Te Araroa – Part Two

A trek. An ex. What could possibly go wrong…..

Hello!  I am writing to you from the Waitomo caravan park, approximately 130km down the trail from Hamilton. It’s been a fairly torrid start to this, the second run at the Te Aroroa trail…I guess it was never going to be easy!

To put all of this in context, Aubs and I, back when we were partners, commenced the trail at Cape Reinga and section hiked to Auckland.  That was five years ago.  Much has changed in that time, and much has stayed the same.  When I got back from the Scotland trip last year, Aubs asked if I would be keen to continue on with the TA. It sounded half mad…but we had been friends for the last four years, so sure, why not?

The plan was to meet in Brisbane, at the airport and travel to Auckland.  From there, we would catch the bus to Hamilton, having decided to skip the laborious task of hiking from city to city through dreary suburbs and industrial wastelands.

The plan went off without a hitch and we soon found ourselves camped up in an urban caravan park excitedly purchasing and planning for the first stage of the hike. Crazily, the receptionist at the caravan park was from Norfolk Island!

The following day we braved the cold and got underway – destination Whatawhata – and what would turn out to be about a 20km journey.

Essentially, this was a trip through the outer suburbs of Hamilton along various roadways until we reached a particularly nice viewing area.  Greenery and mountains were spread out before us, giving a glimpse into the landscape that we would be getting familiar with over the coming days.

Eventually we arrived in Whatawhata and were greeted by the friendly locals.  One fellow, sucking on an icecream, informed us we were welcome to park up in his backyard. We just needed to let him know so he could leave his electric gate open. Despite the kind offer, we stuck with our original plan, which was to ask at the Whatawhata cafe. 

The very jolly owner, already knocked off for the day and sipping a Bacardi and coke was delighted to see us!  A couple of the first walkers through for the year! We were welcome to find a patch of grass out the back, in between tables, and pitch our tents.  Welcome to use the cold, filtered water.  Welcome to use the toilets for the night.  Sorry there is no shower.  Here, use this jug, that’ll make things easier for cooking.  I’m sorry I didn’t catch her name.  She was really so accommodating and welcoming.  What a boon for the trail.

The following day is a little bit….crazy. It starts off fine, with a slightly overgrown and weedy, but pleasant enough walk alongside a murky, brown river. The sun shining off its surface.

Aubs has had trouble with accessing his money since arriving in NZ, and, I think it is probably fair to say, that we are still “adapting” to each others vastly differing communication and hiking styles.  Aubs decided to pull up stumps for a minute to talk to the bank (again!), so I decided to keep on going, knowing that we would catch up a little further down the track. 

I crossed a bridge, wary of the reports that the next section was heavily overgrown and a nightmare to walk.  To my delight, it was obvious that a trail angel had been through recently with the snippers and spray, so the track was clear and relatively pain free.  Happy days.  I consulted my app, crossed the highway and started along the road towards the next section of the trail.  Before too long, I began to climb.  Up and up, the views becoming better and better.  A message from Aubs:

Where are you?

Just past the quarry.  Get ready for a hill climb!

Up and up and up I go.  I take a photo and notice three missed calls from Aubs and a message

What quarry?

I video call him back (For some reason that is the only way I can hear anybody on my phone). I see Aubs looking hot and flustered. He says:

I think you’ve gone the wrong way. You were supposed to continue down the highway. The Karamu walkway is closed because of lambing season. You were supposed to continue down the highway.

He then reads me the exact message on a different trail app.  I’m a bit stunned.  I can’t conceive of going back.  I’ve already climbed such a long way.  I’m almost at the walkway.  I tell Aubs he will have to leave it with me.  That I’ll sort something out.  That I’ll see him at the homestead tonight.  And we hang up.

I stand for a bit, unsure.  Decide I might as well keep going for now.  That I might have to risk it. I reach the walkway.  I can see a big “Walkway Closed” sign hanging from the fence.  I also see a big crew of road workers milling about near the top.  I feel defeated and decide I might as well approach them to ask for advice, or even a ride back to the highway. I was glad I did.  Picture this conversation (in a broad kiwi Maori accent):

You are a hiker are you? Enjoying your hike?

Well….yes.  But now I see the closed sign and I think I have stuffed up.

Before you get all blue about it, I suggest going over there and having a look at the fine print on that sign.  Go and have a look! Read the fine print! You’re good!

I go and have a look.  And indeed, the knowledgeable Maori fellow is right…the sign says the walk is closed between the 1st of August and 30th September….a date we have now passed.  Without knowing what to do I ask the person who seems to know the most.  What should I do?

Go! Go and enjoy your hike! The lambs were born ages ago.  You’ll be fine.  It’s all good!

With limited options, I choose to believe in this guy.  I climb the fence.  I’m not going to write a tonne of stuff about the Kamaru Walkway, because I honestly still don’t know if I was allowed to be there or not.  I will say however, that, rightly or wrongly, it was awesome. 

On the other side, I came to our accommodation for the night.  I could see Aubs on the verandah of what looked to be a hiker hut.  Poor Aubs.  He had had an awful day, fighting traffic and literally fearing for his life.  I felt terrible about my naughty girl good fortune.  To top things off, just after everything had been unpacked we encountered Lucia, who informed us we were in the wrong cabin.  We were henceforth to pack up and move to the backpacker bunk room.

