Finish Line in Sight

PRESS RELEASE - MARCH 27, 2011


On October 15, 2010 Alex Ward (England, 28) and Shalane Hopkins (Canada, 24) put on their trekking boots and stepped out into New Zealand's wilderness with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. The goal was to walk the entire length of New Zealand from Cape Reinga to Bluff following its newest (and not officially opened) trail, Te Araroa. The idea for the adventure, which was first formed in Australia where Alex and Shalane met, was a unique way of exploring a country, but has since become so much more.

Since starting the lengthy tramp of over 3000km at Cape Reinga so many months ago, the female duo has been working hard to raise money for Solomon Islands. Teaming up with Indigo Foundation (Australian-based), Ward and Hopkins found cause to help support Indigo Foundation's project in the Guadacanal coastal community of Turusuala. Aiming to help this struggling community get on its feet with a program designed to allow the people to move forward through education on hygiene, life skills and literacy - Alex and Shalane have been spending their tramping time advocating for this community in hopes to inspire people to give to the cause. "It's not about guilting people to give money - we're not out there demanding a certain amount for people to give. Alex and I believe that people should give because they want to, because they believe in what Indigo Foundation is doing in this community as much as we do," Hopkins says. Their goal is $10000AUD which will fund the entire program for two years.

The women's efforts haven't ended there either. While forging rivers, climbing mountains, scrambling over logs, avoiding gorse and pitching their cozy two-man tent hundreds of times, the women quickly came up with another idea to promote change in the world. "As we were walking up in the Northland we began to take note of the rubbish lying around everywhere as we past," Ward explains, "We figured we should do something about it." And so they did. They began picking up one piece of rubbish each day and spread the world to fellow Te Araroa Trail trampers in hopes that they'd take on the challenge as well. Their motto of "every little bit counts" continued through their adventure.

Highlights of the lengthy pathway have included many aspects that New Zealand is well known for such as 90 Mile Beach, Bay of Islands, Auckland, Tongariro Crossing, Whanganui River, Hunter's Pass, Nelson Lakes and Queenstown. However, the trail also contains major highlights that not even the average New Zealander has experienced such as the Richmond Ranges. The ten days of tramping through New Zealand's best-kept-secret has remained a vivid memory in Ward and Hopkins' minds. Even more than the scenery they have walked past (and around, on top of, under and through), both women recognize their experiences with the local people as being the most memorable aspect of the adventure. In particular, their experience in Christchurch has become one of the most significant memories of the entire tramping experience.

Christchurch is not on the route for Te Araroa Trail, but that didn't matter for Ward and Hopkins when the earthquake of February 22 occurred. They had been restocking for their adventure in Greymouth and upon hearing of the devastating disaster to the east, they opted to put their plans on hold and head there in hopes they might be of some help to the city. "When it happened, we didn't have food to give. No extra bed to spare. No money to offer. Not even a spare lunch to hand out. All we had was time," Shalane explains. And so they put on their trekking boots and packed up the tent and out to Christchurch they went. Alex and Shalane spent the next 10 days helping in whatever way they could through the Student Army. With their tent pitched in the garden of a local resident, the women got up each morning to shovel silt, hand out pamphlets and do whatever needed to be done to help those in Christchurch begin the process of picking up the pieces. "We went their to help out people in Christchurch and left completely blown away by the heart of the city," Ward stated, "The people there and everywhere around the country pulled together to do what needed to be done. We were priviledged to be part of that." By the time Ward and Hopkins reconnected with Te Araroa Trail in Arthur's Pass, they were left inspired further by the idea that if "everyone did just a little to help each other out, the world would be a better place."

And now, after over five months of tramping, Alex and Shalane are coming to the end of their journey. People who have asked why they have chosen to walk 3000km to see a country will probably get the answer that they simply "don't know." Those that are wondering what they plan on doing upon finishing in Bluff need not - Hopkins regularly states that she plans to "sit down" for a while. The one thing that is certain for both Ward and Hopkins is that they feel they have acheived something more than either women imagined they would. The memory of the adventure will surely stay with them forever. Hopkins and Ward are also quick to point out that they couldn't have done it without any of the people and companies supporting them. Having received sponsorship through some of New Zealand's own such as Macpac, Swazi, Bivouac and Back Country Cuisine, Shalane and Alex state that without them, they would have had to stop long before the finish line was in sight.

As for a finish date, they plan to finish their journey in Bluff on April 3rd. Though once doing so, they won't be completely done. Ward and Hopkins plan to update their blogs and keep the donation link to the Solomon Islands open until the end of April for those who "didn't think we'd do it," Ward says, and wish to donate upon the women completing the trail. Shalane also hopes to write a book on the adventure, but says it will be a while as finding jobs in New Zealand will come at a higher priority initially. All in all, Alex and Shalane have had an epic adventure discovering New Zealand and though they both say they'll miss the "lifestyle" Te Araroa Trail gave them, they're excited to get back to "normal life" for a while - even if it's just to be able to exchange a cold river with a hot shower.

To find out more about Alex and Shalane's adventures, donate to the Solomon Islands and/or contact them, visit their websites at: http://www.missionlivelife.com/ (Alex Ward) and http://www.onelifeadventures.com/ (Shalane Hopkins).

BBQ Bash

Sunrise near Twizel

After leaving Twizel, we walked. Not much else to do, but that. Same story, different day. The days all blended into one big one of waking up, packing up, walking until we were tired and then finding a place to camp. On March 20, it turned out to be a particularly long day of 32 KM on difficult terrain. Essentially we woke up so that we could climb up to reach a saddle and go down the other side. What we didn’t take into consideration was that the actual route over the saddle was both uncut and unmarked. The most difficult portion of the Te Araroa Trail with regards to navigation. Alex and I have been increasingly more confident with our orientation skills using the map and compass, getting good enough to pinpoint where we are on the map by reading the topographical lines defining the mountainous terrain. But we were in entirely new territory with a non-existent trail. Oh yeah, and we happened to pick a morning with severe cloud coverage. Visibility was particularly non-existent.


