Female Hiker Archives - Melly Takes a Walk

Day 3 – WGR World Heritage Walk – 21.4km

It was a pleasant evening curled up in the sleeping bag listening to the boobooks gossip amongst themselves. I love hearing the boobooks so much! Back on Norfolk, a key component of my job is to try and conserve the Norfolk Island Morepork (morepork = kiwi term for boobook), one of the rarest birds in the world. They are actually a hybrid between the last remaining Norfolk morepork and a couple of NZ moreporks that were ferried to Norfolk in 1985 to try and save the species. We only have around 26 of these special birds left, and lack of genetic diversity makes it difficult for them to breed. Every single new chick is a little ecological miracle. And they are so close to the brink. So it is absolutely lovely to hear these boobooks calling with abandon.

I set my alarm with the intention of starting early, knowing it’s been so hot, and that this is the longest day of the walk. The air is cool and fresh when I awake, and I slip away before the rest of the camp stirs.

It’s a steep uphill to begin with. I use my fail safe technique and reach the top in no time. Before long, I move from a fire trail to a single lane track, which makes for the best of walking conditions. The feature of the morning, and what I’m looking out for, is the Dandahra Crags.

Following a stunning morning of eucalypts and warratahs, the lemony scent and the slash of colour, I pop out onto a vast yellow plain. Not a tree in sight. Muted, sun drenched colours. And the crags standing in silhouette, dominating the arid looking plain. It’s definitely time for a rest stop!

Bone dry creek, looking back to the treeline

I turn away from the crags and wander beside a foul smelling creek. The lack of water is obvious here. Bridges crossing bone dry dirt. Flies drone in the midday sun.

A crossroad. A sign. And a person. We say hello. He asks me about my pack. If nothing else, it’s a great conversation starter. He’s a day tripper and smells of pine fresh. We are headed the same way, so it’s time to get out of my comfort zone and initiate some awkward small talk. Turns out we had a bit in common. He was German, (not in common) but had lived in Australia for a long time. “Grew up” on the north coast of NSW (common), always goes hiking / camping on holidays (common), was a biology post doc (commonish), and was all about conservation (common). He told me he was working on a big make or break project, and would try for another year to achieve success. I asked what the project was. “Have you ever heard of…..maggot therapy?” he said. I have but, (not common). He was wanting to go back to the old days. Use maggots instead of antibiotics to cure wounds, especially on the battlefield. It was a rather fascinating, and wholly unexpected conversation.

I feel like we’d only just begun to delve into the topic when we rounded the corner, and there, like a mirage, was a huge, glorious swimming hole! My allegiances were torn. Find out more about the maggots. Or dive into the sparkling blue swimming hole after a hot, old day on the track. Is it telling of my personality to say there was no competition? The swim won out. I asked if he wanted to join me, but he explained he didn’t have his swimmers. I didn’t bother to explain that neither did I. That undies are the swimmers of the future.

I has thought that we might finish our conversation at the camp if he was there, but I never saw him again. I didn’t even get his name. I hope his rather extraordinary venture is successful. Meanwhile, I enjoyed a sublimely refreshing swim. In my underwear.

It was a quick 3km to camp. After wandering the campsite I found my pre-booked spot right in the very middle of all the action. Awash with “keep out” tape where the vegetation used to be. I sat at my table and looked around. Encircled by visitors on all sides. School holiday crowds. Very few privacy trees. Not even my personal tap was working.

It’s strange how these sorts of disappointments take on a whole extra level when you are solo hiking. Instead of just being independent, I have to go and ask somebody if I can fill my water at their tap. All around me are cars and every conceivable piece of comfort and gear, kids, and family and friends. I’m surprised by the feeling of loneliness and isolation I’m feeling. I’m supposed to be enjoying a “rest” day here tomorrow to experience all the local walks without the burden of my pack, but instead I find myself seriously considering just moving on. I unpack, feeling like a circus show exhibit, and decide to walk to the nearby Nulla Falls.

