Day 81: Scotts Rd End to Mangahao (23km; 1524km total)

I had been fast asleep when I was suddenly startled awake by the sound of a car coming up the road from the valley. A car towing a very squeaky trailer by the sound of it. I grabbed my phone and checked the time: 10:36pm. Not good. It didn't think it likely a mountain biker would be coming up here at this time of night, unless the were doing a night run...?!

As a few more moments' listen confirmed the car was definitely coming up Scotts Rd and was showing no sign of stopping before reaching the car park I got out of my sleeping bag and grabbed my phone ready to dial in one hand and my knife in the other...and waited. The vehicle slowed as it entered the carpark, drove past where I was camped with no sign of having seen me, then swung around in the carpark to drive out again...then stopped. Then turned a little so that it's headlights were full on my tent. Goddammit!  Before the car (or ute/SUV by the sound) killed its engine I unzipped the inner wall of my tent and also the fly, leaving the fly held closed only by two Velcro tabs. The car's engine switched off, the door opened and a haughty male voice said loudly "Oy!". Phone and knife in hand I scrabbled out of my tent , popped my head over one side of it, and eyed the man as best I could in the blinding light of the headlights and, trying to keep any of the fear that was flashing through my guts out of my voice said "Hi".

The guys seemed a little taken aback for a second and then said "You a tourist?" to which I replied, "No, I'm a hiker". I'm sure I probably nervously spewed some other information about the trail, but I can't remember, however I finished by asking "Are you the farmer from down the valley?". Even in the glaring light of the headlights I thought I recognised the truck and trailer as the one I'd seen bouncing around the paddocks below when I'd been dithering about where to pitch. To my relief he answered "Yeah", though admittedly I wouldn't have really known if he was or not. By this time a woman, who I assume was his wife, had also got out of the car. Irrationally my fear, somewhat abated by the course the conversation was taking, was abated a little more by this. It turned out the farmer and his wife have apparently been having a bit of a problem with poachers, so they do a nightly run up here to the carpark to make sure people aren't lurking about waiting to pester their stock. "No one who comes up here after 9pm is up to anything good" the farmer said gruffly. Cheerful thought given my present circumstances...the woman went on to explain they've had trouble with a prize bull in the past, and now, with the rut coming up, the farmer added that they were on high alert about their stags. I assured them I was no poacher, merely a hiker looking for a place to sleep before moving on up the trail first thing in the morning. The clearly realised the fright they had given me as I heard the woman ask the man quietly if they had any beer with them, to which he replied "No", but I can only assume she meant to offer me one to calm my nerves.  I asked them if it was alright if I stayed here the night or if they thought it would be better for me to move on. They said I'd be fine here. They knew I was up here and the road goes past their house so any cars that go past they'd be hot on their heals in case they were poachers. Small comfort, I thought. I wanted no more cars to come past my tent in the night again, ever!

Soon enough we went our separate ways, the farmer and his wife trundling back down the road and me collapsing in a heap in my tent. I debated packing everything up and moving on to somewhere else, dark or not, but figured I'd have the same problem anywhere along the next several kilometres of road, and at least here a seemingly trustworthy farmer knew I was here and was on alert for unusual traffic on the road. I slid back into my sleeping bag but it was a good three or four hours before I settled enough to go back to sleep.  When I finally did I had repetitive dreams of alternative outcomes to parallel encounters, some good and some not good. I vaguely remembering hearing shot gun blasts but I'm not sure if I dreamed them or not, inspired no doubt by a remark the farmer's wife had made about not to worry if I did hear some, it would just be them firing in the air to warn off poachers if they did make an appearance. Finally the sun came up and I can honestly say I have never been so pleased to see a new day in my life.

After an unexpectedly uncomfortable toilette, a hasty breakfast and pack down, I set off down the road. I had resolved to never pitch anywhere near carparks or anything remotely near people that wasn't a designated camping area ever again, and looked forward to pitching happily in a forest up a remote walking track this evening, as far away from people as possible. But first I had to get there.