After a mishap of following the original cut track and markers up to a set of mountain peaks about a kilometer from where we wanted to be (and then be redirected by a couple of trampers packing up their tent from freedom camping among the peaks), we were on our way. Kind of. The clouds hung so low, that Alex and I would have to stand in place with our map out and orientate ourselves with what little information we could gather as the clouds moved over the mountain peaks. Staring intently into the white mass, my brain hurt and I wondered if we’d catch a break in order to move forward. It was critical that we didn’t move to quickly without knowing both where we were going and where we were coming from as it was moments like that that people got lost. Or worse. And Alex and I were determined not to become part of the statistics.

Our little pea pod

Just as I was about to suggest to Alex that we turn back to the cut trail and make our way down to safety back the way we came, the clouds split for a few seconds, giving us a glimpse of a mountain peak. I was able to match it to what we had on our map and we moved slowly forward. Bit by bit, the clouds would continue to show us aspects of the mountain peaks around us and we carefully matched them with what we had on our map to ensure we wouldn’t walk over the wrong saddle and end up somewhere completely different from where we wanted to go. Hours later we managed to get to the other side of the trail and spotted the river we were meant to follow out along the valley floor. We had done it. Once safely at the river, Alex and I opted to stop for lunch. Our One Square Meal (OSM) bars never tasted so beautiful.

From there it was a relatively easy journey along the valley with minimal thinking involved. The hours passed us by as we made our way out to the main river – Ahuriri River – it was our last challenge of the day. Dead tired and hungry for dinner, all Alex and I wanted to do was stop and set up camp. But we also knew we shouldn’t. To cut short our day without crossing the river would mean that we were adding extra time and distance onto the following days. We had a schedule to maintain if we wanted to make it to Lake Hawea in time. And neither one of us felt like waking up the following morning to have to face getting our boots wet first thing in order to cross the river.

And so we faced the Ahuriri. It didn’t look too terrible – quite small in comparison to both the Rakaia and Rangitata Rivers that were considered “safety zones” according to Te Araroa Trust. Just four braids in the river and Alex and I would be on the other side. There was even a lovely flat piece of land on the other side covered in bright green grass. It was perfect. We would camp there.



One of the many reasons we get up so early

 Alex and I crossed the first three braids of the river without an issue. We had to link our arms for them to ensure that we were crossing as safely as possible – the river water came up to mid-thigh in some areas and given that we were tired and the water was fairly strong, it only made good sense. We reached the final braid of the river and began assessing where we could cross it. It looked pretty deep and it was difficult to see the bottom of the water. Plus the water was going faster than the other three braids. Alex and I found the best spot we could, took a deep breath and linked arms. We agreed we would go with the one foot method. Only one of us would step a foot at any time, allowing us to keep three feet on the ground at any given point. In we went.

Right from the get go, the water was strong and deep. So strong that we had to fight each time to just get our leg forward to put it down. A few feet into the river braid and it became so hard to get our feet secure on the bottom of the river that I had to put all my effort and concentration into ensuring I was stable. The water pushed hard on my legs, threatening to topple me and it seemed as though the fact that I was carrying a pack on my back did nothing to weigh me down. The water level crept up above my hips and I pushed the worry of my bag getting wet out of my head. We weren’t even halfway.

Then there was this moment when I looked up and saw the patch of grass on the other side of the river waiting for us to put our tent up on it and I knew we were close. So close. So desperately close to where we wanted to finish for the end of the day that I wanted to cry. We had been going for nearly 12 hours and I was tired. Not to mention the fact that I was also hungry, wet and cold. I wanted to be done and I could see the end right there. Almost within reach. But the river water was so strong that it was becoming harder to visualize us crossing the river without being swept away in the current. We hadn’t even gotten halfway and already the two of us – linked together with weighted packs on and only moving one foot at a time – were being moved every which way and were fighting with everything we had to stay up right. It was a choice between admitting defeat or being defeated. We admitted defeat.



Tin Hut (private)

 So back we went, back across the other braids in the river. Back the way we came. Back to the original shoreline we had wanted to pitch our tent on. Only this time we came wet, cold, and more hungry and tired. We didn’t speak. There was nothing to say – we both felt completely defeated and didn’t know what to do. So we set up camp, got out of our wet clothes and ate some dinner.

The next day we woke up to glumly pack everything up and walk the 6km south to the bridge crossing the river before walking the 6km back up to where we would have been had we crossed the river the day before. So much for not having an extra long day to look forward to. Onwards we went.


MARCH 22/11 . DAY #159 . 20 KM .

I am plain old exhausted. There’s no secret about it. I am plum pooped. Done. Finished. I wish I could get out now and escape. But with every fiber of my being I know that I can’t. It would be perhaps the worst timing of all to feel this way which sucks big time.



Lake Hawea

 As it stands, we have made it here to Lake Hawea as planned – but we didn’t anticipate being welcomed with such open and loving arms as we have been. Bless Mike and Sarah here at Lake Hawea’s Holiday Park as they not only recognized our faces as we walked up to the front office, but they put us up in one of their cabins, showed us their best hot showers and let us do our laundry (mine hasn’t been properly washed in over a month) upon arrival. To top it off, Sarah’s putting together a BBQ tonight for us and tomorrow the newspaper for the Otago region is interested in chatting to us about what we are doing. Fabulous.

