Down the Home Stretch?

February 17/11 . DAY #126 . 4 KM .

Our dinner spot after a major river crossing

Today was one for the books. Kind of. We were on a mission to get to Arthur's Pass so that would could pick up our Back Country Cuisine and then hitch to Greymouth in order to get groceries and find Alex a physio for her foot.

Whatever has happened to Alex's foot has appeared to be getting worse as time has gone on. It's worrying as I don't like the idea that we don't know what's gone on to make it go that way. Tomorrow is Alex's appointment and I'm worried of the outcome. I reckon it may be a repeat of Ahipara. Ordered to rest until the swelling goes down.

As it is though, instead of walking in to Arthur's Pass, we hitched there due to Alex's foot causing too much pain for her to be walking at all. From there we then hitched to Greymouth. We managed to score an awesome place at one of the local hostels, Neptune's, where there's free internet and cheap laundry. It's been great here, but I'm still holding my breath for tomorrow. We'll see...


So Greymouth it is. This is now our fifth day here and it's still unclear as to when we'll be heading onwards. It's difficult to know that we are starting to see the end (Bluff) in sight and yet there is nothing making us get there any sooner. We've estimated that we have about 6 weeks more of tramping to go, but that's 6 weeks of tramping and we're not exactly doing that at the minute.

The swelling of Alex's foot has gone down considerably since arriving here, though the strict diet of RICE (rest, ice, compression and elevation) is wrecking havoc on Alex's drive to do something. Anything. 

The physio Alex went to a few days back stated that it could be an injury to do with one of her tendons. Or not. It could be a stress fracture. Or not. It could be anything, really - but Alex would need an X-Ray to find out. As that procedure includes a hefty price tag, we opted to wait out the swelling in hopes that the pain would go down as well with time.

As difficult as it's been having yet another injury to wait out, being here in Greymouth has helped considerably. As the largest city on the west coast of New Zealand's south island and was the home to many of the local miners who died a few months ago in the tragic mine explosion before Christmas. The longer we stay here, the more like home this place feels.


February 19/11 . DAY #128 . REST DAY #33 .

On route to Arthur's Pass I discover we've made it to Bluff

So - here we are. Our 3rd day in Greymouth and I'm surprised at how relaxed I feel for the fact that we technically shouldn't be here. We are here only so Alex's foot can heal and each day we are here we run the risk of depleting what little funds we have to get us down to Bluff. We've sent food onwards already so at some point we DO have to head onwards. 

Yesterday I came to the realization that throughout this journey of Te Araroa, Alex's main challenge has been dealing with complicated injuries while my main challenge has been dealing with the possibility of not having enough money to finish the journey. If should could just pay me to heal her injuries, we'd be laughing, but unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

And so w stay here at the Neptune's hostel. Free stay for a few hours work. Free internet. Free pastries (awesome pies!) delivered from a local bakery each day. Not to mention the normal comforts of a hot shower, tea and TV. We couldn't have picked a better place to stick around. I only hope that everything else works out when it comes to moving onwards. It's all part of the adventure.


And yet, the longer I am here, the more restless I become...


February 20/11 . DAY #129 . REST DAY #34 .

It's hard. THIS is hard. Hard to be completely stopped in one place and not let myself go crazy with thoughts, dreams and ideas of what I'd do "if only." The longer I am here in Greymouth, the more inspired I get for what I hope to do when finished trekking. The clothes I'd wear. The job I'd get. The food I'd stock in my fridge. So many ideas fill my mind, I feel I may explode.

I don't even know if I'll have enough money to get down to Bluff - let alone spend endless days in Greymouth. I see all these things around me that inspire me and it makes me want more - want so much more. Everything - even. It's not greedy. Just inspired. Right now I feel like someone pointed a remote control at my life and pressed the pause button. Maybe Alex and I have come here to learn something. Maybe it all means something. Maybe it doesn't. I haven't a clue other than to know that everything is at a standstill. Though I feel incredibly comfortable and relaxed here, I am hoping something happens soon. My fingers are crossed that Alex's food heals up and we can head on our way. Time will tell...

Alex working to get us a ride

It's comforting to know that Alex's foot no longer looks like an inflated surgical glove. The bones and muscles are beginning to have more definition. But we still have to wait as not all the swelling has gone and when she walks for any length of time it gets worse. Heaven knows what would happen should she try walking with a 20kg pack on.

One day at a time is all we keep saying. Bluff is in sight and yet we still have a ways to go. The adventure isn't over yet and though I'm excited to get going again, it's been nice to explore an area of New Zealand not on Te Araroa's map in thorough detail.

Life isn't about the destination, but the journey it takes to get there.     

** NOTE: This is the end of this segment of blogs for now. From this point on, it will be a while for me to be able to update our progress again due to the remote nature of the south island. Look forward to blogs updates in the future as they WILL come eventually!

All We Need Is Love

February 11/11 . DAY #120 . 4 KM .

It feels as though our time in Hanmer Springs was over in a blink of an eye. It was one of the few times where I just wasn't ready for our rest day to be over and I almost wished my knees ached more severely from overuse than what they did, just to have an excuse to stay longer in the cute mountain town. Hanmer Springs had this really chilled out feel to the place - touristy enough to have a bit of a buzz, but not enough to be totally tacky. Needless to say - I really liked it there.

