Goodbye Gemini, Hello Hubba Hubba

And so we returned back home. Or at least home for me. The sister and I have been away for the past couple weeks and it feels like a lifetime has been and gone since I last set foot in my home. She's been visiting from Canada. For Christmas. 5.5 weeks of awesomeness.

Our last two weeks was planned as an adventure exploring the famous Abel Tasman and surrounding area. Ferry booked, rental car organised and two packs crammed full of camping gear - we were set. I just didn't expect my tent to fall to pieces in the process.

Camping in daisy fields - British Columbia

I knew my tent was on it's last legs when I pulled it out to make sure it was ready to go for our holiday. It was the tent I had gotten years ago in Canada when I first starting doing backcountry camping. My first tent. It had all my first memories of heading off to the bush with nothing but the gear on my back. It got me across British Columbia - 7 weeks of just me and the Canadian wilderness as I walked from Banff to Vancouver.

When I knew I was to walk New Zealand, I had that tent shipped to Australia. I used it there while I lived at a local campground in Broome, WA. It was home for 2 months while I did final preparation work for Te Araroa Trail. And then I brought it to New Zealand.

The first major rain storm in New Zealand left me with the realization that my MEC Gemini 3-season tent had started to reach the end of it's life. It had lost all of it's waterproofing function and much like a bad rainjacket is useless in the wet, waking up in a puddle from water seeping up from the ground was even more annoying. At the time Alex and I were forced to fork over a few hundred to get a new tent for our adventure.

Since then my Canadian tent has sat waiting in storage. Waiting for the day that I would finally take it out again and invest a bit of time and money into re-waterproofing its fabric. A couple weeks ago that day finally arrived. I set it up during one of Wellington's glorious sunny days and got about spraying my tent with waterproofer. When it had fully dried, I took off the fly only to find that the velcro strips that had attached the fly to the tent poles had worn out their glue and popped off, falling to the ground like a tree loses its leaves. I tried to ignore the fact that my tent was literally starting to fall apart.

On it's last legs - note the tarp through the "window"

It was at our first campsite on route to Nelson that I began to accept that maybe my tent wouldn't last the next couple weeks, let alone another season of camping. As the sister and I set it up, I noticed that one of the windows had started to come away from the fly. It was just a simple piece of plastic glued to the fly of the tent in a triangle shape that allowed more light into the tent and the ability for me to spy on everything from the inside - but they had hung on for years. Until now. The gap between the piece of plastic and the fly mocked me as though the tent was daring me to try and fix it. We gave it our best shot - sort of.

A few minutes later and a lot of bandaides, plastic bags and sports tape later, we had resealed the window. Just as we posed for a photo to show our accomplishment for the day, the tape started to peel away. All we could do was compensate by adding a tarp to the mix and cross our fingers that if rain came that we wouldn't be washed away with the mess of it all.

By the time we got to the next campsite, both windows literally fell out of their holes. We attached the tarp under the fly, but each time the wind got strong, a corner would blow off its peg and flap against the tent.

I had no choice but to fork over the money for a new tent.

The new tent in all its glory

My purchase of the MSR Hubba Hubba tent has been something I have dreamed about for years. It has been a tent I have lusted after for as long as I can remember and I was finally in a position to not just need it, but also have the money to get it. And yet my excitement was tainted by the fact that my getting a new tent was because the old one had finished its days of providing me shelter while in the great outdoors.

Everything about my old tent is ingrained in my memory. It was one of the few possessions in my life that I truly feel sentimental about. Much like people feel about getting rid of their first car, first apartment, first love - I have felt that way about my blue and yellow tent. The nights I have spent sleeping there, hiding out from the rain or simply living my life because I was too cheap to get more structured accommodation are more than I can count.

The memories I have had in there - it was the tent that gave me the freedom to explore the backcountry. It was the tent that made me feel safe when it was dark, cold or the threat of wild animals was near. It was the tent that inspired me to take on the challenge of Te Araroa Trail. It featured in many of my travel photos and even in the promotional video done for walking New Zealand. It was the tent I carried on my back for weeks on end. It was my sanctuary. And now it is gone.

I threw my old one in the trash the day before we came back to Wellington and it was bittersweet. It was sad. And yet I felt a new thrill of hope and wonder for what will be with my new tent. At the very least I can rest assured that wherever it takes me I will stay dry without fear of any windows falling out.

Up the Garden Path

Time has been flying along in its normal fashion these days. I've handed in my Work Visa Application - $270 + $350 Medical + $70 Police Certificate - just so that I might be able to stay in NZ long enough to get my Residency Application approved. And so it goes. The pile of paper on my desk indicating a pressing need to delve into my personal life and show I am who I say I am is haunting me. But I have to do it. Scrounging up a birth certificate and proof of each individual work experiences I've had in my life should be a hoot. Can't wait. Can't wait until it's all over and I can stop having a date of termination virtually stuck on my forehead.

As it stands, I've been preoccupying myself with other tasks - part procrastination - part distraction. Obsessing over the status of my boxes I posted to myself from Canada has become my new hobby. Current status? Still in the hands of some customs officer. Don't they realize that my 6 boxes being sent to the same address with bits and bobs so obscure even I don't remember what's in them are in no way suspicious? Fingers crossed I didn't accidently pack a piece of dirt in one of the boxes -- that's one sure way to never see my things again.

In my time of waiting for my power cord to my laptop and the second shipment of my published book, I have taken up planning my garden for this spring. Turns out to be a little bit more like going back to school than it does in picking up a new hobby. For some reason it seems relatively terrifying to have to learn how to grow something living that I will one day hopefully be able to eat than it does to pick up a crochet needle and design a cozy throw. Even still, I press on with the mere hope that perhaps I will somehow discover I have a green thumb hidden under all this nail polish and that the amount of work put into caring about the acidity level of my homemade raised flower beds will one day pay off.

