A New Chapter

Alex enjoying the view north of Wellington

Today is the day Alex and I head off to New Zealand's south island. Today is the day we begin our new adventure. It feels so surreal to think of how far we've come on our own two feet and I can't wait to see what adentures await us once we set foot in Picton.

Injuries, illness and mental struggles behind us, I feel as though I have personally grown over the course of the past 3 months. Not only do I know more about what gear is necessary and what isn't, I feel as though my mental strength and confidence in who I am, what I want and what I am capable of has grown in leaps and bounds. And the best part is - it isn't over yet.

Alex and I plan to continue picking up one piece of rubbish per person per day as we try to make an impact on promoting environmental sustainability. This small action everyday has become such a habit I hardly even notice I am doing it and it continues to inspire me with thoughts on what the world would be like should something like this really catch on. What if even just every person trekking Te Araroa Trail picked up one piece of rubbish a day? What if more people did it? It's amazing to think of the impact that something like that could have on a person, community, forest, country - even the world. One piece at a time and who knows what would happen!



Near Plimmerton (north of Wellington)

 Over and above doing our one-a-day project, Alex and I continue to raise money for the Solomon Islands through Indigo Foundation. Now I suppose I should say it's not so much about us raising money by asking people for it - it's more about me and Alex inspiring people to give. Too many charities and organizations out there have payment plans and expectations of what everything "should" give to a cause. Too many groups making projects out to be more about the money than about the action of helping one another out. A famous African proverb states that "it takes a village to raise a child," but my question is what does it take to raise a village?

It takes everyone. It takes people WANTING to be part of the change. It takes people being inspired to make a difference. What good does it do if all the support for something comes from people that feel obliged to open their checkbooks?

And so, with that - Alex and I continue to trek in order that we may inspire another person to join us in supporting the Turusuala community in the Solomon Islands that dreams of building up its education system. Of building up its economy. Of building up hope and strength in fulfilling the dreams of its people. Of bettering the quality of life for its people and its future. It can be done. Anything's possible. We all just need to come together. To be part of something greater than ourselves. To create change that lasts forever. We only have one life to live and this Solomon Islands community is living with intention. It's living as though this is all there is. Can the rest of us say the same?



Last night in a tent on the north island

 With that all in mind, Alex and I make way to the south island. To continue what we started. To finish what we began. It's not nearly over and yet I feel as though the finish line is so much nearer.

For those who may not have an idea of what New Zealand's south island is like, I will forewarn you in saying that the route we will be following is more remote than the north island. There aren't as many towns that we pass through and those that we do will have limited internet access to update our progress. During this next portion of our journey don't expect to see many new photos, blogs or videos. We'll do our best, but we're already preparing for the possibility of having to update a majority of our going-ons after we reach Bluff. But hey - it's all part of the adventure right?

The Last Push

The coastline north of Wellington

It's really hard to believe we are here. We have made it to Wellington. The north island is finally complete and I can offiicially check that item off my list of things to do. I feel as though since Alex and I arrived on January 18, a huge weight has lifted from my shoulders. We are here. Life is good.
And life has been pretty good since Palmerston North onwards. Alex and I had arrived there January 9 and were more than pleased that we'd be able to access all the outdoor gear stores in attempts to trade in our faltering gear. Everything was breaking down all at once which left us wondering if we'd even be abel to complete our journey through the south island to Bluff.

Our boots were the major worry as it was no longer an issue of wear and tear. It was only a matter of time before our toes were going to start sticking through the fast developing holes, let alone the fact that our feet threatened to just simply break through the soles of our boots. All the KMs walked and constant change in weather conditions had taken its toll.

On route to the center of Palmerston North Alex and I happened to cross paths with a Hunting and Fishing shop. We crossed our fingers that we could sort out Alex's boots without too much trouble.



Jody, me, Paul and Alex in Macpac

 We walked in there still wearing all our trekking gear (and probably bringing a lovely green cloud of stench with us) and attempted to discreetly put our packs down out of the way. Alex then took her boots off and brought them to the front counter all dirty, sweaty, smelly and completely falling apart. Within a few minutes of conversation on what we have been up to and why the boots need replacing, Alex was handed a new pair of which she promptly put on her feet and then we walked out of the store. I only hoped all our gear issues could be solved in the same way.