But now we are back on the trail again - not much further from Boyle Village as it took us nearly all day just to hitch our way back to the trail. It feels as though Hanmer Springs never happened.

Now we have set up camp only a couple KM from Boyle Village along the river. It's nice to know that we're setting out again to make some distance, but it almost feels as though the South Island is flying past us too fast. It's amazing to think that Arthur's Pass will be our next stop - we're going to be in Bluff in no time!!


Leaving our sandfly-ridden camp spot the following morning, David, Alex and I made our way onwards to Arthur's Pass. Gone were the intimidating mountain climbs that left me wondering if I would live to see another day. Instead, this section of the trail wove deep within valleys where the most climbing we'd have to do was 100m over the course of 1KM. On either side of our trail mountains towered majestically overhead. The 3 of us followed our trail through the grasses of the valley, crossing small streams and rivers as we eventually made our way to No. 3 Hut on February 13/11.

Early morning sunrise

As it happened, it was David's birthday and so we celebrated in surprising him with none other than some Back Country Cuisine deserts of apple pie and apricot crumble. Hard to go with anything else considering we were a couple days into the bush. That and the idea of coming up with a surprise for someone you spend nearly 24 hours a day with can be incredibly complicated. And so freeze-dried deserts it was.

Waking up the next day (Valentine's Day), Alex and I were incredibly reluctant to pack up and move on. After a few moments of whispering to each other in the dark we decided to stay at the cute No. 3 Hut. Because it was going to be a sunny day. Because we liked the hut. Because we were tired of packing up every day. Because Alex's foot was injured from the previous day and needed rest. And most of all - just because we could.

One minor detail - David. When the 3 of us initially met in Wellington we agreed to do the Richmond Ranges together as it was claimed to be both the most remote and difficult section of the south island. To think of facing that portion of Te Araroa Trail as an individual was not ideal. So when David contacted us to ask to join our team of 2, Alex and I agreed. Once the Richmond Ranges was over, we re-evaluated how everything was going and made the decision to take it day-by-day. No promises. No attachments. No committments.

And so on the big V-Day Alex and I said goodbye to David. He packed his things and left the homely surrounds of No. 3 Hut. The moment the door shut behind him I let out a sigh of relief - I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath. Though it was brilliant to get to know another Te Araroa Tramper - a local Kiwi at that - it was nice to know it was back to just Alex and I. David had been a lovely addition to mine and Alex's life on the trail and it was good to part ways.

David had been a man of many words. One of many thoughts to share. Our time with him was spent learning of all the information David had filed away in every crevice of his well-stocked mind. I felt as though I learned so much from him that it was more than just as crash course in New Zealand life. It was a master's degree.

No. 3 Hut

Our first term in the master's degree happened to focus mostly on Wellington. Our daily schedule consisted of such classes like Wellington 101, Windy Weather 216, Tourism Hot Spots 223 and Happening History 253. As Alex and I had unknowingly signed up for the fast tracked program, classes ran from dawn to dusk with hardly even a break to go to the toilet. Each morning I would roll out of bed to be faced with our professor of one who would be eager to ensure that I would be armed with adequate information so I could have a hope of passing the Cook Strait exam. Without a high grade I would not be prepared to take on the south island and classes that came with that.

And so I did my best to pay attention at all my classes, but it was difficult to keep up with the fast-talking professor whose endless stream of information left my head pounding by the time my head crashed on my pillow each night. Fortunately, by the time our exam time came, I was informed that Alex and I could help each other out for the answers. It was a collaborative effort and we ended up passing with flying colours. It was then, and only then, that we were able to take a bit of a break (3 hours) and enjoy our ride on the Interislander Ferry to Picton in the south island.

From there our schedule was back to full-time classes and I found it difficult to keep up. Looking back on that first term it boggles my mind on how I was able to keep up. I had not been in school for a while so my information-retaining ability was a little rusty. Concepts, facts and information was thrown so fast my way that I had trouble taking in the new scenery of the south island. Instead I was seeing it from someone else's knowledgeable eyes - our professor, David.

On route to Locke Stream Hut

In Picton, Alex and I sorted out our schedule only to find we would be fully booked through the duration of our journey. We woke up to start learning by 6:00am with Army Practices 156. My eyes were still blurry by the time we moved into Family Connections 123 at 8:30am. From there it was a heavy schedule of learning to lunch with Army Practices 256 and 356. After gobbling down a One Square Meal and a handful of scroggin (trail mix), it was back to learning with Birds and the Bees 223. There was no time for a break between that and Mountain Names 105 as we compiled our study notes while attempting to forge across thigh-deep rivers.

David fervently chucked fast facts over his shoulder as he led our trio along the trail during Useless Information 316 (1:30pm-3:30pm). Had I realized the intensity of our course load, I would have worried more about having a pen and paper at hand then how to get past a fallen tree blocking our path. By the time we reached our destination for the day, I was ready for a nap - but school wasn't dismissed yet and Alex and I still had much to learn.

3:30-4:30pm was spent learning of the types of moss, why there are so many wasps along the trail and what "true right" and "true left" means with regards to rivers in New Zealand Nature 100. Over the course of an early dinner our studies continued in Weather 412 where Alex and I attempted to figure out the difference between northerly and southerly winds, the dangers of flooded rivers, rain patterns and how to do a proper risk assessment. And that wasn't even near the end of our day. The two curve ball courses that I was neither prepared for or had any hope of doing well was our history course called Oliver's Last Decade 144 and course on travel called London in Detail 432. By the time dusk arrived, my brain felt fried and I took the first opportunity I could to break free of the steady stream of lectures in order to crawl into my sleeping bag and try to get enough rest before I knew I had to wake up the next morning and do it all again.