So far - the plan is there - now it is just implementing it. Who was it that decided that gardening supplies should be so expensive? Who would have thought that a bag of dirt could cost so much. Go figure. Regardless, I am keeping up the hope that come summer time I will be well on my way to a year round veggie patch. Plus a couple of flowers thrown in there too.

I've started things off in the vain hope that I can somehow keep two indoor pots of herbs going. Parsley and Coriander have become my new plant babies, sitting up proud on my kitchen ledge in front of the window. Fingers crossed they manage to catch enough sunlight to continue growing. That and that I don't sporadically water them too much or too little, causing their immediate demise. I've recently been told that Coriander can be quite difficult to keep alive and so given that I have managed to not kill it in its last 9 days of living with me has been reassuring. At least more so than my reputation of somehow managing to kill my cactus plant as a child.

And so it goes - the rain appears to be settling in for the last part of winter here and I only hope this means good things for the garden I have yet to grow. Perhaps I can manage to convince a few people to grow things with me and then weeding won't seem so much a chore in the next few months.

Garden or no garden - Kaeto continues to walk around like the little black ninja that he is - even taking to following me down the main road for a kilometer before waiting 2hrs in the bush to walk me back home. Jess continues to be my running buddy - or at least when I finally get out of bed and am motivated to run in the rain. Again. But above it all, I still have to sort through my Residency Application. Who would have thought that trying to get into a country would be so demanding. Surely there will be points given for walking the length of the country right? Fingers crossed.

Choose a Positive Thought

The conscious brain can only hold one thought at a time. Choose a positive thought.

~ Lululemon

Jess killed a possum yesterday. It was her second one. I'm not sure if I should be happy for her or not - she is in no way a hunting dog. The event of her killing an animal is more one of complete and utter accident as she generally can't even get within sniffing distance of a possum due to her lack of skills in the stealth attack department. Regardless, yesterday she managed to kill a possum.

We had been on route to town to pick up some groceries and hadn't gotten more than 50m from my home when she veered off into the deep snow towards the bush. I knew she was onto something as she refused to listen to me calling her back to where I was and so I stood on the side of the road and waiting. Within a minute or two I could hear a horrific scream coming from the possum as Jess got it in her mouth and started flinging it around. Jess doesn't quite clue into the fact that one must tear apart the animal you are trying to kill. She has only grasped the concept that one must get it in their mouth. As such, the death of the possum was a monumentally slow event to which I eventually got sick of standing on the side of the road listening to the possum's screams and lugged my way into the bush to drag Jess away.

It was just another day.

Kellie, Linda, me, Prajot & Graeme - first thing in the morning

I was glad of this fact as I walked my way into town. This past week has been nothing short of one big adventure to which none of us have known how it was going to end. It all started on Tuesday when the team at the camp put together our our first Bingo Bananza fundraiser - we didn't know what to expect and were pleasantly surprised to have more than just our staff show up to the event. After a night of playing Bingo and having a bit of fun, we were all stoked to have raised just over $130 - with any luck, our future Bingo nights during the winter will be even more successful. Our goal is to raise enough money to get a projector and projector screen for the Recreation Hall.

Anyway - that wasn't particularly where the adventure starts - it was that night. All throughout the day we had been hearing reports that there was going to be a massive dump of snow in Hanmer Springs - all the weather people were rather excited about it. But when we finished up Bingo Bananza that night and went outside, all there was was rain. None of us were really too sure that we'd actually see snow by morning - if anything we figured it'd just be another thick frost.

When I rolled out of bed the next morning, I had completely forgotten about the weather reports so when I went to let Jess outside for her morning pee and get some firewood to start the fire, I about fell over at the sight I saw. Everything was covered in over a foot of snow and it was still snowing. The air was as quiet as ever. It was a proper winter wonderland.

Before I could get back inside to start the fire, I could hear some rustling in the trees. I looked up to find that Linda & Prajot were on the other side of the fence with big grins on their faces. We decided to go out for a proper walk even though it was just after 6 AM. And so we went, bundled up and wearing gumboots - we took Jess out for a walk. By the time we got back, it was nearly 7 AM and so we knew everyone else would be awake. Within no time at all, we were all outside throwing snowballs, laughing and jumping around as the sun peaked its head up over the horizon. It was perfect.

Things started to get interesting after I got back to my place for a shower and to get ready for work. The lights started to flicker and before I could get my hair dried, the power went out. It was going to be a proper snow day.

My house hidden behind the snow

For the next three days, the camp became a hideout of snowy magic. All the staff, volunteers and the one group of customers made the Big Kitchen our home base as we cranked up the fire, brought in clothes horses to dry everything and spent our time exploring the snow-covered wilderness and getting warmed up inside. The board games, crafts, Bingo and drawings came out as we whittled away at the hours. Meals became a group event as we cooked on the fireplace, drank tea/coffee and laughed the days away. Snowmen were made, snowballs thrown and many tracks were carved out with our shovels. By the end of the third day we managed to get our power back for good and sort out the phone as well (mobile services and land lines were down as well). As the camp is located at the end of the road, we couldn't have felt more isolated. It was another world.

Everyone pitching in to clear the snow

Stocking up for food was an event in itself as a handful of people would get geared up with packs and got tramping into town - the snow was up to our knees in parts. We couldn't clear the driveway and so stocking up for wood was done by pulling a tarp by rope with the pile of wood stacked on it.  We avoided walking under the trees as the branches continued to break and fall off under the weight of the snow. Life slowed down to a halt and we learned to enjoy each others company and live in the moment. We cheered when the electricity would come on and became innovative in figuring out how to dry hair in the morning (by the fire works fine). Frozen food was stored in the snow as the electricity was off and we discussed our preferences in clothing types to wear in the cold. Gumboots were worn at all times with plastic bags over our feet to prevent snow getting them wet.