It is beautiful. Rockpools of all shapes and sizes, gushing water, and a feeling of calm. I’m the only one there. I sit and relax. Take in my surroundings. Realise I’m lucky, Realise I want to be there. Realise I don’t want to leave.

Back at camp, the groups are gathering around their campfires. I see people using all sorts of paraphernalia to get theirs alight. And even then, with trouble at times. The tiniest little tuft of grass. And patience. That’s all I need. Feeding the smallest of slithers from the firewood stack, slowly onto the flames. It makes me feel accomplished. Capable. A survivor. I decide I am definitely staying here another night.

Day 2 – WGR World Heritage Walk – 18.1 km

I slept amazingly well listening to the frogs happily chirping all night long. I wasn’t sure what had happened when I eventually woke up, hot in my tent, the sun streaming in. 8.15am! Unbelievable! Something about being the only camper in a walk-in only site makes me feel extremely secure. That, and the frogs.

So it was a late start whilst I had my cuppa and took stock of affairs.

Positive – I’d had a good night’s sleep, It was only 10km to Boundary camp with a few extra side trips. One 10 Amp battery pack working. A pack of matches (7 years old and thrown in at last minute) which are working.

Negatives – Dodgy bag. Supplies a little bit dodgy. Not enough coffee for one (terrible rookie mistake) and the coffee I did have hadn’t seen sunlight for more than 7 years and was two years expired. Same with my sunscreen (it’s a long story). Probably not quite enough unhealthy snacks. Pillow not replaced or repaired following previous trip, and, surprise surprise, it’s still deflating at night. One dead 20 Amp battery pack (checked but now not working – and bloody heavy!). A torch that must have turned on by itself and drained the battery. One bar left. The ignition on my stove no longer working. No cigarette lighter.

All in all, not too bad.

Negative – it is already blisteringly hot.

Positive – it is time to get going.

The start of the day was a nice, little uphill. Just to get the pulses flowing. At the top, five minutes later, I couldn’t bear it any longer, so stopped and readjusted my bag again. To my utter relief, whatever I did seemed to work a charm, because when I shouldered it again, it felt somewhat “pleasant”.

I set off, admiring the dry Australian bush with its hazy colours, delicate scent and abundant birdlife. An interesting looking rock stack loomed in the distance and provided a marker by which to measure distance walked.

A small sign indicted the turnoff to Duffer Falls, which I imagined to be a gloriously blue haven; cold water splashing and the thrum of the cascade. I hastily abandoned my pack, having long ago gotten over the fear of somebody stealing my belongings. Armed with just my water and small towel, I skipped along the path towards watery salvation. Down, down, down and down some more. Mildly beginning to question why I couldn’t hear the roar.

I reached the bottom to find a family, seated on the rocks, one small child running their hands through a meagre looking puddle. My despair must have shown, for they were quick to inform me that if I walked upstream a little, I would come to a “trickle” with enough water to lie in. This sounded like better than nothing to me!

A short clamber, and there, as promised, was the pool looking majestic in the heat, despite it’s lack of grandeur. With the place to myself, I stripped and breathed a sigh of joy and anticipation as the rush of the icy cold water hit my sweltering body. Nothing like cooling off on a hot day, and reaping the reward for effort.

As I set off for the top I passed another small family who had just reached the bottom. I recognised the despair on their faces as they surveyed the parched scene. With a grin I let them know that if they just walked upstream a little they would come to a trickle, enough to swim! Smiles ensued.

Back at the top, with just 3km to camp, I powered along the mostly flat track, aiming to arrive relatively early and beat the afternoon heat. Off to the side of the track, a red beacon glinted at me, and I turned to stare. A beautiful Gilbralter Range Warratah, so graceful in its blatant beauty, a solo pop of colour in the pale greens and yellows of the bush.

The oh, so special Gibraltar Range Warratah

On arrival at camp, I set up at my designated camp site and gulped down some water. Too hot to lie in the tent, I dawdled around the campsite visiting Lyrebird Falls and then braving the stairs to Boundary Pool. This was more like what I had envisaged earlier in the day with a cascading torrent, black water that you know even before feeling it is going to be cold, and logs and debris scattered along the shore. Another bracing swim!

