Te Araroa: Paekakariki Holiday Park to Camp Bay Campground

Day 50 (1/28/24): 17.4mi, +2238ft // 29km, +682m

Paekakariki Holiday Park to Amethyst Motor Lodge, Porirua

I was awake before my alarm, unsure if I’d really slept at all. The floodlight beaming onto the thin material of my tent all night, combined with the kids screaming and playing until midnight right next door, didn’t make for great sleeping conditions.

I began rustling about, deflating my thermarest, stuffing my quilt into its stuff sack—at least there wasn’t quite as much condensation as the night before—and changing back into my sports bra and sun hoodie. I’d done laundry the night before and relished in the clean smell of my clothing.

I could hear Ralf packing up inside his tent as well. We’d decided to split a motel room in Porirua for lack of anywhere to camp between here and Wellington, so it would be a shorter day mileage-wise, but that was probably for the best because I was exhausted.

Only one and half miles into our walk, just before we crossed the train tracks out of town, I slammed on the breaks and dodged into a bakery. The smells of cinnamon and butter were too delicious to resist.

I ordered a sausage roll to go and a cinnamon scroll for right then, and ate it standing outside the doors of Olde Beach Bakery. Probably the best cinnabun I’d ever had!

As I carried the sausage roll in the mesh of my pack up the Escarpment Track overlooking the ocean, I thought of BB. I’d thought of my grandmother plenty on this hike, but that morning staring out at the sea from the high vantage of the hills, carrying a savory pastry much like the ones she used to make, I found myself tearing up.

She would’ve liked this view.

The Escarpment track was a steep path which contoured the edges of cliffs and grassy hills overlooking the Tasman Sea. If I lived locally, I knew this was a trail I would run frequently. The views were stunning—and the birds! Birds chirped and flew about wildly in the wind, diving into the shrubs momentarily before taking to the blustery skies once more.

The sharp, licorice smell of wild fennel filled my nostrils. I crushed tiny pieces of the green, brushy part of the plant between my fingers and breathed in the fresh smell as I walked.

I’m not sure why I thought I would be exclusively walking on flat roads all the way to Wellington after the Tararuas; there was nothing flat about the terrain between here and there, and so far there was plenty of single track, too. The trail was beautiful.

I took my time navigating the steep staircases—of which, there were many—stopping every so often to take in the view.

The swinging bridges over the deep gorges were nice and stable. They had wooden boards underfoot instead of narrow, sagging chain link bottoms, which were always a bit wobbly and made me nervous.

After the Escarpment Track we followed sidewalks and bike paths to Porirua.

I ran into several hedges and tripped over uneven spots in the pavement that afternoon, nearly falling into oncoming traffic at one point. Ralf and I laughed at my clumsiness, I couldn’t explain it but it seemed any shred of grace I had dissolved to nothing when I was in civilization.

All of my balance and coordination was reserved for the mountains, and I was okay with that.

Porirua was a disappointing place, just a kind of tiny, grimy city. And the Amethyst Motor Lodge was very… purple.

In the enclosed space of the room (thankfully it was rather spacious) I felt a bit awkward. Ralf was a respectful person in every way, but it still felt weird to split a room; I resolved not to do it again. It was unavoidable this night due to the prohibitive cost of accommodation, but I just preferred to have my own space.

After doing all my chores and setting up the coffee press for the morning, we turned out the lights and I tried to sleep.

“Tried” being the operative word, Ralf snored without interruption for the duration of the night. I remembered in the Tararuas, Tom told Ralf he snored and Ralf’s response had us all in tears, laughing. He’d looked right at Tom, shrugged, and said, “I don’t care.”

At least he had a good sense of humor.

Snoring can’t be helped, it’s no one’s fault, but for someone like me who is a bad sleeper on a good day, it is a challenge.

Day 51 (1/30/24): 20.8mi, +5289ft // 34.6km, +1613m

Porirua to The Marion Hostel, Wellington

I felt tired beyond belief when my alarm finally went off the next morning.

I told Ralf I was going to call Logan and catch up with him while I walked, and so I left the room before him.