Apparently they could. The following day Alex and I marched into Macpac first thing to sort out our deflating sleeping mats and my thermal pants that were beginning to look like moths had gotten at them. It was there we met Jody and Paul who were so excited about our adventures that we ended up hanging out for a couple of hours in the store just chatting it up about everything under the sun. By the time we left Macpac, not only were we sorted for new gear, but we'd also managed to stock up on Em's Cookie Bars and snag a dinner date with Jody and her family later that evening.

Te Araroa silently directs us

From Palmerston North Alex and I walked our way down Burttons Track where we learned of Jim Burtton. He was the one who originally built the track as he lived and farmed ont he land there. It was only when a terrible accident of his swing bridge across the river collapsed with him on it that Jim had to crawl his way on the path to get help. 12hrs later he did but by then it was too late and he died. There was something morbidly surreal about walking the same route a dying man trekked in 1941 to get help from his closest neighbors. Put me off wanting to ever live reclusively in the bush.

By January 13 Alex and I met up with some locals to walk the Makahika track into Makahika. As they worked for Sally at the Makahika Outdoor Pursuits Centre (our food drop and sponsor) we were able to unload our packs with Sally and take minimal gear into the forest for the 15KM trek. Needless to say, we were practically running the trail with the non-existant loads on our backs and took great joy in being able ot fly down the trail at record speed.

Once at Makahika Outdoor Pursuits Centre, Alex and I were welcomed wih open arms into Sally's family. We had such an amazing time that we couldn't bare to leave first thing the next morning. So we stayed another day. And then another. The way things were, it's a wonder we even chose to continue walking Te Araroa Trail. Between hot showers, real beds, stacks of books, a spa pool, great company and mouth-watering food - well - we were in heaven.


Makahika Outdoor Pursuits Centre

 Eventually we tore ourselves away and continued downt he western coastline into Wellington. By January 18 we had made it. 96 days from beginning our journey and Alex and I have finished the north island. Halfway donw and halfway to go. I can only imagine the adventures that await us.

And so - right now - Alex and I have been busy making final preparations for the south island. I managed to get my boots exchanged at Biviouac (thanks guys!) so that I can continue trekking without worry that I may have to eventually barefoot it in order to finish. Alex was able to snag an awesome Macpac pack to replace her well-used and now retired pack. Both of us traded in our cardboard t-shirts for an upgraded merino version. New maps have been printed and our gear has been downsized to the bare minimum in order to avoid weight. The best has been that we have been able to do everything from the comforts of another fellow trekker's home. Thanks to David we have been able to sort out everything without the hassle of a hostel, campsite or other money-draining accommodation. Instead we have found common ground on comparing Te Araroa notes and planning for what is to come once we leave Wellington. And with that in mind - only one more sleep to go and then we set sail to continue the rest of our epic adventures with Te Araroa.

In DOC We Trust

JANUARY 16/2011 . DAY #94 . 25 KM .

As i sit here in some grassy park along the shoreline north of Wellington, it's hard to believe that not too long ago Alex and I even began this journey. And now we only have 2 more days until we reach Wellington. Though it's been a journey of 3 months to get to this point, as I reflect back on our adventures it all seems like a blur.



The beach near Turakina

 Not too long ago - January 6 - Alex and I left Whanganui excited to be coming down the home stretch into Wellington. A certain amount of uncertainty hung in the hot muggy air as we trekked our way onwards to Turakina. It was yet another day of road walking of which we were presented with another few memorable moments of cars honking at us. Whether the honks were given out of annoyance, to cheer us on or mock us - we will never know. I was too busy trying to walk onwards while squinting through the sweat pouring down my face.

The following day Alex and I decided it was time to try getting up a little earlier (4:30am instead of 5am) in order to make more use of the cooler hours of the day. For our keen efforts the weather rewarded us with some dark clouds to follow our route and dump as much rain on us as possible. It quickly became apparent that both Alex and I were still traumatized over our last big bout of rain prior to Christmas. Our emotional composure immediately shut down as we dragged our feet down the street. One might have assumed we were doing time for as enthusiastic as we looked that morning. The entire time my brain was screaming for answers on how much rain we should be expecting. I needed to mentally prepare should we be looking at another week of solid rain.



A local's mailbox on route to Bulls

 Fortunately the clouds cleared by lunch and our spirits slowly lifted. Onwards we walked - through Bulls and eventually Fielding. It was during our leg of road endurance to reach Fielding that it happened. My faith in Te Araroa Trail began to falter.

