Te Araroa: Te Kuiti to Tongariro Holiday Park
My favorite campsite yet, Bog Inn Hut on the Timber TrailDay 29 (1/7/24): 23.9mi, +3169ft // 39.9km, +966m
Te Kuiti to Freedom Campsite on Mangaokewa Rd (km 917.6 on TA App)
I took my time in the morning at Motel Te Kuiti, working on last week’s blog entry, eating two breakfasts, and organizing my gear; on my way out of town I called my parents.
It was so nice chatting with them while I walked the road to join the Mangaokewa River Trail, that I decided to walk the road a little further, keep in cell service, and then cut over to the trail a few miles late.
When I did finally join the trail, I was at first pleasantly surprised by its quality. Anytime I come to a river trail, I assume the worst. The tracks always look flat on the map, but the elevation profile hides all the tiny, careening ups and downs, twists and turns.
But… so far… so good?
The views were pleasant, sometimes farm, and then at one point, a view into a primeval Forest that had never been used as farm land.
I looked across the river, up into the dark trees, their canopy dripping with mosses and lichen, decorated with twisting vines, the branches reached like hands towards my side of the river.
An icy chill tiptoed up my spine as I stared; I felt like I was being observed by something old and knowing, something that had seen much in its many thousands of years of being and maybe wasn’t so impressed with me and my kind.
After the spell broke, the trail ceased to be anything defined or easy to follow. And my fears were confirmed. The track was a barely tramped-in, off camber, angry little slash cut sparingly into the side of the steep, thorny hill.
I gave up trying to avoid the bogs.
Usually it was a choice between tramping through shin deep mud or falling into a thorn bush or falling into the river, so, naturally, I chose mud.
I ran into Peter and Taki, the Japanese hiker whom I had met back in Mercer, just in time to witness Peter actually lose a shoe in one of the bogs. He got it back after much digging.
The whole ordeal involved a lot of exclaiming and miming and laughing. And mud.
Eventually, we parted ways when he and Taki stopped to take a break with another hiker I’d never met, but who seemed a bit tense, Theresa.
I plowed through the rest of the river track, stumbling, teetering, balancing precariously on ancient stiles to climb over fences which leaned dangerously out over the river.
At one point I had to walk through a half kilometer hallway of thorns which was massively overgrown and taller than my head. Each painful hook knifed into my arms, bare legs, backpack, seemingly unwilling to let me pass.
I was tired emotionally from the strain of it all. And my knees felt a million years old by the time I reached the gravel road on the other side.
I walked another 13.5mi after taking a break and getting water at a shelter the land owners had created specifically for TA hikers.
The road walk wasn’t too bad compared to what I had just been through, but I was tired and a little worried about finding the stealth campsite mentioned in a comment on FarOut, and even more nervous about getting yelled at or arrested for freedom camping.
When I saw the wooden paddock gate and the waist high grassy “clearing” on the other side, I knew I’d found my mark. I looked both ways and then dashed to the fence, vaulted over quickly and disappeared into the forest.
Peace washed over me with bird song; the Tuī chortled in beeps and boops, tworks and mechanical riffs in the trees above. Their calls echoing across the forest, soothing my frayed nerves.
Day 30 (1/8/24): 24.5mi, +3144ft // 40.8km, +959m
Mangaokewa Rd to Bog Inn Hut, Timber Trail
I woke up to my alarm at 5AM, keen to get back on the road before most of the rest of the world got moving.
Probably no one actually cared that I’d camped in the forest, it was most likely slated to be logged soon anyways since most of the land around here was owned by a timber company, but I was still nervous.
I’d weeded the area before pitching my tent, de-thorning the soft pine duff so that only gentle turf remained. Snarly-sharp blackberry bushes dominated the forest floor and this spot had been the only one relatively clear to begin with.
I did a visual sweep as I packed up my gear, making sure I didn’t forget anything, then I dragged some branches over the bare spot I created to “hide” the fact that I’d ever been there. I then slogged through a mess of thorns and brambles to dig a proper cat hole deep in the woods.
Once on the road, I power walked away from my camp as quick as I could. I Wanted to put some distance between me and the rule I’d broken, since an active sheep farm was right across the street.
The further I walked, the less bad I felt about wild camping. I had to camp there if I wanted to make it onto the Timber Trail and all the way to Bog Inn Hut tonight. I couldn’t afford to do short 15mi days, not if I wanted to make it to Bluff mid-March.
After what felt like a lot of road walking, I made it to the Timber Trail parking area. I saw some nice moss in the shade and dropped my pack, sprawling on the ground next to it. I was tired, but not too tired for the remaining 10 miles to camp. I just needed to rest for a bit.
A DOC worker came over and asked if I’d “missed my ride”.
“No, I’m taking a break,” I told him. He moved in to chat me up. Uhg—that was so not an invitation!
He proceeded to talk about how much he does for hikers, how I have to hike the Timber Trail in this one certain way, staying at x,y,z campsites in order to fully appreciate it, blah blah blah. I smiled politely but immediately set about packing my bag, trying to give him a hint.
It is all too common for people (older men) to see hikers (particularly female hikers) and utilize them as a captive audience. It happens when I’m outside the grocery store trying to organize my pack, when I’m inside the grocery store, trying to concentrate and buy food for 5-7 days, when I’m taking a break and just want to sit silently, unbothered.
75% of people are just trying to connect and be friendly, but the other 25%? They are trying to stroke their egos and monopolize my time.
It feels rude, quite frankly, and what little patience I had for the behavior is wearing very thin.