By the time Valentine's Day came and I watched David put on his trekking hat for the last time, I was thrilled that Alex and I had survived our Master's in New Zealand Life. We had done it. Graduated. We were free - no more school. No more classes. No more lectures. No more late night studying or writing things on my arm to remember. We were free from it all and it felt good.

Our last day at No. 3 Hut was spent celebrating our graduation in pure, blissful silence. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go and nothing new to learn. It was beautiful.

Unfortunately, our postgrad lives took a turn for the worse when we woke up to find Alex's foot had not improved. It had gotten worse. All we knew was that it could be an injury of a ligament, tendon, muscle, bone or other tissue. So pretty much anything. Apparently it hurt. We needed a Plan B and by the time we made it to Locke Stream Hut - we had one.


February 15/11 . DAY #124 . 15 KM .

Today we found a little piece of heaven on earth and it feels so brilliant that I want this day to last forever. We've made it to Locke Stream Hut and decided to stay the night rather than forge ahead another possible 3 hours to Kiwi Hut. And I'm glad for that as this hut was more than I expected.

View from Locke Stream Hut

Maybe it's the fact that David is no longer trekking with us and today marked the first day trekking with just Alex and myself (much girl-chat was had). Maybe it's the gorgeous weather today with the bright blue sky and warm sun. Maybe it's that the trail today was absolutely stunning with such a vast array of vegetation that I remained in excited anticipation of what's around the next corner. Maybe it's because there's hardly a sandfly to be seen here and Alex and I spent the afternoon freely outside. Maybe it's that we're so close to Arthur's Pass. Maybe it's everything and nothing all at the same time.

I quite frankly do not care what it is that makes today and this hut in particular feel so magical - it just is. The only thing I can hope for is for Alex's foot to heal okay. That's our major reason for stopping here for the night. My fingers are crossed for it to fix itself and get strong again. Bluff is all too close to be held up now.


And so we rerouted to the State Highway in order to save a day and get to Arthur's Pass a little easier. All we had to do was cross a major river in order to get there. No big deal right? The brief thought flew through my head at the end of our day on February 16 that while everyone else is busy finishing up their day at the office, Alex and I finish our day by linking arms, stepping into the fast-flowing freezing waters and carefully take steps to get across the river without slipping up. One wrong move and we'd add to the number of people who die every year by drowning in New Zealand's rivers. Fortunately that day was not our day and we were able to make camp on the other side with the hope of getting to Arthur's Pass the next day.

The adventure continues... 

Alpine Enough For Ya?

The lake at St. Arnaud

After a much-needed rest day in St. Arnaud, Alex, David and I packed up our bags and trekked onwards - onroute to our next major destination - Boyle Village. Now, when they say Boyle Village, it isn't so much of a village or even a settlement of any kind. It's more of just an outdoor education centre stuck on the side of the State Highway and that's it. Not even any houses nearby. Just the one building. As such, we set off planning to hitch into the next nearest town of Hanmer Springs in order to restock up on food and actually get a decent fix of civilization. And so we trekked onwards, reaching a gorgeous camp spot along a river for the first night where we lazed in the sun until it went away and the sandflies came out in full force. It was sometime around then that I added up the kilometres that Alex and I had walked for the day and realized that we had broken past our 2000km mark. As crazy as it was to think that we had come that far, I began to think of how little we had left to do. And I suppose that just makes me crazy as 1000km is not that little of distance at all.

As it were, the next day (February 4) we made it to Upper Traverse Hut which was tucked away in the end of the valley before the Traverse pass over to the otherside. The afternoon spent hanging out with some other trekkers out to do a multiday journey before we woke to make it past Traverse Pass in the early hours of the morning onroute to Blue Lake Hut. Weaving in and around trees and boulders blanketed with moss and vines we followed the flow of the river up to its source - Blue Lake. Reaching the hut that afternoon we were all hot and sweaty and in much need of a wash. The lake was glistening in vibrant blues and greens and was too much of a temptation to not take a dip.

The other side of Traverse Pass

Our idea of full submersion was quickly altered when we toed the shallow part of the cold waters. Given our higher altitude the water seemed to be on the brink of being ice. We managed to group ourselves on a rock a quick wade into the lack where the three of us perched on its edge and washed a limb at a time without risking the numbness that would quickly overcome us should we stay in longer than 2 min.

February 6 we woke up and got all pumped for our big day. We had to climb Waiau Pass and it was said to be one of the most difficult parts of the section and Te Araroa Trail. But we were ready. If only we could have said the same about the weather. All our things packed up, the three of us opened the front door to the hut and found ourselves unable to see more than 3 feet in front of us. It was a complete whiteout of cloud. To top it off the rain continued to pelt down and wasn't showing signs of giving up. It was time for a Plan B. We opted to wait out the weather until 10am and if it didn't look like it was getting better then we'd have to try again the next morning. Visibility was essential for the next bit.