The route from Bulls to Fielding was as straightforward as they come. The road was straight. Flat even. We knew exactly where we needed to go and how to get there. But then everything changed. AS we came out of Bulls we noticed a Te Araroa sign directing us off the quiet side road onto some farmland. As we had clocked quite a few KM on road the previous few days we decided we might as well do a trial to mix it up a little. And so we followed the seemingly trustworthy Te Araroa sign.

Only a few minutes walk along the trail and I began to note that the trail wasn't even heading inthe direction of Fielding (south). It was going East out to the river. I just hoped it would be pretty enough to make it worth it.

It wasn't. Okay - that's not ENTIRELY true as the river appeared to be quite beautiful. But most of my energy was spent trying to figure out where we were supposed to be going. Countless farm track criss-crossed every which way with barely any indication of the route Te Araroa wanted us to go.



Camping in a Pine forest

 Eventually we managed to figure it out and continued along the riverside trail (still leading AWAY from Fielding) at which point we came to an electric fence we had to delicately step over in order to avoid a shock to certain sensitive areas exposed while straddling a fenceline.

Disaster averted, Te Araroa then proceeded to lead us straight up the side of the river bank that was so steep, scrambling skills were needed (what's a lovely river walk without a little cliff climbing involved?). Once on top of the river bank we managed to succeed in making some distance (about 5 metres) before the entire trail just disappeared. Literally.

Here we are on the river's edge where the water is a good 30ft below and the entire trail has completely detached form the edge of land mass and has joined with the river bed. The trail that was is no more. And Alex and I had nowhere to go. We were fenced in - literally. In a rebellious attempt to continue onwards, we refused the option of backtracking the way we came. And so - as has become the way of Te Araroa - we had no choice but to climb the farmer's fence. A lovely barbed wire one.

Over our packs went and then in a delicate show of balance, patience and experience (this wasn't our first time), we each made it over the fence. Only to be faced with the next one. Electric. We slide our packs under the buzzing wire and followed suit on our bellies, avoiding the wire above. Once we were clear of the fence and dusted off our clothes, we strapped on our packs only to turn around and have to face the field of bulls we were now in. Only slightly ironic that we were now between Bulls and Fielding. Thank you Te Araroa.

Fortunately nothing came of the bulls as they were all still dazed and confused at watching us strange creatures master the security system that traps them in everyday. That being said, by the time Alex and I managed to find our way back to the road we discovered we had wasted nearly 1.5hrs of our time to maybe avoid 30min of road walking. But hey - at least we got the thrill of nearly dying (again) to remember. 

And so I suppose the moral of the story (or at least this chapter) is that Te Araroa Trail is not exactly what I expected it to be. I suppose that most of that can be attributed to the fact that it hasn't officially opened yet - but the question of IF it will ever be ready remains in my mind.

I have huge respect for Te Araroa Trust and all the volunteers that have given their time, money and energy to developing this new long distance trail. It is a mammoth project to take on and I can't say I blame it for taking the years that it has to become this developed thusfar. BUT - that is the magic word here - in trekking this trail to the point I have, it leaves me to question if there will ever be a day when the trail is completely up-to-date. Or if there will be a day that it has been even maintained. I have lost track of the number of times that the Te Araroa Trust website notes and the actual trail do not match up. I can't remember how many hours have been wasted when the Te Araroa Trail signs have been misleading, causing us to backtrack and reroute. My brain fights to forget the numerous near serious injury and/or death moments in which my life flashes before my eyes all because no one has bothered to check that the trail section is still safe to walk. Not to mention the countless times I wish we had a helicopter on standby because the trail section has become near unwalkable due to no one maintaining it in the last couple of years.

Sure - Te Araroa Trail is not built for the average day trekker. It's not designed to be easy. And I'm all for adventure and pushing myself to the limit, but there comes a point when I sometimes do wonder why I'm following a trail that causes me to trek multiple days on the road only to be led to farmland on a trail that is so difficult to navigate that essentially it's not even there.

And so - with that all in mind - I have titled this entry as such because it's true. Any portion of the Te Araroa Trail we've come across that is built, maintained and/or otherwise by DOC has been incredibly reliable in comparison to our expectations. If they say it will take 5hrs - it takes 5hrs. Not 8. Not 2. if they say it's tough terrain - I can expect to break a good sweat. If they say the area is hazardous due to slips, unmaintained sections and otherwise - I am grateful to know what to look out for.