By the end of Friday, everything was slowly coming back to normal again as we managed to get everything sorted enough for customers to be able to get into the camp for the weekend. Surprisingly, they came despite our warnings of sketchy power, limited hot water and incredibly icy roads. Aside from our photographic evidence of the main event, it seems as though it never happened.

And now that life is returning to normal again, I can focus on other things - such as my book. I have gotten my proof back of my book cover and I'm ecstatic at the end result. It has only signified the reality that my book will soon be published and I am stoked to almost be done it. With any luck, by the end of the month, it will be available for purchase in eBook format and print. So excited!!

Observe a Plant Before and After Watering

Observe a plant before and after watering and relate these benefits to your body and brain.

~ Lululemon

I did the deed. I got rid of my TV. Crazy - I know. in this day in age where everyone is aiming for the biggest TV they can possibly fit on their living room wall with the picture so clear it is as though you are there in the show - it seems absurd to not want one at all. For one thing - what does all the living room furniture point at if not a TV?

Regardless - I got rid of mine. Not like it was much of a TV to begin with. It was pretty old-school, so small I found myself curled up on the floor in front of it just so I could see what was going on. And the picture - well, it wasn't so horrible, but it was as though someone had bumped the side of the screen, causing whatever program I watched to be squished over to the right which meant I constantly had to guess what was going on at that side of the screen. So no big loss there.

But without a TV - what do I do with myself? Pretty much whatever I want. Quite frankly, I was getting annoyed with myself as I was developing certain couch potato qualities I never thought I would have. When I finished work for the day, it seemed easier to just turn on the TV and eat my food in front of it. Mind-numbing. Comforting. Waste of time.

Everyday would be the same and everyday as I watched the latest episodes of crappy shows I didn't really want to watch, I would make lists in my head of all the things I wanted to accomplish with my time - things I wasn't particularly doing right then. Things I would do "tomorrow." As days slipped by and became weeks, I noticed my answers to peoples questions of what's new with me would become more and more dull - quite simply because nothing had been happening with me. It was all happening in my TV screen.

I never much wanted a TV when I got my own place, but figured it was the socially acceptable thing to do as that's what people expect to be entertained by when they come for a visit right? A scary thought to have to think up other things to do when I have visitors. Things like having a normal conversation. Playing cards. Going outside. Cooking.

And so the TV is gone. I won't lie - the first few days were hard - but it made it easier to know I no longer had the option of bringing it back. It was gone. At first I didn't know what to do with myself and ended up sitting in a chair staring at my wall while I thought of all the things I "should" do, but couldn't really bring myself to do them. And then one day it clicked.

I started reading again. My house is cleaner than it ever has been. I finally finished writing my book about Te Araroa Trail (not-yet-published). I am more focused at work. I actually taste what I make for dinner and am trying new recipes just for fun. I go on longer walks. I spend more time with friends. With Jess & Lucy. Tonight I even learned how to cut myself a fringe (bangs) and did it because I could.

My furniture is still the same way it was with a TV, but I no longer notice the whole it left - instead I notice the changing colors of the leaves outside the windows or the big stack of books I want to read again. I still watch movies (on my laptop) and go on the internet. I'm not completely going back to the dark ages. But I do think that getting rid of my TV was the best thing I could have ever done. It wasn't a necessity - it was actually becoming a hindrance to the life I wanted to lead.

So who knows - maybe one day I will get myself a new TV, maybe not. But right now I intend to enjoy life for what it is and maybe just take a minute to observe a plant before and after watering. Just because I can.

Don't Trust that an Old Age Pension Will be Sufficient

Don't trust that an old age pension will be sufficient.

~ Lululemon

I finally finishes it. Or at least the first draft. Since completing Te Araroa Trail, I have been working on writing a book about mine and Alex's adventure. And now it is done. It seems surreal to think that nearly a year ago we were rounding the corner to finish walking the length of New Zealand and even more surreal to think that I am actually finishing what I set out to do - write about it. 

I don't know what will become of the book - if anyone will care to read it or even publish it. It doesn't matter because I did it for myself. I did it so that at the end of the day I will have a solid record of what we went through - a story. Our story. My story. I am 100% confident that if Alex were to write a book her perspective on things would have been entirely different from mine - maybe even to the point of seeming as though it was two entirely different adventures all together. But it doesn't matter. This book will simply be my account of what went on in my head as we traveled the length of New Zealand on foot. 

Maybe there will be a day to which I will no longer talk about the trail. Maybe there will be a day to which I will find some greater adventure to embark on. Maybe there will be a lot of things that distract me from what I have done until one day I am reminded again. I hope there will. 

Lucy "helping" me write.

But until that happens - it is just me and this book. Writing it word for word. Reliving each and every moment of our blood, sweat and tears. Each of those 171 days accounted for. From start to beginning I have been writing and now that the hard part is over, it is now just a matter of making it all sound good. Should be fun. 

At least it is keeping my busy from other things on my mind. Up until a week ago I have been training for a marathon that I wanted to run beginning of May. I have never really believed in myself that I could do it - but I figured I would give it my best shot. Or at least up until a week ago that was the case. 

But then life set in and I had a bit of a reality check. The costs of doing the trip up to Auckland for the weekend in order to run the race was going to cost me so much more than just simply the entrance fee. It would be a good chunk of change - a wad of cash I just wasn't sure I could afford to give up. This past year has been a huge learning experience for me - a lesson on what is more important in life. A lesson on where my priorities are. A lesson on my finances. 

