Oct 31 Day 61 Nichols Hut to Otaki Forks 18 km 7:00-4:00

Woke up ready, packed up in record time, stepping out into a bright but cold morning. It was sublime. Hands and feet almost numb, the ground was frozen so the trail was stable, not slippery mud. The morning trek was on razor peak trails– no more than a shoe wide, with a number of rock climbing intervals– all the way up to the top of Mount Crawford. The light, after days of mist, was crystal, and the climb perfect. Then the range turned and descended to a winding woods and lots of root hiking. Steep drops with roots and mud are my slowest surface. I worry about tripping, so the rest of the morning was tedious. I arrived at the last hut on the range to find Remi, Leo, and Cory, who had been in front of me all this stretch (I’d see their names in the hut logs). We all set off together but they were fresh and young and soon left me slogging along. More mud and roots, long afternoon, but when I got to Otaki Forks, a couple was touring around with a visitor from Spain and offered to take me to Otaki. I took a room at the Otaki Hotel (not exactly four star) and they will show the game in morning. Relaxing before dinner, glad for amazing and diverse day.

Oct 30 day 60 Waiopehu Hut to Nichols Hut 17 km 7:30-4:00

A hard but beautiful hiking day, humbling too. Woke to clear skies but high winds and low temperatures. The decks outside the hut were iced up. Still, it was too beautiful not to hike, so soon I was climbing the first of dozens of peaks. Encountered most high terrain trails– plenty of mud and root hiking , scrambling over and up rocks, stumbling and sliding down gravel scree or just slick mud. It was a classic ridge hike, hard up to a 1400 meter peak with a dusting of snow over it, then down one of those endless ridges, taking me up on tundra with tiny flowers under foot and cold winds blowing, then into indescribably old, twisted forests where the trees, stumps, rocks, were  all blanketed in thick green moss. It was as if you could hear it breathing. I had hoped to make it to the last hut which would have been about 25 km, but it was impossible to make good time on a trail that seemed to change every 100 meters. There was a lot of very steep slippery descending, the part of hiking where I am slowest. Still, Nichols hut was snug and had a great view. Although there was really no proper wood, I did build a fire in the wood stove to take off the chill and get my socks dried off. One disappointment is that I won’t be off the mountains in time to watch the World Cup rugby match Sunday morning. I’ll have to find a replay of it later that day when I get back to civilization.

Oct 29 day 59 Waiopehu Hut 0 km

The wind and rain continued hard through the night and into the morning. Woke to zero visibility and the trail looked like a stream. I’m not sure whether the weather here might often be more extreme, given the altitude and exposure, but people do occasionally note in the log that it was sunny, so this might not be typical. Decided to sit tight for now to see how it all unfolds. Wish I had gotten more coffee. As the day progressed I alternated between warming up in my sleeping bag and sitting at the table watching the downpour. I remembered I had some bullion cubes in my food flavor bag, so while reading of English exploration of the Arctic, I drank steaming cups of beef tea. The weather remained constant all day, though the wind dropped around 4:00 even as the rain picked up. Hoping that is a signal of some change in what has been a changeless day. Soon the rain stopped and I could see from the windows what first seemed a mirage– faint houses, fields, roads– then the clouds lifted somewhat and I could see Levin down in the flatland. Could almost pick out the campground. But the weather was not finished. Soon more rain came in, just before the clouds lifted completely and the wind began to blow from another direction. Incredibly hard and cold. Got into my sleeping bag glad it was rated to 30 degrees F.

Oct 28 day 58 Levin Campground to Waiopehu Hut in the Tararua range 18 km 8:30-2:30 (plus about 9 km from Levin back to the trail)

I didn’t enjoy yesterday’s hike (and have not felt real pleasure walking the last few days). In part it was long hiking with new shoes and wet feet which completely hamburgered my feet, but also I had just been counting kilometers and setting goals for distance and pace– bad idea because you are never just present in the walk. So this morning I lingered in my tent, enjoying a cool, misty but still somehow bright morning. I packed up, stopped at the campground kitchen (where my soap opera friends were having a big breakfast fry-up including pork chops) and made coffee while charging my phone. It was a long walk back to trailhead– took most of the morning (though I did stop for a meat pie on the way out of town). When I finally got to the trail, I had my head properly back in the hike, deciding at the first hut to call it a day even though it was early– wind was blowing and the rain was worsening. I have plenty of time to get through this range, and will enjoy the hike. Trail is well-done, though the rain is rapidly turning it to soup. This DoC hut is fairly new, good sound windows, nice steel tables, spent afternoon listening to Miles David (Kind of Blue), inventorying my food, eating throughout the process. I have enough for 5 days even though on this stretch I’ll only be out for at most two before hitting some form of civilization again. Sitting here is like being on the bridge of a ship in a storm, only I don’t have to steer. I remember Henry Beston describing his cape Cod House –The Foc’sle–in similar terms. For all I know, the Atlantic is right out there, or the Antarctic, all I can see is misty white opacity.