A few quick kilometres brought me to the turn off into the logging area that was closed to hikers during the week. Happily today, a Sunday, it was all closed up and no operations could be heard anywhere in the valley. While the makeshift but sturdy metal gate blocking the road was shut, it was easy enough to skirt around the edge of it (and see that others had done likewise) and head down the gravel forestry road and off up the valley. It was a bit difficult in places to see just which gravel road I was supposed to follow; while the trail notes do give moderately specific instructions, for one key intersection there proved to be two options that might meet the written criteria. I sat on a tree stump and had a muesli bar while I contemplated my map, not wanting to waste time and energy by taking a wrong turn. While I munched a ute driven by a large Maori guy in a high vis vest came down the road I thought I needed to take.  He seemed a bit surprised to see me and didn't stop to chat, and also had a burly dog in the back, so I hazarded a guess that he was a forestry worker (else how did he get past the gate?) who had popped in to site early that morning either to check on things (although then he might have asked me what I was about surely?) or for a spot of hunting. The back of the forestry block backs onto regenerated native bush which I'm sure is a bit of a haven for pigs. His ute tray was empty however so if he had been hunting that morning he apparently had not met with success.

Finished my muesli bar I shouldered my pack and set off in the direction from which the ute had come, convinced the other random road leading uphill slightly probably petered out in the middle of nowhere. My compass suggested the seemingly more utilised of the two tracks was heading more in the direction I wanted to go. Fortunately I had chosen correctly and I soon passed the idle heavy machinery of logging operations suspended for the weekend and found the grassy 4WD track heading off up the ridge into the scrub--Burttons Track. Not far in were the recent and non-buried leavings of someone's early morning toilette, right there beside the track. Hoping it wasn't a fellow hiker who would be so disgusting (and thinking it might have been the query-hunter) I continued on. I tried to get to the ridge in one go, but stopped just shy of the top (as it turned out--typical) for a short break. At the top (or very near it) a stile leads over a fence to a walking track back down through the bush into the neighbouring valley. There's a bench seat here erected in memory of someone who dedicated their time and energy to maintaining the track, and even though I'd just had a break, in the spirit of never passing up a good seat I sat for a minute to take in the view before heading over the stile and disappearing into the trees.

It's a fairly steep decent down the track in places, and I was surprised about halfway down by the appearance of first one dog and then another coming up. The one, an orange pointer of some kind, took exception to someone else being on his track and started barking, while the other, a little wiry terrier type, quickly trotted over to investigate and get petted. A hollered "Storm!" at the barking dog was soon followed by a woman coming up the track, followed several minutes later by her rather less fit husband labouring up the track behind her. I thanked my stars I only had to go down! After a quick chat (during which time I managed to also make friends with the vocal Storm) we each went our separate ways. It took longer than expected to reach the Tokomaru River, but fortunately the track going up the river valley was no worse than expected, undulating along the river bank and only steep in a very few places. The track crosses out of DOC land onto private property and back at one point, just before a small clearing called Burtton's Whare (where Burtton's house used to be). The trail notes say this is a good place to stop for lunch, probably I decided to stop you from making use of the obvious picnic table out the front of a privately owned bush hut on private land on the opposite bank of the river! No fair.

It was just before reaching this small and uninspiring little clearing that I had a rather unusual encounter.  I was still within earshot of the river when I came to a bend and spotted something moving through the bushes ahead--a big something. I stopped dead and peered until I realised it was a deer, specifically a doe, standing on the track, just around the next corner. She was standing alert, moving her head slowly from side to side; probably it was only the sound of the river below that had prevented her from hearing me from half a mile off and scarpering. As it was she just stood there, so after a few moments I began to inch forward, taking a step, as quietly as I could, every time her head was turned away. In this way I managed to close the gap...one more step would see me step out from behind the bush on the corner of the track that separated us each from full view of each other. I paused for a minute, and to my utter astonishment the deer, far from sniffing me out and leaping away into the trees, lay down, right there, on the side of the track! In the process she turned her head and looked right at me. I didn't move, but surely a deer would be able to tell a person from a tree at 3m?! It was then that it occurred to me that this doe, as remarkable as it might seem, was blind.

