gingerly down the ridge once again, more keen than ever to get down off this mountain!

I came upon the bush line earlier than expected and soon began the steep and gruelling descent down into the river valley below, first passing moss-covered trees, then gradually the more familiar temperate beech forest. I set my GPS to display altitude so I could monitor my progress, which was painfully slow. Despite being extra careful and trying to minimise the strain on my sore ankle by putting a lot of weight on my poles, I still managed to slip and end up bum-down on the trail half a dozen times. Using the poles also helped save my knees, but dud nothing to help my toes which spent a good few hours being crushed into my boots. My right big toenail in particular hurt, so much so I'm sure that I was experiencing it's death throws.

In trying to spare my knees and ankle it turns out I was also sacrificing my thumbs. Hands slung through the wrist straps on my poles I was using the straps to bare weight as much as the pole grips, with the end result that by the time I finally emerged onto flattish ground near the river at the bottom of the 1200m descent, I'd worn blisters into the sides of my thumbs where the straps pass up from my wrist, so much so one was just about to start bleeding. But I didn't care. I was down off the mountain and out of the cloud for the first time in what felt like a lifetime but really had only been two days.

There was one more hurdle ahead however, on the short walk to the hut: the scariest swing-bridge on the trail yet. Built entirely of metal you can see through the mesh on the bottom to the drop below--not good if your eyes happen to momentarily refocus on the water flowing beneath your feet rather than the steel clamp running across three cables that you're supposed to be aiming the arch of your foot for. The scariest bit was actually climbing up the ramp to get onto the bridge itself; while the bridge also has wires (and mesh) running at elbow height as handholds, the ramp up to the start of the bridge does not. It's like climbing an inclined steel rope ladder that though taut is not ridged, and that's not quite widen enough for two feet, without holding on. Some people love this sort of thing. Even on a good day is be apprehensive, but today, tired, sore, wet and generally dishevelled I was bordering in actual fear. I contemplated having a break before attempting the thing but decided that would give me time to get more scared, so I went for it, one careful step at a time. I had a death grip on my poles lest I drop one in the river, and also on the handle wires as the thing swayed and bucked gently beneath me. Having seen a video shortly before I left of a swing bridge breaking beneath a bunch of French tourists did nothing to help my nerves...

My euphoria on getting to the other end intact sustained me the short distance to the hut. I staggered up the steps to find someone at home, a solo middle aged woman. Her name was Nicky and she proved to be the first North-Bound ("NOBO") TAer I'd meet on the trail. My impression that she was a woman familiar with the outdoors was confirmed when I discovered she works as a shepherdess in the Alps back home in Switzerland. No wonder she's finding Te Araroa a doddle!

We swapped advice about each other's upcoming sections of trail and I sympathised when she said she missed her dog. Oh how I miss my cat!

We each had our own dinner before Nicky retired with a book to the tops row of bunks and I crashed into bed on the bottom. I'd been watching a pair of rats playing in the rafters outside while we'd been chatting...I only hoped that this otherwise large and lovely shelter that is Waitewaewae Hut was secure enough to keep the rodents on the outside. (Nicky and I were certainly both very careful to shut the door immediately behind us every time we went in or out!)

PS. I couldn't understand why someone had written "YTYY" on the hut logbook box...but eventually I figured it out.