In the past year I have made it my focus to become debt free. All while travelling I have been making due with payments as I could - but not seriously sitting down to push myself to achieve goals of paying it off. It is a ball and chain I have carried with me since going to school. Since moving out on my own. Since getting my first, second and third credit cards. I do not regret the choices I have made in the past to get me to where I am, but I know without a doubt that I no longer want to put myself in this position again. It's suffocating. 

And so this past year has been filled with many choices that have left me with the reality check that if I want to be debt free - if I REALLY want to sort things out... I need to get serious and actually stick to my budget of paying it off. That might mean I have to wear my K-Mart shoes for another month. That might mean that all my furniture in the house is secondhand from donations. That might mean I can't go out to dinner with friends twice a month. It might mean saying no to a lot of things I wish I could do - but it also means I am learning how to be stronger with myself. Learning how to take control of my life and make it possible for me to one day be free.

But it also means that I have had to pull out of doing the marathon. It was a tough decision as the marathon was something I had been looking forward to - a goal for me to go out and achieve. The reality though was that it would have meant that I would have to spend money that I technically do not have to do it - money that was meant to go towards becoming debt free. 

Dropping out of the marathon does not mean I am a quitter. It does not mean I will stop running or that I will give up on my goal of doing a marathon - that marathon. It just means I have put it on hold as there are more important things I can be doing with my time and money right now. It just means that next year when I have paid my last payment that maybe the marathon race will mean so much more than simply a physical test of my endurance. Maybe it will be a celebration of what I have achieved in my life - maybe it will signify my freedom from all that has bound me for the last few years. 

And so - as I look ahead with my life, I am finally beginning to realize what it means to live life to the full. It's not always about jumping into random situations just for the experience and adventure that one gets out of it. Sometimes it's about making those tough decisions that will ultimately make you a better person in the long run. My focus in life is so much more than simply writing a book of my adventures or doing a marathon race as though I have something to prove. It's about the long term goal of becoming who I want to become - about reaching my full potential. My focus in life has become the bigger picture. 

With that in mind, maybe that means that I will have to ration my budget for a little longer and get stuck in with editing a book rather than spending money on new clothes - but that is okay. One more year to go. One more year to press on with and then the sky will be the limit.

Athletic-induced Endorphins Gives You the Power

A daily hit of athletic-induced endorphins gives you the power to make better decisions, helps you be at peace with yourself, and offsets stress.

~ Lululemon

Me at the top of Single Cone Mtn - December 27/11

New Year. New goals. New cat. New post. or at least that is how it feels anyway... that and I am a bit late at getting this whole "new post" thing done. Amazing how time slips through the fingers. Already the middle of January... or at least almost there - Friday the 13th it is. Spooky.


The first couple weeks of this new year of 2012 have started with a bang for me. Or technically speaking - not so much of a bang for me as I spent New Year's Eve curled up with a good book and ended up asleep by 8pm. So much for staying awake to bring in the New Year. Not that it mattered - the New Year came just the same (as it does every year) and I haven't quite figured out what the big deal is with the New Year representing new beginnings and such. The whole resolutions thing I haven't really bought into. I mean... by all means - if having a specific date each year to encourage people to reflect about their lives and put together a list of randomly vague goals to hopefully accomplish (and most don't) by the turn of the next year is what is needed to get people to improve upon themselves... then go for it. 


As far as I'm concerned - each and every day is an opportunity to better myself and create reachable goals for both the near and distant future. Such as running. Last time I wrote I talked of wanting to do a marathon (the person I was a year ago is still putting up a bit of a protest as to why I would want to do something so incredibly insane) and I am still working towards that goal. So much, in fact, that I have done some research for some races coming up and have found one for the beginning of May - t42 (http://www.t42.co.nz/). Taking on the form of New Zealand's iconic 42 Traverse track, racers will come to either run or bike the route. 


The 42 Traverse is part of the Te Araroa Trail, only this race will go from South to North as opposed to the other way that TAT takes trampers. As it happened when Alex and I were walking TAT, we ended up avoiding the 42 Traverse section and following the road. Partly because we were behind schedule. Partly because we wanted to get to Tongariro for Christmas. But mostly because we had had one of our worst weeks of bush walking in the rain and were a bit tired of it all. 


When I heard of the opportunity to go and run this section - I knew that was it. This is the marathon I am meant to do. Had my name written all over it. One of my co-workers heard of what I was aiming to do and she had a bit of a laugh at me and commented that it was a bit ridiculous that I don't just try to do a marathon - I pick one of the more difficult races to do. But hey - the way I see it - I got 4 more months of training and that is a hell of a lot more than what I gave myself to walk the length of New Zealand... and I still did that right? How hard could - 4-6hrs of running up and down mountain trails be? 


Anyway - my days have been filled with early morning run - watching the sun rise as I huff and puff my way through hill training or interval training or strength training. All the while my mind is more focused on the end result than it ever has been at anything else in my lifetime. I have never trained for anything before. I don't think practices for team sports back in High School quite make the cut. I figure if I have done all I have done in my lifetime, I can do this. And I will. I'm completely and utterly stoked. 


And so I broke through the New Year by falling asleep at 8pm only to wake just after 5am and crawl out of bed for a run. The air was so fresh and not a soul to be seen on the trails that day. It was a perfect way to start the New Year. 


A couple days later it was the same story, only as I was running along the road, I could hear a cat mewing from a tree. I didn't want to stop then as I had just begun my run, so I made the mental note to check it out on my way back if I still heard the noise. I did. I followed the noise to the tree only to find myself face-to-face with a blackish kitten that had clearly gotten itself stuck too high to jump back down. With no firemen to help me in sight, I stood at the bottom and tried to coax it down. Eventually it made the move and jumped into my outstretched arms and immediately began purring. I was hooked. 