I took a cautious step forward into full view. She heard my step and the squeak of my pack and jumped to her feet, but they'd been very quiet noises among the many other quiet noises of the forest and the rushing of the nearby river, and she still didn't flee. In this way I stepped, carefully and quietly nearer and nearer until I was level with her. Quite frankly I was astonished she couldn't smell me! I could have reached out and touched her...but I didn't, thinking I didn't want to get kicked by a startled deer. I could have tried to sneak past, but for whatever reason (after taking loads of photos) I talked to her. In a very quite and soothing voice I said (stupidly you may think so) "Alright deer, go on now". Obviously this wasn't what she had expected and she swung her head round to look right at me, ears flicking, listening intently. It was only after I took another few steps, saying again softly "go on now" that she finally decided I was something worth running from and stumbled off blindly into the bushes. I hoped she didn't trip on anything! Still, she seemed to be a fully grown doe with a full flank and a glossy coat, so she was obviously getting along just fine out here in the forest despite her disability. Curiously her eyes had not been white with cataracts like you might expect--there was only perhaps the smallest hint of a grey tinge to them--and they were both in tact and healthily watery. She looked to all intents and purposes like a perfectly healthy deer so I have no idea why or how she came to be blind, but I counted myself lucky to have come across her (and her lucky that I wasn't a hunter). (NB: a subsequent Google search doesn't appear to list blindness as a symptom of 1080 poisoning so I still have no idea how the doe came to be blind).

I mulled over my close encounter of the wild/feral kind as I had lunch in Burtton's clearing. I was just packing up when a trio of mountain bikers came up the track. I was quite surprised to see mountain bikers on a track as narrow and well, bushy-walky, as this one, and sure enough while the young guy seemed to take it all in his stride (cycle?) the elder two men (Dad and Dad's friend?) admitted they'd been doing a lot of bike walking along the way. This proved to be no understatement as, even though I let them go on ahead, within twenty minutes I'd caught them up, and walking up a steeper section of track they let me mission on past them. I told them to holler in plenty of time so I could leap out of their way when they caught me up...but they never did! Not until I stopped to refill my water bottles at a small stream and also went down to the river to rinse out my spare clothes. From here they led the way and I never saw them again as shortly the track became much easier to traverse and more bicycle friendly.

Apparently as you emerge from the track there's a stile and a cairn. I passed a stile leading to nowhere and the remnants of a stone monument with no plaque so I assume that was it. Beyond this the trail follows Tokomaru Valley Rd out through a forestry block. The road is lined with lots of brambles in places and I paused a while to stuff myself with blackberries. Near the intersection with Mangahao Rd I had a boots-off break under a tree. It was proving to be a hot afternoon and out from under the cover of the cool beech forest it was hot and sweat-provoking, even on so easy a track.

Setting off down the road again and turning up Mangahao Rd I collected a clean and newly-discarded Pump water bottle someone had dropped, thinking I was both doing my bit for keeping NZ green and giving myself an extra water vessel (since my hydration bladder seems to have developed an intermittent leak if I'm not careful about how I put my pack down).

I followed Mangamahao Rd up past a dam, passing only one solitary mountain biker, before diverting off up the Mangahao-Makahika Walking Track. There would definitely not be an mountain bikers up here. I was tempted to have another break, but decided to keep going as I intended to camp just a kilometre or so up the track, at the top of the first small ridge climb. Halfway up there was a unusually clear flat spot that looked like someone had camped there before (the leaves have a slightly more flattened appearance than others on the forest floor) and sure enough I found a discarded shoe lace amongst the leaves to one side. But the spot was shady in the lee of the hillside and I hoped that if I made the ridge I'd be able to make the most of the setting sun. After a climb that was a little bit more gruelling than I expected, though pleasant enough through native forest, I made it to the top of the ridge where a marker post indicated a sharp right hand turn in the track to follow the ridgeline. I however paused to eye a flat spot behind and to the left of the marker post.  Up here there was still quite a bit of light, and the clearing looked plenty big enough to house my tent with room left over to lay out my things (if necessary and the fine weather allowed) and make dinner. While it might have been used for a campsite in the past it obviously hadn't been recently as numerous small saplings of various native plants were sprouting up through the leaf litter and had not be crushed. I felt bad crushing them, so instead I pulled them up and then replanted them nearby, I was in no hurry after all. A couple of ferns had large leaves protruding into the clearing so I cut the most invasive of these off and laid them down on the ground where I intended to pitch my tent. Finally I hauled a fallen log from one side of the clearing round to another where it formed a nice and surprisingly little seat out the front of my tent once it was pitched. All in all is was quite the perfect little spot and I enjoyed a relaxed cup of tea and dinner while listening to birdsong all around me. Finally as the light really began to fade I crawled into bed, feeling safe and happy up here among the birds and the trees. I was far enough away from the road that I wouldn't be able to hear any traffic, unlikely as it would be, and went to sleep in the knowledge that I was almost certainly outside the perimeter patrolled by any poacher-wary farmers!