As glad as I was to have the hut as a shelter for the day, it was hard to have to think of sitting around all day looking out the window at the miserable weather. The thought of cabin fever crossed my mind and through chatting about it, it seemed as though David and Alex were having the same thoughts. We needed a bigger plan than just simply warming ourselves by the fire and reading through ever inch of 10-year-old magazines that happened to have been left behind in the hut. Slowly, an idea formed. We opted to do a little workout session to get the blood pumping and give us something to do without completely tiring us out. All we had to do was first wait to see if the weather would clear up.

It didn't.

So we switched gears and stopped worrying about the rain pouring down and the clouds hanging low. The tables in the middle of the hut were pushed to the side and we created space in the 16 bunk hut for three stations. Each of us came up with exercises for each station and we put together a little circuit where we continuous went around to each station doing a certain amount of reps of each exercise. Before long the blood was pumping and the sweat was pouring. It felt amazing to be using different muscle groups to what we normally have been when trekking. It was awesome to be doing something different. The only thought that crossed my mind was how ridiculous we would have looked should someone have come up to the hut at that point in time. The only thing we were missing was some pumping tunes - we made do.

After circuit training we did a little yoga and then resorted the hut back to its original state before settling into a slow afternoon of munching on food, doing crosswords and reading magazines. Eventually other trekkers we had met at Upper Traverse Hut came up and things became more lively as we had more people to chat up. As nice as it was the back of my mind was eagerly awaiting an appropriate time to be able to go to sleep so I could make the next day come quicker. I was itching to be able to get over Waiau Pass and continue our journey to Boyle Village.


January 7/11 . DAY #116 . 16KM .

Today we peered out of the windows from Blue Lake Hut into the dark morning only to find that the clouds hadn't lifted and the rain hadn't stopped. It wasn't looking good for us to be able to go over Waiau Pass. We opted to wait it out to see if it would lesson as the morning got going and fortunately it did. By 7:40am David, Alex and I said goodbye to all the other trekkers rising from their warm sleeping bags and started on our way to Lake Constance.

The rain began to cease completely and patches of blue sky peeked through the cloud. Climbing up to Lake Constance I found I was getting rather warm in my rain jacket that apparently wasn't needed and so I gladly peeled it off with the brief thought that we might be in for a beautiful day weather-wise. The thought didn't last long as when we reached Lake Constance shortly after, the rain started up again along with a chilly southerly wind. But we still had hope that the weather was clearly so we pressed on.

Alex and me at the top of Waiau Pass

The only way around Lake Constance was to climb the rocky slips and bluffs of the surrounding mountains in order to reach the other side. And so we did, balancing on rocks that formed a nearly invisible trail. We picked up spear-shaped pieces of rocks to hold in our hands nearest the mountain side should we start sliding down the mountain and need something to dig into the shale and dirt to stop the neverending fall to the bottom.

Climbing down a small stream along a bluff, we managed to make it safely to the shoreline of Lake Constance without incident and proceeded to carry on our way, only realizing shortly after that the bluff we just climbed down was blocking most of the wind barrelling through the small valley. It was cold. It was constant. It made me wonder if we were really able to be doing the pass - visions of doing the ridgeline around Mt. Elis flashed through my mind.

After a break behind a massive boulder that was blocking most of the wind, David, Alex and I looked at each other and decided to press on. The clouds were lifting and we had already put in enough time to figure it couldn't get much worse. We could do it. Slow and steady. One step at a time. We would press on.

Wind blowing, rain falling, clouds threatening to make everything disappear - we forged onwards to the base of Waiau Pass. I stopped at the bottom and looked up at where we had to go. I couldn't see the top of the mountain pass it was so high. Orange markers dotted the way up scree, loose rocks and patches of grass. I took a deep breath and started climbing. There was no turning back.

Inch by inch we made our way up to the top, stopping every so often to get a breath and wait out gusts of wind that would come blowing past us so hard that we'd have to press our bodies to the mountain side, clinging on patches of grass in hopes that these bits of vegetation would keep us from being blown away. Calves and quads quivering, we reached the top dripping wet from sweat and rain. Rain jackets zipped up to the max, I pulled my sleeves down as far as they would go, attempting to warm my fingers as they swelled in the high altitude giving me my sausage fingers or "alpine hands" as I had come to know them. 

Eventually we reached the top and had a short break where we scoffed down a muesli bar to keep us going and then we moved on. I was out of water and needed to get more in my camelback, but there was no stopping. The southerly wind would cause us to get too cold should we stop for more than 5 min and none of us liked the thought of facing hypothermia. So onwards we went - a short walk over the pass and then we were looking down the otherside. 

The clouds continued to hang low and we could only catch glimpses of the valley below, but it was enough to realize that we had a far ways to go before we would reach the bottom. Slow and steady became our motto. It was almost more difficult to be going down as up. My knees continued to cause me problems from continuously being bent to hold my weight as I slowly climbed down. The rain was so heavy that rain water poured off our marked trail in streams. Not only did we have to steady ourselves in the wind, but we also had to worry about slipping on the wet rocks that had now become part of a mini river over the mountain side. Picture rock climbing - only backwards as we were going down - a rock face nearly perfectly vertical with wind blowing you sideways as you grip the rock with numb hands and freezing cold water pours down the same rock face you are trying to cling to. That was the way of the "trail" for the next while as we eased down to flatter grounds.

What was hours later, we managed to make our way down to the main river going through the valley and - much to my surprise - none of us had fallen or slipped off the mountain as we worked our way down. Now we just had the river to worry about. Due to the excess rain, it was easy to see that the water levels were rising and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. We had one major crossing to do and then we'd be able to stick to the true right of the river as we worked our way to Caroline Bivy.