Oct 27 day 57 James Burtton Whare site to Levin Campground 30 km 6:45-4:00

It rained a bit in the night, but morning was fresh and misty. Slept well listening to the river and a quiet breeze. Wasn’t sure what to expect today– just knew there wouldn’t be much road walking, which seems to have been most of the last week. It was thought provoking in the first stretch. James Burtton spent more than 30 years in the first part of the 20th century not only clearing his land, building a small house and bridges, he also built the road that is now the trail. It runs out along the river, so you have to wonder how much has been washed out, but there were stretches you could see the careful construction. It was humbling. Of course, there were many stream crossings and I got wet feet early on. Hiking with wet feet is not too big of a deal except when you start out soaking and have a lot of kms, particularly a lot of up and down (which describes my day). Came out of Burtton’s track, short gravel road walk and then up on the Mangahao-Makahika track, which was all NZ tracks in microcosm. First a fairly steep up to a couple hours of ridge hiking, classic up and down in some amazing trees that were completely sheathed in ferns. As the trail wore on, and the rain increased, it soon became a classic muddy root hike. After passing the top peak which had an overlook, but given the weather there was nothing to see except a tent pitched at the top, containing I guess hikers avoiding the rain and mud for a little longer. After the peak, it descended rapidly and I was ready for some farm road hiking, but no luck. The second part of this all-terrain trail was classic swamp hiking, shoe-sucking mud, crossing streams and rivers every five minutes. Completely lost track of how many times I crossed the river, but there were no dry shoes, that’s for sure. My final destination was open as I thought if it were an easy day, I’d try for the first hut on the next track, a long day, but possible. Well, after rain, mud and rivers, it was not a possibility. Instead, on coming out of the M-M track, I took the TA overlook track to Levin, which is either on the trail or a detour, depending on what TA document you consult. Found the Levin Holiday Park, pitched tent, did laundry (and put my shoes by the dryer vent–it is amazing how satisfying it is to find a simple effective strategy). While the clothes were In the dryer, I checked email in the TV room. A mother/daughter pair came in (Maori) who were on a short vacation from their home in Taupo. They wanted to watch an Australian soap opera, which brought high drama through a kidnapped young woman held in a remote area, but she was able to get her captors phone and email her coordinates to the one man who would walk through fire to save her– and he did (well, not the fire part). We all laughed, ohh’ed and ahh’ed through it. Was great fun. I then ducked out for dinner at Fat Boyz pub, read a bit, then crawled into my trusty tent for good sleep, with only the faintest patter of rain in the night.

Oct 26 day 56 Palmerston North to James Burtton Whare site 34 km 7:30-4:00

Half way through! It was good it get in a long hard day. Winding out of Palmerston the trail goes up through Massey University. I missed the path that went up by a stream and found myself walking parallel to it on the campus. It was Labour Day so the place was deserted–almost. The security guard stopped me to see what I was doing. I convinced him I was a harmless, slightly lost backpacker and went on my way. Much of today’s walk was on gravel roads and mountain bike trails, but the countryside was beautiful, so it was easy to keep a good pace. Mid afternoon I passed the 1500 point, just as the trail ducked off a peak and would track down through some mud and bush. Finally got my new shoes dirty. A well-made trail wound down through a pretty, deciduous forest to some streams which I had to wade across, and the Tokumaro River which I crossed twice, so not only did my shoes get muddy, they also got clean (and wet). After the second crossing, I came to the site of James Burtton’s home. He lived there in the first part of the 20th century and built the trail out to the road to transport his farm products. His fields were across the river and he died while crossing a suspension bridge he had built–sad story as he fell 8 meters, broke his leg and had other injuries. He crawled to a neighbors house, but it took 12 hours and he soon died. Had a nice conversation with a kiwi section hiker named Ryan WoolIey, then pitched my tent in the grassy space and rested my weary bones.