Day 80: Palmerston North to Scotts Rd End 24km; 1501 km total)

"Blrgh" was the first thing I said when I woke up this morning, but I managed to haul myself out of bed by 6:30. Having a shower helped and after having the packet of noodles I'd bought for dinner last night (prior to getting a MUCH better offer) for breakfast I managed to set off by 8:15 (through the back gate this time!). I was astonished that eight days' worth of food actually fit in my backpack on the first try; having my clothes in a compressions dry sack really helps make a bit more room for other essentials, namely food!  (This was an additional acquirement during my break, along with my new mattress. Previously my spare clothes were in a mere dry sack which proved nearly impossible to get all the excess air out of; Sea to Summit eVent Compression Dry Sacks--highly recommended).

Enjoying my walk through the Esplanade far better than yesterdays I made the bridge and crossed, only to be momentarily confused by the road splitting off in various directions and not a TA marker in sight. I asked a lady walking her dog which was the way to Bledisloe Park and was stoked when she pointed to the road going around the hill rather than up and over it. I set off. After stopping then at 2km, I ended up stopping about every 3km for the rest of the day for a short break of a few minutes (anywhere there was a handy perch: bus shelter, large rock, tree stump, fence...the list goes on), with longer breaks every six kilometres or so. Having my foot strapped certainly helps but its still a bit twingy and I was sure it would be sore as per usual by the end of the day.

From Bledisloe Park the TA follows the Turitea Walkway out past the Massey University Campus. It's a pleasant little walk through native forest, following a stream for a while before heading up and over a hill bordered by pine forest and recent subdivisions. The cicadas were loud and proud and positively deafening in some little patches of woods. There were a lot of dog walkers out this morning--it's so nice to be sharing the route with them and not traffic! It's such a relief to be off the road!!

Beyond the end of the walkway there's a short section of road walking through semi-rural though affluent neighbourhoods (judging by the percentage of pricey cars driving past). I had stopped for a boots-off break on the broad shoulder of the road just before this when a car towing a trailer drove past and I got the fright of my life when just as the car drew level with me the back gate of the trailer fell off in the road with an enormous clatter. The car promptly stopped, pulled a U-y and came back to retrieve the gate. I nearly had my boots on to go help but the guy behind the wheel seemed to have matters well in hand, muttering a string of curses as he picked the offending gate up and secured it back into place. The curses were redoubled when he discovered the gate had smashed one of his trailer lights as it fell. He recovered enough when the gate was back in place however to cheerfully laugh and apologise at the fright at must have given me. I was just glad there hadn't been anyone following along behind him...

Down the road a stretch the trail veers off Green Corridor footpath the wends its way between roads and houses through a small ribbon of native scrub. I had stopped on a handy bench (never turn down a good seat) and got talking to a local couple out for a short walk. They're just about to go and do the walk over Bream Head (at Whangarei Heads) and were interested to hear Te Araroa does it too. I was astonished to learn that the two of them were about to turn 70--they looked like they were in their fifties! Maybe there is something to the benefits of outdoors and exercise after all?!