When we reached the river crossing, the three of us carefully scouted out an area of which we figured we would be able to manage crossing if we linked arms so that the three of us could do it together, but we had to be careful. River crossings is a major hazard anywhere, but particularly in New Zealand with rapid rises in water levels.

We lined up on the edge of the riverbed and linked our arms until we were as secure to each other as possible. We only had one chance to do this and it had to be right. Slowly we put one foot forward and then the other as we waded into the rushing waters to mid thigh. The cold temperature of the water did not register with me as I was only focused on getting to the other side. We would do it - there was no alternative in my head. 

By the time we reached the middle, the water had reached my butt and was pushing us so hard that every step had to be a determined effort in order to pick it up and put it down that much forward without toppling over in the current in the process. Before long we clambered up the other side of the riverbank and breathed a sigh of relief as we looked back over the rushing waters we had just crossed. We had done it and it felt good, but it wasn't something I felt like doing again anytime soon.

From there we walked our way to Caroline Bivy, having to clamber around rocks and slips, over tree trunks and around muddy sections. Eventually we arrived at the bivy which was said to be a cozy 2-bunk shelter. We didn't care - we just wanted a roof to be able to peel off our wet stuff and get warm. None of us were prepared for what met us upon arrival. DOC workers were housed up in the bivy already, meaning there was no room for us. Reluctantly we set up our tents and made the deliberate steps to get warm again. I could feel my body temperature dropping significantly as I had stopped walking, and with that my brain functioning slowing -- not to mention that though I knew I was cold, my body had stopped shivering. First signs of hypothermia had set in. 

It was a slow and almost painful process to get warm again. Up went the tent. Off came the cold and wet clothes. I carefully dried off as best I could and then slowly put on warm, dry clothes with my numb and swollen fingers. Once inside the tent it helped significantly that Alex was in there too - extra body head warmed up our little home a lot quicker. We made some tea and soup and cooked it all in our tent to heat everything up as quick as we could without burning everything down. Eventually I started to feel warm again and now we're here all huddled down in our sleeping bags fingers crossed that tomorrow will be better weatherwise. I am not looking forward to putting on wet and cold clothes first thing tomorrow morning.


Since Waiau Pass, David, Alex and I worked our way along St. James Walkway where we eventually found ourselves in Boyle Village. That was yesterday and now we are all settled here in Hanmer Springs enjoying the little mountain town from the comforts of a local campground here. As I look back over everything we have done in the south island it is amazing the adventures we have had and though I know the more difficult technical aspects of the trail are over with, there is so much more adventure to be had ahead as we work our way towards Arthur's Pass and onwards. Can't wait and yet I don't want it to end. One day at a time - to Bluff - here we come!


** NOTE: Though this blog was posted at a later date/time, it was originally written for posting on February 10/11  

Sea to Summit and Back Again

Sitting here in the comfortable shelter of the DOC campground in St. Arnaud, it is easy to look back on the days since Pelorus Bridge and feel as though it was all just a blur. The mountains. The trees. The crystal clear river waters. The horrendous rain and wind. The neverending mountain climbs. The scree, boulders, roots and mud. The birds, bees and wasps. Everything and nothing and all that was inbetween. It was an adventure of a lifetime and it was only a few days of my life. It's crazy to think that that was our intro to the south island and that there is yet so much more to come. My body and mind feels numb to the thought of what we have been through. It all began with a river. Pelorus River.


January 25/11 . DAY #103 . 27 KM .

Today we entered the forest without looking back. I woke with the feeling of excitement. This was it. It was like Christmas to think of what was yet to come and know that I truely had no idea. I only knew that I would love it and could only hope that I would be able to absorb it all - freeze it in time - so I could remember it forever.

David, Alex and I trekked our way along Pelorus River where we continued to catch glimpses of the crystal clear mountain waters as we weaved our way in and out of trees. As the afternoon wore on the sun continued to get hot, sweat dripping down every ounce of my being as I trudged my feet forward. Eventually we made it to Captian Creek Hut and though this was not our planned destination for the day, we decided to make a pit stop there and were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not only close to the river, but that it housed by the most beautiful and prestine swimming hole. We hade to do it. 

Alex crossing a river via swing bridge

The clothes came off one by one until the three of us were down to our knickers and then we went in knowing full well that it was going to freeze us senseless. By the time I got to the river's edge David and Alex were already in the water commenting endlessly on how cold it was. I took a deep breath and took the plunge. What little breath was left in my lungs was immediately gone as I began gasping for air - anything to warm up my increasingly freezing being. As the icy waters surrounded me I knew it was all or nothing. I forced myself to fill my lungs with air and then ducked under the waters, completely submerging myself. It brought me back. It brought me back to the times of swimming in mountain rivers back at home. It brought me back to the times of washing from the fresh mountain waters of the Rockies. It brought me back to home. It was home. I loved it. And I was bloody freezing.

Now we sit in Middy's Hut reflecting on the beautiful first day we've had here in the forest and contemplating what tomorrow will bring. All I can say is that I hope there is more adventure. More memories. More things that I will treasure in my experiences here on Te Araroa Trail.


January 26/11 . DAY #104 . 17 KM .