Boundary Pool complete with roaring waterfall

A pleasant day was topped off with a spot of spotlighting in the evening, scaring Euros (and myself!) in the process! Tomorrow is the longest day of the walk!

Day 1 – WGR World Heritage Walk

Washpool loop – 8.5km

Coombadjha to Grassy Camp – 7.5km

I was up early, ready and raring to go. The plan for today was to walk the Washpool circuit track sans backpack, before heading towards the intended campsite for the night, 7.5km away.

The Washpool circuit track was great. Terrific scenery and a good introductory workout for the body. Drifting between lush, green rainforest and dry, brittle schlerophyll meant birdlife was abundant.

Differing shades of greenery on the tracks

The very first creature I saw was a nimble, little grey fantail. Straight away I am struck by the little reminder of home. The whipbirds were strenuous in their cries, whilst catbirds yowled in their mimicry. Russett coloured rufous fantails flitted through the understory and Eastern yellow robins repeatedly drew the eyes with their splendid pop of colour.

A highlight of the walk was staring up at two enormous cedar trees, both supporting an abundant array of epiphytes and wildlife. With an estimated age of over 1000 years old, it was impossible to look at these twin giants without feeling both a sense of awe and sadness, so aged and alone in the bush.

Back at the carpark I grabbed my bag, did a last check of my supplies and got cracking.

Now this wasn’t without a certain level of trepidation. I knew that my bag wasn’t exactly in tip top shape after the last walk. I hadn’t spent a lot of time on preparation, taking basically just a throw everything in the bag approach. And, the family I met the previously night had told me the Grassy campsite was “awful”. No facilities, hot, with hundreds of flies. They had pushed their young kids on rather than staying there. So it was with some nerves that I set off.

I should really be enjoying the cool of the rainforest and bubbling of the water whilst I can….it’s about to get HOT!

It didn’t take long for the landscape to change from thick, wet, green to bare, dry, brown. I should have expected it. Most of Australia looks this way. Recovering landscape in one way or another. Although still pleasant, I had now moved from a single track to a sparse, new fire trail and the level of heat intensity rose dramatically.

Granitic boulders start to dominate the landscape

My bag also wasn’t feeling quite…right. Painful on the shoulders in a way it normally isn’t. You all know I love Aarns. And this one has done over 2000km now, so I really can’t complain. But you change just one little thing and everything is connected to everything else and cascades into….chaos. As I’ve said before. Sometimes I wish they were simpler. I stopped a few times, made adjustments, and continued on.

I was starting to feel a little hot and bothered as I staggered my way into camp. I have done absolutely no training for this (and don’t I feel it!) So it is an absolutely incredible surprise to find that the Grassy Camp is wonderful! A choice of tree scrub or creek lined grassy sites, firepits, a table and best of all, a babbling creek bountiful in frog song. I loved it. Perhaps I’m just more used to this type of no-facilities site, but this had everything I was looking for.

I quickly set up camp beside the tea coloured creek before plunging into the icy waters. No one around, so you know what that means! Somebody had left a nice load of campfire nearby, so I warmed up by the fire and enjoyed a relaxing afternoon. A reminder that with the tough times comes great reward and experiences.

Swimming hole reflections before I disturbed the calm, screaming at the joy of the ice, cold water.

A little, bitty walk….

Washpool – Gibraltar Range World Heritage Walk, 45km plus side trips.

Well. Here I am again…walking. Trying to get the head straight. I am SO looking forward to this!

It’s been close to a year since finishing the first section of the Te Araroa trail. It feels like so long ago. So much has happened. Some good. Some not so good. Some a bit of both. Overall, it’s been a bit of a tough time.

I’m back solo walking. Is that enough information to explain the situation? I’m not going into it. The HOSC and I are still friends. May even do some more walking together at some stage. But for now, it’s back to being wonder woman on my own.