As we were essentially in the middle of nowhere, there was no possible home nearby to take the kitten, so I took it to mine. And it hasn't left since. I have named her Lucy and haven't quite figured out how committed I am to keeping her as keeping her surely would mean long term responsibility -- something of which I am just not convinced I am ready to have. But in the meantime she stays. 


And so that is the extent of 2012 for me as of this date. Not much has happened outside of my daily runs and cat feeding. Work is as usual - work, but I am still loving it. Summer has finally decided to come around and I only hope that with it it will bring so much more adventure. 

Visualize Your Eventual Demise

Visualize your eventual demise. It can have an amazing effect on how you live for the moment.

~ Lululemon

As soon as I turned off my cell phone, a wave of enlightened freedom washed over me. The weight on my shoulders had been lifted. I had done it. Disappeared.

That was yesterday – when I arrived in Kaikoura. After endless hours of working over the course of 10 days, I had finally made it to my four-day stretch of nothingness. And it felt brilliant. Originally, I had planned to head off to the west coast, to see Nelson and surrounding areas, but plans changed when Cat had to go home to see her family before work started up again. She was the one with the car. And in the midst of school holidays in which both of us were off, it would have been perfect to have a few days of adventure together. But also, just as important – it was a perfect time for her to make the long trip to Dunedin to check in with her loved ones. It only made me wish that it was that simple and easy for me to do the same.

Instead, I was left without a ride. Without a plan. Without a companion to share an adventure with. All I had was a “Plan B,” but no plan. As I laid awake in my bed two nights ago tossing and turning at the frustrating thought that I had finally gotten time off but had nowhere to go – one thing continued to come to the forefront of my brain. I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to let go of everything. To get away. To be free of all ties of responsibility and obligation. The stress of the past month at work was eating away at me. Worrying about doing my job right. Stressing about internal staff relations. Trying to keep a smile on my face as I shared the camp with customers, fellow co-workers and volunteers to which I supervised – all the while wanting to curl up in the corner and hideaway. It was time for a much-needed break.

Sunrise - Mt. Isobel

And so in the late hours of Monday night, my Plan B was formulized. I would skip my morning run in exchange for rising early to walk to the petrol station on the outskirts of Hanmer Springs and hitch a ride east to Kaikoura. I had never been to Kaikoura before and with what everyone continued to tell me about it, it seemed like the ideal location for a few days of rejuvenating “me time.” I only hoped the nerves of hitching on my own wouldn’t eat me alive before I even left town. I focused my energy at smiling brightly and appearing care-free and casual as I stuck my thumb out and hoped for a ride. By 7:00 a.m. I was on the road with a lawyer on his way back to Christchurch for work. He dropped me at the next major highway intersection as he headed right to go to the Garden City and I walked to a pull-off point along the road so that I could head left. Within five minutes I had another ride.

Three guys in a rented campervan picked me up within five minutes and I joked with them on how no one with a rented campervan ever picks hitchers up. They were all from South Africa and touring around the country with the primary purpose of following the Rugby World Cup. Sitting in the back of the campervan on the made-up bed (which the guys informed me was much too short for a South African man – to which I noted they were rather tall), I happily settled into the get-to-know you conversation that comes with spontaneously being together with random people. I only wondered how backpackers riding the Kiwi Experience tour buses ever felt as though they got any sort of “Kiwi experience.” I have never been on any such bus while travelling and felt the comfortable ease of spontaneously conversing with the person in the next seat. I, in fact, avoid such travelling “experiences” for such a reason. I suppose that explains my desire to hitch to Kaikoura rather than take a shuttle bus. That and it was a little easier on the wallet.

After one gas stop and some time winding our way along the narrow mountainous roads towards the famous seaside town, we came across a man running on the side of the road. It was none other than Richie McCaw. Only in New Zealand would you come across one of the most recognized faces in sport casually doing his morning run on the side of the road. We honked at him and shouted words of encouragement as we zipped on passed – and then we were there. Kaikoura.

With no time at all, I had found my way to a hostel that could offer me a private room with ensuite that suited my budget and after a quick walk to the local grocery store, I was sorted. I haven’t even minded that it has rained nearly continuously since arriving here – being outside and doing the touristy things wasn’t my primary reason for me.

I’ve just needed time to shut out the world and be by myself. Be in my own bubble where there are no worries of recognizing people I know. Be anonymous to those around me. Be invisible. And so I have turned off my cell phone with glee. There is nowhere I need to be. No one that I need to be in contact with. No one that needs to know where I am. And it feels brilliant.

This morning I went for a run and found myself missing the mountain trials out my back door in Hanmer Springs. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying the ability to do some yoga on the beach while watching the water lap the shoreline and the sun come up over the horizon. Early morning fishermen were out in their boats on the calm water and I watched them as I did my sun salutations. I did the warrior as I gazed back at the majestic snow-capped mountains just behind Kaikoura and felt my soul calm down in a sense of peace. Today would be a good day.

And it has been. The hours have ticked passed as I took a long shower, leisurely ate breakfast while gazing out over the ocean, had a late morning nap and walked to the secondhand bookstore to pick up something to read. But most of all I find that my mind is aimlessly wandering through all the things I haven’t felt I’ve had time to think about in a while. I find my brain picking up a topic and critically going over each angle of it, testing it, analyzing it and then letting it go.