We've made it to Browning Hut and thought the kilometres don't show it - it's been a long day. Everything feels sore and tired and then some. I suppose most of that is to do with not getting much sleep last night in Middy Hut. I tossed and turned most of the night in hopes that my mind would calm down and my body cool off, but no such luck.

SO as a result - today was the day that never seemed to end. And yet we only walked 17 KM.


January 27/11 . DAY #105 . 10 KM .

Yet another sleepless night filled with mosquitoes and a stuffy hut - this morning I awoke with a feeling of complete and utter dread of the walk we had to do today. Not only did we have to walk for a full day in order to stay on schedule, but it was a day of walking up - ALL day. 900m up. Tough. There wasn't really an option for me to put up my hand and ask for a rest day. We had to keep going. Our food will only hold out so long in these mountain ranges and there isn't exactly a "get out of jail free" card to use. Weather can be tempermental and the nearest exit is a few days walk.

Starvell Hut after a 900m climb to the ridgeline

And so I packed everything up and put my boots on like every other day and the 3 of us set off again. As the theme of the day was UP, we spent our time climbing to get to the ridgeline that will be our trail for the next few days. As far as I was concerned, my body felt as though it hadn't even paused to take a breath from trekking yesterday. Every step was a complete effort.

My only saving grace was that there happened to be a hut at the top of the ridgeline where we could make it a short day and rest for the remainder of the afternoon. So now I sit here overlooking amazing views of both the valley below and the coastline (Nelson included) and it feels awesome to be here, but I only hope that by tomorrow I will feel as good as new.


January 30/11 . DAY #108 . 7 KM .

Alex, David and I have made it to Top Wairoa Hut here and decided to pack it in for the day. The wind is howling outside and we've been told some sort of storm front is predicted to be coming in with a bit of rain. Not exactly ideal when the rest of our planned route today was to head up to Mt. Elis (1615m) and rock hop our way along a majorly exposed section before making our way to the next hut. And so we wait here in the valley with hopes that by tomorrow morning mabye the worst of the weather will have passed us by.

It's amazing to me to think that we still have about 2 more days to get to St. Arnaud from here. It feels as though the last time I saw civilization was ages ago, but in reality it was only 6 days ago. So much has happened since coming to the Richmond Ranges that it's any wonder what the rest of the South Island will have in store for us.

A couple days ago (January 27) when we were all hunkered down in Starvell Hut after spending the afternoon sunbathing on top of the ridgeline, I could only imagine what the following days would bring.

January 28 I finally woke up feeling rested after having 2 nights of barely sleeping. The three of us set off along the ridgeline before many of the clouds had even begun to lift. There's something to be said about being on top of a ridgeline that high when all you can see is the mountain ranges surrounding you. Mountain after mountain stretched out before us. The valleys were so deep we couldn't see the bottoms. It was exhilerating. There will never be a single photo to sufficiently depict the view as we saw it that day.

As the day went on, we eventually reached the top of Old Man Mtn and figured we'd continue walking onwards to Rintoul Hut, surpassing our day's goal of reaching Old Man Hut. In order to do that though, we had to climb over Mt. Rintoul whose peak reached 1731m. To top it off, the entire top of the mountain was bald, only loose rocks and scree covered its surface. During lunch Alex, David and I geared up for what would be an anticipated few hours of scrambling Mt. Rintoul's surface.

And it was. By the time we reached the top of Little Rintoul (right beside Mt. Rintoul and really not so "little" at 1643m) we were finding ourselves pressed up against a rocky wall, gripping its edges as we carefully manuevered our feet along a ledge only a few inches wide. One wrong move or one large gust of wind and the weight of our packs would drag us into the depths below. I made a silent vow to myself that I wasn't going to let that happen. I only hoped Alex and David were as determined and focused as I did not want to have to go body retrieving.

Morning sun on the ridgeline

Fortunately the three of us managed to get to the other side of Little Rintoul's peak unscathed, but the adventure did not stop there. It was a mere 250m down the nearly vertical slope on the other side we had to do before then trudging up Mt. Rintoul to its peak. All on loose rock and scree. I was a little aprehensive about having to do that after already walking for nearly a full day on difficult terrain, but I didn't really clue in as to how difficult the next bit would actually be. How could I? I had never attempted such a feat before.

As it turned out - the descent of 250m proved to be one of the most challenging things I've ever had to do while trekking. Not because I have never gone down bits that steep before. Not because I have never walked on scree and loose rock before. And definitely not because I have never had to push myself at the end of a long day. It was one of the most challenging things I've had to do because it was everything put together into one and I was quite honestly scared of what the outcome would be each time I took another step down.

Alex and David managed to cruise along the barely existent trail so that I was left a fare ways back, determined not to give up though everything in my mind and body screamed otherwise. The angle of the slope was so severe that I had to maintain a permanently squatted position though my quads screamed in pain. Each step taken was a gamble on its own as I would regularly set my foot down only to find everything underneath of it move under the new weight, sliding my foot further down than I initially planned. It because a game of me against the mountain as I slowly inched my way down 250m, tears streaming down my face in tiredness, frustration and fear that I could make a mistake at any moment. It felt as though I was stuck in a bad dream and couldn't wake up. I wanted out but refused to be one of those people who freeze in fear to the point where some rescue team has to extract them from the situation.