For the first time in an age, this walk hadn’t been the focus of my trip. Instead, I’ve been getting out of my comfort zone, catching up with long lost friends and attending my 30 year reunion. Yup. 30 years.

So this walk is really just intended to be an enjoyable little escapade from what has been an intensely social (and awesome) holiday. My plan is to take things a little slower and really focus on enjoying my time in the bush.

This walk is a little, bitty one that links two world heritage National Parks, located between Glen Innes and Grafton. The walk itself is a loop walk of 45km, with another 30km or so of side tracks if you’re game.

I begin the walk at Coombadjha campsite. Park the car, cross a small creek, and walk all your gear into a large grassy area fringed by spacious, shady sites with picnic tables and fire pits. Not bad at all!! There’s even wood near the pit toilet if you fancy a fire.

I really enjoy setting up my space, the procedure to follow now inbuilt in my brain. For a while I suspect I’m going to be the only camper there. It’s rainy, misty and getting on towards dark. Kids yelling loudly signals a large family group entering the campsite, everybody shouldering their portion of the gear. Another straggler, looking like they’ve got supplies and equipment to hole up in this spot for a week, arrives shortly after.

After dinner (Vietnamese noodles!) I grab my torch and adventure along a small loop trail near the campsite. The white limbs of the eucalypts look surreal in the torch beams. Beady eyes glint back at me down by the creek, water plopping as creatures dive from the light.

I feel cosy in my little tent. Like coming home. The rain pitter patters softly all night long and I luxuriate in my warm bedding feeling very much at peace with the world.

Te Araroa Day 28: Orewa Bay to Takapuna 41.68km! (But only about 25 walked), (580km)

It was a day of mixed fortunes. Luckily for us, mostly in a positive way!

The rest at Orewa was just what the doctor ordered. Big breakfasts, beach walks without the burden of a heavy pack, long lunch complete with vino for me, icecream, snooze. And we were able to catch up with Pete, Nas and Daphne for a very enjoyable catch-up drink. When it’s getting you down, take a rest. That’s the motto of the story.

And so we left this morning in much higher spirits than when we arrived. A lovely walkway along an estuary before more of the dreaded road walking. A large verge along with our improved attitude meant it was a cinch.

We arrived at the turnoff to Stillwater, our intended destination for the evening, by mid morning. 7km to go. Sitting down to take a break, I made a quick scan of the hikers comments. “Avoid this road walk at ALL costs!” was the general gist. No point risking it. I stuck my thumb out and was rewarded one minute later, when the friendly Gareth pulled over in his brand new car, offering us a ride all the way to the caravan park. Sweet as!

Having arrived at the park by midday, we were planning a long afternoon spent rambling through the town and marina. That is, until I looked at the map and realised I had accidentally booked our accommodation in Auckland a whole day early!! There was no way we could make it in just one day….

A quick decision was made. We’d just keep walking. Get as far as we could….perhaps Browns Bay, and then get a taxi to where we were supposed to have been, the night before reaching Auckland. Slightly rattled, we set off again.

And this is where the magic happened! You see, part of this next section involves crossing a deep estuary. The only way it can be done, with any safety, is to cross right on the dot of low tide. That, or suffer delays and more road walking. As it was, had we stayed overnight, this is exactly what would have happened. In a stroke of great fortune however, this afternoon we got there bang on time!

And what a walk it was! A massive blue estuary, shrunk with the tide. Towering cliffs lining the banks. Rivulets of water pouring off them as a result of all the rain. And we nailed the crossing. Aubs went in first, sans pack to test the depth and current. Although chest height, we deemed it safe enough. Gear was stowed tightly. We crossed to the point it got deep before the HOSC swung his bag over his head and carefully made his way across. Once safe, he came back for mine. We both felt victorious to have achieved the crossing successfully. Like we had learnt from our mistakes and were ready for moving to the next section. It was a great feeling.

Trapped rain water at the estuary. We had to wade through this

The low, low tide we snagged through serendipity (and a mistake on my behalf!)