When I got Logan on the phone I was relieved to hear his voice, but we were dogged by poor connection, and it appeared the trail was going to take me into the woods again. I stopped walking so that we could finish our conversation and when we hung up, I just felt despair. I wanted to press pause on everything and just go home for a while. Impossible, but it was none the less what I wanted. I was also just plain old plain grumpy.

I had no energy to walk, how was I going to get through today? It was still a long way to Wellington.

The day was full of climbing as the TA followed the Skyline Track, which was beautiful, but my body lacked the umph necessary to really get into it.

I tried to listen to an audiobook to distract myself; I was desperate to hike alone for a bit but didn’t know how to ask. I felt like I was about to have an anxiety attack, genuinely.

A while later, standing atop the high point of the traverse, I felt momentarily energized. The wind had to be blowing close to 50mph with 70mph gusts. I stood on the observation platform leaning into the force of it and let the air pummel life back into my worn out being.

I smiled and laughed and screamed into the funneling wind, lost in my own world of happiness.

I suddenly understood why there were so many windmills up here.

And then there was Wellington! I could see it from the platform. So close to the end of the North Island but the distance felt insurmountable. Beyond getting to Wellington, the trail continued all the way to a southern point of the North Island at Island Bay, another 9 miles further than I would walk today.

I sighed, there was so much to do in Wellington! I needed walk those final 9 miles, I needed to resupply for 3 separate sections of trail and mail two of those resupplies ahead to St. Arnaud and Arthur’s Pass… I needed to rest.

I pushed the overwhelm out of my brain. Why did my hike suddenly feel so out of my control?

I shook my head to clear it. Back into the forest we went, downhill steeply, following alternately urban and forested paths through Wellington’s suburbs.

I was thrilled when shops came into view, it meant the hostel (and a cessation to walking) was not far off.

At the Marion, we checked into our separate bunk rooms. It was a really nice hostel despite their rates being comparable to most other places, but it was clear they didn’t get many thru-hikers.

Ralf wanted to take just one day off tomorrow, do all the chores, and then move on to the South Island. Initially this sounded like a great plan to me, I was really excited to get to the South Island, except that I hadn’t slept in 48hrs and I was certain I needed more of a break than that.

The idea of doing chores right now seemed impossible so I took a shower and then laid on my bunk, then Ralf messaged to go to the shops.

After we went to a couple of outdoor stores and got what we needed to replace and repair gear, we headed back to the hostel. I was hangry and at my wits end.

We’d been invited to do dinner with Tom—who’d caught the train into Wellington because his knees were bothering him—and his Aunt and Uncle. A home cooked meal sounded nice and easy and I had missed Tom the last few days, so I said I was in.

The food was amazing, and it was at the kitchen table I decided I would stay and zero for the next 3 days, then leave on the ferry with the rest of the group, who’d arrive in town tomorrow. Tom helped me make up my mind by telling me about Zealandia, a wildlife refuge close to town that I most definitely wanted to visit.

When I told Ralf I was staying he seemed fine about it, Jordan would be going to the South Island on the same ferry as him, anyways, and he’d arrive in town later that night.

I felt relieved having made up my mind and I slept mercifully well that night knowing I didn’t have to be anywhere the next day.

Day 52 (1/30/24): Zero Day

Zealandia

I met Tom for donuts and coffee at Lunch Money the next morning and then we hopped on some e-scooters and headed to Zealandia to spend the day looking at birds and ancient reptiles.

It was the day off I needed.

I didn’t do any chores, I just ate food and relaxed.

I probably could’ve used a week of days off just like that.

I saw Kaka (photo above), Takahe, Tuatara (photo below), Saddlebacks, robins, Tui, and fantails at Zealandia.

It was a really cool place to view Native and endangered wildlife and absolutely worth a visit if you ever find yourself in Wellington.

Day 53 (1/31/24): 8.8mi, +1611ft // 14.6km, +491m

TA Monument in Island Bay, end of the North Island + Resupply

On my second day in Wellington, I walked to the end of the TA on the North Island and did the dreaded, massive resupply.

As I wrote in my journal later that day, “It was more of a hiking-and-having-panic-attacks-in-the-grocery-store type of day. Not a zero day at all.”