Ever since walking Te Araroa Trail, I have felt as though my “me time” has lessoned quite considerably. I got used to having the time to simply just think. The pace of life was such a way that a person could finish a day and feel quite secured with how they fit into the world around them. Or at least that is how I felt. A quiet contentment would fill my soul on most days – even the worst days – in the knowledge that the simplicity of life would ground me in whatever I was thinking or doing.

But not any longer. Sure – life is still fairly simple. It’s not as though I have a high-powered job in a fast-paced city or anything. But my life now is a lot faster than what it once was. I am no longer walking through life with a fine-toothed comb. In some ways that’s a good thing, but in other ways – it eventually builds up inside me until I get to the point where I need to hideaway for a while and untangle the mess that my thoughts have become.

I have now passed the year mark of which Alex and I started walking Te Araroa. A year ago we would have been setting up camp in Ahipara, thanking all the higher powers that we made it off the beach and had found civilization again. A year ago we were unsure what the future held – Alex’s ankle was injured. My blisters hurt. My shoulders felt as though they were going to fall off. And that was just the beginning of the adventure.

And now I sit here in my private room in Kaikoura and contemplate the rain as it pours down outside and think of how much I am still so much traumatized from the rain Alex and I walked through while doing Te Araroa Trail. I avoid any sort of time being out in the rain simply because the feeling of being wet eternally as become a fear ingrained within me. I have yet to re-discover the fun I once had in the wet as I did as a child. Right now it is lost from me and I much more content to simply watch it from the comfort of my room while reading a good book.

So much has happened in the past few months that these few days have been needed for quite some time. I haven’t quite processed all that happened while trekking Te Araroa Trail. I am not sure I ever will. Not to mention that it hasn’t really sunk in what I am doing here in New Zealand. My aim of travelling the world has somehow morphed into the desire to seek out putting some roots down in Hanmer Springs. And oddly enough, I am at peace with that. I think. Every so often I start to freak about it and I have to remind myself why I am doing what I am doing. And sometimes I am not even sure what that is.

With all this reflection, I have started to enter my age into the equation. I have never before considered my age to be a factor in what I do with my life or what I want to do until now. All of a sudden I find fleeting thoughts and concerns about where I am at with my life and wondering if it’s where I am supposed to be. Though I know I am where I am meant to be – how could I not be? – It still makes me wonder. With all the people I have met around the world, everyone is in a constant struggle of competition with everyone else to find where they fit in the world and be able to declare that they have found “it.” Whatever that may be. It seems to always come down to the battle between settling down and living the “dream.” I have yet to see if a person can have both.

As it stands – I have figured out in my time of being with myself – I am living my dream. I figure I am probably living more of a dream than I ever figured I could dream. I also figure that I need to stop worrying about what will come – what will be – and enjoy the ride that will take me there, as it surely will be good won’t it? I also need to stop stressing about things that don’t matter and just work on loving the people around me that care about me. Including myself.

I find it easy to get caught up in a whirlwind of self-destructive thought processes with regards to my own personal perspective on myself. Who doesn’t? But when in a foreign country, with no word on whether I will be staying longer or leaving tomorrow and living in a small town surrounded by people I have only known for a few months, it is easy to get caught in the trap of feeling isolated and lost. My solution? To disappear.

And so here I am. Cut off from the world – other to write this very public blog entry – and it feels brilliant. Time to work out the thoughts in my head. To figure out where to go from where I am. To come back to work and life in Hanmer Springs stronger and more determined to go after what it is I want. What it is I am meant to do. What it is that will continue this adventure another day.

Better to not know which moment will be your last – every morsel of your entire being alive to the infinite mystery of it all.

~ Pirates of the Caribbean – On Stranger Tides



Hanmer Sweet Hanmer

E huri tō kanohi ki te rā ko te atarangi kei muri I a koe

(Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you)

~ Maori Proverb

It’s official – I have fallen in love. Or at least I think I have based on what everyone around me says love is. Not sure if anyone can ever been 100% confident that what they feel is love. Who knows. Regardless, the way I feel deep down inside is like a million sunny days complete with daises, butterflies and all things cheesy in the romantic manner. There is not just one thing that I can put my finger on that makes me feel this way. It’s the little things. Quite frankly, there is something very magical about Hanmer Springs that one cannot help but fall in love.



Hanmer Springs from above

 The other day we had our first snowfall – or at least the first one since I arrive barely two weeks ago. It’s been nearly two years since the last time I got to step in the snow and I didn’t even care that the cold ate away at my fingertips.


APRIL 18, 2011

For the first time since July 2009, I have found snow. Sure, I have seen glimpses of it in the last couple of months here, but never have I been so close to it. This morning I got all ready to do some gardening and I opened up my door to find everything completely covered with snow. I’d forgotten how beautiful and magical snow can make everything. I was left in awe.

Guaranteed – the snow won’t stick around. What little is on the ground will melt away quick enough –it’s just not cold enough right now. Even still, this morning left me unable to do any gardening and instead I bundled up so I could come inside the lounge area for a cup of tea. All I wish for now is a good pair of winter boots and a nice thick winter coat.


It’s so incredibly magical here with the snow. A white blanket covers everything, from the fallen leaves on the ground to the mountain tops that backdrop Hanmer Springs. I love it. I had forgotten what it is like to have snow around – the quiet calm that follows such a snowfall is incredible. Everything is still in its sparkling white beauty. Granted, the snow has since melted from the streets and is only left high up on the mountain tops, but it doesn’t matter. Winter is coming and for the first time in a long time I am excited.


APRIL 21, 2011

Today I was just reminded of what I am aiming to do with my life. For the past few days I have felt as though everything has been a massive blur of going-ons, most of which has just taken me for a ride so fast I have just now started to catch my breath. And so here I am.