Oct 25 day 55 Feilding to Palmerston North

Slept in a bit because I wanted a big breakfast before leaving and the Spring cafe did not open until 8:00. Enjoying what luxury I can get for now as the coming days (after today) will include big miles and stealth camping. The walk over to Palmerston North was straightforward on very straight roads. It was Sunday so traffic was thinner than usual and lots of bicycles out. The trail skirts the outside of Palmerston, running down a river path popular today as it was finally warm and sunny. Everyone wanted a piece of that. Wound my way to the campground down near the river which is flowing strong from recent rain. Got set up, headed to pak’n save to resupply, the Bivouac to replace my camelback (got one on sale), then the patio at Brewers Apprentice where a mass of people were having sunshine pints. Good quiet day.

Oct 24 day 54 Bulls to Feilding 20 km 8:45-12:30

Had choice of a short day or something near 40km to Palmerston North. Been in a bit of a physical lull, so opted to hike short to Feilding (yes, that’s how it is spelled, named after someone who spelled it that way). Uneventful walk, though had plenty of spring in my step, probably because I knew it would be a short day. It is a long weekend here–Monday is Labour Day– so I had some trouble getting a room (car races in town), but found place in downtown pub at reasonable price. Like the last town, the pub is dominated by gaming machines and horse racing. Don’t know why I find those places so depressing, but everyone seems to have an edge of desperation or maybe it’s the hopelessness in their eyes. The town is interesting in that it is so flat. It has squares in the middle dominated by a bell tower which has a long history, though it is a new structure. Everything is spread out and most of the buildings seem new, so it has a shopping center feel, but then there are short streets off the square with classic old storefronts (early 20th century). Wandered a bit, found the Robert Harris Coffee Roasters–a good place to spend much of the early afternoon. I then retired to Murray’s Irish Pub for the late afternoon pint and an early dinner. There the races were on, but people seemed to just be watching without the stress of having bet the butter and egg money. Adding to the calm was the music which was all classics– James Taylor, Aretha Franklin, Otis Reading, Righteous Brothers–hard not to smile on a late Saturday afternoon to them. I should have tried to get up at 4:00 am to come back to watch the World Cup game, but I overslept. The All Blacks prevailed, so this should be an interesting week here in NZ.

Oct 23 day 53 Koitiata Beach Campsite to Bulls 28 km 7:15- 1:00

Another very direct hiking day, though for some reason quite tiring. Might have something to do with my new shoes which are not yet rubbing blisters but my feet feel odd in them, a little more numb than usual. Guess I just need to break them in. It was high tide with more high winds (and some rain), so we walked down the coast trail a bit, then cut over to the forest road for the rest of the morning. Was a pretty walk, even though it was a plantation forest, as it was older growth and imposing. The road was well-graded, straight as an arrow, and the verge was covered with soft needles which make for such soft quiet walking. At one point it opened out onto a road crossing where I talked with two older Maori men picking puho (?) which are greens that resemble really tall dandelions and are eaten by boiling and mixing with meat. They were enthusiastic about their harvest– big smiles all around. After crossing a cutover, I found myself back out on a road, heading to Bulls, a town I have visited via bus with the Georgia Tech students on the way to Taupo. When passing a farm I was invited for a cup of tea by Heather, a farmer/orchard keeper with two dogs who is something of a trail angel. She told the story of just having baked a peach pie when some TA trampers appeared and happily devoured it. I had to forgo the tea because I needed to catch up with Cory which was disappointing as the farm was beautiful, and it would have been a nice stop. A bit further on, I was passing a small house near the road and waved to an older woman who was in the yard surrounded by a panic of small dogs. She waved back, then asked me to stop. Very Christian, she had prayed that God would send her someone to help move a chair she had just gotten from the charity shop. Not wanting to disappoint a prayer and seeing a chance to return in a small way some the generosity I have received, I dropped pack and headed in. Turned out to be a recliner with lots of steel. It was so heavy I could barely lift it. I managed to wrestle it out and up her front stairs. Have to admit I’ve never seen such squalor. The floor was rotten, and covered with dirt and I’m guessing dog shit. Bowls of pet food were spilled out every where, and the furniture that was already there was clearly rotting away. The 5$ charity chair stood out from the rest in its cleanliness. Apart from moving the chair, there was nothing I could do, so I picked up my bindle and headed back out on the road, arriving in Bulls an hour later. Met up with Cory who was eating a triple dip ice cream cone. Turns out he has a bounce box in Palmerston, and it’s Friday before Labor Day weekend. The only way for him to get it was to go there today by bus, so off he went, and I again find myself hiking alone. Cory is a great hiking partner but I look forward to hiking my hike for a bit. I grabbed a pie and some coffee, then headed to the backpackers place on the edge of town, showered, and wandered back to beautiful downtown Bulls for some quiet time and a good meal. I spent part of the afternoon in the Rat House pub, the only non-bull themed business in town. It came recommended by Heather as a place to get a good meal which makes sense as the rest of town is all takeaway. Still, I had hopes, as it was an old establishment in middle of town. Unfortunately it was dominated by racing and betting machines, and I found myself surrounded by people who seemed down on their luck, betting on everything they could. Got depressing so I just wandered town some more, got a falafel, then returned for that big dinner before wandering back to the Bridge Motor Lodge. There I had a beer sitting outside the bunkhouse, then checked out the television room–the set got two channels but one was CNN, so I got caught up with presidential politics. The rain continued to pour so I was glad I was in the bunkhouse and not my tent. Before long, the green lawns were all shimmering pools.