The only issue in this wonder-world scenario that sucks is that I am SOOO incredibly ready to be done this trek that I can’t wait to just be done. I am not mentally prepared for inquires about the trail. Not prepared for newspaper interviews. I’m simply not prepared for being suitably “inspirational” for others right now. But the bottom line is that both Alex and I have to be. It is part of our responsibility in what we have come to achieve. Part of our goal. Our purpose in this trek. To inspire. So if that means one night of eating at a free BBQ to laugh and be merry with locals and share our adventurous stories then so-be-it. I think I can handle that.


MARCH 26/11 . DAY #163 . 10 KM .



Homemade blackberry pie - YUM!

 Yet another day has gone by. Another day closer to the end of everything at all. And I am so beyond excited I can hardly stand it. Waking up this morning I could hear the rain falling down on the hut’s roof and all I could think was how much I wish I was done. Finished. Complete. I did not want to walk anywhere.

But that meant nothing. In a hut, a fair walk away from any form of civilization – in the wild – there is no say involved. I HAD to walk. HAD to keep going. No choice involved. And that realization sucked. Big time.

That being said – today’s walk from Highland Creek Hut to Roses Hut was really lovely. But I still want to be done so bad it hurts. I don’t want to walk anymore. I want to be done. To finish. To leave it all behind. But I’ve committed myself to doing this trek with Alex – “Till Bluff do us part,” if you will – and I want to do it right. We only finish this trek once and there will be no turning back once we do.

So here I am. Wanting to do right by Alex. Wanting to do right by Te Araroa Trail. But wanting to be done so badly it hurts. So I keep my mouth shut because in the grand scheme of things, whether we finish today or in eight days – we’re still going to be done this adventure of a lifetime pretty quickly and that’s the only thing that keeps me going.


Eventually Alex and I made it into Queenstown and now that we’re here it feels as though I am living in a dream. For so long we have been talking of getting here so that we could book everything needed for when we finish in Bluff, as Queenstown will act as our stomping ground in celebration of finishing. I can’t believe how close we are to the end – to Bluff we go!



TOTAL = 2657 KM

Hitting the Breaking Point

MARCH 17/11 . DAY #154 . 12 KM .


Tomorrow I have a physio appointment booked. It’s time. My knees are shot, which causes my hip to act up. My right Achilles is strained – pain flares up through my heel. And then the entire sole of my foot feels as though it has pulled apart. Great.

So physiotherapy appointment it is. I only hope I have enough left in me to finish this trek. Minor details.




Royal Hut - where Prince Charles once stayed

 Yup. That’s right. Here we are in Twizel and it’s my time to shine in the injury department. After the Rangitata River Alex and I spent the next few days following the track over saddles, across rivers and through tussock-covered land. Perfect territory for my body to decide to give up. Climbing up Stag Saddle (at 1925m high, it is said to be the highest point of the Te Araroa Trail) my Achilles tendon started to feel strained. I had to adjust the way I climbed upwards to avoid the shooting pain I’d feel on the back of my ankles with each step I took.

Reaching the top of the saddle proved to be a memorable moment in our journey, but more so for the fact that our trail notes told us to “follow the markers” down the other side to the valley where we were to continue along the river to the next hut. The bit that wasn’t mentioned is though there were multiple markers present within the next nearly 10km; they were so spread out from one another that Alex and I were wishing we had a pair of binoculars on us to spot them. At each marker we got to, Alex and I would have to stop and strain our eyes to the furthest point we could see in order to try and spot the next marker hidden in amongst the tussock-ridden ground. It was like a real life version of Where’s Waldo as it became somewhat of a game to see how quickly we could find the next marker to continue onwards.

Coming down the saddle itself proved to be a mission as my knees began to indicate that they were not having much fun anymore. I chose to press on, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling under my knee caps. The day was not over yet. There was no option but to continue. And so we did.

After a quick break at the next hut, Alex and I decided to make the final push of the day – the only issue being that after the break (of which I taped up my Achilles tendon) my knees had completely stiffened up. Now, every step I took, caused severe pain to scream out from beneath my kneecaps with every. Single. Step. I fought back the tears because there was nothing I could do about it right then. Every couple of steps I had to stop and take a deep breath, trying to relax the seized up muscles and tendons around my knees. It’s all part of the adventure – right?



Alex climbing up Stag Saddle

 As I went, I started to take chalk of my “injuries.” None of them were anything to lose sleep over on their own, but put together (including the hip pain that came from walking differently due to the knee pain) I knew I had to do something about it. I wanted to finish Te Araroa Trail, but I didn’t want to finish it having ruined my body.

And so here we are in Twizel doing just that. I set off to the physio today with the knowledge that I may come back out with news that I should not be continuing the trek. Not exactly the happiest thought I have ever had in my head, but it was there just the same.

Fortunately, when the physiotherapist asked me “What’s wrong?” and I listed off my countless points of pain (knees, hip, Achilles and foot), he was able to go through each one and account the pain to be a warning from my body rather than an actual injury. That pretty much just means that my body has about had enough of walking – of walking all day with a pack on my back. It’s time to finish up this trek and finish it before I actually do seriously injure myself.

Alex and I make it to the top of Stag Saddle (1925m)

I went back to the caravan park to inform Alex of the “good” news that I can still walk, but I need to be careful. Armed with new stretching exercises to relieve the tension in my muscles and tendons during each break of the day, I taped up my foot and packed up my gear – again. We’re off - on a mission to the finish line. Heaven knows what tomorrow brings and I only hope that my body hangs on there – a few more weeks to go.

I hope I can do it.