Eventually I made it down to where Alex and David were waiting for me and after a short break we then started to make our way up Mt. Rintoul. Every step was an effort - the wind trying to topple us as we slowly inched our way up. It seemed easier and harder then going down and before long I made the final step to the peak of Mt. Rintoul. It was here that it felt as though the world had stopped. The wind stopped. I couldn't hear anything except for my own heartbeat as I took it all in.

Standing ontop of the highest point of the Richmond Alpine Track I felt as though I was on top of the world. I took a deep breath of the crisp alpine air, raised my arms and screamed out a hollar at the top of my lungs in celebration of what we'd just done. I had made it and it felt good.

From there the 3 of us took our legs of jelly down to the treeline where we settled into Rintoul Hut for the night with fingers crossed that our bodies would recover for the next days adventures. They did. Since Rintoul Hut the adventure has continued with many moments of wonder at the beauty around us. And now, here at Top Wairoa Hut we wait out some bad wind and rain in hopes that it will clear enough for us to continue. Food is getting low and though it's been fun in the Richmond Ranges, I'm ready for a little bit of civilization again. I'm ready for a hot shower and fresh food. I'm ready for a real toilet with unlimited supply of loo roll. I'm ready for St. Arnaud. I'm ready for the adventure to continue.


January 31/11 . DAY #109 . 10 KM . 

So we've made it to Hunter's Hut after a grueling 4.5hrs of battling fierce wind and rain to get here. This morning we'd woken to the wind howling and decided to wait out the weather until lunch in hopes that it would ease up. It did. Barely.

By 11:30am the three of us said goodbye to the comfortable shelter of Top Wairoa Hut and tenatively edged our way up to the ridgeline that would eventually pass Mt. Elis and then take us down to the valley on the other side. 

Just getting up to the ridgeline was a struggle as the rain pelted down on us and the wind blew so hard there was numerous times I lost my balance as I attempted to maintain my footing among the tall grasses and scattered boulders.

And then there was the ridgeline itself. I happened to be leading our trio of troops at that moment in time so I got the first taste of what was in store for us. More wind.

I came up over the top of the ridge, bent so closely to the ground that I almost was crawling just so that I could get enough power with my legs to propel myself forward. The wind was blowing directly at me - somewhere in the realm of 70-80km/hr. Once I reached the pole marker I forced myself to stand up straight and then after a quick glance backwards to ensure Alex and David had their feet still firmly on the ground, I pressed on. Only 4km to get to the treeline on the other side. 

The wind continued to try and blog me over with a considerable force as I summoned all my strength and determination to focus on the next orange pole marker threathening to disappear in the clouds swirling around. Marker to marker we marched, fighting the wind and rain. Tears welling in my eyes from the cold air and my nose running like a leaky faucet. But we were doing it and that's what counted most. The way I figured it - the full week of depressing weather in the North Island prepared me for that hour of struggle.

Alex, David and I overlooking Richmond Ranges

And now that it is all over and I sit here all cozy and warm in the hut, it all seems like a dream. The sky has cleared so that the sun shines and there is no sign of rain having ever been here.

Tomorrow we plan to make it to St. Arnaud and that feels pretty damn good.


And so we have. The real toilets with an endless supply of loo roll awaited us with what seemed like open arms. David, Alex and I stumbled into St. Arnaud yesterday after pushing out a whopping 36km. Tired, slightly delirious, stomachs rumbling with hunger and sore points dotting our body from multiple wasp stings we arrived at the biggest form of civilization since Pelorus Bridge - a gas station. We heaved off our packs and proceded to clear the shop of its One Square Meals, fresh fruits/veggies, chocolates, oatmeal, tea and anything else we could get our hands on. We were back to the "real"
world and it felt good.

The ironic part is that today (our rest day) I have realized that while we have come to St. Arnaud excited to be reaching a point of civilization on our journey along Te Araroa Trail, most of everyone else enjoying the DOC campground here with us have come for the reason that they have wanted to leave civilization behind them and "get away from it all." They come here to be part of the wilderness and leave all the hussle and bussle of normal life back at home. For us this is the most people we have come across in a long time and the idea of not having to ration loo roll thrills us to the core.


** NOTE: Though this blog was posted at a later date/time, it was originally written for posting on February 2/11  

Interislander Adventure

January 22/11 . DAY #100 . 10 KM .

Today is DAY #100 and it feels surreal to think that it's been that long since we started out. It only seemed fitting that today would also be the day we set off to the South Island. 

David (a fellow Te Araroa Trail trekker) was able to join us on the ferry ride over and so we said goodbye to Wellington and boarded the Interislander Ferry in order to cross the Cook Strait to the other side. It felt as though I was saying goodbye to more than a city that had been my home for the past 3 days. It felt as though I was saying goodbye to one adventure. It felt as though all the hardships and challenges we faced in the North Island we would be able to put behind us. It felt as though we would be able to start fresh. Start new. This would be the "real" thing. The final chapter - as lengthy as it is - of our journey along New Zealand. Along Te Araroa.  

View from the Interislander Ferry

And so it began. The North Island was complete. Alex and I went aboard the Interislander Ferry unknowning to what we would come across in the months ahead in our journey to reach the southern part of New Zealand. We were fortunate enough to have the Interislander aboard as one of our sponsors and, as such, they treated us with a mini-tour of the control center where the captain and his staff guided the ferry in amongst the Cook Strait for us to safetly journey into Picton's harbor. It was such a treat and completely fascinating to actually get to see the equipment they used in order to ensure that such a large ferry would be able to accurately direct itself along the invisible path in the deep waters. Alex and I "ooed" and "ahhed" at a group of dolphins that came alongside the front of the ferry to swim in the current that we were creating just by simply moving forward. We gave the binoculars a try and spied out at all the summer homes tucked in amongst the remote bays along the waters. I even got to try out the captain's chair and we eventually said goodbye to the crew as we mosied our way back to our reclining plush seats to await the announcement noting our arrival to Picton.