I also accidentally bought a pair of shorts for $230NZD at Coffee Outdoors because I hadn’t looked at the price tag—so distracted was I by the free coffee and ultralight backpacking brands and the nice girls chatting with me about my hiking skirt that they happened to sell in store.

I was too embarrassed to return the shorts same day after I looked at the receipt. I planned to go back tomorrow with my tail between my legs and do it then. I had the shorts in a ziplock bag to keep them safe in the meantime, since they had to be sewn with gold thread or something to be worth so much.

Next I went to the grocery store and spent $393NZD on three resupplies worth of food and almost passed out in the process. It was such a huge grocery bill that I got a voucher for free icecream.

My hands were shaking as I loaded the conveyor belt with food items and then stuffed those already rung up into my pack. There were two girls at the end of the belt loading two New World reusable grocery bags with everything I couldn’t fit in my pack and there was a very impatient woman waiting behind me, literally trying to load her groceries onto the belt before I’d even finished loading mine.

I felt faint.

If I collapsed midway through this heinous process it would just make everything worse, though, so I kept loading and packing, loading and packing. And when the ordeal was over, I stumbled away lightheaded, bowed under the weight of my groceries, angling for the ice cream station at the front of the store.

I stood out front of New World looking like a disheveled mess, eating a cone of fast-melting chocolate fudge browny icecream, regaining my equilibrium. And to think I still had to walk to the monument today. I sighed.

After grocery shopping, I checked into hostel number two, the YHA, where I would spend my next two nights and luck into a room all to myself.

The walk to the monument ended up being the most relaxing part of my day. There was plenty of climbing, but the TA followed quite a bit of single track and took me through several beautiful forested areas before bringing me down to Island Bay.

When I reached the monument, I ran into another hiker, Arjuna from Australia. We chatted, took each other’s photos, and then I went and got a toastie at the nearby takeaway restaurant.

Sitting on a curb near the bus stop, enjoying the melty cheese and crispy, buttered bread, I called my dad. It was great to hear his voice and catchup. He’s always been so encouraging when it comes to my hiking, and I am so grateful for his support and enthusiasm.

Again, I contemplated how I didn’t feel anything at this monument, no sense of progress or accomplishment, just as I hadn’t at the halfway point.

I wondered if I needed to get to the South Island and begin that leg of the adventure before I would feel I had made any sort of progress—which was insane, really, because at this point I had already walked and canoed over 1066 miles.

I just wasn’t sure why I felt so… neutral?

Thoughts about the North Island:

The North Island was a lot harder than I expected, in ways I couldn’t have imagined prior to actually walking it. It was logistically dense, and at times it felt halting and lacked that “flow” long trails were expected to have; occasionally, I felt unwelcome as a walker.

Many land owners who have been burned by one or two disrespectful hikers spurn us all, and while I do not blame them for their choice to have the trail routed around their property instead of through it—it’s disgusting when someone poops inappropriately and doesn’t bury it, no question—their negative attitude towards backpackers was, at times, palpable and made for some uncomfortable stretches of trail. This is more of a hiker etiquette problem, less of a land owner problem, to be clear.

Regardless, it was exhausting to power hike long stretches of trail where I was worried I’d get yelled at for taking a break, for drying my tent out, or for accidentally losing the trail (easy to do on some of the farm tracks). Additionally, there were long stretches of trail (usually road) where, as a woman, it was impossible to pee without being obviously seen.

There was an instance where I called the water taxi guy at Reotahi Bay, Blair, too last minute for his taste, and, rather than him telling me, “No, I don’t have time to shuttle you today.” He went ahead and picked me up and then proceeded to berate me for the 10min boat ride across the bay, even as I smiled and politely handed him his cash.

Some parts of the North Island were really stunning and fun to walk through, though—if you’ve read my previous trip reports, you already know—and I still believe it is worth hiking the North Island if you have time for both islands because it is rich in cultural and environmental history.