STOP! Safety Zone

After a total of 17 days off from tramping, Alex and I took to the trail again. It both felt incredibly foreign and completely like home – all at the same time. Everything felt utterly insignificant and yet entirely refreshing, but most of all, everything hurt.

Back on the track, Alex and I take a break

My body has been resting so much in the last few weeks that it’s currently wondering what the heck is going on now that Alex and I are back on track walking extra long days with 20kg on our backs. Shoveling silt in Christchurch and walking the streets to hand out pamphlets all day was nothing in comparison to Te Araroa Trail and so now that we’re back into the swing of things my body is screaming at me in protest. I’ve told it to suck it up. We still have a long way to go.

The distance alone is something to keep us pushing forward, but when we arrived back in Arthur’s Pass on March 6; we could see a lovely layer of snow had sprinkled the tops of the mountains. Te Araroa Trail is no longer just something we want to finish sooner rather than later, it has become a race against the season change.



MARCH 8/11 . DAY #145 . 35 KM .

“Second Day Syndrome.” Or at least that’s what I call it. It’s what happens to my mental state every time we “restart” trekking and I hit Day #2. My body aches in pain and my mind screams for me to stop. I become lazy and lethargic, wanting to take extra long breaks and eat all the time. The first day I’m fine. Third day I’m great. It’s the second day that truly throws me for a loop.




View from above - where we've walked from

 Regardless of that fact, Alex and I still put in for along day today and it feels good to know we’ve done it regardless of the Second Day Syndrome. Bring it on.




By March 9, Alex and I had made it to our next food drop at Glenthorne Station near Lake Coleridge. We opened our food box only to find out rather quickly that there was no way we would be able to carry all that food. When we were in Christchurch there was so much food being handed out to the student army that Alex and I were able to stock up on muesli bars, scroggin and all things trek-worthy. We were so set with regards to food that by the time we reached Glenthorne Station there was much need for us to even pick up more food. And so we took what we could, squished it into what little space was left in our packs and sent the rest of our food onwards.

From there we set off to conquer the Rakaia River by none other than hitching a ride around. Now, before everyone gasps to say we cheated in doing this, I will explain. This well known massive river is set in a deep gorge and is so powerful and deep that it is ridiculous to consider crossing it on foot. Naturally, Te Araroa Trail has made that part of the trail a safety zone. The only way to cross it is to go around. It was a “natural break” to the trail and because it would have taken Alex and I an extra day or two to walk around it (all on the highway), we opted to speed up the process. The only issue was that the ride we got around couldn’t take us all the way to the trailhead on the other side. So we needed a ride with a second car.

Alex and I stood on the side of that road for what seemed like an eternity, quickly finding out that the road was so quiet that the main form of traffic was farmers herding their sheep from one paddock to the next. And so, as we watched them work, driving by on their ATVs, Alex and I occupied ourselves by playing I Spy, 20 Questions and other games we made up such as throwing pebbles at a big rock to see who could hit it first.

About two hours later the school bus (more like a van with a sign stuck on it saying “school bus”) drove by and asked what we were up to. We told the driver where we were hoping to go and he offered to take us at 6am the next morning before he picked up the kids for school. We agreed and then promptly went into the bush to find a camp spot for the night.

At promptly 6am the next morning the driver came and picked us up and took us to the trailhead. Definitely made my first trip on a school bus memorable with Alex and I squished in the back with our packs, reading the newspaper the driver brought, chatting up the driver and watching the sunrise. Brilliant way to start the day!

The day continued on as lovely as it started. And so did the next day. And the next. Before we knew it, we made it to Manuka Hut. As sweet as its name.



MARCH 13/11 . DAY #150 . 31 KM .

Me crossing a braid in the Rangitata River

Ever since Christchurch, I’ve felt as though a bit of the adventure in this trek had been lost. As though maybe Alex and I reached a climatic point in our journey and from now on it is more a matter of making some distance while counting down the days until we reach Bluff. Today I was proved wrong.


Today began with Alex and I waking earlier than everyone else (6am) in Manuka Hut to get ready to be on the track by 7am. It was to be just another day, but with one exception. We had the minor detail of having to get to the other side of Rangitata River. Not an easy task given the sheer magnitude of the river’s width. At about 3km wide, it doesn’t take one shouldn’t cross it in bad weather.


Last night Alex and I had been informed that rain was on its way – for tomorrow. That meant our window of opportunity to cross the Rangitata River was quite small. We had to do it today or risk getting stuck waiting for the water levels to go down. And so we went.

Reaching the rivers “edge” just north of Potts River, Alex and I took a deep breath and headed onwards. It took us a mere 2.5 hours to cross the 42 braids of the massive Rangitata River and once on the other side we were beat. With only enough energy to set up tent, chow down on some Back Country Cuisine and go to sleep. Tomorrow the adventure continues.

A DOC Hut

As the Earth Shakes

FEBRUARY 24/11 . DAY #133 . REST DAY #38 .

As I sit here and watch the news on Christchurch I am overcome with this feeling of wanting to help. I want to be there, working, helping, doing what I can do to pitch in. They have opened up the option of being able to volunteer and I want to be there.

The thing is, I can. I could. Today we (Alex and I) plan on leaving Greymouth to head to Arthur’s Pass. But we don’t have to. We could just as easily head on further east to Christchurch. We don’t have to go to Arthur’s Pass. No one but us says we have to.


A boulder rolled through this house

 But what is it that we should do? Should we be finishing Te Araroa Trail as we planned or should we go and do what we can in a city that has fallen to pieces? It severely lays heavy on my mind and I just don’t know which route to go. On the one hand, the entire purpose of our trek is to finish it. It’s to help promote Indigo Foundation’s project in Solomon Islands. It’s to have an adventure. But here we are with an opportunity to do something hands on – to help people. That’s what life is all about. It’s all about life. Not about material possessions. Not about money. Not about work. Life is about life. And this is an opportunity for us to help.


