Day 101: Pelorus Bridge to Captain's Creek Hut (22.5km; 1826.5km total)

Brrr! It was cold last night. So cold I woke up and had to fetch my woolly hat out of my clothes-bag-come-pillow. There was no dew on the outside of the tent, but my breath must have condensated in the cold as the underside of the fly was coated in a thick film of water. Who knew you gave off that much moisture in your sleep?!

I woke at 6, but went back to sleep and didn't get up until 7. My German cyclist neighbour was still asleep so I quietly got up and went to have breakfast before striking my tent and packing up, chatting to the UK guy every now and then as we crossed paths during our morning routines. It's funny really; after so much talking yesterday and today we seem to have entered that grey area between strangers and almost-friends that would exchange email etc. in order to keep in touch. Neither of us felt quite inclined to push things that far however (probably because we'd both forgotten each other's names and felt rude asking again) and we merely bid each other farewell and safe travels. This was reiterated with the American couple from last night; they showed an interest in reading my blog so Hello! if you're reading this. I hope you had a blast in NZ and had a safe trip home!

The Pelorus River

Setting out just before 9:30 I re-crossed the bridge and paused briefly to chat to a stop-go sign operator at the intersection with Mangatapu Rd. Fortunately whatever was going on did not effect my route for the day and off I went, reassured in the knowledge that it was a "long walk" up the road to the start of the track...

Mangatapu Rd follows the Pelorus River upstream, wending its way through rural farm properties that steadily get more remote. Several of these look like lovely lifestyle blocks and one in particular, bathing in sunshine on top of a low hillock and with a lovely view down the valley, struck me as being a place I would be very happy to call my own. Sure enough the farmer looked like a happy old chap when he waved to me as he drove past in his tractor.

A cool sculpture along Mangatapu Rd

Some way along the road I was passing another farmhouse when the resident dog took exception to my presence. It came barreling up to the fence barking its head off. I carried on, telling the dog to "shush", more because I felt like I should make some effort to quell the racket than because I thought the dog would listen, which it didn't. Then suddenly another dog came hurtling out of nowhere from the road behind me, went right up to the fence and barked back in Dog #1's face. Dog #1 got the message and let me walk on with only the occasional "woof!" for good measure. Meanwhile Dog #2, a friendly-looking sheep dog, jogged back onto the road, turned round to look at me for a moment, and then set off at an easy trot ahead. It wasn't long before it went round a corner and out of sight. I followed--not at an easy trot--and when I came round the corner, there was Dog #2 sniffing around the side of the road at the next corner. Shortly after I came in sight the dog turned and trotted off out of sight again. We continued in this way, with the dog waiting for me each time I fell behind and out of sight, and then carrying on ahead once I came into view. I only managed to draw level with it once when a particularly interesting ditch by the roadside occupied the dogs attention long enough for me to catch up.

Several kilometers later I'd come to accept the dog as a walking companion, and was feeling quite chuffed that the dog had chosen me this. But I was beginning to wonder when the thing would turn around and go home. Surely it wouldn't follow/lead me all the way into the Richmond Ranges?

Things came to a head when we passed another farmhouse that had a kenneled dog in the front yard. My companion saw this as an opportunity too good to miss and shot in the gate, sniffed around the yard for a bit, and then squatted right in front of the dog kennel and did an enormous poop on the farmer's front lawn. I was waiting for an irate farmer to come roaring out of the house (the hysterical barking of their own dog surely having alerted them to the fact that something was up), but apparently no one was home. A few carefree kicks of grass later my hiking companion trotted back out of the gate and went to set off along the road again. But I decided that enough was probably enough. Calling to the dog as it went to trot past me it stopped, a little suspiciously and let me catch its collar. I'd noticed that it had a yellow cattle's ear tag attached when I first saw it and I soon found out why. Written on the ear tag in faded permanent marker was a note: "My name is Missy. Please tell me firmly to GO HOME!". Huh, I guess I'm not that special after all. Apparently Missy follows people a lot. I gave her a pat and then said in a firm but not unkind voice "Missy, go home!". Well, the reaction! The poor thing leapt away from me as if I had struck her and stood back looking at me with a very sad and uncertain face (yes, dogs have faces). I felt bad--clearly she's had the instruction reinforced by being hit at some point--but knowing it was for the best I repeated the order. Deciding I was clearly as nasty as I sounded Missy turned tail and set off at a brisk trot back the way we had come, leaving me to head on up the road alone. Part of me couldn't help wishing she'd ignored me.

Somewhere along the way the road passed through a pine forest and I stopped for a break on a small grassy shoulder of the road that was one of the few patches of sun now that it was hemmed in by trees. While having lunch I watched as numerous bright golden specks fly back and forth across the road: bees shining like tiny beacons in the shafting sunlight. Far from being haphazard there were definite highways coming out of the forest as two major angles and disappearing into the trees on the opposite side. I hazarded a guess there were at least two hives, or alternately two rich pollen-collecting areas on the far side of the road. After lunch I sat for a bit, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the sounds of birds and crickets singing, and bees buzzing through the dandelions at my un-booted feet...and the slightly deeper buzz of a solitary wasp. (Thwump! Having heavy boots to hand comes in handy for doing your bit for pest control). One car drove past, but other than that the road was deserted.

Pelorus River - just gorgeous

The sun tracked overhead as I was having my break and when the last of grass was thrown into shadow I laced up my boots and set off again. The road continues to wind up the valley and has occasional views of the beautiful Pelorus River below. I wandered along in a bit of a daydream until at last the road plunged into native bush and I figured I must be getting close to the start of the track. Finally, around a corner I came to a carpark (read "broad clearing near the end of the road"), where the car that had passed me during my break was now parked. A runner was stretching next to the car, apparently having just returned from a run along the track. I wasn't encouraged at first by his assessment of it being "horrible", but felt more hopeful when he added "but it would be a good walk". Not far away the walking track begins, dropping down into bush and following the road for a short distance (which continues on to the gate of the last farm) before veering off and following the river upstream. While the track is not difficult, I could see why someone running would have trouble; placing your feet properly among roots and round holes at speed would be difficult, but at a walking pace wasn't bad.

3.5km through mixed beech and podocarp forest brings you to the Emerald Pool, where a large bend in the clear blue-green river offers a nice spot for a swim. There's a picnic table among the trees, and a short rough track leads down to the river. I left my gear at the table and went for a swim. While I'd intended to have a decent paddle, the water was so cold I barely managed to get in and under and gasp before having to paddle back to shore and clamber up and out onto the boulder bank. I lay in the sun for half an hour or so to dry, by which time the sandflies had found me and I beat a hasty retreat back to the picnic table. Shortly before 3:30 and after a quick afternoon tea I set off again. From the Emerald Pool its 5.5km to the hut and supposedly takes 4hrs. I thought I might be able to do it in 2.