Hanmer Springs

 “Here I am” is right. Since arriving here in Hanmer Springs, this little town sure knows how to move things are warped speed. Alex and I got here on the night of April 7, completely exhausted from our marathon driving schedule of coming to Hanmer to drop off our things, then back to Christchurch to drop off the car, meet Richard and Co. then come all the way back to Hanmer Springs. By the time I settled into my own cabin at the Hanmer Springs Family Camp that night I felt as I had been hit by a truck – but in a good way. I could feel that I was on the edge of something good – the brink of a new life so full of good things that my only worry was how I would feel when the time came for me to say goodbye to my new home.

The next day I woke up set and determined to find a job. Steve from the family camp had given me the day off from working for accommodation so that I could get “settled in” and so I headed off to town early in the morning to do just that. Groceries were bought. Resumes printed. Jobs applied for. By the end of the day I had two jobs – one as a waitress/barista/bartender at the local pub and another as a housekeeper at a 5-star accommodation in town. I was set.


APRIL 11, 2011

I’ve got so much to say and so little time. My brain is exhausted with the multitude of thoughts crammed in there trying to be processed. Not good. Not good at all.

I just need a bit of breathing room to sort myself out, but I haven’t quite gotten it yet. This is only now my fourth day in Hanmer Springs and already I feel behind. I’ve quit my one job before it even started, made some new friends, worked two shifts housekeeping at St. James, found out Hanmer Springs has a lot more to it than just hot pools, explored some of the forest tracks, walked the 2.5km to/from town numerous times and, as of last night, I’ve auditioned for the local production of Robin Hood. Not to mention, I still have to write an article for New Zealand Fitness magazine (due tomorrow for their August/September issue), catch up on my blog and photos, research for an article for an online eco magazine and apply for my IRD number so I can get paid. Oh yeah, and I need groceries as well as some warmer clothes. The list of things to do seems to be growing by the minute and though I’m completely excited about it all, I have the feeling right now as though I am simply holding my breath in hopes to make it through another day.

It is tough as there is only so much I can do at such a pace. I realize things will slow down (and I got plenty to keep me busy when that does happen), but until then I never really figured life could go at such a warped speed in such a small town . At least I’m not bored!


And so, life has gone on – whipping by me as I try to hang on with a tight grip. At the Hanmer Springs Family Camp I work for accommodation, putting in 2hrs/day of gardening and other odd jobs that need doing. Weeding, raking leaves and piling wood have become a thing of daily occurrence in my life. Each day I pull on my working gloves and grab the wheelbarrow as I head off to do what needs doing. It’s simple enough and a whole lot more satisfying to know that I am doing something to pitch in rather than paying for accommodation elsewhere.



Love it

 At work, the standards are high as I work hard to clean whatever needs clean so that St. James will continue to be a high standard of 5-star accommodation. It’s incredibly refreshing to be working somewhere that actually ensures that everything is cleaned up. Any mark, any scuff, any bit of dirt or lint is removed from the rooms so that they are sparkling new by the time we’ve finished with them. True bliss comes into play with the fact that we also make sure we stop for tea every shift and all sit down together to have a cup of tea and biscuit (I commented that this was “very English,” at one point and was corrected as apparently this is also “very Kiwi”).

And that’s the basis of my life. Walking 2.5km to town every day to work housekeeping and then when I’m done I walk back to the family camp to do gardening before it gets dark. No wondering where fresh water is or where the flattest piece of land is to pitch a tent. I don’t have to worry about how much loo roll is left in my pack or how much food I have left to stretch the days. I have finally succeeded in getting back to “normal life” where I can wear jeans if I want and wash my hair every day. It feels good.

And more than that – it feels good to be in a place I can call “home” for the next few months. It feels awesome to be building on relationships with people and making new friends – all the while knowing that I won’t be walking away from it all in another day or two. Even better than that, with Hanmer Springs being so close to Christchurch, the friends Alex and I did make when we were there for the Student Army are people we will get to see more regularly the coming months. But even above and beyond that, I’m stoked to be here for the winter season. With a ski hill around the corner, hot pools in town and so much to do in my spare time – I don’t know if I will ever be ready to leave.

After the Curtain Closes

APRIL 4, 2011


Now that we’re done there’s no more need to be writing in this journal according to what “Day Number” it is. Nor is there any need to be recording how many KM we’ve walked or any other info regarding “the” trek – because we’re done. Finished. Complete. And it’s freaking weird.



Alex surrounded by all our stuff that
was shipped in from storage in Auckalnd

 I hope I will always remember it all. Remember waking up every morning not having a clue as to what is going to happen next. Remember the pain. The crazy mountain climbs. Remember the cold mountain rivers. The smell of goat. The smell of dead animal. Remember the different plants – those that were lovely and those that did everything in their power to prevent us from going forward. The farmland. The beaches. The rain. The sun. Remember the valleys and mountain ridgelines. Remember the dirt and grime. The blisters. The aches and pains. Remember the sunny afternoons tanning in bikinis and the never-ending struggle to make the crazy tan lines disappear. Remember gritting my teeth against the wind. Against the traffic. Against the heat. Against the cold. Remember the many times I fell. The many times I wanted to quit, but didn’t. Remember the crazy adventure of Te Araroa Trail. The mishap of trail markers. The overgrown trail portions. The non-existent trails. Remember the people. Remember New Zealand. Remember each and every waking moment of our journey.

And as I remember it all, I aim to move forward in my life as the person I have become. I no longer feel as though I am on the same path as I was when I first started. I have come out the other side of Te Araroa Trail feeling more focused. More in tune with who I am. Stronger. More determined. Enlightened on the life I want to lead.