So which way do we go? Which path do we take? And does it matter if Alex and I want the same thing?

***

Well – after a bit of thought and discussion, Alex and I have decided to go to Christchurch. How could we not? I realize that they might turn us away once we get there or we may get there and stay so long we risk not being able to finish in Bluff. But it’s worth the risk and it’s a hell of a lot better than not doing anything.

And that’s the thing – if I had money to give, I would. If I had a home to open up to a stranger, I would. If I had food to make or extra clothes to spare – it would all be for the people of Christchurch. But I don’t have any of that. All I have is my time and myself. That’s all I have and so that’s what I give. I just want to help. Just a little bit. I don’t care how big of a difference I make – I just want to help make one. Every little bit counts. I want to do my bit.

So at this point Alex and I have said “goodbye” to Greymouth and have found our way back to Arthur’s Pass area again. It feels like so much has happened since we were last here and yet it feels like we were here just yesterday. I do not know what tomorrow brings. I do not know where we will go or what we will do for food and shelter. All we have is our tent and tramping food. We have enough water for a day or so. That is all.

And we have hope. Hope in the future. Hope for things to come. Hope for all things good. Hope for all things of love. All we need is love.


FEBRUARY 25/11 . DAY #134 . REST DAY #39 .

It’s difficult to know what will happen in the next few days here. Today we managed to hitch a ride in to Christchurch by a local resident. By the time we arrived in the garden city, he had offered to let us pitch our tent on his front lawn. His house is in the outer suburb of Spreydon where the effects of the 6.3 quake can be seen. Liquefaction can be viewed along all the streets and potholes are scattered about, yet we are still about a good 30 minute walk to the CBD.

I don’t know how people can do this – those that live here. How do they continue day in and day out with the emotional stress and strain of the earthquake? I feel the stress of it and I have only just been here a few hours. The aftershocks alone leave everyone on edge. Everywhere you look there is something not quite right with the city and the emotional strain of trying to find somewhere to fit in and try and help out is beyond training. I only hope that tomorrow we are able to find something. Anything.


FEBRUARY 26/11 . DAY #135 . REST DAY #40 .

The Student Army marches on into a neighborhood

It’s amazing to me in how Alex and I can set out this morning in hopes to be able to help the people of Christchurch and yet return back to our tent later in the day feeling as though we were helped more than anyone else. What is it with Kiwis that just keep on giving even when there’s nothing left to give? I can look back on our time since arriving here in Christchurch and all I see is people who are so generously helping Alex and me out while being here that it feels as though we have done nothing on our end to give back.

Today Alex and I managed to find our way to the University and joined the masses of people in line to sign in for the Student Army. From there we happened on a city bus and were taken to an area of the city to work. And work we did. Armed with shovels and wheelbarrows we marched down the streets like the army we were and started door-knocking to find someone needing help. It was amazing to see the extent of liquefaction on the streets – the pavement all cracked and covered with water.

Lunch time came and we were overwhelmed by the food that was provided. Here we are trying to give back to a community that’s lost nearly everything and they end up giving us more in return. A hot lunch in the park was followed by tea from an elderly man while we helped clean up his front yard. Then, on our way back to the university at the end of the day we were met with more food that the locals had prepared for us volunteers. I was completely overwhelmed. I feel like I haven’t done nearly enough to deserve such kindness.


FEBRUARY 27/11 . DAY #136 . REST DAY #41 .

People are without water. Without electricity. Without homes and yet they still hope. The people of Christchurch have this amazing ability to look disaster in its face and still be able to continue on living as though they have only merely a scratch to worry about. Such as was my experience today when I spoke with a local who happened to be clearing some liquefaction and when I asked if he needed any help, he stated that he was alright as he was just “playing around.” Like a kid in a sandbox he was.


FEBRUARY 28/11 . DAY #137 . REST DAY #42 .

Today Alex and I headed off in the early hours of the morning to walk to the university. Today we worked on the street team again and ended up going to the area of North Brighton and surrounding suburbs. Completely and utterly devastating.

Road damage

 Broken water pipes. Leaning power lines. Crumbling houses. Piles of silt. Flooded roads. No power. No running water. Raw sewage. It was all there and completely overwhelming if I sat to think about it. All I could do was continue to hand out pieces of paper that contained info regarding services available. Numbers to call. On the phones they can’t use. Brilliant. With any luck our feedback on the difficult situation at hand would be dealt with ASAP.


MARCH 1/11 . DAY #138 . REST DAY #43 .

It’s hard to believe that today is the first day of March. Even harder to believe that not only are we not done our trek, but that we’re in the midst of volunteering to help Christchurch clean-up after its tragic earthquake.

Right now it’s the early hours of the morning and Alex and I woke up to use the kitchen (breakfast) and toilet before Richard (the university student whose house’s lawn we’re pitching our tent on) leaves to go to the university to set up for the student army. And now we wait (Alex attempts to go back to sleep) until we trundle on over ourselves.

This entire experience in Christchurch has been incredible and essentially life-changing. It will be difficult to figure out the best time to move on from here as no matter when we leave, we will always be leaving before everything is finished. So we take it one day at a time.

And one day at a time is about all I can function at this point in time. The amount of sheer devastation I’ve seen each day in this city overwhelms me. The fallen buildings. Homes doomed to dangerous to live in. The silt. The flooding. The stench of raw sewage as it pumps into the rivers, streams and streets. The army personnel ensuring everyone stays safe. And the faces – young and old of people who are desperately clinging to the last shred of hope they have in their lives returning to normal. But what IS “normal” when everything around has fallen to pieces – literally?