I stopped for lunch as the Green Corridor emerged into farmland, then followed a gravel road down to Kahuterawa Rd. Following this as it wends its way up a narrowing valley I stopped to sit on a boulder in the shade of a few trees by the gate of a small recreational reserve. The sign at the front didn't say anything about facilities so I didn't bother walking the extra hundred or so metres into the Reserve. A carload of youths were there and decided to leave while I was still perched on my boulder. I'd left my pack in view by the gate so they should have known I was there, but they obviously weren't very observant as one of the back seat passengers spotted me as they drove past, prompting one of his cohorts to yell "Creepy!" out the window from the front seat. Meh. Once you get into this through-hiking lark you don't really care what people think after a while, especially not when you've secured an elevated seat in a shady spot on a hot day. Creepy or not I was staying in my shady spot!

The joke was on me however when round a bend in the road I spotted a toilet block at the back of the reserve. It was only a short distance away so instead of going back I jumped the fence to use the facilities, which left a lot to be desired but at least had ample supplies of their own toilet paper. I was jumping back over the fence, pack on back, when a car came round the corner. What they thought of the spectacle of a burdened hiker delicately trying to climb a fence without overbalancing in any particular direction I don't know as they did not yell any sentiments out the car window.

Kahuterawa Rd ends at a massive parking area and entrance to the Kahuterawa Recreation Hub. It's a popular spot frequented by mountain bikers if the several minutes I spent resting my feet on one of the picnic tables was anything to go by. I was disappointed that despite having a water tank there seemed to be no ready access to water (I didn't think to check to see if the loo had a wash basin--doh!) and no one stopped to chat, so after a while I packed up my stuff and headed off up Back Track. It was getting toward late afternoon by this stage so as I was going up most mountain bike traffic was coming down and two guys stopped to ask if I was going in to camp for the night when I waited for them to cross a bridge ahead. I explained about the trail and they were amazed. I'm glad that despite the hoards of hikers that must have come through here over the past two months that there are still people who haven't heard about the trail and are intrigued enough by people lugging heavy backpacks to stop and ask them what they're up to. I have had the feeling since restarting in Whanganui, mainly from the looks passers-by have given me, that they are fully aware of what I'm up to, their faces reading "there goes another one" with only a passing interest. Call me an attention seeker rather like it when people are perplexed by me and my pack passing by, not only because their sometimes exclamations of awe are amusing (and even a little encouraging--you feel like 'yeah, I am doing something a bit nuts but cool!'), but also because its a good ice breaker with which to have a conversation with someone, which for me has become all part of the fun of the trail. I've never met so many new and different people in my life! I had feared, and it seems partially justified in my fear, that getting back on trail so late, everyone I would see along the way would be a bit hikered-out and have no interest in just one more crazy walker moseying along their street. But happily at least a few people are still intrigued enough to stop and have a short chat to this crazy walker.

After saying farewell to the duo who'd stopped to chat I set off up the hill, stopping at a stream to top up my dwindling water supplies. Near the top of a hill the track pops out of the trees and at about 1499km (TA 2016 route) there's a lookout over the valley below. Though not especially flat, I though there might be just enough gently sloping ground to pitch a tent. It was 5:30 already, so while I debated about staying the night here I made dinner and had a cup of tea. Perhaps because I'd paced myself and had so many breaks today I still felt like I had a few kilometres left in me however so I packed up my things and set off again. Following the track further up and back under the trees I soon came around a bend to find a picnic table where someone had used rocks to spell out "TA 1500km Half way to Bluff". Having my own small celebration that consisted of warm fuzzies and an audible "Yay!" I carried on up the hill and soon emerged at a large parking area at the end of Scott's Rd. Numerous mountain bike trails set off from here, back down the hill or along the ridge in various directions, a private road continues up the ridge, and Scotts Rd heads off down through farmland into the next valley. It was starting to get dusky so I sized up the camping opportunities. Unfortunately these were few and far between and I was soon faced with the decision of whether or not to stay here in a mediocre spot (there were no water or toilet facilities at this parking area) or keep following the trail down Scotts Rd hoping to find a better spot. After about half an hour's exhaustive search of all the nearby pitching options I decided to stay put, hoping against hope that the empty carpark would remain empty all night and that I wouldn't be disturbed. Just in case however I pitched my tent as stealthily as a I could, between two low grassy mounds. The only way I could be seen would be if someone drove into the carpark, drove right up to the end then turned around to drive out again, then they'd see the fly of my tent in between the two mounds. The last of the mountain bikers had disappeared over the ridge just after 7 and as I settled nervously down for the night I hoped that that meant I would be left alone and in peace until at least 7 the next morning.