My hope is that the spread of Kauri Dieback Disease can be contained so that more of the forests will be open to walk through in future years. My hope is that hikers will be more respectful of private property and landowners will become more understanding of hikers—we really are trying, it’s a big undertaking to walk across an entire country and do it perfectly, especially when this is the first hike many people will ever try to do. I also hope the TA Association will continue the hard work they are doing so that the trail continues to be, because there is no guarantee.

Ninety-nine percent of the people I interacted with who live on the North Island were some of the kindest humans I’ve ever met, and they were very keen to help me along my journey. New Zealand really is full of wonderful people 🇳🇿

Day 54 (2/1/24): Zero Day

My final day “off” in Wellington was a laundry + mail resupply boxes day. I made sure to eat a lot of food in between walking all over creation, to and from the NZ Post and Liquid Laundry, as I wrapped up my final chores.

I returned the shorts to Coffee Outdoors and was totally honest when I spoke with the girl at the register.

“I am so embarrassed,” I said. “I didn’t even look at the price tag and I can’t afford these.”

“Don’t even worry, it happens all the time!” She waved me off with a smile.

Does it though? I kind of doubted it.

My food boxes were so heavy that the total cost to mail them was $100NZD. When I spoke with other hikers to compare, the cost was the same for them, and in hind sight I probably did not need to send a box to St. Arnaud as there was plenty of food at the small shop there to do a resupply. You live and you learn.

I don’t know how the heck anyone could accomplish all these chores in a single day, but by spacing them out over three days and getting some good sleep in between, I was starting to feel more like myself again.

Tomorrow I would take the ferry across the Cook Straight to Picton, and then hop on another, much smaller boat to Ship Cove and begin the Queen Charlotte Track.

I was ready.

Day 55 (2/2/24) FERRY DAY: 11.5mi, +2467ft // 19km, +752m

Wellington to Furneaux Lodge on the Queen Charlotte Track

I woke up at 6AM on what would be my final morning in Wellington, packed my life into my backpack for what felt like the hundredth time, and walked down to the kitchen.

Taki was seated at a table, looking anxious; I walked over and said good morning. He pulled out his phone and typed something in Japanese into Google Translate, then showed me his phone.

He was going to walk all the way to the Ferry, I read, but was stressed because it looked far away. I typed back into his phone that we would catch the free shuttle from the nearby train station, we could go together.

Apparently he and JJ had a falling out over mailing his resupply boxes yesterday; I nodded sympathetically, as I read Taki’s translated words, and tried to alleviate his feelings of responsibility. JJ was behaving childishly, I thought, and he wasn’t even continuing on the TA so it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I didn’t want Taki to feel like the situation was his fault but I wasn’t sure what I could say to help.

Our group on the ferry was a big one—Taki, Tom, Kez, Curtis, Leonie (from Germany), Marine & Adrienne (a French couple), Eva, and myself. I occasionally tuned into the conversation, but mostly I just stared out at the ocean, lost in thought.

When we arrived in Picton 3 hours or so later, it was raining quite hard. We purchased our $30 land permission bands for the Queen Charlotte Track from the info center, grabbed some sandwiches, then hopped on the boat taxi to Ship Cove.

The weather continued to worsen once we were on the water; the boat pitched wildly in the wind and waves, and our captain told us that he wasn’t sure we’d get all the way to Ship Cove today, he’d know more once we got to the crux of the route.

I kept my eyes closed for the worst of the waves, some of them seemed taller than the boat and they came in large groupings. The wind blew loud as a train, in gusts which raced angrily across the sea and smashed into the side of our small vessel so that the captain had to kill our speed until the wind passed.

There were 20 passengers total, many of them locals. Those that had made this trip numerous times before said these were some of the worst conditions they’d experienced, one woman even pulled the life jackets out from under her seat and started passing them out—a bit extreme, in hindsight.

I didn’t get seasick, but I was certainly glad to touch my feet to land when it was all said and done. The ride, which was supposed to take 45min on a good day, had taken us about 2hr.

Wind and rain lashed Ship Cove, soaking me through my rain jacket. I could tell I was getting cold even as I hiked uphill with Tom. His knees were still causing him problems and he was very clearly limping.

We trickled into Resolution Bay Lodge and Campground—it wasn’t much of a lodge, just a yard and small shop—the place seemed dead quiet but the woman at the desk told us there was no space for us.