Not all is horrible though. Just as this earthquake has brought out the bad in people. The looters. The sadness. The desperation. It has also brought about a lot of good. It’s brought people together, not just from the locals of Christchurch, but from New Zealand as a whole – as well as the rest of the world. There are people giving free food and water. Gas stations giving out gas. Massage therapists working out the knots of stress from the shoulders. Strangers hugging strangers. People offering their spare rooms for those in need.


Earthquake damage

 And the volunteers. They don’t call it a “student army” for nothing. Hundreds of students, visitors, locals and heaven knows who else, gather every single day at the university to help. Arriving on foot, in car or on bicycle with a shovel in hand, we line up to sign in. And then we’re shipped off by bus to the designated area that needs support.

Yesterday Alex and I helped in the street team and we ended up riding a Kiwi experience bus. I suppose that’s why they say “never say never” as I honestly had NEVER thought I would ride one of those buses, much less ride it with a load of other people wearing high-vis vests so we can go help those in need.

It’s amazing to see everyone came together for the common cause of helping Christchurch get back on their feet. It seems as though the job will be never-ending, but bit by bit we’ll get there. One day at a time.


MARCH 2/11 . DAY #139 . REST DAY #44 .

I’ve never seen so many pizzas in my life. They came in carrying a massive tower of boxed cheesy pies into the volunteer tent today. One by one, stacking the pizzas on a table as the rest of us sat there in disbelief. People hesitantly stepped forward, obviously eager to just have a piece – it wasn’t until we were told to “go for it” that anyone really began to comprehend how many pieces there actually were. Truth be told, there was an entire truck load.

The truckload of pizzas for the Student Army

 Each of us started with taking one pizza each, giggling amongst ourselves at how crazy it was that we could even do that. And then the pizzas kept coming – so we snagged another. Some people grabbed four or five. They just kept coming and coming. It was ridiculous. All we could do was sit back with a box on our lap and a slice in our hand as we continued to gawk at the rate the pizza boxes were continuing to pile up.

Needless to say – I’ve rediscovered my love for Hawaiian pizza. Nothing like a thick, cheesy slice of ham and pineapple. Made my day. Not that I even needed that. Aside from strong winds blowing dried silt in my eyes all day, things went pretty smoothly. Today we did the suburbs around Sumner and it was amazing to think that today was my fourth day working on the Street Team and I am still so amazed at the destruction left behind from the earthquake. Today was Day #8 since the quake came and there is still street flooded so badly from water/sewage pipes that no one can even walk past. Crazy to think that 30 seconds of the ground shaking could do that. But it can. It has.


MARCH 3/11 . DAY #140 . REST DAY #45 .

Imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like if your world around you just stopped. If you got to wash your hands or grab a glass of water and nothing comes out of the tap. Imagine not being able to turn on the TV, cook on the stove or even charge your laptop. There’s no electricity. Imagine pacing through your house – a complete nervous wreck as you can’t get through to your loved ones. The telephone lines are jammed and you’re running low on battery. It’s uncertain if you’ll even make it out alive as your house strains with the stress of being on an angle. Everything’s a mess. All the kitchen cupboards have dumped their contents on the floor. Broken plates. Smashed glass. The washing machine is found in the next room, no longer secured in its regular place. Chairs on their sides. Bbookshelves dumped over. And there appears to be a sewage line broken as brown murky water begins flowing across your floor.

To look outside, the back yard is a mess. The decking is on a slant so severe it looks as though it once was a part of a badly designed fun house. And then there’s the lawn. Where there was once a neatly trimmed section of grass, there is now strips of lawn separated by large gapping crevices due to the earth splitting in a million pieces. The garden is no more. Silt from liquefaction covers all plant life. Two feet deep.

The neighbor’s homes don’t fair any better. One has a hole in the roof where the chimney once was. One has completely collapsed on itself as though a giant leaned too hard against it. The front street is unrecognizable. You spot a few massive potholes before the water; sewage and liquefaction seep in to fill them up. There is no longer pavement – instead your street more or less resembles that of a very sickening beach-front property.

All there is is the vain hope that all your loved ones are safe and well. You can’t contact them now; your cell phone is dead. No electricity. No ability to leave for anywhere. No grocery store to buy food. No more work to go to. No showers. No toilet. No anything. Gone.

And yet – even with nothing there is still hope. There is always hope.



MARCH 5/11 . DAY #142 . REST DAY #47 .

Today might be our last day in Christchurch as tomorrow we plan to be heading out to spend the day at Castle Hill before making our way onwards back to Arthur’s Pass. As weird as it feels to think of the idea of saying goodbye to everyone here – I am completely excited about starting to walk again. Not so much because I WANT to put 20kg on my back and walk for 8-9hrs, but more because from Arthur’s Pass onwards it’s going to feel so much more as though we’ve reached our final stretch to Bluff. And I’m even more excited about the prospect of pushing my body to get there quicker. I only hope Alex’s foot holds up.


The Student Army resting after a hard days work

 Right now it’s windy, rainy and bloody cold outside and looking at weather like that from the warm comforts of the couch inside doesn’t exactly make me thrilled of the prospect of heading out to the bush again. We’re coming down the home stretch of the summer season here and it will be a race against time to try and finish in Bluff before the major weather changes. And that’s still the primary goal – finish in Bluff. We’re going to do our best to do it.



MARCH 6/11 . DAY #143 . REST DAY #48 .