Emerald Pool

From the pool its a steady climb up but not so steep that I had to stop. Before I knew it I was up and had begun the sidle around the hillside. The track had gotten more difficult by this stage but still wasn't too bad. After 4km I was getting tired and a bit stumbly so stopped for another break, just before the track begins zig-zagging down the hill. Even with the rest I still managed to nearly twist both ankles on the way down, so I slowed right down and dawdled the rest of the way up-down-up-down to the hut.

Captain's Creek Hut

Captain's Creek Hut is just off the trail, down in a flat grassy clearing on the river bank. It was a gorgeous spot in gorgeous weather and I had it all to myself. The hut itself was nice and tidy and I was encouraged by the fact that the logbook had no mention of rats for several months. There were several other amusing entries, including one about a dog hanging around the hut; I wondered if it had been Missy. TA hikers were well represented in the book. This is the first hut heading south in the South Island so its a bit of a landmark for those who are only doing the South Island leg of Te Araroa, as it is either their first or last hut depending on their direction. Consequently several people write some poignant things. One person squished a load of sandflies, suggesting they could be used as nutritional supplements. My contribution was not very poignant or practical, but ran thus:

"There once was a hiker who went for swim,

Then she rinsed out her socks on a whim.

She sat down to dry, got eaten alive,

And now she has slap marks all over her skin!"

Epilogue: several tiny fish came to investigate

and enjoyed eating the sandflies post-slap

A...er...practical?...contribution to the logbook

While I had the hut to myself upon arrival, just as I was having dinner I heard voices and popped my head out the door to see two guys striding down the track. They turned out to be two Americans, Jeff and Slater, out here doing seasonal work in the vineyards. Slater returns to the States to guide white-water rafting trips in their summer; I couldn't help thinking he would have been a handy companion on the Wanganui River (not that that had what any pro would call white-water!). The two of them were a nice but funny pair. They'd had night out last night and so set out late today, severely hungover. They're planning to head up Mt Richmond tomorrow, while I will be following TA, hopefully as far as Rocks Hut.

Day 100: Havelock to Pelorus Bridge (21km; 1801km total)

6am. Up, shower, dressed, tea, 4 slices of toast and a final pack later I was ready when Duncan came to pick me up at 7. Promising to come for a proper visit another time I thanked Stewart and Hazel very much for having me and hugged them goodbye.

It was a short drive to Marlborough girls where I switched into a second shuttle driven by a guy named Andy who was doing a regular run taking girls through to Nelson for a course. Fortunately for me Havelock is on the way and I would be slotting in and being dropped off at the hall to resume the trail. While we waited to depart I met the school principal who had come to see the girls off. She was interested in my exploits and asked after my blog, so hello if you're reading this! (Sorry it's taken me so long to type up!).

Before long we were motoring out of Blenheim. I sat up front with Andy and chatted to him; he's lived in Blenheim 46 years and consequently remembers Blenheim "before the grapes". For my part I couldn't even imagine Blenheim as an apple orchard town minus the great swathes of vineyards that it has today!

Andy dropped me at the Havelock Hall steps. Before setting off I sat and strapped my feet (there was to be some road walking this morning) and also second-breakfasted on all the food that couldn't fit in my pack (two peaches and a muffin).

One thing I've been wanting to get and keep forgetting to buy is superglue, so I tried the Four Square on the way out of town, but they only had 2-packs and directed me to the tackle shop across the street--success! Finally I set off down the shoulder of SH6, heading west!

Fortunately it's not far before TA leaves the highway and follows the gravel Hoiere Rd that is much less trafficked (you only have to dodge the odd logging truck and farm ute) and crosses the river in two bridges, one either side of the valley. I stopped for a snack at the intersection with Kaiune Bay Rd beyond bridge No. 2. The road here has kilometre markers so setting off once again I was able to count down my progress as I walked.

The road undulates along the edge of the Pelorous River valley, through farmland and flanking forestry blocks on the neighbouring hills (alive at one point with the sound of active tree felling). At some point a car loaded with women and backpacks came toward me and stopped to chat in thick European (Scandanavian?) accents. They were heading out to the eastern end of the road to do a short multi-day walk and wished me best of luck with TA. 

I stopped for another break in a paddock that had an old stile leading over the fence and an old trail marker on a fence post. There was nowhere on the narrow shoulder to stop so taking the stile and marker as a sign that I *might* not be trespassing I went and sat in the shade under some large kahikatea-like trees to munch a museli bar and slurp a juicy orange. Not 100% sure I was allowed to be where I was however I kept an eye out for the farmer, and wrapped up my break pretty quickly when I heard a quadbike approaching in the neighbouring paddock.

A few kilometres down the road, during which timed I daydreamed up another scene for my story, I arrived at Dalton's Bridge. There was an old campervan parked here beside the road looking lived in but showing no sign of life. I strode past and up and over the stile onto Dalton's track in the paddock beyond (I use the term "onto" loosely as it is little more than a marked route along the edge of a series of paddocks lining the river bank...still, my gratitude to the landowners; without this track we'd be walking SH6 all the way to Pelorus Bridge!).

Happily the paddocks, though housing cattle were not puggy and I was able to make good time. I stopped for lunch under a large kahikatea, sitting on the small patch of ground that seemed the clearest of cow manure. Still every now and then a breeze whipped up and blew specks of dried God-knows-exactly-what into and over all my stuff. I was careful to keep all my food bags closed and secreted away in my pack after the first gust...

Setting off again I traversed paddock after paddock, mostly grass, but some with crops of cattle feed (turnips etc). Near the western end the route cuts down and up short sections of beaten track across small gullies and I stopped in the shade of one to have afternoon tea. If it sounds like in having a lot of breaks today you'd be right. I have a lot normally anyway, but having just resupplied my pack is on the heavy side and breaks serve two purposes: to rest, and to lighten the load by eating more food!

The last kilometre of track before reaching Pelorus Bridge is a beautiful native bush walk along broad forest pathway which forms part of a loop walk accessible from the road. The only thing that spoiled it was a large feral ginger cat that had been hunting in the undergrowth until it caught sight of me and fled. I was torn between wanting a trap to put a stop to it feasting on native birds, and being sorry it wasn't the cuddly sort of cat I could take up in my arms and scratch its ears. In that moment I really missed my cat.

