First obstacle for the day: navigating the construction site to get up and onto the Rangiriri Bridge. We knew we could get up there by backtracking a couple of kilometres of yesterday's walk and using the on-ramp the traffic was currently being directed to. Not willing to walk that far out of our way unless forced we skirted the construction site and asked a couple of surveyors if we could get up there from this end of town. They said they thought we could if we crossed the highway and skirted the construction on the far side, so off we went. It soon became clear we couldn't get up there from this end without going up an as yet unfinished on-ramp (read: shaped pile of gravel) which although not currently being worked on was clearly within the zone of 'construction'. This put me on edge as I'm used to having to have all kinds of high vis gear and safety inductions before being somewhere like this, but John was unphased, and determined (some might say bull-headed American) and forged on ahead. No one came hollering for us to get out so I skittered up behind him, overtook him and with an enormous sigh of relief jumped down onto the bridge and set off across it, walking along the tall curb on one side. I suspect someone was watching and held the lights directing the one-lane traffic across the bridge as no cars came past as we crossed, then lights at the far end turned green almost as soon as we stepped off.
A short distance along the road we diverted into a paddock and began the long stop bank walk to Huntly. It wasn't so bad at first; the bank was smoother underfoot than yesterday's. We went through paddocks variously housing bulls and cows who thankfully seemed content to ignore us. A few hours in it started raining so we stopped to don coats and, in John's case, a cuben fibre rain skirt ( looks like a plastic netball skirt) to keep his shorts dry. (Almost everything John has is cuben fibre: extremely lightweight (and therefore expensive) waterproof material).
The rain didn't last long but it still threatened to rain again. We headed through an open gate from one paddock into another and mid-conversation I became aware of a low rumbling bellow coming from a cow--strike that--a bull, down by the riverbank. The bull was striding determinedly toward us, all puffed up and drooling. It suddenly occurred to me I was striding through a paddock full of bulls in a bright red raincoat. As the bull came on I glanced around and made the quick decision to divert to the nearest gate, fortuitously on the opposite side of the stop bank from the bull. I called out to John as I made the diversion; he didn't seem as concerned as I was until the bull got closer and began to do the whole stomp and snort thing. He then went to head back through the gate we had just come in by, but seeing a crowd of bulls now coming up from behind (apparently attracted by the bellowing of upset bull #1) turned aside and followed me through the side gate. Out of sight behind the stop bank we rapidly disappeared into a small plot of pine trees and the bull gave up on us, but continued to bellow as we made off through the long grass between the pines (which, incidentally, gets you more wet than the rain!). On the far side of the plot we climbed a fence into a crop paddock, skirted this and scaled a locked and overgrown gate back into a paddock containing the trail--having put a paddock, a good distance and a hedge between us and the bulls. The fun wasn't quite over however...at the end of this paddock John went to open the gate to the next one, only to find out the hard way that whoever had closed it last had put the latch hook onto an electrified wire. Consequently the entire metal gate was now electrified and John got zapped the second he touched it. Happily there was a stile nearby--technically we're supposed to be using these not the gates anyway, but as both of us have sore legs and want to save our knees (yep, I at 29 am having as much knee trouble as a 62 year old...Oy) whenever a stile has been next to an easily opened gate we've opted for the gate (and of course adhere to the principal of 'leave it as you find it').
Over the stile and a couple more paddocks in things became a game of dodge the enormous and almost ubiquitous piles of cow shit. Honestly there must have been more poo than grass. And that was it. John had long since said he would have hitched this entire section if he hadn't have had someone to walk with. I won't hitch along the trail, but when there's a road paralleling a route that's this much trouble for very little gain I am not above bailing and opting for the road--which is exactly what we did. A couple more paddocks on an opportunity presented itself in the form of a farm track. It turned out the track used a cow shit-plastered underpass to go under the road, but emerged next to it where there was only 20m, an electric fence and a gate between us and the relative freedom of the road. I had no trouble in my sturdy leather boots, but John's trail runners--already slick with you-know-what--fair slid him down under the underpass. (Thank goodness he didn't fall over!).
As we de-rain coated and brushed ourselves off shortly after closing the last gate between us and the trial of the stop banks a farmer pulled up on a motorbike. I assumed he'd come to tell us off for crossing his land without permission but when I answered his initial "How are ya?" with the bull story he merely laughed and no reprimand was forthcoming.