Well – we’re back in Arthur’s Pass now. For the third time. It’s a little strange as it feels as though we were just here and yet at the same time it feels as though a lifetime has passed. It’s difficult to really process everything that has happened in the last couple of weeks. As I look at the towering mountains outside this café window, everything that has been seems like a surreal dream. Where do I even begin to process the pile of information my mind has stockpiled?

Life here in Arthur’s Pass appears all as normal. Water runs free. The toilets are working and the tour buses file through one-by-one, stocked with nametag-wearing tourists all with cameras positioned ready to take the same photos as everyone else.

And I feel numb. My mind wanders to everything I’ve seen. Massive potholes. Crumbling buildings. Raw sewage. Silt. Crooked power lines. Dirt. Broken pavement. Missing chimneys. Desperate faces.

Yet tomorrow we walk on.


TOTAL = 2206 KM

The Final Countdown - FINALLY

Leaving Queenstown after a rest day filled with planning for the end, it was crazy to think that this would be the last leg of our journey. Heading onwards through Lord of the Rings territory to Glenorchy and onwards to the Greenstone track, my mind was filled with thoughts of all the stuff Alex and I had booked for the end of our journey. This was it – all our dreaming and hoping and finger-crossing had finally paid off. We had found a gorgeous lodge for an amazing price of which our room has twin beds with crisp, fresh sheets and two plush pillows (each!). That would have been heaven on its own, but there was more – oh, so much more. Our room had its own bathroom - shower included (think of the loo roll!), fridge and wardrobe (we can hang things up!). Not to mention that the entire lodge is absolutely perfect with a view overlooking all of Queenstown, a hot tub that can be freely used to soak our well-used muscles, a log fireplace and a massive communal kitchen. I couldn’t have imagined celebrating Te Araroa Trail in such style.





Tussock territory

 MARCH 30/11 . DAY #167 . 28 KM .

Today we tramped from Greenstone Hut to Carey’s Hut via Mararoa River – plenty of tussock and swampy bits to go around. It was annoying, but I just kept reminding myself that whatever the terrain, I would likely be bored, annoyed and/or really frustrated. As we near the end of our entire journey, I just wish more and more that I was done. Period. The effort I have to make in order to get there is beyond my ability to truly appreciate anything around me.

Instead, I focus my thoughts on the positive aspects of today’s tramp. There were no major climbs or descents. No ridiculous rivers to cross or markers to find. No sidling along mountain-faces with my feet permanently at a 45 degree angle. No warzone bush to hack through and no near-death experiences. Overall, today rated pretty good on the Te Araroa Trail scale and we now are at what is probably the last hut in our journey. Only a group of fishermen have already claimed it as theirs so Alex and I will sleep in the tent tonight.

Just as well. I prefer to remember the lovely time we had at Roses Hut with Kim (Belgium) to keep us company as our last DOC Hut experience of the trek. I only wish I had known that was going to be our last night sleeping in the hut.

And so now, sitting on the grassy hill here outside Carey’s Hut, as I squish sandflies and attempt to count all the rabbit poo (impossible) around me – I find my thoughts drifting to what’s to become of my life only a few days from now.

It seems crazy to think that in such a short period of time that Alex and I will be finished our adventure of a lifetime. It has been an experience so much greater than I could have ever imagined – I would have never guessed Te Araroa Trail was going to be like this and it amazes me that we’re actually about to finish it. From the moment I first found out about this trail, I knew I was meant to do it and that in completing it, my life would change forever. And it has.

I feel different – a new person really – than when I started out. I have been challenged so much in every way possible to get to the point I am at now that I don’t know if I’d entirely recognize the person I once was. I’ve grown up. I’ve come to terms with a lot of things about myself (both good and bad) and feel stronger about the direction I want to go in life. And it’s not even over yet.

From the bottom of my soul I feel as though by finishing this trek an entire realm of possibilities and opportunities will be available to me. All the contacts I have now. Work options. Volunteer options. Options I can’t even begin to imagine will be there for me to choose should I want. I can’t wait.

Almost done….




We're getting there...

 By the time we reached Riverton, I was in complete disbelief that we were that close to Bluff. As Alex and I gathered information at the information centre regarding tides (our next bit was beach walking) and such, the worker s there – upon hearing what we were up to – asked if we were the women in the Southland Newspaper article. We were. They then informed us that there were two residents of Riverton who had done Te Araroa Trail a couple years back and asked if we wanted to chat with them. Alex and I said “sure” and before we knew it we were sitting down with a cup of tea as we shared tales of Te Araroa Trail with the two gentlemen who had gone before us. It was fabulous to be able to talk with people who knew all about what we had been through the past 5.5 months. It’s never the same to talk with people who just simply do portions. Or people who just do tramping. Or people who just like to camp occasionally. It’s not the same as talking to people who have actually set out to do what Alex and I did – walk from Cape Reinga to Bluff in one big stretch.

Eventually we reluctantly made our way to the beach where we set off to walk to Invercargill. This was our last beach walk. There were no more mountains to climb. No more tussock. No more major river crossings. No more significant surprises from Te Araroa Trail – we were now at the bottom of the map and essentially just had to get to Bluff. Piece of cake.

That night we camped right in the middle of the sand dunes and woke up to a glorious sunrise where the sky looked as though it was on fire. We walked in silence as we both relished the beauty before us. This would be one of the last mornings we would ever see such a sight and it was bittersweet.

On April 2, 2011 Alex and I made it into Invercargill and we went into “mission mode.” We had received word from Paul up in Auckland that our stuff from storage there would be late in arriving to Queenstown. That meant that when Alex and I would get to Queenstown, we would have nothing to our name but our trekking gear on our backs. No shampoo. No clean underwear. No normal people clothes. No anything to feel as though we could strip ourselves of everything Te Araroa Trail and start fresh. Our last hope was Invercargill where we could power through the city for an Op shop to find at least one outfit to change into.



