Farewell, adieu,ka kite ano, goodbye North Island, it's been the best of times and the worst of times and it's a far, far better place I go to now (apologies to Charles Dickens).

After the final stretch via scenic Poirua and a failed attempt by a group of weary, chocolate starved ta trampers to get free samples from the Whitakers factory I made it to sunny Wellington (yes, really). I spent Christmas eve and morning with my old mate Andrea and her family then met up with some TA mates to eat prawns, drink beer and go wharf jumping (it's officially my new favorite sport).

Resisting the temptation to do a papal kiss of the South Island at Picton I made do with a coat hanger smile when I saw the Marlborough sounds.  I am having a wee break before I start the Queen Charlotte Track (main danger: too many tourists on the track). 

In light of the fact that it's a new year very soon here are the things that I lost and gained from this year in the North Island:

Lost

My anger at Gerry Brownlee, all the National government and EQC, Fletchers EQR and various cowboy builders.

My lovely super lightweight down jacket down a gully in the Tararuas

Gained

A new sense of perspective on pretty much everything and hence my mojo

Te Araroa SOBO mates  (through trampers, south bound)


I picked up some mail in Wellington and read the messages from my friends that they gave me before I left as I knew that I would need them about now.

Highlights:

Don't come home until you've finished (Sue), relentless forward progress (Paul) and press on with your day but not always (Mads).

So, I can't expect anyone who may want to help me on this trip to have psychic powers so here is a few things that I am fairly desperately in need of for my South Island section.

Any kind of lightweight down or other jacket

An uber lightweight camping pot, that is, titanium or similar

I have been given a generous discount by Macpac for some clothing but my funds/budget are in somewhat of an extreme cash flow crisis at present. Anybody that knows me will realise that I am expert at living on the whiff of half an oily rag but I have used up my reserves with ferry fares, water taxi, food drops, post, camping fees etc.

So, I know that I am all about raising awareness for Multiple Sclerosis but to do that I have to actually survive in one piece on the trail so if anybody can help either with the above or a donation to my south island fund I would be very appreciative. I don't want to trouble my gold sponsors, Mr and Mrs Paul and Sue Roberts yet again for support as they have both helped out so very much thus far.

Thanks folks, as Adele would say, see you on the other side....RachXX

The Tararuas have a sign at the beginning saying, do not tramp alone, this is a dangerous environment with extreme weather conditions and challenging terrain. Luckily, when I was trying not to succumb to the early stages of hypothermia at the first hut Stefan walked in smiling and made me a hot drink as I couldn't use my hands. In his indomitable Aussie way he said hey mate you look a bit rough. I have to be honest here, it was hands down totally irresponsible and  inexcusably arrogant of me to presume that I could handle the Tararuas on my own. Stefan and I eventually carried on to the next hut which had a stove and we met up with several other Ta through trampers. Five very long days later we were spat out, deflated of every breath of energy and motivation but buoyed by the very best sense of camaraderie and support that I have experienced to date on the TA. 

In the hut on the final night I looked around me at my fellow Tararua survivors, Katie with a very  pale, exhausted face after injuring her knee badly, myself still with shaking hands and a feeling of extreme nausea after an epic head first fall down a ridge, even the ever strong Stefan was quiet after days of gale winds and freezing rain. There was a tangible air of relief that we had all made it out.


After this I had to attempt to hitch to the Palmerston North MS Society Christmas lunch and after a rather long time getting myself together in the toilet I think I was reasonably normal. Kia Kaha and apologies for writing a rather more eviscerating account than normal.  I am staying with my TA friend Lois in Wellington to locate my lost confidence and many thanks to her and her lovely family.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

I got my first view of the mighty Whanganui whilst trying to tramp the torrid 42 Traverse  (see last post!) and it really is everything a river should be: Wet, full of sweeping bends, delightful eddies and steep banks, with the gorge-framed bush seeming to say “nothing of interest here, paddle on.” Ha but I’m not that easily fooled,  as I had seen lots of camouflaged tin shacks when I was yet again going to be benighted on my tramp.

I was paddling with Sam, a 26 year old from Glasgow who is a breath of fresh air in the world of TA trampers. She would no more give herself a trail name than she would spend a day without swearing, drinking or attempting to hook up with various other younger TA people. Apparently there is a Facebook page (closed to us oldies, obviously) specifically for them all to arrange their routes (sic).