At the bridge I left TA and crossed the river to the cafe and campground in the other side. I've only just resupplied so the good lining the cabinets must have looked genuinely scrumptious; I settled on a can of Fresh Up, a caramel slice 'bite' and an ice cream. Outside a young girl was gearing up for an epic tantrum and eventually was whisked away by the group of adults who hastily finished their afternoon tea. It was not much past 3pm and I could've gone further today, but here was a nice place to stay and so I stayed put.

The campground office is adjacent to the main cafe and I sat at a table outside waiting for the British guy at 

the window to finish checking in. He took forever and I wondered if he was trying to negotiate a rate. Seeing an opportunity (perhaps Billy and Mario have rubbed off on me a little) I offered to share a campsite with him with my small tent and split the cost, but it turns out the $15 charge is per tent, not per campsite so I went back to my caramel slice to wait.

When the window was free I got up to check in again but was only half way through when the phone rang. I indicated the lady at the counter should answer and sat down nearby to wait again when it transpired that it might be a long conversation. From what I overheard it sounded like a reporter or some other interested party was asking the lady her opinion on people free camping in the area. She answered candidly enough but eventually flashed me a shy smile as she closed the window to prevent me from hearing what was said; I assume she launched into some kind of tirade about 'entrepreneurial' TA hikers trying to wiggle out of paying any kind of fees. I sympathise with campground owners, and with hikers (being one myself!). It's a delicate and often difficult balance between giving people their due financial credit for the facilities they provide and having enough money to keep doing that to everyone you encounter for six months. Thank goodness for the people who have taken me in on the trail or else I'd have run out of money eons ago! Really, thank you!!

Finally I was able to check in and given directions to where the 'walkers' camp. I gathered my things and set off down the gravel road through native bush to the campground. It's a lovely spot, but unfortunately all the nice riverside (and sunny) sites are reserved for car-campers. I found the sunniest spot I could in the 'walker' area, trying to anticipate where the sun will be to maximise tent exposure. Afterall, even when dry, a sunny tent us so much nicer than a shady one.

I had a shower (ok, it's $15 but the facilities ARE good), then retired to the kitchen/dining area to try and do some blogging. I wasn't surprised that not many TAers names were in the logbook, but a few were.

Over dinner I got chatting to the guy from the UK and a couple from Moab in Utah, USA. Mum and I drove through there on our trip to the States last year and I was interested to learn the guy was an artist based in Moab. I wondered if I'd seen his work while I was there! His wife was here for a work conference--hence their whirlwind trip to NZ--but was also taking the opportunity to be a shoe tester for a outdoor footwear manufacturer. Rather than wearing each pair of shoes separately she had been hiking wearing one of each, one kind on one foot, and the mate from the other pair on the other. Fortunately the shoes were quite similar so she wasn't experiencing any trouble from differing foot support etc., but she definitely had a preference, for the look of one pair and the comfort and wear of the other. Isn't that always the way? Conversely, the guy from the UK was using severance pay from his position as a consultant in business efficiency to come out to explore New Zealand. I was glad to hear they were all having a great time here. We kept chatting after dinner, over a communal desert offering of chocolate, cookies and wine.

Eventually it was time to hit the hay. I resolved to have another shower in the morning...it's back to huts tomorrow and the shower is too good not to make the most if it!

Day 99: Zero Day 16

With all my clothes in the wash and hanging out I dry Hazel kindly lent me some clothes to sleep in and wear the next morning. I slept til 8, relishing a big bed and pillows. You wouldn't think it had only been four nights since I'd been in one!

I got up to find Hazel busy in the kitchen making preparations for dinner; veges were chopped, meat was prepared, everything! All the breakfast things were laid out for me as well. I felt awfully as if I was putting her to extra trouble, but seeing as it was all done thought the best way to make all her efforts worthwhile was to utilise their fruits to their fullest extent, so I had toast and cereal and fruit and tea for breakfast.

Happily my clothes had mostly dried overnight and after breakfast I was able to dress and we all set off in the car to explore Blenheim. Stewart drives a shuttle part time so he knows all the roads intimately. He took us out down a long stretch of road lined with loads of new subdivisions (niether Hazel or I could believe how many) down to a park at Te base of the hills from which numerous walking and mountain bike tracks set out. I however am having a zero today so we stayed in the car and drove on, all the way out to a honey shop in the middle of nowhere. Bees were buzzing through the air as we crossed the carpark and went into the small shop. We made a bee-line (pun intended) for the tasting stand where, I was surprised to find, my favourite honey was the cheapest, and hat for the record, I'm not a fan of manuka honey. Give me the sweet, clear and nectary honey every time! I guess that means I'm no honey connoisseur. Oh well.

While we were there a local guy came in and filled up a pail from the handle-pull honey dispensers on the wall. Hazel settled for a small jar of her favourite and I bought nothing at all...fortunately saving both weight and money! While Hazel was paying the phone rang, and then a couple of guys showed up that had 'potential foreign export customer' written all over them and the poor woman behind the counter--who had the air of a PA rather than a shop girl--was obviously torn between serving local customers and giving the potential business clients the welcome they no doubt expected. I pitied her a bit. Happily the phone call was easily dealt with, we didn't dawdle about paying, and she was then free to take the clients through to see the boss without leaving them to long. The demands of a growing small business...

After the honey shop we checked out the aerospace museum (a place to go back to when I've got more willing museum feet) before heading back into town. We went to the Railway Station Cafe for lunch; it's a combined French-Kiwi affair offering traditional French food with a Kiwi twist. The staff all had French accents and as you might expect, the food was delicious! The patrons seemed to fall into two categories: locals out for a nice get-together lunch (the minority) and backpackers of all shapes and ages but each toting one or more large backpacks. A few more were milking around outside and I hazarded a guess we were in the middle of intercity coach and coastal train arrival and departure times.

After lunch we went shopping for groceries and I swung by the chemist to try and get some cream for my ankles. They've been coming out in red blotchy hives for several days (ever since I last strapped my feet) and don't seem to be getting any better. I'm hoping it's simply the glue I'm allergic to has spread through my socks and that washing them now will solve the problem, but just in case I thought I'd try getting something to put on them as well. I've already exhausted my limited supply of antihistamines just trying to get to sleep without scratching the skin off my feet, which have been dangling out the end of my sleeping bag for days as the heat inside only makes the itching worse. Fortunately the lady at the chemist was able to recommend a cream to put on them. I'm dubious but I hope it works! I also restocked my supply of Aquatabs; a lot of people on the trail are getting by without treating their water but personally I think treating water on trail is a definite case of it's better to be safe than sorry!