Lake Wanaka

 So we did just that.

Finding the Op shop was easy – finding everything we needed (and wanted) before the owner closed up shop shortly after we got there was the hard part. Fortunately our issue wasn’t so much as trying to find something as it was in trying to figure out what we should be putting back. Our arms quickly filled up with all different clothing pieces that we loved and fit us – we had enough for an entire new wardrobe. Each.

The store owner took pity on us and offered to hold the items there for us while we trekked the last day to Bluff and then would meet us back in Invercargill after we were done so we could pick up our clothes. She was our saving grace in that regard, so we left our new (but old) clothes with her and went on our way to buy things like new underwear, makeup, moisturizer and all things girlie. By the time we left Invercargill I was beat, but I didn’t care. It was our last night before getting to Bluff.

And in true style, Alex and I walked our way to a camp spot for the first time during the sunset. We had never, during our entire journey, still been walking while the sun set on the horizon. A first time for everything I suppose – it was a glorious one at that. Once camp was set up Alex and I spent our last waking moments of our last night telling each other that this was our last waking moments of our last night. Our last Back Country Cuisine dinner. Our last night on sleeping mats that didn’t inflate. Our last night sleeping in our pea pod tent. Our last night putting up the tent. Our last night peeing blindly in the bush. Our last night sleeping on a pillow made of clothes stuffed in our sleeping bag covers. Our last night over everything – it was our last night.

And the following morning we woke to be taking note of our lasts of everything as well. Our last time boiling water over a gas stove outside. Our last morning waking up before the sun. Our last time eating nearly plain oatmeal. Our last time packing everything up. Our last time packing up the tent. Our last time to be walking – anywhere. It was our last day.



Alex and I walking during sunrise onroute to Invercargill

 Making our way to Bluff was both exciting and painful. We had to walk along the State Highway to get there and for the better part of the morning we could see it in the distance, but it just never quite felt like we could get there quick enough. Instead, I tried to focus my thoughts on reflecting on everything Alex and I had gone through in the past months. Cape Reinga. 90 Mile Beach. Alex’s first foot injury. Healing time at Kerikeri. Getting lost in the Mangamukas. Kerikeri – the second time. The fierce Gorse bush of Russell Forest. The coastal beauty along the east of the North Island. Sheepworld in Dome Valley. Kayaking Puhoi River. Getting to Auckland. Walking for what seemed like forever to get out of Auckland. The painful State Highway #1 walk into Hamilton. Pirongia Forest with the DOC hunters (jellybeans). Getting to Te Kuiti after days of walking in the rain. Getting to Bog Inn Hut after more days of rain. Wanting to quit. Getting Giardia. Having to escape the forest for a doctor. Ending up back at Te Kuiti. Celebrating Christmas early. Getting to Tongariro Crossing for Christmas Day. Getting to Whanganui River for New Year’s Day. Pressing onwards through Whanganui, Bulls, Fielding and Palmerston North. The lovely workers of Macpac Palmerston North. The hospitality we found in Makahika (thanks Sally!). Doing the coastal walk down to Wellington. Meeting up with David. North Island – finished.

And then there was the south island. The Pelorus River. The Richmond Ranges. St. Arnaud. Nelson Lakes area. Waiau Pass. St. James Walkway. Boyle Village. Rest day in Hanmer Springs (fell in love). Back on the track down to Arthur’s Pass. David parts ways with us. We go to Greymouth for Alex’s second foot injury. The earthquake of February 22 happens. We go to Christchurch to help out. Eventually we get back to Arthur’s Pass to continue walking. Down we go to Lake Coleridge, Lake Tekapo and Twizel. I go to the physio for my potential injuries. We continue on to Lake Hawea, Wanaka and eventually Queenstown. From there we head straight down to Riverton, Invercargill and now Bluff.

By the time Alex and I made it to the coastal walkway around the bend to Stirling Point, my mind had shifted gears to reflecting on the small memories of the trail that both made me want to keep going forever and throw in the towel to leave it all behind. The Gorse bush. The mountain climbs. The sunrises. The stars in the sky. Our home – the pea pod. Putting up the tent. Taking down the tent. Falling over with my pack on. The blisters on my feet. Getting lost. Finding our way. The roads. The trails. The farmland. The beaches. The every type of terrain that we had to conquer. The endless pages of map we went through. Throwing out a piece of the map that we had completed. Picking up rubbish every day. The random conversations with locals. The culture shock when we got to a town. The excitement we’d have over finding a Pick N Mix in a grocery store. Finding the perfect bush to pee behind. The sandflies. The huts. The rivers. The cliffs. The maze of everything we had to go through to get to where we were.



Stirling Point, Bluff - WE'RE DONE!!

 And – eventually – at 12:40pm Alex and I rounded the final bend to spot the signpost at Stirling Point. We had done it! Walking up to that signpost – to touch that signpost, everything I could possibly be feeling was being felt at that point. I am not sure I could ever begin to describe the emotion that was overflowing from me that that point. It was difficult to know what to do first, if anything – the tears, the excitement, the relief, the grief – it was all there. We had finished. Cape Reinga to Bluff. 2829KM and we had made it.

And now we’ve made it back to Queenstown after one interview for a newspaper, four car rides, one pit stop in Invercargill for our clothes, one coffee stop before Queenstown, a stop off at the grocery store and one tax ride. We are here. At our lodge. Our room. Our beds. It feels fabulous and the shower hasn’t even been had yet. We are done. Complete. I don’t know if it will ever completely sink in. I don’t know if I ever want it to.