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