Back home we had a cup of tea and Uncle Stewart had a nap while I tried in vain to catch up on some blogging--it just gets away on you so fast! Even using Stewart's computer to type it proved to be a slow process as I still can't type up my journal verbatim but have to process the notes as they jog my memory and figure out what an earth to write. I hope you're appreciating this Mum ;)

Around 5 o'clock the dinner guests began to arrive. As well as Judy and Duncan, their daughter Caitlyn, and their crazy boxer Belle, friends of Stewart and Hazel's, Ngaire and Graeme also came. They are super-keen hikers and were extremely interested in the trail, where it goes and my experience of it. They've walked a lot of the South Island sections before and were able to get me suitably eager to walk them myself. I'm a little apprehensive about the next few sections as parts of them are supposed to be quite difficult, but we'll see how we go--one step at a time!

Hazel out did herself with corned beef and veges for dinner and I gladly went back for seconds even though I don't normally like corned beef. Then while Hazel was distracted with conversation Caitlyn and I muscled in to so the dishes; I'd tried the night before but Hazel wouldn't let me. Caitlin's a senior at high school and it turns out loves travelling and last year went on a council-sponsored trip to Japan. Naturally then we had loads of non-trail stuff to talk about as we washed and dried, shortly under Hazel's discerning gaze.

After an evening of great conversation all round everyone headed home or to bed. I packed up my things as best I could to help streamline the morning and finally flopped into bed around 10 o'clock. Mmmm bed...I'm going to miss you! It's going to be worth it though--bring on the Pelorus River!

Day 98: Davies Bay to Havelock (19km; 1783km total)

I slept well from midnight onwards (after the possums had scarpered) and woke moderately refreshed. I struck the tent and then made breakfast, using my sandal to thwack any wasps that came with in range in between mouthfuls of porridge.

I set off just after 9am on the short 3km to Anakiwa. I was soon passed by a mountain biker who stopped to chat. His name was Redge, a retired accountant from Whangamata who, after several minutes of walking, pronounced that he liked wailing better than mountain biking as you got to see more. I chuckled. I like walking for that reason too...plus it's easier...and you can go more places on foot than with a bike...and it hurts less when you fall...usually...

We chatted all the way to Anakiwa and the end if the track, having to stop and step aside every now and then as around a dozen runners came through behind us who were obviously running some kind of race. At the jetty we heard the hollers of another race taking place as the Spirit of New Zealand students raced each other in groups to the shore, furiously paddling rubber dinghys. One group had their paddles well coordinated and were streets ahead of the rest.

Redge said farewell as he rode off to check out of his backpackers by the 10am deadline. I hope it was flexible as it was nigh on 10 already.

From the end of the QCT TA follows the waterfront through Anakiwa and joins the Link Walkway--an intermittent footpath which when completed will link Picton and Anakiwa with Havelock. I stopped on a bench to apply sunscreen, before setting off along the path that follows the road but happily gives you an equally easy to traverse alternative to walking along it.

From the turnoff to Linkwater you have to walk the road shoulder. I stopped for a break in a Totalspan "Undercover Kids" bus shelter before setting off again. I passed two guys painting the roof of a house. They called out to see if I wanted a job. After first hollering back that I'm not good with heights I decided I could spare an hour if they needed help so went to offer. They laughed at my having called their bluff and said they'd be right so I continued on.

Not far down the road a laden cyclist stopped to chat to me. Her name was Kay and she was one of 230 cyclists who set out from Cape Reinga over three days who aim to do the cycling equivalent of TA over the course of a month. My mind boggled at the thought of covering that distance in that amount of time...but then I'm no cyclist. We wished each other well and she cycled on. I continued at a rather slower pace, managing to spook some cattle who refused to walk through the underpass beneath the road until I'd walked all the way across it. Further on I passed a school and a civil defence hall. The school had a small peach tree in the carpark straining under the weight of numerous peaches, with several more falling into the gutter...so I relieved it of a couple of its burdens (trail magic!). There's also a public loo at the civil defence hall, although rather unfortunately there's also a sign saying "no camping". Happily for me it was only late morning and I pushed on to the Linkwater service station to have lunch.

While I pondered the age of the sausage roll I was buying a guy at the counter appeared to be trying to sell a handful of dream catchers to the lady for her to put I her shop of touristy nick-knacks. She served me mid-negotiation, and there were two dream-catchers remaining on the counter when I went in a second time to buy a ice cream for desert. The salesman had driven off in a box-laden can while I slurped a coke outside at a picnic table, leaving me pondering the unknown life of a travelling dream catcher salesman.

After lunch I set off again, following the road down to Pelorus Sound. The sun was shining and it was a very pretty sight, looking out over the estuary-like arm of the sound toward the larger sound and hills beyond. I stopped to don sunscreen and hat.

As I came into a more populated area my immediate problem became water. TA hikes up and over a 400m high hill to get to Havelock (rather than going round the headland), and in the hot sunny weather I didn't have enough water to manage it. I eyed houses as I passed them...one in particular looked empty AND had a hose tap in plain view, just a scant few metres across a lawn from the road. But I couldn't quite bring myself to trespass and hoped a better option would present itself before the climb.

It didn't, so at the last house before the climb I stopped to ask for water. No one was home and I could find a hose so I tried the neighbours. The builder said it would be alright for me to fill up from the hose, but as I did so the owner appeared and kindly offered to fill my bottle from his newly installed UV filtered kitchen water. His tone indicated that this was where his generosity would end but I was supremely grateful all the same--the tap water had smelt strangely sulphurous!

Laden with wonderfully cool, fresh water once again I set off up the track over the hill. I soon got distracted by a nice, well benched track leading off to one side. The TA notes say nothing about this track so I followed it for a bit, but it soon became apparent that it was heading around the headland rather than over it. With no guarantee that it would go all the way to Havelock it was more kilometres than I was willing to risk so I doubled back and followed the TA-prescribed route up and over the headland via a steep and eroded transmission line service track. It was hot and hard work and I stopped twice on the way up to sit in the scant shade cast by overgrown gorse bushes. There was the odd view on the way up but nothing from the top (maybe if you climb all the way up but I wasn't in the mood). Havelock comes into view on the way down the other side but here the track is steep, eroded AND overgrown with gorse in places so my attention became fairly fixed on just getting down. I stopped at the bottom to massage my feet back to life, curious to know whether the signposted link pathway I discovered there connected up with the side track I'd first explored. Send TA that way next year if it does guys! The up and over route is not fun.

From the base of the hill it was a short 2km walk to Havelock (past another peach tree whose fruits were going to waste...minus two), and another 1km to the steps of the community hall where I was to meet Uncle Stewart at 5. It was only 4:30 so I had intended to make a B-line for a bakery or cafe, but the bakery was shut and across the road the cafe was closed permanently due to fire damage. Not quite believing it (surely someone on the TA grapevine would have mentioned there's no cafe in Havelock? In fact I was sure I'd been told there was one!) I flicked on my phone and sure enough, it turns out the cafe only burnt down last week. Poor buggers. I ceased feeling miffed that I had not heard about the closure of the Havelock Cafe. (And for those of you whose minds work that way, yes there was a pub but I didn't fancy it).

