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.
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.
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?
Poor little hikers! What an horrible day, apart from the kind people you always seem to run into.
Are we there yet?
Thank goodness for those perks at the end of the day! What a mission. Keep going yorlye, nearly there!! xx
It gets worse and worse! But somehow you can find the humor in it all…. love the expressions on your faces in the muddy, wet photos!
Thank heavens for kind people in the world – as you have referred to them before, the “trail angels” 👏👏
You are certainly getting a lot of challenges! Reminds me of us when we did the routeburn track in 1975!! You’ll have to ask me about that one day!! Keep on plodding and smiling You’ll have good stories to tell
Ps accept every offer from the kind Kwiis!!