​The biggest thunder storm to hit Auckland for some time spookily coincided with my Huanua tramp. After doing the first section I decided to bail out, after a ranger told me that they were closing the campground. I phoned my new friends Helen and Sue from the tramping club. They very kindly picked me up from a random roadside and thus I spent a wild but warm and dry Saturday night with Helen’s mum Lena (aged 80, “not old”), watching University Challenge and eating icecream. I am truly ‘living the dream'.
 
I met Cindi when I was having a swift can of fizzy pop or three and now know everything you would ever need to know about sex change operations in Thailand and what a big change at the age of 70 it is to become a Burlesque dancer, after a lifetime as a locomotive driver in Hamilton.
 
After making it through the by-now very wet/muddy/slippery Huanuas, I will draw a veil on the subsequent paddocks/bulls experience. Suffice to say that walking in ditches whilst being eyed up by supposedly ‘baby’ bulls is not my idea of a fun day.
 
The campsite in Huntly is run by a lovely couple, who give discounts (hurrah!) to TA trampers and keep a book of all walkers. I did look in the shops for a ‘I survived a night in Huntly’ T-shirt but no joy. None in stock. There must have been a run on them?
 
Continuing my theme of being a magnet for 70 year old guys, I had a great chat with Kevin from Newcastle. He is biking around NZ and he cooked me a lovely dinner and tried to fix up another meeting in Hamilton where we could share a room at a hostel, to “save costs”.
 
The walk over the hill from Huntly said 8 hours on the DOC sign. It was a looong 8 hours, of steep climbs. At the other end I descended the many, many steps - whilst trying to avoid the throngs of lycra-clad people doing the fitness trail. The Council cunningly decided to get said lycra-brigade to help build the paths, so they put bags of gravel at the bottom of the steps and get people heft them up. The cliché fairy had put up various signs to encourage people.
 
Meeting the lovely crew from Waikato MS and staying with Karen and then with Liz who kindly picked me up at the end of the day was so very nice. MS staff work long hours, for not so great pay because they are super-special people who care.
 
This tramp is many steps for people with MS, but also for all the amazing people who work for the NZ MS Society. If the only thing that my journey achieves is some much needed publicity for these super-heroes, I will be very happy.

On the way to the big smoke, I had yet another epic battle with forests while en-route to Warkworth: Due to deteriorating eyesight, I misread the Dome track as taking 4-5 hours - rather than the actual 6-7. Thus when the (track) end was nigh, I found myself in the dark at the (sadly closed) Dome tea rooms. Friends of my parents had offered to put me up, but I wondered if it was ok to ring Alan and Daphne at that time. I did and thankfully they kindly came to collect me, locating a shadowy, totally-buggered figure in the car park. Hurrah! I had a lovely time at their place - highlights included gorgeous food and driving a ride-on mower. Anyone who knows my driving skills would realise this was a brave move on Alan's part! Fortunately and perhaps surprisingly, no parts were actually lost, on either equipment or people.
 
Heading on south towards NZ's retirement capital, Orewa, I spent a somewhat-scary night at Wenderholm Park. The Park itself is fine – its just that I happened upon it during a seemingly biblical downpour, a veritable maelstrom. Suffice to say that in the future I will always, always, always check that the tent pegs are firmly secured in the ground. I have had bed hair before but never tent hair (literally).
 
I crossed paths again with Lois, a TA walker who I had met earlier on the Tuataka coast. Together we found out why special forces use walking in estuary mud as hard-out training. I can totally see why people with more money than sense pay to do those mud races as if I get bored with poking my eye out with a rusty fork one day, I would love to spend another hour or so in the blazing sun with a heavy pack sinking to the bottom of an estuary. Oh. Such. Fun.

After escaping the ooze and walking along the stupendously-nice coast to Devonport, I came upon a whole new world, A world filled with affluent people dressed in ‘leisure wear’, A world filled with dogs that at first glance could be mistaken for a rat or gerbil. Heading deeper into the tree-lined streets of Devonport however, I felt much more at home…not least because I was very fortunate to be welcomed into one, with a fantastic stay with Cathy and her amazing family.
 
The MS Society are having a research fund launch on Thursday night, to which I have been invited. With Cathy’s help, I bought a very exclusive dress from the Hospice op shop. $8 later and Cinderella can go to this particular ball.
 
Yesterday, I took the ferry to start the Auckland coastal section and south Auckland, whilst staying with Greg and Trish, who is my bff’s mum. Constantly amazed by the kindness and help I am receiving....

Today I had awesome day. A real bed. Proper food, And then the privilege of walking some of TA with the very lovely folk of Pukekohe Tramping Club (below). 