I killed time reading about the achievements of Lord Rutherford in a small park adjacent to the hall. Although he wasn't born in Havelock he did spend a large part of his youth here and is consequently a treasured son of the district.

Shortly before 5 I returned to the steps to wait and not long after a 4WD pulled up and out popped a dark-haired woman I vaguely recognised. "Jenny?" she asked.

When I replied "that's me" she responded "Gosh you look like Averyl!". Yep, that's definitely me. The woman was Judith, Stewart's daughter and my cousin, whom I haven't seen since her wedding when I was about 12. It turns out Uncle Stewart is a bit under the weather today so asked if Jude could pick me up. Thanks guys!

In the car we caught up on about fifteen years of various family news and I told her all about the trail. Before too long we pulled up outside Stewart and Hazel's house. Jude said farewell, with the assurance she'd be back with her family for dinner the following night to hear more.

Stewart and Hazel bravely hugged me the smelly hiker before I was ushered inside and shown to the spare room, two of them actually--one for me to sleep in and another for my gear if I needed it! Then Hazel showed me to that little piece of heaven that is a shower and I disappeared into it, emerging from the bathroom twenty minutes later (probably more) back to my old clean and slightly knackered self once again.

We had a brief catch up over dinner (Mmm...devilled sausages and vege--fresh vege!) before Stewart and their son Craig headed off to band practice. I busied myself with washing and putting my tent up to more thoroughly dry. We had a time keeping it upright in the light wind in the yard, and eventually Hazel told me to move it into Stewart's study where it was warm and dry, and not windy. Lucky it's a small tent!

It wasn't long before Stewart came home  and we all had a cup of tea and a chat. I've given up trying to befriend their shy boxer dog, who runs and hides under the dining room table every time she sees me (apparently I'm not to take this personally as she does it with everyone). I'm determined however, and will change tactics to the "I'm indifferent to you. You're barely even there" approach and see if I can't win her over that way. Not a good approach with people generally, but it can be just the ticket with shy dogs.

It's rapidly become clear that Hazel thinks I'm nuts doing the trail, but like most other people who think so she isn't going to try and talk me out of it. Now that I think about it no one has tried to do that. Curious...you'd almost expect someone would. Maybe I just know lots of cool people who are happy to support all my crazy schemes. Yay people! Or they all know I'm stubborn and don't want to waist their energy. Wise people!

It wasn't long before I crashed into bed, with grateful thanks to Stewart and Hazel for having me and the assurance that I would be better company tomorrow. I'm going to have a day off. Not sure what we'll do yet but we'll just take it as it comes :)

Day 97: Black Rock to Davies Bay (22km; 1764km total)

So the sleeping in the shelter to keep the tent dry idea worked well, unfortunately it didn't prove very conducive to actual sleeping. Even with my thick sleeping matt the hard wooden floor was uncomfortably hard, and it made the Nat squeak more that usual. Also, for someone reason I got paranoid that a possum was going to get bailed up in the shelter with me and wreak havoc on my tent, so I woke up at every single rustle...and with possums and wekas around the night was full of rustles. But the nail in the sleeping coffin was that after two days of sweating profusely and not washing I felt distinctly sticky and grimy...maybe I'm not walking hard or fast enough to be tired enough but I just can't sleep feeling that icky. Finally at 3am I gave up, went to pee and had a wet wipe wash while I was at it. Still not great but better. Sometime after 4am I fell asleep.

Then woke at 7...but didn't manage to haul myself out of bed til 7:45.

I had a leisurely breakfast, but Sven didn't seem in any hurry either, and we finally set off at 9:30.

Yesterday we traversed the highest point on the QCT, but today seemed harder as it involved not one but two not insignificant and fairly steep climbs and then descents to saddles. The first if these was a 2hr walk up and over through farmland scrub to the saddle above Cowshed Bay we we emerged onto the road next to a WWII monument. We chatted to two ladies from the Netherlands and snacked as it threatened to drizzle. Busting for the loo I scarpered off down the 200m descent to the campsite in the bay and back to use the facilities, only to come upon a vault loo scarcely fifty metres up the next hill. Dammit. They could gave marked it! 'Oh well, I got to use one that flushes AND had soap and hot water to wash my hands', I thought doggedly.

Though it had threatened to rain, by the time we made it to the top of the climb it was clearing. There's a number of benches but they were already occupied so Sven and I sat on the ground and  chatted to the Dutch pair a little more (they had beaten us up there). After a while a departing couple left a bench free and Sven and I quickly moved in to claim it as our lunch spot. We had a nice view eastward over the sound, although the cloud cover meant the blue of the water and green of the hills was not as vibrant as it had been on our first day.

Over lunch I phoned my Uncle Stewart. I've been promising to visit him for months and now I'll be walking within 45minures drive of him and want to see if he's free and able to have me come and stay for a day once I finish the track. We'd previously planned this loosely, but now it looks like I'll be finished earlier than planned so thought I better check that was OK. Happily it is, and even better, Uncle Stewart should be able to come and pick me up from Havelock tomorrow which will save me having to hitch. Phew! One less elevated heart rate journey for the trip.

I also tried to book accommodation in Anakiwa for tonight but there was nothing available. Hmmm, ok, so I'll just stay at DOCs Davies Bay Campsite instead. It's cheaper and only adds on an extra 3km to tomorrow's walk to Havelock.

After lunch Sven and I set off again, along the ridge and down. Passing a side track to a lookout Sven headed up and I sat to wait (he'd waited for me afterall) and spent the time catching up on my journal.  I'd barely finished one entry when he was back, saying the view was worth it, but similar to others along the ridge.

Twenty minutes later we passed a side trail to Mistletoe Bay and went our separate ways. Sven is camping there tonight and walking out to catch the water taxi from Anakiwa tomorrow. With nine more kilometres to go I still had some walking to do. Wishing him all the best with his remaining time in New Zealand and plans to train as an electrical engineer in Germany thereafter I said farewell. Something tells me he won't miss my company. I think I start to get on people's nerves after two or three days...sorry world, I guess.

I continued on down the main track to a saddle and back up and round the headland on the other side. It's a steady but gentle climb all the way up and round and down again. I stopped for a break on a large flat-topped boulder and was drawn to a nearby sign indicating potable water. I eyed the rusty tap doubtfully and sure enough no water was to be had. No matter, I had some left from Black Rocks still and fortunately it seemed to be devoid of obvious organisms.