And maybe the only difference in all of this is that Te Araroa Trail is not finished. Maybe the issues Alex and I have come across will subside over time as improvements are made. Who knows. All I know is that Alex and I have survived thusfar and are a mere 2 days from Wellington and it feels pretty awesome.


TOTAL = 1732 KM

Just Around the Riverbend

As I think back to the past few weeks in all Alex and I have been through, it feels as though our time of immense struggle with completing the trek is a world away. My time of tears and frustration over feeling stuck in a journey I no longer wanted to continue reflects something of a bad dream that has now faded into a distant memory. Now I sit here in the back garden of a local hostel in Whanganui, a fresh mug of OJ at hand and contemplate the adventures that have been had and those that are just around the riverbend.

After leaving the Tongariro National Park on December 29, Alex and I quickly worked our way to Whakahoro where we enjoyed the hot summer sun as we lazed outside the local DOC hut, filling in our many white bits and relishing the fact that we were finally ahead of schedule. Our journey along the Mangaurua Track the following days led us along a river as we admired the towering mountains around us, thoroughly enjoying the fact that we didn't have to climb a single one of them for once. It felt amazing to finally be working our way along trails I could confidently enjoy without fear of rounding the next corner only to come face to face with a wall of gorse, mountain slip to climb over or other such unpleasantries.

Alex and I quietly celebrated New Year's Eve at our chosen campspot at Johnson's Campsite in the bush. Shaded by a giant tree, we spent the afternoon relaxing the hours away, occassionally discussing our New Year's resolutions and such before we crawled into our sleeping bags by 8pm. It was time for lights out. It was time to face the new year.

And face the new year we did. 2011 started with a bang - us walking the remaining 4.5hrs to get to Mangapurua Landing where we met Joe from Bridge to Nowhere who had brought our hired canoe for us to get down the river. It is at this point during Te Araroa of which the only way to continue along the trail is to somehow get down the river. We had opted for a 2-day freedom canoe hire and were thrilled that we managed to be able to do it as one of our first acts of 2011.

Once we rearranged our gear so that the most critical items were carefully stored in waterproof drums, we securred everything to the canoe with rope and hopped in after a few quick tips from Joe and then we were on our way down the river. Aiming to paddle as little as possible, I was able to reflect on what it meant now that we had come this far. Now that we had gotten to the famous Whanganui River and that we were starting a brand new year by canoing down it. The minutes drifted into hours as we floated down the wide expanse of water, doing our best to remain upright through the random patches of minor rapids along the way. It was refreshing and uplifting to have made it to where we were. To drift along and be in awe at some of the most beautiful scenery I have yet seen in New Zealand. To reflect on how similar the river was to our trek. To life. To how everything mirrored the river we were on - we just never knew what was around the river bend.

And I still don't know what's around that river bend. After our two days of blissful river travel, we were back to walking our way along Te Araroa and chatting about the complexities of our life on the trail. Yesterday we reached Whanganui. Not actually on the trail, we opted to stopping in the small city to top up on supplies and have a much-needed rest day after our 7 days of straight travel. We had previously decided this and had arrived in town estatic over the possibility of being able to stock up on new free ziploc bags from the bulk food isle, have showers and wash our clothes.

JANUARY 3/11 . DAY #81 . Yet another day of trekking and I am still in the same clothes. Today i spent my time dreaming about what it will be like to actually get everything washed again. Last time I did that was when Alex and I had first arrived in Hamilton - November 30. It's hard to believe that it's been over a month since my clothes have been properly washed - and I don't even notice them smelling anymore. I reckon they've just gone beyond smelling. Either that or people are will be in for the shock of their life when they catch a wiff of us strolling our way into Whanganui tomorrow. It's all part of the adventure eh?

I suppose you could say that being okay with not washing clothes (via the machine) for over a month just goes to show that Alex and I have really gotten used to the whole trekking life. I'm not even getting food cravings like I used to either - it's very strange to be at this point. I mean - even today - we were able to crank out more than 30km before 1:30pm - including breaks every hour. We figured out that we were going 6km/hr today, which is our fastest speed yet! Ironically, it didn't even feel that fast - both Alex and I figured our high fitness levels paired with lighter packs were to blame. Go figure.