Hidden behind a car and an old wooden door lay an old milking shed with a few beds thrown inside.  The bin was full and the place was just…pretty dim.  We soon met Pastor Stu, who entered the hut, gave me a beer, sat on the one reasonable seat (with Aubs trying to shave in the background), kicked off his gumboots, twisted off his bottle cap, threw it onto the floor, and proceeded to regale us with stories about his pastor services for the prisons and police.  I must admit that I thought he may have been having us on…aren’t pastors supposed to be better at listening than talking.  An hour or two later, beers drunk, he left.  None the wiser about either Aubs or I.  A pretty crazy day.

Right…now to add to things, my keyboard has died.  So once again in NZ, I’m back to typing on my phone.  Why Te Araroa??!!! Why do you hate me so?

The next morning I knew something was wrong.  My throat felt like little knives were cutting it. Cut, cut, cut.  I tried to put it down to the plethora of dust mites I had been inhaling in the dusty barn all night.  Breakfast was had.  With Pastor Stu.  This time we heard about his recent operations.  On departure, Aubs was made to try fingertip chin ups on the door frame.  We watched the Pastor succeed in a few.  Aubs, not so much.  But at least he tried. We left quickly and thankfully, grateful for the stay, but feeling a little bit like we’d been conned at the same time.

My throat starting feeling worse.  Thinking about the day ahead, a huge day of climbing up the Pirongia range, didn’t help.  I told Aubs to push ahead. I needed to be in my own head space.  I would be slow, slow, slow.  Things started ok.  Fairly flat, with an insight into the ravages that recent floods have borne on the area, with huge trees uprooted and debris several metres deep lining the banks of the river. 

Once we started going up, things got real for me.  Up and up and up through beautiful forest, but my head was gone, focussed solely on every piercing breath which needed to be taken.  Hours later, towards the top, the track devolved.  More tree roots, step ups, slippery downhills and steeper uphills.  My head was pounding and I felt feverish.  Each step a mental push for focus and breath.  Eventually, I half stumbled into camp.  Aubs was there to greet me, and give me a very welcome hug.  I felt spent. 

The reward was an absolutely magical sunset with incredible views in all directions.  Still, an early night for me. 

The next day I felt worse.  Not much sleep and now a blocked but runny nose.  And brain fog.  Massive brain fog.  And I needed to get down this mountain.  A quick look at the trail comments led me to believe this could be hell in hiking boots.  Muddy and slippery.  A number of commenters stated it had taken them up to nine hours to complete this challenge.  Gulp…

Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as that.  A recent dry patch helped, and although muddy and slippery, I was able to hold my concentration and nerve and make my way down.  I do confess to questioning myself…. I should be at home watching Netflix on the couch, or sleeping…Why am I doing this? Sometimes I do really wonder, why?

Aubs was waiting at the bottom and we took a small break before continuing on another 8km to our camp for the night.  Aubs was once again dealing with the bank, so I continued on, making the most of the opportunity to put on a podcast and blow my nose time and time and time and time again. 

I reached Jo’s Funny Farm.  No joke.  I wasn’t feeling that humerous by that time.  I was, in fact, feeling absolutely sick and dead tired.  My spirits were more than bouyed by meeting Pip the dog, and making my way into Jo’s comfy pad for hikers.  With a bit of a rest I decided I would be better off setting up my tent, keeping my germs to myself,  and letting Aubs have a good sleep indoors. 

LOL!! The night gave me no rest.  I was in bed before dark and juuuusssttt as I was drifting off to sleep, Jo’s partner arrived home.  The animals were fed and their satisfied chomping reined supreme.  Lights went off and I once again settled back in.  A cat, (whom I was later introduced to as Socks) snuck into the vestibule and started mewling.  Socks left.  Sleep approached.  Morepork….morepork….morepork. Right in the tree above me.  I asked her why, and all I got back was that she wanted to say hello.  Hours later, an indignant duck quacked me from my restless slumber.  All of that is to say, that I woke with slits for eyes and the world’s runniest nose.  I wasn’t pretty. 

It was a long morning of slow packup.  Made all the more enjoyable talking to Jo, a true blue trail angel who does it because the service is needed and for nothing more.  Feeling sorry for me, I was given a natural remedy to help flush me out.  Not to be taken until I was resting at the end of day.   With half open eyes, I set off. 

Despite everything, it was an enjoyable day.  Aubs and I are coming to an understanding around how we need to operate with our hiking, and things feel a lot smoother.  It feels long, but the bush is nice and not particularly challenging…besides the mud of course!

We reach the camp site at the red shed of Pukari hut by around 3pm.  There is a family there already, but I’m not up for mingling.  I make camp away from the rest, take my magical elixir and fall to sleep. 

I wake much brighter eyed.  Things are on the up! This has worked! A quick dinner and walk and I am back in bed.  It starts to rain and I contentedly (though snuffelly) fall asleep to the world’s most luxurious sound. 

Morning comes.  I wake, feeling quite a lot better.  The miracle cure has worked! But wait…what’s this! In an absolute panic I flee out of my sleeping bag and make it into the vestibule before my insides let go and I literally shit like hell.  It’s like one of those cartoons where the character vomits way longer than they need to.  But this was shitting.  In a steady, steady stream until nothing more could be inside.  Fucking hell.  Is this a holiday? I make my coffee and get on with things.  At least I’m feeling better.  There’s nothing more I can do. 

And so, finally my friends, we are headed into Waitomo and a rest.  It is raining and drizzly all day, but not cold.  The track is interesting.  Absolutely lovely forest in parts and slippy, sloppy mud crevices in others.  Aubs and I continue to get better at communicating our intent with a “you do you” philosophy. 

We arrive in town and get into the accommodation.  After all this snotty sickness and exploding cleansing I finally get a hot shower.  It is bliss.  A pub meal, a good sleep and things are back on track.  For now anyway.

And you are all caught up!