We set off again, dodging a bit of traffic but nothing too major, and made much better time than we had been doing along the stop bank. Consequently we looked over to the river at one point to find we had overtaken Sophia, who was still diligently striding through paddocks. Not much further along we stopped for a snack break where the trail itself emerges onto the road and Sophia caught us up. After a short break the three of us set off in file along the shoulder of the road. John and Sophia led and chatted while I followed along behind in tired silence, happy just to wander along in their wake, trying to keep my mind off my sore feet.
Coming into Huntly you go past the power station before the trail veers off through a small sculpture park on the riverbank (the only sculpture we saw was a large wooden Maori carving of many eels that was nice but a bit weathered). Back out on the road we passed a dairy and opted for a boots-off break and ice cream. We sat on the front stoop of the shop and a couple of kids on bikes were intrigued by the odd trio of hikers with huge packs collected outside their local lolly supplier.
Feeling much better for having massaged my stinky feet back to life I followed behind the others again as we headed into Huntly proper and went over the bridge. The eastern side of Huntly is more developed than the west, giving the town a distinct 'other side of the tracks' feel about it. Now off-trail we began the 2km walk back downstream to the campground. Being off-trail and we (and I mean 'I' according to my own rules) could gave hitched but none of us were inclined to raise a thumb and no one offered us a lift. Sophia led and after a brief stop at the public loos beside a charming little lake we were but a shirt walk and a footbridge away from the campground at last.
While I sat on a bench by the lake and waited for the others a gaggle of sub-adult dark grey signets and their jet black father or mother came swimming over along with a couple of ducks. No doubt they were looking for tidbits but the fowl clearly don't know hikers: any food we have we've either eaten already or intend to eat, it all, ourselves, plus any other food we might happen to get our hands on. I might have said this before but being a...ahem...somewhat overweight person, who's been aware of (if not strictly counting) calories/kilo joules since, well, forever, this thru-hiking lark is an absolutely wonderful excuse to eat ANYTHING and/or EVERYTHING. Carrying all your own food there's just no way you can carry more calories than you are burning so unless you have a quick succession of towns where you can overindulge there's no way you'll be able to eat more than you burn. John said there's a saying (a little un-PC) that thru-hiking turns women into Serena Williams and men into Auschwitz victims, as women trim down and tone up and men basically just starve. Last I checked I'd lost 6kg so far on this trip and I definitely have some muscle definition where I've never had it before. Pro-tennis skills aside, all I can say is: long may it continue! Note: in case you're worrying (Mum) I'm not just gorging on chocolate but am getting (I think...) a fairly balanced diet. More on this in another post.
Anyway, we made it to the campground shortly after 2pm, kind of hoping we'd be able to split a cosy wee cabin three ways. But there were no cabins to be had as they 'd been booked out by the students of a commercial diving course taking place at a lake down the road. Oh well, tents it is...and we got them up just before it started raining again.
The campground had nice facilities, including showers that are hot and which you don't have to pay extra for (yes!). Housed, clean, warm and dry our thoughts naturally turned to food. Sophia was happy to cook some of her own food but John is more like me in that he sees a town as a chance to eat something you don't have to rehydrate. Unfortunately the Huntly campground is miles from the shops (ok, two kilometres, but we'd walked that already!). After walking all say the last thing you want to do is walk more...especially not in the rain. Enter CJ to the rescue. He's a diving student who overheard me on the phone asking the local pizza place if they deliver (FYI no take-out places in Huntly deliver) and offered to give us a lift to get some dinner. CJ has ginger hair and beard, which he was a little self conscious about as he has apparently only just got the handle-bar beard cut in after losing a bet. I thought it kind of suited him...but hey, what do I know?
CJ recommended the local kebab house for quick food so that's where we headed. We offered to get him some as a thank you but he would have nothing. Back at the campground and one enormous combination kebab with hot chili and mint sauces, as well as a piece if baklava John shared with Sophia and I, I was feeling very content. After watching the news (OMG Paris! And Jonah Lomu!) I dashed out into the rain and performed the quick fly unzip, flick and strategic dive into my tent to get inside whilst trying to bring as little water in as possible. Unfortunately it's supposed to rain all day tomorrow...Oy.
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