Needless to say, upon reaching Whanganui, I fell completely in love with the historical coastal city and felt my mind drift to the possibility of what it would be like to come back to work and live in such a place when I finish this trek. But admist the day dreaming, there was things to do, places to go and people to see - most importantly - Alex and I had some serious laundry to get done. Once our tent was set up in the local backpacker's garden, we took to roaming the local streets still wearing our very dirty trekking clothes in search for a cheap clothing store to buy a $10 outfit to wear while washing absolutely everything we owned. Upon looking through many clothing racks, the best we could find was a deal on some men's t-shirts for $9 each. We opted for sizes about a million times too big just so the shirts would cover us like a mini-dress. And then we went back to have showers and shove absolutely everything we owned in the washing machine. Fortunately the hostel had some spare towels we could use to dry ourselves off from the shower (our towels needed to be washed as well) and then use to cover up our bottom halves as we literally had nothing left to use.

The rest of the day was spent like that, chilling out in an oversized t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the bottom tied in a knot with our towels secured around our waists (I'd love to see what a fashion critic would  have to say about our choice of laundry-day outfits). It was a good day. A very good day.

But then today I went around the next riverbend and was in for a big surprise when I went to buy a few groceries and my card was declined. I figured it was yet another machine being finnicky with the fact that my card is linked to an overseas (Australian) account (something of which New Zealand is trying to fix in preparation for the hoards of tourists coming with their foreign cards for the World Cup). So I went to the nearest ATM to get cash out. The ATM was kind to inform me that I had insufficient funds. So I printed a receipt of my balance and was completely at a loss for words when it showed the measely amount of $6.08 in my account. Joy.

While growing up people are quick to use the metaphor that when you fall down, it's important to get back up and try again. What I have never quite figured out is how many times do you allow yourself to fall before enough is enough? It's easy to say never. It's easy to say never give up. Don't quit. Refuse to back down. Keep on going. Keep on trying. Keep on pressing on. It's easy to say all that when there is no risk of falling again. When sitting in the comfort of familiar surroundings. When amongst friends and family. When in the security of a house to call home. When the sun is shining brightly and there is no sign of a storm ahead. It is easy to say all that - but to do it is an entirely different story. And I can't say I quite have an answer for it yet.

This isn't my stopping point. This is my point of no return. This isn't where I begin to cry and say enough is enough. This is when I brush off the dirt and grit through the pain as I walk on. This isn't where enough is enough. It's never enough until I finish what I started and I'm surely not done yet.

That being said, I do not know what is next to face around the riverbend. My gear is hanging in there - barely. I have enough funds to move around to keep me going - but till Bluff? Nobody knows. Heaven knows what my body has endured to get to this point and all I can say is that I will take it one day at a time and know that each day I get further along, I get closer to reaching my goal. I started this for a reason and to give up now would make everything up to this point be for nothing. I didn't come this far along in my journey to just let everything slip through my fingers.

But that doesn't make it any less scary. I have no idea what is next around the riverbend. No clue at all. All I can hope is that maybe, just maybe this time I will stay up on that horse - on that bike - on that trail and not fall. Maybe this will be the time I will break free of all the stumbles and struggles and be able to spread my wings and fly. Maybe this time will be the last time. It is that hope that keeps me going. All I know is that it's just around the riverbend.




** NOTE: Photos will be added to this blog at a later date

Tis the Season

DECEMBER 28/10 . DAY #75 .

Here at the YHA Backpackers tucked within the National Park (Tongariro) things are feeling pretty cozy as the rain pelts down outside. Fortunately, the ugly weather is meant to pass by the end of today. I don't know what I'd do if I had to face walking in rain like the last stretch again.

Bog Inn Hut lived up to its name as Alex and I ended up spending a total of 3 nights there - partly because of the rain. Partly because of upset stomachs. The first day was alright as we had planned to rest up for the day (after 5 days of pushing hard) and then head in deeper within the Pureora Forest on route to Tongariro. But the second morning came and there was still rain (day #7, in fact) and both Alex and myself had upset stomachs (mine worse from the day before) that sent us running to the loo every few minutes. That combined with no motivation to trek - well, we hopped straight back into bed for the day.

As December 22 wore on, our spirits dampened with the rain. I can only speak for myself when I say that I felt stuck - "bogged in," if you will. I felt trapped in every sense of the word. The last weeks worth of tramping had gotten to me in the worst way and I had had enough. I truely wanted to be done - but I didn't see any way out. I didn't want to quit.