As it would happen, my hopes were completely unfounded...

Day 79: Zero Day 13

Nothing I need to visit today opens until after 8am so I was in no hurry to get up when I woke up at 7. I was up and ready at 8 to ring Radius Medical Centre however, only to be diverted through to Healthline--apparently my phone is a few minutes ahead of their call minder.

After waiting a few minutes I got through to reception to find they don't take appointments for casual patients, you just walk in...but there was no one there yet so if I got there soon I'd be waved straight through. In ten minutes I'd paid for a second night at the campground and was in a taxi to the medical centre.

There were two or three people there when I arrived, and two or three more by the time I'd filled in the first time patient forms, but the lady on reception gave me an appointment slip to put on more urgent pile at the triage desk and soon enough I was in with the triage nurse. He soon put me down as an ACC claim and after another ten minutes in the waiting room I was in with the doctor. Five minutes later and she'd determined my bones were fine so it must be muscular and referred me to a physiotherapist. Happily, as well as a doctors surgery the centre houses a physio, a chemist and a cafe, so I paid for my visit (fortunatelt only $34.50 under ACC, not $50!) and popped next door to the physio. He was fully booked but was fairly sure he knew what was wrong and it would be a quick fix, so told me to grab a coffee and he'd fit me in between patients.

I had time for a sandwich and half a hot chocolate for breakfast before the cheerful physio's face was at the window waving me in, signalling I could bring my half-drunk cup if cocoa with me. So I ambled into his office, cup and saucer in hand (with the amused approval of the cafeteria attendant). A quick check confirmed the physio's (Wayne's) suspicions. Basically, repetitive movement and splaying of my foot on a flat or slightly cambered surface is straining all the muscles around the base of my toes. Makes sense. Grabbing gauze tape and strapping tape he first put the gauze tape on my foot as several people, including me, are allergic to the adhesive on the strapping tape. He then showed me how to strap my foot so as to maintain free movement but prevent splaying of the strained muscles. It worked! After ambling in with a slight limp I was able to walk purposefully out again, limp-free!  After paying for the visit, buying some strapping tape (apparently it's insanely expensive at the chemist) and slurping down the last of my hot chocolate, I headed over to the chemist to get some more gauze tape (I have some but not enough) and continue what is proving to be a vain search for DEET-free insect repellent (I'm so gutted the really good stuff I had got washed down the Whanganui River--it's proving very difficult to replace!).

Less that two hours after I arrived I left Radius Medical, strapped, equipped and fully able to continue the trail--stoked! Fortunately the heavy rain shower that had pounded the roof while I was bouncing between medical professionals had abated by the time I walked out if the chemist, and it was through only light rain that I walked the few blocks to the square, making a B-line for the Bivouac store. I was appalled to find that a half decent stove was going to cost me more than all my medical visits and supplies combined, but was determined to get something decent, and in the end got a stove that's better than my old one. An added bonus is that it is lighter and, unlike the old one, packs down small enough to fit inside my pot set rather than having it's own separate container. Happy hiker!

It was still barely 10am and I had nothing else that needed to be done today except buy food supplies for the Tararuas, so I asked the guys at Bivouac for directions to the nearest cinema. This proved to be just around the corner, where nothing much really took my fancy but I bought a ticket for the next movie to start: Dad's Army. My own father used to enjoy watching the TV series so I knew the characters well enough. The sense of nostalgia attached to the series helped to buoy me along through a movie which has a good cast but is no classic. Still, it was a pleasant enough way to spend a couple of hours sitting down out of the weather.

Afterwards I found my way back to the square and the mall. I had lunch at @ Bowl in the food court, taking the time to admire my new stove, and pack up the spare accessories to post home. Finding the post shop killed another quarter of an hour, and then I headed off to the supermarket. I took my time browsing each isle, even though I ended up buying the same stuff I always do for trail food: quick oats sachets, wholemeal wraps, cheese, salami, pasta snacks, milk powder, tea, museli bars, chocolate, cookies and scroggin.