Picton proved to be larger and more lively than what I had pictured in my head and I found it hard to even want to be heading onwards after just arriving so shortly before. All the little shops beckoned my name - displaying all sorts of nick nacs that I neither needed nor wanted to be carrying onwards in my pack and yet I lingered among all the items just the same. Fortunately hunger for food won out and Alex, David and I opted to settling down for lunch at a local Indian restaurant for some curry before we hefted on our packs to start making our first steps forward in the South Island.

Govenor's Bay

Stomachs full, we headed out - onroute to Havelock. I should take a minute to note that the official trail of Te Araroa guides trampers to take another ferry from Picton to go further north in order to start trekking with the Queen Charlotte Track. While in Wellington David, Alex and I deliberated on whether or not we should do this as the second ferry costs quite a bit of money and as the Queen Charlotte track is a well-devloped track, there is a fee in order to do this track as well. All together we would be looking at close to $100 to just do this portion of the Te Araroa Trail. And so we decided to be rebels and just start from Picton and road walk our way to Havelock where we'd reconnect with the official trail again. And so we walked. We walked our way to Goveneor's Bay where we set up camp for the night - overlooking the ocean waters as massive tree-covered hills and mountains surrounded us. It was bliss. It was perfect. Our first day on the South Island and 100th day of mine and Alex's journey was complete.


January 23/11 . DAY #101 . 25 KM . 

And so began our second day on the South Island - with an earthquake. In the very early hours of the morning I awoke to the ground moving underneath me. As I was not fully working on all cylinders, I registered that the entire ground underneath my sleeping mat was moving around as though it was attempting to shake me free from its surface, but figured my sleep was too important to panic over the idea that the earth may just break open to swallow me whole. It's not like there are many options of where to go during an earthquake when in a tent. I've heard one is to position oneself under a doorframe - I wonder if a tent pole counts.... 

As it were - nothing major happened and I was able to fall back asleep only to wake a few hours later by the alarm beeping - abruptly stopping whatever dream it was I was enjoying.

Today wasn't terrible exciting as the 3 of us walked our way to Havelock. The skies hung low and dumped rain on us as we faught gusts of wind tearing through the valley. Eventually we made it to the town of Havelock and opted to pitch our tents at the local campground. Needless to say, I still haven't quite warmed up or dried off. They say tomorrow will be nice, but with no blue sky in sight - I have my doubts. 

Endless stretch of road - SH 6

We have since made our way to Pelorus Bridge where the three of us are enjoying the last signs of civilization before we make our way into what will be expected to be about a 10-day journey through the bush. As happy as I am to be here (enjoying the sun that DID decide to come out today) eating big scoops of ice cream, taking pictures of the nature and otherwise just lazing around in the remaing hours of the afternoon - I am incredibly thrilled to be looking ahead at what is yet to come. This is what I have been waiting for. This is what I have been looking forward to seeing. The majestic mountain peaks. The rugid and wild wilderness. The cold mountain waters that take your breath away. The vivid colors that no camera ever seems to capture. The incredible places that only our feet can take us and few people have ever gone. This is it. Tomorrow the raw beauty of New Zealand's bush will encompass us and I can't wait. This is what the adventure is about.  


** NOTE: Though this blog was posted at a later date/time, it was originally written for posting on January 24/11 

NEW BLOG ENTRIES!! (FINALLY)

Alex and I on the ferry

Hey there!! It's been a LONG time (I know) and it's about time I do a little updating on our progress here. Alex and I have been fervently working our way down the South Island since January 22 when we departed from Wellington on the Interislander Ferry to Picton. Since then we have experienced an earthquake, swimming in ice cold mountain rivers, climbing an entire day (900m) to reach a ridgeline and pushing our minds and bodies to new limits. We have spent a majority of our time with a fellow Te Araroa Trekker, David. Being a local kiwi he joined us for a few weeks as we have worked our way south - mission: Bluff.

After a couple major mountain passes (2 out of 3 in bad weather), wasp stings and an ongoing war between us and the sandflies (I think they're winning), we have made it to Arthur's Pass. Being relatively close to Greymouth, Alex and I have diverted here to spend a rest day and catch up on things (Blogs included) before we head back to continue our journey.

According to calculations we are looking at about 6 weeks (give or take) to get to our final destionation of Bluff. It's hard to believe that it has come down to that small number and even harder to believe that within a couple of weeks we should be at our halfway point down the South Island. So much adventure has been had and so much still to go - a major obstacle is still our finances (who knew we could go through so much oatmeal!!) - we can't wait to see what else the south island has yet to offer us.

So with regards to the blogs here... I am proceeding to give myself arthritis as I madly type up an array of entries to postdate for the next few days here. Expect to see a new one pop up each day for about the next five days (I'll make a note on the last one that that is the last one for the next while) as I bring everyone up to date on the going ons of what has been happening as Alex and I trek our way to Bluff. Enjoy!