So, instead, I wallowed in my self pity, consumed with thoughts of the terrible weather and my overall frustration at wanting to finish the trek so badly, but being so far away from doing so that the finish line seemed impossible to cross. It would have been so easy that day to give up. It would habe been so easy to throw in the towel and tell Alex I had had enough and wanted to be done. I was tired of the rain. I was tired of the walking. I was tired of trying to conquor a trail whose difficult terrain could bring a full fledged army sobbing to their knees. I was tired of it all. Broke. Sick. Sore. Tired. Period.

But I couldn't quit. Even more than the frustration of knowing there was still so much to do to finish walking, I couldn't face the thought of actually quitting. I couldn't imagine what I would say to everyone when they'd ask me why I didn't go on. I knew I would be haunted for the rest of my life if I didn't finish what I had started. The worst of it is that there is not even an adequate way of describing the low point I was at that day without making it sound as though I'm a wimpy girl whining over a little rain and bad luck. How DOES one begin to describe what makes them feel like curling up in a ball and letting the world pass them by? It wasn't as though something significantly major had happened to make me feel that way. It was all the little things. It was the fact that I could see my bank account getting lower and lower in its total sum and there was nothing I could do about it. It was the day after day routines that resulted in boredom. It was the terrain that wouldn't give up. The vines. The blackberry bushes. The thornbushes. The gorse. The countless other bushes and plants who actually appear to have an attack planned out in order to defeat all trekkers passing by. It was me being sick. Us being behind. Even the fact that our lighter broke and our matches wouldn't light played a part in it all.

But I refused to quit. Alex refused to give up as well. And so we put our heads together to try and come up with a plan on how we could push our bodies just a little bit harder in order to make up for lost time and get us to Wellington in time for our ferry crossing on January 22.

And then December 23 happened. Alex and I woke at our normal time, raring to go for sunrise. Only issue was that my stomach didn't agree with our plans. What had begun as a simple case of an upset stomach had turned for the worse, as every few minutes my stomach would knot up with fiery pain and in between those moments I'd be running to the loo in order to relive my body of everything from the inside. Topped off with being so nauseous that I couldn't even contemplate the idea of food - it was cause to start worrying.

So we went with a Plan B. Reroute off the mountains to the road and hitch to the nearest town for a doctor. The only issue was that the closest place to access the road from the trail was on the east side of the forest. Our maps showed sections of the west only. Not only were we not sure of how to access the main highway from where we were, but we were unable to figure out where the nearest town was from there.

As it were, Alex and I took the chance and walked our way into the unknown, me ripping my pack off every so often to hobble into the bush for what Alex would call a "butt explosion." We were eventually able to get cell reception in order to call DOC to direct us through the maze of forestry roads to the main highway. They responded by contacting one of the local workers in the area to come and pick us up and even drive us to the nearest town (Mangakino) which was 30 minute drive away.

Before I knew it, I was in the doctor's office being informed that I had Giardia, a water-borne parasite found in New Zealand's rivers and such. The half a cup of untreated water I had drank 3 days earlier wasn't sounding like such a brilliant idea anymore.

Even still, I was happy to finally have a solution for my issues. I still had a problem though - no where in the entire town took credit cards as payment and the ATM wouldn't accept my Australian bank card. Between the 2 of us, Alex and I had about $5 cash to our names - there was no way we could pay for accommodation in the town and it was too late in the day to walk our way out in order to freedom camp.

In sorting out our delemma, the doctor realized our situation and generously offered to drive us to anywhere on her way home to Hamilton after work. We gladly accepted and found ourselves arriving shortly after back in Te Kuiti, where we had been only 7 days prior. As if our spirits couldn't be dampened further, it was rather depressing to drive back past all the places we had walked only to arrive where we had set off from a week prior. We had officially done a full loop. It honestly felt as though we had arrived back at square one and the feeling wasn't all too great.

But we chose to look on the bright side. The first time we had been in Te Kuiti, it marked the start of our mental motivation downslide. We had been granted a second chance. A "do-over." We were determined to do it our way.

And so - given we had already staked out Te Kuiti's layout the week before - we figured we'd make use of the New World supermarket down the road and celebrate Christmas the way we had been envisioning for so long. I only crossed my fingers in hope that my stomach would behave on the meds so I could fully enjoy the food we were to eat.



Alex digging into our Christmas feast

 And eat we did. Alex and I made the day as special as we could - combining food ideas from her home and mine. We managed to get a roast chicken with stuffing, potatoes (mashed and roasted), gravy cooked veggies, dinner bun and mince pies (with custard) for desert. It was beautiful and everything we had hoped for.