We moved on in the unpleasant weather.

I power hiked for a bit to warm up, formulating a plan in my head for where to camp. Taki had taken off and I wasn’t sure where he’d go, the others seemed conflicted and indecisive, I just wanted to get warm and dry sooner rather than later.

Furneaux Lodge was up ahead and while I had no idea how much it would cost to stay there, I knew they had bunk rooms and hot showers, which sounded amazing right then.

When I arrived, I got the information and booked myself in, I told the others the details and that I was definitely staying.

We all wound up staying at Furneaux; the major selling point was the hot tub, and the herbal smelling shampoo + conditioner + body wash + lotion in the shower. There was no sign of Taki and I assumed he’d gone on to take some time alone after the stress with JJ.

All things considered I was glad to be with a group of friends. Kez was his usual hilarious self and made me laugh plenty and Eva and I had an entire bunk room to ourselves.

I was feeling less tired, a little more like myself, too, and that was a major relief.

Day 56 (2/3/24): 7.7mi, +984ft // 12.8km, +300m

Furneaux to Camp Bay DOC Campsite

Yesterday’s rain gave way to milder skies. I walked out of the room to cook breakfast on the porch and set my breakfast bag and camp stove down on the table before making a quick trip to the bathroom.

I say “quick trip” because it was, but when I returned to the deck, my still sleepy brain couldn’t quite puzzle through what I was looking at: my entire breakfast bag, gone. I was sure I’d brought it out with me…

I turned my head this way and that, frantically searching. My peanut butter jar was laying a ways away on the grass… and then Eva came around the corner holding my gallon ziplock of oatmeal and toppings victoriously in her hand.

“I fought the fat Weka for this! Is it yours?”

I laughed, “Oh my gosh, seriously!? I was gone for less than a minute!”

“It was running past the showers, dragging this!” She exclaimed, handing me back my food.

Wekas are chicken-shaped, brown birds. They are flightless but nonetheless mischievous. They will steal pretty much anything, food especially, and drag it into the woods to add to one of their many piles of loot.

Today would be a really short day on the QCT, we’d all agreed to just go as far as Camp Bay Campground because there was a lodge nearby whose hot tub we could use.

I hiked with Tom, behind Eva and Kez. We chatted about life and I didn’t mind the slow pace for once. The QCT was so easy terrain-wise, it felt like a gravel sidewalk through the woods, overlooking pretty bays and a turquoise sea. I knew I could have flown through, hiking this trail in two days, but going slow felt like an active recovery, something I could sense my body still needed.

Periodically the sky grew moody, but eventually the sun won out and the clouds cleared. And by the time we made it to Camp Bay, it was warm enough to consider swimming!

After pitching my tent in a secluded spot down by the water, I walked out into the shallow bay to look for stingrays. Sun dazzled the aquamarine surface, the water was so clear it was easy to pick out the sleeping rays lying on the sea floor.

Their slate grey bodies, intent on soaking up the warmth of the sun, didn’t stir unless I came too close, at which point they would jet away with a few languid wing beats.

We all headed over to the lodge that afternoon and swam off the pier and sat in the lukewarm hot tub. I truly felt like I was on some beach vacation, not a thru-hike.

I’d heard the worst things about the QCT from other hikers—that it was full of tourists, boring, a pointless addition to the trail, etc.—but so far I was really enjoying it. I could imagine the trail being really busy over certain holidays, but Summer Vacation was almost over, and I was sure that helped keep the number of hikers and bikers down.

I was grateful to have a last bit of easy before things on the South Island got really hard.

I cooked dinner and headed back to my tent to start winding down. The rest of the group went up to the lodge again to drink wine and play cards with a few of the girls who worked there, but I just wanted to read and journal.

I was feeling excited about the rest of the South Island because I was starting to get my energy back. And I knew this meant I would leave the group, eventually.

It had been so nice to spend time with other hikers, it was great to feel like I was part of something—a “tramily”? But in my heart I knew I wanted to experience this trail largely on my own, and I hoped everyone would understand when the time came for me to carry on solo.

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