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