Next to the supermarket was another chemist, where miraculously I found two options for non-DEET insect repellent. Both were scary expensive but I went with the less expensive of the two, seeing as I was now pretty much out of pharmacy options.

Notably poorer than I was at the start of the day, but now reassured and fully equipped to take on the New Zealand wilderness once again, I set off through the now blazing sunshine on the longish walk (not hobble! Yay!!) back to the campground.

Once there I found my also tent-bound neighbour sitting against the fence watching what I assume is a movie on his phone. He's not a hiker but a backpacker...but seems to spend all his time lounging around the campground rather than being out and about. I left him to it and commandeered a kitchen table in the empty kitchen to pack down my food (= remove excess packaging and put tiny pinholes in all the packets so you can force the air out and they take up less space in my pack). While there I got talking to a nice Kiwi lady named Jill who invited me to dinner in her caravan. I happily accepted and wiled away the hours in between by doing as much as I could of a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle in the lounge (there was absolutely nothing on TV...honestly, NZ television!), before demolishing it all at 5pm, grabbing my bag of cookies (being about the only thing I can contribute to a dinner) and went to knock on Jill's door. I was a little delayed by having found my hydration bladder to have leaked through my pack (it doesn't respond well to being upside down when still half full, apparently), so I hastily laid everything out in the sun or on a line strung between my two hiking poles rammed into the ground. Fortunately no more than 10 minutes late I was soon welcomed into Jill and her husband Chris's shiny new caravan and breathed in the smell of homemade bolognese. Yum!

Jill and Chris were very interested to hear all about the trail, being keen and experienced trampers themselves. They listened with disapproving expressions to a re-telling of mine and Taylor's misadventures on the Whanganui River, but happily they did approve of what I'd said I'd learned from the experience. Jill had already told me a bit about her work as a kindergarten teacher that afternoon so I asked Chris about his job (recently retired from) being a food technician. It's one of those occupations that I've heard of but don't really know what a person doing it actually does (much like most other people and 'geologist' I suppose).

After dinner I helped with the dishes, thanked them very much, and exchanged email addresses before retiring to my tent to ring Mum for a chat, stopping to replant my tent pegs which had blown loose in the growing wind. I spent the remainder of the evening in the TV room catching up on my journal while first the Simpsons and then the Graham Norton Show played in the background.

Then it was off to bed. I'm looking forward to heading I to the hills tomorrow. It's going to be great to get off the roads and do some proper tramping!

Day 78: Feilding to Palmerston North (27km; 1477km total)

I woke at 7...to the sound of heavy rain. Oh well. Fortunately by the time I was up and at 'em it was clearing and I didn't end up getting rained on all day.

After saying farewell to Marj, Aevryl, Kenny and Ellie came with me down the drive. They were going to walk with me to the turnoff but ended up walking all the way into town with me. It was nice to be walking with people again, especially ones with so much local knowledge. Kenny made a point of identifying all the houses that have good wiring and/or security systems (yes,  Kenny is the local sparky :).

Reaching the turn off to the bridge an main road south Aevryl and Kenny wished me all the best and turned back while I continued on. It's been wonderful to see so much of them this past week, but now I'm setting off for good. The trail calls!

Unfortunately my foot was also calling, calling out that it was sore. I made it across the bridge and the railway line before taking a break under some trees on the broad shoulder of a secondary road that flanks the highway, with the railway line in between. 4km seems to be the limit for my feet now. After this they need boots off and a rub down to coax them into doing another 4km...not good.

Frowning at tea bags presumably left by other hikers, I booted up again and set off down the long straight road to Bunnythorpe...stopping by a water treatment station a few kilometres out for another foot-tending session. Sitting I the grate-covered pipe I at first thought the smell was the congealed green muck in the pipe, but then spotted the dead hare in the ditch nearby. I didn't linger.

It's a busy railway line (by NZ standards) and the various trains and other rail-bound transport vehicles that passed roped to break up the monotony of the walk. Curiously the road and the highway swith sides in a figure-8 intersection part of the way along. TA follows the minor roa to it's end and then along a short walking track that emerges on the outskirts of Bunnythorpe. I made it in time for a late lunch at the Lunchbar where I ended up stopping for an hour, eating and journaling and enjoying the free cup of tea Jenny behind the counter offered me.