Feeling great after our crossing! (No photos of that…too tense!)

We made our way all the way to Browns Beach, at once admiring and despising the slew of expensive property along the coast. At Browns Bay, we ordered an Uber and 15 minutes later we were in Tapakuna. Easy as that! And we only missed 10km of walking. I can live with that.

One night to go. We have both decided to enjoy our last night in our tents, cooking on our gas stoves, before the adventure ends. I’m guessing it’ll probably rain!

Te Araroa Day 26: Dome Cafe to Puhoi, 28km (524km)

Nothing for it but to jump back on the cart right?

I slept fairly fitfully last night. It was a strange feeling lying in the half packed up cafe, sugar pots under the bench and menus still taped to the fridges. No curtains on the large glass doors, and adjacent to the night time trucks blaring their way along Highway One. Still, it felt like the most comfortable place on earth when the winds started raging, lightning crashed and rain ferociously lashed. Another outrageous storm.

The mood was slow and quiet in the morning as we contemplated what to do. Still raining, but supposed to dry up during the day. Possibly even some sunshine! We talk about taxis and other options, but in the end, we came here to walk, so that’s what we did.

It’s a long, but reasonably interesting day of walking. An uphill road walk to start. A patch of muddy bushland. Another road walk along a quiet, gravel road. This time with views over the valley. An “easy 1km tramping trail” which devolved into a 1 hour mud soaked slip and slide. Further road walking. A 1km section through a patch of lovely bushland full of tree ferns and palms. Paddock walking between spiky gorse bush and an electric fence. Luckily the fence was off!

Finally we reached the intersection with the Puhoi river track, a section I had been looking forward to in completing the day. A fresh sign on a wooden barrier tells us the area is currently closed due to logging. We are left to road walk the remaining four kilometres into town.

It’s a disappointing way to end the day. Though the disappointment could have been avoided if I’d read the track notes properly. Note to self, I’ll have to improve in keeping up with the alerts and closures next time…

To add to the disappointment, a phone call at lunch time had alerted us to the fact that we were no longer able to stay at our booked accommodation at the beautiful, old Puhoi Hotel. The town had been without power all day and they had decided to close. They had no suggestions for an alternative place to stay.

So it was, that by the time we arrived tired and worn out in Puhoi, we had made the decision to take a taxi to Orewa, book ourselves a couple of nights accommodation and take a break. This would mean skipping a 17km section of the trail, much of which was road walking along state highway one. I’m ok with that.

In a rare lucky boon, our mates Pete and Nas were waiting for us at the fish and chip shop in Puhoi when we arrived. Pete was being picked up by his wife Liz and offered us all a ride to Orewa. Perfect!!! Now we just need a place to stay. It’s a big city…this should be easy right?! Wrong!! We rang and rang and rang. Must have tried 15 different motels and caravan parks to discover they were all booked out for the night. The backpackers “Pillows” rated 4.5 / 10 was the only place with a bed. Desperate, we stayed the night.

This place deserves its rating. My room is…ok. Aubs room is the “worst he has ever stayed in”. We’ve got an alternative place for tonight. Hopefully it won’t have old blokes standing around drinking at 10am and rat shit in the shower.

So this afternoon we’ll be resting in our lush accommodation and planning the last of our trip. Just two more days of walking and we’ll be in Auckland. That’s the plan anyway!

Te Araroa Day 25: Pakiri Holiday Park to Dome Cafe, 28km (497km)

I’m not sure there is adequate words to describe how awful today’s walk was. Plain, old awful will do, I suppose. It really was.

Today’s walk was supposed to be one of the highlights of the North Island. Up and over a couple of mountain ranges, with pristine green bush and outstanding views.

Not to be. As you know, it’s been raining in torrents for a while now. More has been predicted, including a possible thunderstorm later in the day. Absolutely not ideal. On top of that, reports from those in the know speaking of mountains and mountains of mud. Rain and hundreds of trampling hikers do not mix well.