The Christmas celebrations didn't end there either. The next morning (December 24) we dished into some cinammon fruit loaf, mandarin oranges, yogurt and OJ. Then we shipped off a bunch of unnecessary gear to Wellington in order to lighten our packs, thereby allowing us to go further each day, put on our Santa's hats and stuck our thumbs out in hopes for a ride back to where we needed to be.

By December 25, things continued to work for us as we found ourselves at Tongariro admist an astounding number of tourists. After being on relatively unuseed trails for so long, it was almost a culture shock to be in and amongst so many hikers that we were either passing someone or being passed every few minutes.

And so we walked, climbing what seemed to be a million stairs to get to the top. The ridge line we walked was narrow and steep, wind gusts threatening to blow us over the edge to the inactive volcanic craters below. What little visibility we had only allowed the imagination to run wild on what could be.

Me at the Emerald Lakes, Tongariro Crossing

But then we reached the top of the mountain and the clouds broke, providing us with one of the most saught after views in New Zealand. We had made it to Tongariro and it was well worth it. The Blue Lake and Emerald Lakes appeared to glow in the vibrant blues and greens while the enormous volcanic mountains towered above. Alex and I made our way down the other side to Oturere Hut (not on Te Araroa Trail) in order to further celebrate Christmas nice and cozy and warm within the back country shelter for the night.

The following 2 days went smooth as well, Alex and I making our way to the Tongariro National Park. We found out about the weather and when it was known today would be rather unwalkable due to the rain and wind, we decided to stay and extra night. It helped knowing the YHA comes complete with a TV lounge, hot showers and a full scale rock climbing wall. We're set for the day.

Next stop: Whanganui River.


TOTAL: 1300 KM

Reality - Check, Please!

DECEMBER 22/10 . DAY #69 .

It's nearly Christmas and Alex and I have yet to find a proper Christmas tree. We don't even know exactly where we'll be come the famously celebrated holiday. Instead, we're currently hunkered down in a hut in the middle of nowhere trying desperately to dry out everything from the last 5 days of torrential rain and reflecting on the realization and acceptance that we are nowhere near Wellington as we thought we'd be.

Leaving Hamilton was almost like admitting defeat, but vainly going onwards in hopes that there still may be a chance for us to come out on top. Or at least that's how I saw it.



DOC goat hunters - Stu, James, Paul & Tame (L-R)

 Getting to Hamilton had been pure struggle - mentally, that is. I feared that the State Highway 1 would haunt me in my dreams and I still loathe the thought of ever leaving to walk its narrow shoulder again. Even still, I was happy to have made it to Hamilton if only to find out that in our initial preparations for this journey we had miscalculated the amount of time it'd take to get to Wellington. We now face at least 7 more days of walking just to finish the North island. It might not seem like a lot, but when carrying a pack and walking for 8 hrs of each of those days - well, let's just say the idea of reaching Bluff appeared to be near ridiculous.

And it still feels that way. After making our way from Hamilton to Pirongia where we happened upon a hut being well hosted by a handful of DOC goat hunters. After trekking in the rain all day, their generosity of jelly beans and overall hospitality was much appreciated.



One of the few largely visible signs

 The next morning Alex and I set off to face our one and only day of sun admiste what would soon be our longest stretch of rain yet. Over farmland, along roadside and through bushes we walked our way to Te Kuiti completely drenched from the day of rain. That continued to be the pattern of our lives for the next few days to Bog Inn Hut in Pureora Forest. One day of rain turned into 2 which turned into 3 and then 4. A long stretch of narrowly escaping death along a badly maintained trail left me questioning if I even wanted to continue one more day. Waking up to put on wet clothes from head to toe the following day didn't help matters much.

And now we have made it to Bog Inn Hut. It's day $6 of rain. They tell us that the weather is meant to clear, but the skies continue to be grey. It's how I feel inside. Maybe it's because it's so close to Christmas and we're essentially stuck in the bush. Maybe it's because I'm tired of being wet from the rain. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's the fact that Wellington (let alone Bluff) still seems so far away.

Today Alex and I worked out our route to Wellington. It's going to take us an estimated 28 days. We have 29 days until our ferry to the South island leaves. It's all good on paper until you add rest days, weather days and internet days in there. What at one point appeared to be a possible goal now seems out of reach. Heaven knows if we'll ever make it to see the end.


TOTAL: 1224 KM