From Puroa Point I spotted a three-masted square-rigger in the bay that looked familiar. I hazarded a guess that it was the Spirit of New Zealand and spent the next few kilometres reminiscing about my own 10-day stint aboard the vessel when I was in high school (the trip was awesome but being scared of heights and not able to support my own weight at the time I slipped from the rigging during a climb to the top of the mast and back and was left dangling in my harness several metres above the deck. I was the only student unfortunate enough to do this that trip and I'm sure it's what led to me being awarded the Jeweler's Award for Personal Growth at the end of the trip...and if it wasn't the fall it was probably the constant stream of profanity I let loose as I climbed back up to my anchor point and then back down to the deck. Who knew you could get a certificate for muttering "You bastard! I can't believe you beat me you complete bastard!", over and over again?!).

I saw no other walkers that afternoon apart from one young couple on a late ramble up from Anakiwa to the lookout at the point. From the point the track descends down into bush, leaves the farmland behind and is a lovely walk as you pass beneath various tall native trees, catching glimpses of the water below growing slowly but surely nearer. Soon you can make out ripples on it's surface, and before too long the track flattens out and your on the edge of a small bay. The sounds of boats are strangely magnified in the sound so that someone boating way off shore sounds like they're coming in to moor in the bay. It's a phenomenon that extends inland to the Davies Bay Campsite where, even a hundred metres up a short side trail I more than once thought I was about to get company. But I never did. I had the campsite to myself...well, me and the 40 million wasps that also call it home. Honestly the ground was alive with them buzzing amongst the grass every couple of feet. Signs indicated Fibronil poison had gone up in bait stations that very week but it didn't appear to have had much of an effect yet.

Leaving the wasps to settle at dusk I went to the toilet block to have a sponge bath in the sink. The women's sink was a little blocked so I used the men's, which also gave me a bit more cover should anyone happen along the path. Clean, and in my fresher non-walking clothes I returned to the half-hexagon shaped shelter to make dinner, pitching my tent in an alcove under some trees while I waited for the pasta to soak (saves gas). (There's something about pitching out on the open grass in a deserted campground that doesn't really appeal to me. It does however gavecthe advantage of not allowing a possum to sit on a branch right above you cackling, as I would later discover...).

Tonight would have been a good night to do some blogging but I didn't feel like it. Instead I settled down early to go to sleep. This was only interrupted twice: once by the affore mentioned possum in the tree above, and later a by an astonishingly noisy encounter between this and another possum somewhere on the other side of the campground. One could grow to loathe possums...if you didn't merely dislike them on principle already!

Day 96: Endeavour Inlet to Black Rock (27km; 1742km total)

Sven was up with the larks, rattling pots and going in and out of the wee cabin shelter. I eventually got up as well and joined him over breakfast. Liz emerged even later still, after Sven had left and while I was striking my tent. In her defence she doesn't have far to go today.  I on the other hand want to hike 27km to Black Rock Campsite and had intended on getting an early start to do so...oh well...best laid plans...

Early morning runners past the gate brought the two little dogs, Ruby and Chico, yapping down from the house. Happily once they'd ever so vocally seen the runners off they--Ruby especially--were happy to quietly contort themselves into odd shapes if you scratched them in just the right spot.

Another friend I made at Miner's Camp was a bold little fantail who quickly learned that if he came and twittered at me on the way to the loo, when I was done I would prop the door open for him while I washed my hands at the adjacent sink. This was his opportunity to swoop in and feast on the numerous little black flies that had collected in the cubicle. I listened to the tap-tap--tap I his beak on the wall while I brushed my teeth, happy in the knowledge that each yap was another fly meeting it's doom, without even a squashed body to show for it! On first opening the day before the number of flies in the cubicle had been extremely off-putting for human would-be users of the loo, but by the time I left this morning my fantail friend and I had managed to reduce this down to a much less disgust-inducing half dozen or so. Huzzah for interspecies cooperation!

Wishing Liz all the best for the rest of her time in NZ I finally set off around 9:25. Much of the morning proved to be an easy walk, sidling along around the inlet about twenty metres above the waterline. The early morning sunshine was becoming intermittent so on reaching a junction with the track to Camp Bay I stopped for a very early lunch to make the most of the last of the sunshine to try and dry my tent. A runner came past and told me off for covering the DOC signs, but I assured her I would remove fly etc from where they hung should anyone else happen along. No one did until I was already making moves to leave and the signs had already been relieved of clothesline duty.

From the junction the track climbs to the top of the ridge, and stays up there until descending back to water level near the end of the QCT. Consequently all salubrious accommodation options must be reached by diverting off the main track and down into various bays. Happily I'm doing the TA and require nothing more than a basic DOC campsite (not even that really) of which there are three on the QCT itself.

At the Kenepuru Saddle (accessible by road) I found Sven having a break and chatting to the French guy, who after spending the night in their car had still not managed to find his hiking companion and was resolved to wait at the car until he showed up. Poor sod. There are definite pluses to hiking solo--the only one who can get lost is yourself!

I joined them for a short break before Sven and I set off together, bound for the Bay of Many Coves Campsite. The trail from the saddle was a bit more challenging, with more ups and downs, and also crosses private land so rather than forest much of the track is scrubby or bordered by pine trees. We passed several walkers coming the other way, including one lady being given a lift on an ATV. She looked at me slightly concerned as she past, just as Sveb and I had laboured to the top of a small hill. I told her not to worry and that the sweat, which was streaming down my face, was a permanent feature. Glamourous hiker I am not, but for my part I was privately pleased that although I was sweating I wasn't breathing particularly hard. Must be getting fitter!

Sven snd I stopped for an unintentionally long break at a picnic table blessed with both a view and a nearby loo. We'd already been stopped a while when two of the people passing us caught sight of my maps and one said "you look like TAers!". In a few minutes we'd introduced ourselves to Katie, a Kiwi from Auckland, and Flo, a crazy-fit German guy--NoBo's one day away from finishing their TA adventure. They had left a lot of their gear at the hostel to do the QCT, and seem to have been semi-ultra lighting anyway, so merely had day packs and were difficult to pick as TAers--with the exception if the fact that they were young, fit and doing the QCT in half the time it takes most other people. Katie seemed keen to get on but Flo was a chatty guy, keen to share lots of advice for what lay ahead for me in the South Island. He found it all very straight forward so I wasn't sure how beneficial his advice might be to someone like me, who will likely find several sections something if a challenge!