What to do? What to do? We are in an isolated location, with little options for moving forward. A plan is hatched. We will depart at 5.30am, hopefully making it over the mountains before the storm hits. It’s a sleepless night.

The dawn breaks, ethereal and misty. We have already squelched our shoes into the cold, muddy waters by the time the first birds decide to sing. It’s going to be a hell of a long day.

Early morning road walk out of the caravan park

The landscape is beautiful, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking. All I’m looking at, all I’m thinking about, is making it up and down these quagmires without breaking a leg. Concentration is required every, single step of the way. My fall count skyrockets from 0 to 6. More than Aubs today, though he took his fair share as well. It was ludicrous, dangerous and not fun.

With 6km remaining we decided to get off the track and walk a gravel road being utilised as part of a logging operation. Luckily, they let us proceed through. Unluckily, the clouds burst, the thunder thrumbed, and we were instantly saturated, adding insult to injury. Nothing like wearing sopping wet, clay soaked rain gear.

Creek crossings just before we escaped onto the gravel road

Very tricky crossing had the rain come any earlier

A saviour arrives. A bloke who had driven into the area on a whim, looking for a spot he and his brothers used to go hunting. Despite our appearance, he was all too happy to plonk us in his car, drips and all. He was a lovely fellow. Enthusiastic about the trail, and Norfolk, one couldn’t help but be perked up by his attitude.

He dropped us right to our campsite for the night. A closed down cafe. But in another embodiment of kindness, the owners allow hikers to camp inside…especially during thunderstorms. We are invited to have a hot shower in the caretakers own house. Spread out beds and dry off in the warmth. It’s like a miracle.

We’ve met another young Belgium hiker here, Daphne. The three of us have had dinner together, staring out at the pouring, thundering rain and comparing notes on how awful the day was. Bed beckons. I’ll be curled up before long, so very grateful to be undercover.

Am I having fun yet?

Te Araroa Day 24: Mangawhai Heads to Pakiri Holiday Park, 28km (470.5km)

A touch of most welcome kindness today. We had met up with our old mate, Peter, again a couple of days ago. Yesterday was his birthday, and his wife had travelled to town to spend the evening with him. Today, Pete was being dropped off directly at the beach, saving himself 7km of road walking through town. We were asked if we would like a ride. Hell yes!!!

How it feels to know that you can skip the road walk today!

Help was offered and gratefully accepted! It was such an unexpected relief to know that a 20km beach walk was all that stood between me and a pre-booked cabin. Finally, a shorter, easier day!!

So, with that it was a 20km cruise down a windswept beach. Shoes off and on through three separate, low water level inlets. Dodging variable oystercatchers and spotted dotterals as they fiercely guarded their tiny chicks. No rain. Despite ominous grey clouds.

Thanks to Pete’s generosity, we arrived in camp by 1pm providing opportunity for a catch up nap and blog time. It is definitely harder keeping up with the blog as a duo! All that “spare” time I had as I prepared and ate my dinner is no longer there. Which is very nice.

The birthday boy, Pete, strides out in front

Some time will also be spent planning. We are at the end game now for this trip. Less than 100km to reach Auckland. We will definitely make our goal!! But first, the promise of a very punishing day tomorrow. May I sleep well in my little cabin tonight! Fingers crossed for this one.

Te Araroa Day 23: Waipu Cove to Mangawhai Heads, 24km (443km)

Definitely a four seasons in one day type of day. Both the walk and the weather!

The trail initially wound up a mountain, sun shining intensely. Fantastic views were visible to the North and we were able to look back on mountains and beaches already trodden.

The sky began to darken. We veered from a gravel road onto a bush track. Steep and slippery ascents and descents on a small, muddy path. Aubs fall tally advanced to four. Mine remains at zero. Though I must admit it is probably due more to luck than superior technique!

Pleasant bush track as opposed to muddy bush track

Light scuds of rain continue to fall as we move from a bush track to a grassy paddock. I can’t help but revel in it and reminisce about the Heysen. Sadly, road walks have replaced fence lines on the northern part of the Te Araroa.