It also marks the first month 'on the road’. Time passes so quickly! The miles less so - but still, around 600km down and progress is progress, in the right direction. Well, usually.
 
Every day is certainly an adventure!
 
Ka Kite
 
RacheXX

Arriving through mangroves and muddy coastal track at Tidesong, I saw Ros mowing her massive orchard and garden. She and her husband Hugh are great ‘Trail Angels’, especially to solo walkers. After several cups of tea and some home baking, I accepted their kind offer to stay the night. Ros cooked a scrummy meal and tuned in to the nutritional needs of TA trampers, this included heaps of veggies.

Hugh has one of Ros’s kidneys and they have both done the TA to raise awareness of live kidney donors. Hugh biked and drove around to meet Ros. One of the complications of kidney disease is super-sensitive feet, due to nerve damage - so a pebble can feel like a shard of glass. This makes it even more incredible that Hugh helped me across the mangrove swamp and tidal estuary. He even lent me some ‘mud slippers’ and carried a bucket and cloth so that I could have clean feet when resuming the trail! - A pair of 'Trail Angels’ indeed!
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Although many locals are very supportive of the trail, there is some ambivalence from the Whangerei Council. Ros is trying hard to persuade them of the economic benefits of the TA, especially with section walkers - many of whom prefer to stay in accommodation rather than camp out. 

Over the next day or two, all being well I’ll be in Warkworth. I will miss Northland…Not just for its stunning scenery, but more so for the people, the people, the people: I am trying not to fret: Will I be as fortunate finding a random kind person with an estuary/river/sea worthy boat?!

​Time will tell. Southward, ever southward…the Big Smoke awaits....
 
Ka Kite
RachXX ​

(as Forest Gump’s momma apparently always said:)
 
When I eat scroggin, I like to pick out the yummy chocky (and yogurt) pieces - but they always seem to run out far too soon.....Walking round the Tutakaka coast is like eating all the yummy scroggin chocolate - but there is a never-ending supply: It seems like around every corner there are deserted beaches, surrounded by galleries of rock, with the waves making the only sound.
 










​This tramp is about so much more than walking the length of NZ. I am the same age that my brother Ian was when he died. I have been thinking lots about what my future life may hold as, a future denied to Ian. So it was timely to meet Gay from the Northland MS society. This society, with a massive geographic area to cover, needs $80,000 per annum to work effectively. They receive $7,000 from government health funds.
 
Gay, the MS field worker, is a vastly experienced nurse and health manager, who could earn a large salary elsewhere. She is, however, a brilliant, decent and genuinely-caring person, who chooses to work for MS Northland with the support of her equally-awesome partner Cathy who was the previous MS field worker.

(Fred Dagg)

The 120k section from Ahipara to Kerikeri makes the connection from coast to coast, traversing through four large forests.




​
The first forest, Herekino, was like one of those mud, sweat and tears races - albeit with gorgeous palms and strangulation vines. I can’t quite articulate the fun of trying to climb up steep muddy slopes whilst  being simultaneously dragged backwards by a vine. Such Fun.
​Having talked with other TA trampers, it seems that this section is famous for causing trampers to lose the will to live. I camped at the only ‘flat’ area I could find in a field and crashed out after a nutritional meal of processed cheese slices. I had no spare water at this stage.
The lack of water in these forest sections was dire. I managed luckily to go off track to find a stream on the way to Tangaho wild camp and this section was yet again a mixture of a tough mud race and Survivor combined. Mangamuka dairy was open especially late for trampers: The owner is super friendly and let’s you camp next to her shop. Water, coke, lollies and a 1 scoop ice cream that was massive. (I am now possibly pre diabetic as a result!)
Omaha forest that turns into Puketi was again an obsession with finding water- it is very humid in the forests. I took a few wrong turns when trying to see a red marker on a distant tree and it’s actually pretty scary when you all around is apparently impenetrable forest. It was also very rainy forest, with the river flooded as a result. Luckily I met a couple who had done all the trail last year apart from this section (as it is often flooded).

By now I was feeling what I presume passes for normal as a TA walker - sore back, sore knees and sore eyes from desperately searching for invisible TA markers!

This whole section can be best summarized as torrential rain, wind, misery, swollen flooded river, alternate flood route, desolate muddy campground, soggy river bank walk, exhausted Rache.