Eventually we each went our opposite ways, them North and Sven and I South. I was feeling a little bad as I inadvertently put an emphasis on "I" when I said "I am" in response to Flo's question "Are you guys doing the TA?". From his reaction Sven hadn't missed this slip, but I swear it was from an innate desire for accuracy rather than any wish to be a trail snob, but I suppose if misinterpreted it amounts to the same thing. Oh dear. I tried to redeem my snobby ways by later commenting that although Sven wasn't doing TA he sounded as though he'd walked most of it already as multiple short trips.

We got to Bay of Coves Campdite just before 4pm. I was completely out of water and dehydrated and so made topping up water from the rain tank my first priority. As I cracked two Aquatabs into the bottle to let it treat for the required half hour a couple of white specks caught my eye. The water itself was a little yellow in colour and the white specks in my bottle were moving...not just moving, swimming, darting about. As I looked closer it turned out I had bottled my own little aqua zoo. As someone who was incredibly thirsty I was unimpressed and sat watching, waiting for the things to die as half an hour slowly ticked by. In the meantime Sven and I chatted and snacked. I ate the last if the fruit and shard some brownie with Sven. Unfortunately half an hour passed and one or two of the little organisms were still alive. Unable to wait any longer I fished out my Lifestraw from my pack (something I chucked in on a whim while I was home at Christmas) and put it through it's first use. It seemed to work surprisingly well and in a minute I'd slurped down over a litre. Sven, minus a Lifestraw, contented himself with drinking from his treated bottle. His zoo hadn't seemed to be as populous as mine.

At 4:45 we set off again, knowing we were pushing it slightly to get to Black Rock Campsite before it started getting dark, but Bay of Coves wasn't the most inviting campsite in the world. As Sven signed the book, for us both it turned out, I couldn't help hoping the water at Black Rock would be better.

The next climb along the track wasn't as bad as I had expected and was over before I knew it (being hydrated again probably helped). The track then sidles along the ridge for a bit before descending gently to a but if a saddle and then climbing gently back up to Black Rock. There are lovely views of the sounds on either side along the way.

We made it to camp at around 7:20. Sven pitched his wet tent in one of the designated tent spots, while I--seeing as we were the only people there--erected mine inside the roofed shelter. Being freestanding my tent doesn't need to be pegged out to stand up, and I figured there was no point in getting a wet tent again if I didn't have to. Plus the shelter buffered the brisk breeze, and had a wonderful view right up the sound to Picton. Sven and I made dinner at a picnic table and then shifted to the shelter to sit and watch the light fade and the twinkling lights of Picton and Shakespeare Bay begin to glow in the dusk. A cruise ship must have come in to dock sometime that afternoon, and every hour or two a ferry came or went. It was a beautiful slowly changing scene and we both attempted to take photos, Sven's SLR doing a much better job of it than my beloved point-and-shoot. We talked about Tolkien's Middle Earth (turns out Sven is also a fan) as it once again grew dark, and eventually we each went off to bed. A weka was foraging around most of the evening and as I was just getting to sleep a possum cackled nearby. I growled back, hoping that would be enough to keep it at bay, if not for the night then at least a little while as I got to sleep!

Day 95: Ship Cove to Endeavour Inlet (15km; 1715km total)

I had set my alarm for 7:30, but woke up at 6:30 when the first wave of people got up. I went back to sleep and when my alarm went off at 7:30 it still felt far too early to be getting up...

After a shower I had a hearty helping of toast from the free breakfast Atlantis provide. For a free brekky the selection wasn't bad: with toast you can have marmite, marmalade, jam, as well as muesli or porridge, with cinnamon and sugar (premixed). While I suspect the cinnamon and sugar mix is meant to go with the porridge, I know from past experience that it also goes well on buttered toast, and consequently had four slices with four different toppings. A Stein at a buffet, what can I say?

At 8:30 I headed down to the dock and to the Beahcomber office to confirm and pay for my water taxi booking ($50). They were quite busy with people from a cruise ship in town, but I soon had my little ticket to ride. A pair of backpacks sitting by the door looked familiar and I wondered whether Billy and Mario would be joining me on the boat ride to the start of the track in Ship Cove...

I chatted to a couple of cruiseship passengers while waiting to board. They seemed a bit suspicious of me and my massive backpack, but then I got the strong impression that they were categorically NOT hiking types. Once on board I found a place out of the way in a corner of the bridge to stow my pack and then sat on the nearby side bench as the other passengers filled up the toes of individual seats. At the last minute Billy and Mario scooted aboard and joined me on my bench. As the boat set off we caught up on each other's exerperiences of walking through Wellington. I was amused but not surprised to hear their plan for sneaking aboard the ferry hadn't worked and that they'd been forced to pay the pedestrian fare like everyone else for their crossing yesterday morning.

After catching up Mario offered me some chocolate (oh, go on then...thanks Mario!) and then settled down for a nap. It turns out they'd been up since 5am trying to score a cheaper boat ride with some local fishermen but had had no luck. I couldn't help feeling the extra sleep would have been worth the extra money.

As the boat jetted out into the sound I turned my attention to the view--it was an absolutely stunning morning! The green hills bounded above and below by gorgeous blue sky and water was glorious, and as we shot along listening to the intermittent commentary from the captain, I couldn't help feeling like it was a wonderful way to start the South Island leg of Te Araroa.

Early on we saw a fur seal, and later we nosed into a rocky promontory to take a slightly closer look at a small colony of rare king shags. Swaths of forest either side of the sound have numerous skeletal trees that while not exactly pretty, are the result of DOC's attempts to kill off all the invasive wildling pine trees. (Apparently after hiking out to poison all the trees proved too labour intensive DOC experimented with shooting trees from the air with poison-laced bullets for a while before finally settling on a guy dangling from the helicopter and spraying each tree as being the most time, cost and lethally effective method).

After briefly bouncing off the larger swell coming in from Cook Strait (which gave one or two passengers a bit of a fright) we picked up some early morning visitors to an island in the sound, then motored round to dock at the jetty in Ship Cove.

Everyone went ashore to look around for half an hour but Billy, Mario and I took our packs to one of the large waka-shaped polished wooden picnic tables to get ourselves ready to walk. None of us were in any hurry and I shared some brownie with the boys (Kyla had insisted I take the rest with me--thanks Kyla!). After a snack I went and had a look around the monument to Captain Cook before going to get changed into my walking clothes. You know it's a popular tourist spot when they've gone to the trouble of putting flush loos in the middle of nowhere!

Back at the picnic table the wekas were out and about, cautiously trying to get a look at our gear and any edible morsels it might contain. One if them spent several minutes eying up the once again napping Mario's sandals.