But figuring out where to begin has been incredibly hard and overwhelming. How can I when I literally have to start from scratch? Finishing the trail I have realized that I am left with a blank canvas for which to begin the process of designing who I want to be. I have no clothes. No make-up. No jewelry. No anything to my name. No cell phone. No job. No home. No nothing.

And so I begin. A new journey. A new adventure. The adventure of life.


It feels so surreal to be here in Queenstown after talking about it for so long. Since Alex and I started trekking Te Araroa Trail, and even before we started, we were dreaming about what we would do once we finished. Not just what we wanted to do to celebrate that fact that we just walked the entire length of New Zealand, but also what we wanted to do after the celebration died down and “real” life kicked in. And here we are. It’s no longer just a dream, it is our reality.



Alex and I ready for a night out to celebrate (FINALLY)

 Arriving here at Reaves Lodge in Queenstown on April 3 after a whirlwind of finishing in Bluff and hitching our way up to Queenstown, making a final stop at the local grocery store for some food for dinner, we quickly took some “before” photos of us in our trekking clothes and excitedly stripped them off for the last and final time. Our smelly boots were banished outside our room and the old socks got chucked into the bin. No longer did we have to wear the same underwear, the same pair of shorts or the same shirt again. We were done and it felt awesome.

Cracking open a bottle of wine, Alex set to sorting through her things and getting comfortable while I took my first shower of the rest of my life. Scrubbing down never felt so good as the hot water pelted down. All the dirt. All the grime. Everything was washed clean, right down to between my toes and behind my ears. I washed my hair. Twice. Three times in fact. The shower continued to steam up as I cleaned every inch of myself. Five and a half months of walking the length of New Zealand without a care to how I cleaned myself had taken a toll. I now cared. I wanted that clean feeling. I wanted to know that when I showered I wasn’t going to get dirty again within the next five minutes from walking back to the tent.

I relished that shower. The feeling of the hot water. Of the soapy suds renewing my skin. I treasured the moment I finished and was able to wrap myself in a large, white, fluffy towel – one of which I knew was mine for the next 3 days. One of which would be there should I want to take another shower again. Coming back out to the main room – our main room – I sunk down into one of the chairs with a sigh. I looked over to Alex with a big dopey grin on my face and saw my expression mirrored on her face. The room. The towels. The beds. The sheets. The fridge. The bathroom. The toilet paper. The mirror. Everything. It was better than Christmas. Better than my birthday. Better than anything great and lovely in the world. The feeling of being there in that moment was the best feeling – the best high – I have ever had in my 24 years of living. That was it. I wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. I wanted to just be and let the moment roll over me for all of eternity. We had done it. We had finished.

No more trekking. No more tent sleeping. No more same-short wearing. No more smelly socks or leaky boots. No more 20kg pack wearing. No more greasy hair or dirty finger nails. No more food rationing. No more sleeping bag pillows. No more deflated mats or broken trekking poles. No more duck-taped Ziploc bags. It is over – all over. I will miss it – surely I will miss it. But right now I just enjoy the fact that we are done. It’s not just the feeling of knowing we did what we set out to do, but it’s also just the fact that we have finished. And I don’t know what I am most happy about.

Since being in Queenstown, Alex and I have pampered ourselves with hot showers, real beds, fresh food and “normal people” clothes. We have spent time walking around Queenstown and planning for where we go from here (fingers are crossed for Hanmer Springs). One night we went out to a local pub and met up with a friend from Broome who worked there. Alex, Siobhan and I hung out in the pub by the log fire, enjoying the live band playing into the night. It was bliss. Absolute bliss.



It's a good thing the truck has a sign on its back end. Heaven
knows we would have missed seeing these houses otherwise.

 By the time we were due to check out of Reaves Lodge on April 6, neither one of us was ready to say goodbye. Our stuff from storage in Auckland had arrived the day before and we were completely overloaded with stuff that it was overwhelming to think of how we were going to be able to not only pack up, but find some way to get out of Queenstown and head to Hanmer Springs. Armed with two massive backpacks each plus numerous amounts of small bags stuffed to the max, there was no way we were able to hitch our way out of town and hoping on the local bus didn’t seem like a viable option either.

With the help of the local staff at Reaves Lodge (Thanks John and Zelda) we were able to get in contact with a rental company that needed a vehicle relocated from Queenstown to Christchurch. The deal was that we had to get the car there within 24 hours and all we had to pay for was the gas. Given the amount of luggage we had, this was a sweet deal for us. And so we waved goodbye to Reaves Lodge and set out in our little blue car to head towards Hanmer Springs – not only were we done the trek, we were wearing “normal people” clothes and had a car to drive. Life couldn’t get much better.

And drive we did. Popping into Wanaka on our way up and then over to the east coast where we drove until we got tired. Then we pulled over, piled on the clothes and climbed into our sleeping bags – crammed in our little car we caught some shuteye until sunrise the next morning. And then we put the key in the ignition and drove onwards. To Hanmer Springs we went to drop off our luggage before we zipped back to Christchurch to drop off the car.

It was strange to be back in Christchurch after all that had happened. Last time we were there it was for an entirely different purpose – to help those in need through the Student Army. This time we went to drop off a car and meet up with friends we had made on our previous visit. It was awesome to catch up with our friends – especially considering they were as excited as us about the fact that Alex and I were wearing “normal people” clothes (jeans!).

And now we’ve made it to Hanmer Springs.



Hard to know what to do now that we're normal people again


APRIL 8, 2011

Well… it’s my first official day in Hanmer Springs here and I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve gotten settled here at my work-for-accommodation at the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp with my own little cabin (tiny and cold) and it feels good, but I’m still a little hesitant to fully relax yet. I still need a job – BAD. That’s my main goal for today and I only hope it goes alright.

The adventure in Queenstown already seems like a world away.

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