We reach the highlight of the day. The Mangawhai Clifftop Walk. A stunning 5km track that will lead us all the way into town. Waves pound on the rocks far below us. We spot a huge stingray lurking in the pools close to shore. Following a strenuous, hilly, slippery day it is a delight to walk this flat, well formed track. The rain starts to bucket down.

At the campsite, we are lucky enough to get a small break in the weather enabling us to erect our tents. Once showered and dressed in warm clothes, a decision is made to go into town to get some supplies and have dinner at a local pizzeria. We are told that for fit looking people like ourselves it’ll only be a 5 minute walk. We call the taxi. Ominous rain clouds are looming. No answer. We decide to make a dash for it. Mistake!

No sooner had we got going when BOOM!! A massive crash of angry thunder. And those thick, heavy grey clouds let loose. Despite raincoats, we copped a soaking. 5 minutes my arse! Even if we are fairly fit!!

Us when we are not really getting rained upon

Us when we are really getting rained upon

The evening made up for it however as we relaxed into the pleasant surrounds of the Bistro. Rain pelting the outside whilst I sipped a couple of glasses of red and enjoyed a spicy pepperoni pizza on the inside. All whilst listening to the unbelievable antics of a fellow hiker, spruiking to all and sundry, who kept us entertained if not amused! A thoroughly enjoyable day, despite the weather!

Further gear losses…Aubs – phones x 1.5, thermal longs ripped, undies worn through. Me – deflating pillow

Te Araroa Day 22: Whangarei Heads to Waipu Beach, 32km (420km)

Boy oh boy it was hard to get out of my bed this morning. After a lovely rest day, filled with long breakfasts, snoozes, washing and drying, and Indian dinners, it was time to stuff everything in the pack once again.

I felt rested. But this trail has been hard. Long distances between camps; more people to circumnavigate; hideously drenching downpours at the drop of a hat: mud, mud and more mud; sopping campsites. I’m still enjoying it. But it has certainly been a mission.

We bid farewell to the bach and headed across the road. Peter is destined to pick us up at 9am to ferry us across the bay to Marsden Port. We are staring out to sea, waiting for him, when we hear the putt putt putt of a motor. An old tractor is dragging a boat towards the water.

Peter and his wife explain that taking hikers across the bay is a hobby for them. They are headed out fishing after they drop us off. We enjoy the boat ride, finding out more about the foreboding looking Port on the other side as we go.

Once on the other side , we make haste. It’s almost 10am and we have another 32km to cover. We immediately take a wrong turn. Backtrack and start again. Wasted time.

We get back on track and it’s a good thing as the beach itself is beautiful. Aqualine water with a shell studded shore. We can see the dragon we conquered in the background. It feels pristine and beautiful. An expanse of beach well worth visiting.

We reach a tidal river at Ruakaka and face a physical challenge. The water flooding down to the sea is completely brown. A result of the heavy rains. There is no way of gauging the depth of the many rivulets we will need to cross to get to the other side. We probably should have taken a bit more time….but we didn’t. We walked around for a bit, picked a likely spot, and in we plunged. The water felt nice at first. Until it got higher and higher and higher. I could feel it lapping at my bag. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” We dragged ourselves out the other side. Poor Aubs realised the water had cascaded into the pouch holding his new phone (and his old one!). He turned his bag up and poured water out of his pouches. His phones were drenched. He was impressively stoic about it. I vowed not to look in my bags until we reached camp. It was quite a painful lesson.

We continued down the beach. Easy walking. Just a long way. Rain poured as we passed through Waipu, and again and again as we made our way to Waipu Cove. A large section of the track was roadside, and Saturday afternoon proved to be a very popular time for a drive. We were very glad to make it to camp.

Dinner was had overlooking the beach. A beautiful hot shower followed by a stroll through the caravan park finished off the evening. Bed by 8pm. The patter of rain started immediately, lulling me into a satisfied doze. They are all long days now until we get to Auckland.