At length I set off again, for a short instance down back roads and then along a paper road through someone's farm paddocks and once more following the railway line.

On the outskirts of Palmerston North TA finally splits away from the railway tracks and diverts through the suburb of Kelvin Grove to the river. The route passes a commercial vegetable growing farm where the air was crisp with the smell I the celery that was currently being harvested. TA the follows the wide and paved river walk into town. I stopped for a break under the first shady trees I came across. Unfortunately this appeared to also be the preferred doggy loo stop so I had to pick my tree carefully...of course, once I set out again it was only a few hundred meters before a perfectly good park bench came into view.

By now my feet were constantly sore and massaging them was no longer helping to ease the pain. Stopping every 2km I hobbled into Palmerston North, getting odds looks from cyclists, runners and dog walkers as I went. But at least there are some nice views from the top of the stop banks.

I made it to the bridge and diverted off trail, bound for the campground that google maps told me was approx. one kilometre through the Victoria Esplanade. This is a nice stretch of botanical garden that I felt bad for not being able to enjoy. I took the most direct route I could...and could have cried when I realised the esplanade links to the back if the campground and there was a pass coded gate between me and the office. Frustrated and exhausted I set off on the three-block walk around the water park to get to the front entrance to the campground, and at long last staggered up the ramp to the office, which was closed. Fortunately there was a buzzer new check-ins were invited to use and I tried not to "buzz" aggressively.

I was slightly put off by the $25/night for a non-powered site, but have almost resolved to stay two nights. I'm reluctant to head into the Tararuas with my feet in this condition so if I can get in to see a doctor tomorrow I will. I'm conscious of the fact that Philippe posted on FB that he had managed to fracture a metatarsal and though I don't think I've done that, I'd be reassured if someone who knows what they're talking about could tell me I wasn't on the way to doing something similar, or if I am, how to avoid it! It'll mean another day burned, but I think it's necessary. Also, I realised today that I've forgotten to pack my stove! I haven't seen it since being back on trail and now that I think about it, don't remember packing it this trip! Idiot. I haven't missed it yet as I've been eating no-cooking-required food, having only just collected my gas cannister from Aevryl and Kenny's. Lucky I realised I was missing my stove now and not once I'd walked in to the hills! I'm too late to go to the shops now to get another one, so that will have to wait until after 9am tomorrow. Plus I need to get food for te next leg of the trip.

So it all hangs on the outcome of a phone call I'll make first thing in the morning to the doctors to see if they can fit me in and I'll go from there. Meantime I've set up my tent on my designated spot--it looks quite funny, a tiny tent in a row of campervans. A couple of people across the way must live here permanently as they have pot plants etc outside; one guy kindly gave me a fistful of tomatoes from his vine. So I had tomatoes and scroggin for tea, and made friends with the guy's neighbour's cat who came to investigate me and my tent, and quickly claimed both. I watched carefully to make sure no claws were included in his affections toward me, my tent, or my precious new mattress!

Day 77: Zero Day 12

So, I decided yesterday that I would take today off as yes, I do need to burn a day in order not to arrive at Burtton's Track, south of Palmerston North, before Saturday. Logging operations mean the several kilometres leading into the DOC track cannot be accessed during the week (maybe late at night but I don't want to chance it), and I'd rather burn a day staying with family than on my own in some random campground.

So I slept in this morning, getting up just in time to see Aevryl and Kenny off to work. I finished my book, had breakfast and showered and then spent most of the rest of the day blogging. In the afternoon I put the chicken on for dinner and then felt like a tool at dinner time because I forgot to wait for Grace, again!

After dinner we watched a few episodes of Firefly but soon got distracted by swapping travel stories. I hope to go to some of the places Aevryl and Kenny have been some day. They've had some adventures!

There's been a light rain off and on all day which as good as last I heard the huts in the Tararuas were running low on water. Hopefully it's been raining there as well!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 74: Zero Day 11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 73: Zero Day 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Break

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 70: Whanganui River Non-Canoe Trip

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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