Arrival at Kerikeri was therefore very welcome - a chance to rest, recuperate… and dry out! The Flashpackers ‘Hone Heke’ here is fantastic... Not only do they provide a lovely place, but heaps of oranges too! 
Caught up with 3 other TA walkers Jo, Scott and Lois too. They educated me that a rest day is called a ‘zero’ day in the TA community (as in zero progress). Fortunately it doesn’t equate with abstinence however…rehydration via beer is included. Feeling better!

Ka Kite
RachXX 

Another expensively shot video below of this section....

Well, it’s been a busy week!

Monday saw a lunchtime departure from Christchurch Airport, with a low-key send off from friends Mads, Matt and Paul, all in their business attire… They would be returning to very different day jobs compared to the task I’m about to embark on!
Arrival in Auckland was very much quicker than the return journey will be….even the transfer by shuttle to the Central City YHA,  thanks to a supportive discount from the driver.

Early Tuesday saw departure from the big city for the rather different and quieter Northland town of Kaitaia. The driver started screaming at a woman who wanted to get off – which seemed a bit unreasonable, given that the driver had forgotten her stop. This was on a windy section of road, with massive police signs saying ‘dangerous road/many fatal crashes’.Eventually the irate driver stopped and dropped off the poor woman to walk back alongside the speeding cars for 2 km. Meanwhile, the driver resumed her continuous drinking of V cans. Not quite S America, but I was somewhat relieved to get off!

By the time we got to Kaitaia, I was keen to head to the track start at Cape Reinga, so I started walking on the road and without even hitching, a car stopped to offer me a lift…easy-as!

No reception there for me, either in terms of fanfare…or cell phone…Like a lot of places up here, it really does feel ‘off the grid’! Despite this, at the Cape it was chocka with a bus tour and so, without much or indeed any ado, I started the track. And so it begins!

A summary of the first section departing the Cape would be: jaw dropping views, sand flies, wild pigs in the bush, more sand flies, more jaw dropping views….and more sand flies! There were also a surprising number of fellow AT trampers, many foreign - who, in something of a contrast to myself, seemed to be all outfitted with neatly pressed cargo pants and brand new shiny gear.

After a late night arrival at first wild camp, a second very long day followed along 90 mile beach. I knew this stretch would be hard mentally and it was…(You may get a sense from this little video, shot at great expense by the helicopter film crew documenting my adventure for the Discovery Channel ;-):

90 mile beach?:
Sand, sea, sand, sea, wind, rain, sand, sea …and errr... Repeat.
Not enough water …and ultimately a weird rash made its appearance on my back. I have to be honest and say I missed out the very last section of the beach suffer fest as my back was unbearably sore and I wanted to get it checked out, in Kaitaia, before heading into the Herikino forest section which presents the next challenge.

​Finally arrived in Ahipara however, for a reviving shower and a nice cup of tea! Bliss.

I have met some very friendly locals and some not so friendly....the driver of the Kura bus yesterday who gave me a lift to Kaitaia. He gave each child some lollies when they got  off the bus, as this stops them running straight off the bus into traffic. I was the only one not able to speak Te Reo and felt very embarrassed as a result.

At first it looked like there was only a few kids on the bus but heads kept popping up when  they woke up. Apparently some of the kids travel 60k return. I got some lollies when I got off ☺

I have to say that, at the moment, there seems to be somewhat of a disconnect between the Te Araroa Trail and the local communities that it passes through, at least up here: I asked the people in the 3 op shops that I visited (looking for 50c books!) and they didn’t know of the Trail, and neither did the Kura driver. I also had a long chat with the woman at the info centre and she and the DoC staff are very worried that overseas trampers are not prepared sufficiently for the difficulty of some sections of the Trail. In fact the DoC guy thinks it shouldn’t be called a trail but a 'route' as 'trail' implies, well a trail - and there isn’t one clearly defined trail.
 
I have looked at other people’s blogs and I’m a bit different(!) – I’m less interested in a detailed recount of the route and more a description of what I personally think is interesting. I am trying hard to mention MS at any chance when chatting to people and at least it does seem to be reasonably well known as a disease.
 
I will also try very hard to take photos! The trouble has been that after hearing a few horror stories of broken phones, I’ve wrapped the phone up perhaps a bit too well. My paper maps are a godsend however as I’m using them and Paul’s great schedule all the time, as well as my Garmin routes (Paul again!).
 
Anyway I plan to forego the Rugby World Cup semi-finals and head off into the forests today for a few days. It’s raining which us why I’m sitting having yet another brew writing this - but departure beckons!
 
Ka Kite
Rach XX