Oct 22 day 52 Wanganui to Koitiata Beach Campsite 30 km 7:15-1:45

What can you say, completely flat day– 30 km of road walking, most on highway 3. Grey, misty, heavy traffic, no real sights to stop for, poured rain with high winds for second half. Just a hiking day to put in the books and forget; however, outside hiking some events not to forget. On crossing the Whangaehu River, right when it started to rain, we (Cory is hiking with me) stopped at the Whangaehu village to see if there was a Tip Top or small store. I asked a woman who was standing in front of an old store, she said there was nothing in the town. As we walked back toward the highway, a dreadlocked, grizzled man waved us down, asked if we wanted coffee, inviting us into his home–a cinder block building that had once been the village store. After siphoning gas from a can into his truck (using the tried and true suck on the end of the hose approach), he introduced us to his wife and granddaughter as well as a friend from up the street. We got coffee and he told the story of the flood (he has lived there for 20 years and as been flooded out four times– each was called a 100 year flood, so I’m guessing he is much older than his 58 years). This is the same flood that hit Wanganui. He had pictures of the village under water, told of escaping with family and children by climbing the roof of the house across the street. His is one of two families that has returned to the village, the other houses are still under condemnation. His was able to occupy early because it is all masonry. He had to shovel truckloads of silt out of it and pressure wash the inside multiple times, and the house (actually is it an old store building from the 1940s) is still in very rough shape, but can finally be lived in after three months hard labor. Interesting people working hard in rough circumstances. Back on the road–around lunchtime the rain really picked up, so we decided to walk in to Turakina (our road turned just outside it) to see if we could get lunch and dry out a bit before the last nine km. Neither the roadhouse, nor the tavern were open, so a coffee and a mince pie at the gas station was the best we could do. The last walk in was rough with wind and sideways rain. A couple of kilometers before Koitiata a woman named Ruth gave us a ride. She sings in a country music club and was on her way to practice. The campground was small, minimal facilities but full of interesting folks. Trish, the warden, doesn’t charge TA hikers, so when the rain broke we pitched tents and spent the first part of the afternoon talking to the various campers, most of whom are driving big RVs. The camp is right across from the beach we will be hiking down tomorrow, the wind characteristic of an ocean breeze. The tiny beach town is one to make you smile, as are the people at the camp. There is Gary, an older man who used to dive (scuba) a lot and had stories about living in Dunedin and having parties with American sailors. Then there is a woman who just moved with her children back from Hamilton to live in the area where she was born. For now, they are in a pop-up camper and tent. The children baked muffins and decorated them with colored icing– one for Canada and one for the US, giving them to us for breakfast. And there was a couple who, because so many people they knew were dying from cancer, etc., decided to take a year off. They bought a camper bus and are traveling the entire country. They had us over to their campsite for beers and conversation. The wind was still blowing and it looked as though the rain would return, so I crawled into my flapping tent, read Barry Lopez for about an hour and slept the sleep of the dead.