We all took our time getting ready, meanwhile two backpack-bearing Frenchmen showed up: Sebastian and Antoine, fresh off the boat and about to start their own TA adventure by doing the South Island SoBo. We chatted briefly before all wishing each other good walk and "see you on the trail". Mario slept, Billy went for a swim, and after a very slow repack I set off up the track, soon to be passed and left in the dust by the fit French duo. I did manage to catch a mountain biker who was forced to push his bike up the first zig-zag up the 250m high hill, and we walked and chatted for a bit until the change in gradient enabled him to ride off once again. I was stoked that I also managed to pass a bunch of other people sporting day packs on the way up, but they were all nearly twice my age so I probably shouldn't crow too loudly. Still, I must be getting some of my trail fitness back or else I wouldn't be able to pass anyone at all!

The entire Queen Charlotte Track (QCT) is  wide enough and well maintained enough to travel by quadbike--for a TAer it's practically a boardwalk. TAers don't make up the majority of walkers however, which instead seem to be retirees (or near-retirees) doing an assisted multi-day walk. They stay at swanky accomodation en route and have the bulk of their gear ferried from accommodation to accommodation by water taxi. A pleasant but no doubt expensive way of tramping...one I couldn't help but envy a little, but only a little. You come to take a certain amount of pride in carrying everything you need with you when doing the TA. And it gives the assisted walkers something to goggle and exclaim at slog their way!

The first part of the QCT traverses a narrow bottleneck of land between the mainland and a small peninsula making the peninsula an ideal spot for a predator-free zone to be established and maintained. As such the track across the bottle neck is lined with traps of one sort or another every 3-4 metres. And while the intensive trapping may look unsightly, sure enough, there do seem to be a lot more native birds along this section of track than the rest of it.

The lookout at the top of the first hill has a nice view over the azure sound. I stopped for a drinks break (the only problem with fine weather is you sweat like nothing else) and got talking to a couple from Washington DC. After first admiring the fact that I'd got up the hill with my big pack the guy then shook my had when he found out I'd carried it all the way from Cape Reinga and intended to carry it all the way to Bluff. It's a funny gesture but I always get warm fuzzies when people do it, which (it still surprises me) they do now and again. I guess I've met so many people who are also doing the trail that I no longer feel like I'm doing anything that amazing, but I'm reminded I'm one of a select few hundred when people take my hand in a 'hats off to you' kind of way. It's nice.

I helped the German mountain biker take a photo of himself with his bike, and then had an extended rest break as he told me and the couple from DC all about the Black Forest where he is from. Meanwhile a lot of the people I'd passed on the way up went by, but I soon caught most of them again on the way down, including an American quartet of retirees, composed of a couple from Florida who are doing the track for a second time, this time with friends, a couple from Hawaii. Of the Hawaiian couple the woman was very excited to be doing something that had been on her "bucket list" for several years, and that her husband had brought her over to New Zealand to do...'even if it kills him' I thought as I watched him come labouring along behind her. Hats off to you mate! (I mentally shook his hand).

Further along the trail another top of a lesser climb also accumulated a few people stopping for breaks. One was a French guy carrying an enormous camping stove (of the car camping sort) strapped to his pack who had become separated from his German hiking companion and was waiting hopefully for him to show up. There was also a sextet of Western Australians who were very interested in the trail and the fact that I was doing it alone ("your poor mother!"). 

Moving on again I passed a few people who had stopped for lunch I soon did the same, polishing off the last of the bread and cream cheese while sitting on the ground beside the trail  where a small gap in the trees afforded a nice view across the sound. Of course about 300m up the trail I came across a picnic table...oh well.

Most people walking that afternoon kept crossing paths at one lookout or another and so loose conversation was maintained between several different groups throughout the day. One guy, a very enthusiastic young German who was far more knowledgable than me about the TA's route through the South Island kept pace with me for a while and we chatted about the trail. Unfortunately I had little to contribute as most of the sections I haven't done yet!

Back down at near-water level the track sidles round into Endeavour Inlet and starts having side tracks leading this way and that to people's holiday houses. I passed a group of Australians as we entered this more settled area, but they weren't far behind me once we got to Furneaux Lodge--their up-market accommodation for the night. I would be moving on to a much cheaper (free?) campsite at the head of the inlet, but I wasn't about to walk past a reasonably priced cold drink if I could get one. A quick enquiry revealed that yes the restaurant and bar were open and I soon found a nice table out on the verandah to sit down and enjoy a cold ginger beer. There were a few other people about including the couple from DC, and soon the Western Australians and the Anerican quartet. One couple I hadn't seen on the track kept themselves to themselves and seemed to have spent their afternoon relaxing and reading at a table on the verandah; I wondered if they might be the owners of the impressively large and well-kitted out launch that was anchored in the bay (the thing had a small helicopter on the back for crying out loud!).

After savouring my ginger beer, downing an entire pitcher of water and catching up on my journal, I wished those I had spoken to that day good day and set off along the track the short distance to the head of the inlet.

Here on the grass outside a gate hung with a sign saying "Miner's Camp" I found the enthusiastic German, Sven, and the unexpectedly solo-Frenchman (I never discovered his name) who still had not managed to locate his hiking companion. Sven informed me that Miner's Camp was $10 a night, to pay up at the house, while his conflicted companion eventually decided to push on up the trail further in search of his friend. I wished him luck and headed in through the gate, past and opportunistic large shelved box offering various edible supplies for sale (2-minute noodles etc).

Through the gate, down a path, past a vault loo, across a small orchard and up another path I came to the house, to be met by a elderly chap and two tiny yappy dogs that fortunately were happy to stop yapping in favour of a petting. $10 duely paid I was invited to make myself at home down by the little cabin at one end of the orchard. Sven was already in residence, along with another hiker, an American named Liz, out for her first overnight hike in NZ. We all said hello and got to chatting while Sven and I pitched tents and we all moved on to making dinner. We also explored the fruit trees, having been invited to help ourselves. The paddock next to us was crammed with kiwifruit trees but unfortunately the few fruits were not ripe. I did manage to pocket a few pears and apples though.

Liz, Sven and I stayed up chatting long into the evening as the light faded and we waged the stars come out over our heads; the Milky Way never fails to impress when you see it away from terrestrial light pollution. The three of us talked about all sorts, hiking, travelling, venemous creatures and the military. I couldn't help but laugh when Sven pointed out the apparent irony of the NZ airforce having the Kiwi--a flightless bird--as its emblem (though no doubt some would say that far from being ironic it is nowadays somewhat apt...).

Finally, around 10:30 we all went to bed. It had been a great first day on the South Island leg of the TA!

Day 94: Wellington to Picton (ferry!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 93: Zero Day 15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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