Once I extricated myself from the unwarranted monologue and stepped into the forest, I was immediately impressed by the stunning pathway before me. It was smooth pea gravel, a winding and well graded trail. The forest was cool and dark and lush.
I heard chattering above me and bark rained down onto the informational sign I was reading. The Kākā bird was featured first, I looked up and wouldn’t you know it, there it was, using its stout, parrot shaped beak to pick seeds and leaves off the branch overhead. It looked like a Kea, but those are only found on the South Island.
I stayed on the well maintained track until I reached the turn off for Mt. Pureora, then I deviated from the main track to keep with the TA and reach the summit.
The hike up was a bit more involved than the last few miles, but the view was superb. I could see 360 degrees around—I could even see the Tongariro Crossing, where I’d be walking in a week or so—my eyes caught on the blue-green of the sea and I smiled. I needed this, a view.
Toiling in the forest is special for its own reasons, it brings your immediate surroundings into sharp focus, forcing you to really see what’s in front of you. But standing on a mountain is like a breath of fresh, energizing air, reminding you just how big the world is, how small you are, how far you’ve come and still have to go.
When I arrived to Bog Inn Hutt, I met Max and Paul, German brothers hiking north from Wellington. Max chastised me for eating a “raw” PopTart—aka untoasted—he just couldn’t believe it. I laughed at his incredulity through the crumbs.
It was great to talk with them about the trail ahead, and we even played a version of Yahtzee—where we learned that “vervierfachen“ is just as impossible for me to pronounce as “quadruple” was for them—before I retired to my tent.
I loved my tent site. It was cozy and flat and protected by gorgeous, mossy trees. There was a babbling creek near by. I slept very well.
Day 31 (1/9/24): 26.8mi, +2335ft // 44.6km, +712m
Bog Inn Hut to a bridge over a river (mi 618.7 on FarOut), Timber Trail
I scrutinized my empty campsite, eyes searching the ground for any sign of my ultralight hiking umbrella. I always tucked it under the edge of my tent at night—but now that I thought about it… had I done that last night?
I wracked my brain, but couldn’t remember when the last time was that I saw it. I know I’d had it at the site before last—or had I? Maybe a tree took it coming down from Pureora, that trail was massively bushy because DOC had “retired” it, ie stopped maintaining it.
Before I hit the trail, I told Max and Paul they could have it if they found it on their journey north. I suspected it was at my freedom campsite, though (despite me doing a careful sweep) which they were unlikely to find.
I walked diligently all morning until I arrived at the Lodge, I had high hopes that it would make a nice break spot since Max told me there was wifi, water and outlets.
When I walked into the breezeway, it was immediately apparent that hikers weren’t allowed to hangout inside unless they had a reservation, so I quickly asked a member of the waitstaff for the wifi password.
She was hesitant to give it to me, but once I had it, I posted it publicly on FarOut for other hikers to use.
Because the TA is still a fairly young trail, many people do not have a clue why all these people are walking past their porches.
I’ll bet most of the staff at the lodge would’ve been happy to give me the wifi and let me sit in the shade, but I interacted with the one person who just didn’t get it. So now the whole of the TA hiking world has their wifi, just to make it easier for the next tramper to check their email and call their loved ones.
As the day wore on, I just felt tired. I sat on a bench for a while and when I finally got moving again, the miles ticked by slowly. It was a warm day, so many of them had been, and I was sweating profusely.
Anxiety was chewing at me; I worried about my finances relentlessly—which by all accounts were just fine. I suddenly felt like I should be home, working and saving for a house, not galavanting across NZ, living in a tent and spending all my money on food.
In order to get my brain to a better place, I put an audiobook in my ear and tried to focus on that. It helped. A little.
By 6PM I was close to where I planned to camp for the evening. As I crossed one more of many, very cool swinging bridges, I noticed there was a good swimming hole wayyy down there. It was one that other hikers had commented about on FarOut, and I decided to hike down the steep trail and rinse off.
I was sure a cool dip would help ease my whirring brain.
After clambering down a series of boulders and logs, I dropped my pack on a flat rock, which was balanced precariously over a pool of standing water—probably full of spiders—I eyed it suspiciously.
I casually ripped my sun hoodie off over my head and—
Plop!
Oh no. A sinking feeling in my gut told me at least one of my super special earbuds that Logan had given me for Christmas just fell into the spider-filled, water-hole. I retrieved the one which had mercifully landed on my pack and tucked it away safely. Then peered down into the dank black for the other.
Seeing it gleaming at the bottom of the pool, I expertly knocked down all the spider webs with my trekking pole (their main purpose), crouched, closed my eyes, and reached my fingertips into the stagnant water.
Success!
Unfortunately I wouldn’t know if I’d actually saved it until I let it dry off and tried to use tomorrow. Fingers crossed.
I made camp a mile further on, next to a rushing creek which lulled me fast asleep.
Day 32 (1/10/24): 29.5mi, +1342ft // 49km, +409m
Bridge on Timber Trail to New World Grocery, Taumarunui
I hadn’t known what distance I would attempt today, until I woke up. I was torn between two short ones—today and tomorrow—or one long one day today, so that I could go ahead and get to the canoe hire spot in Taumarunui.
I woke up feeling rejuvenated; eating a huge dinner the night before and sleeping well seemed to have done the trick. I was going to make the 30mi trek all the way to town!
I power walked into the morning, feeling fresh and focused. Enjoying the birds and the foxgloves which leaned into the trail and bounced happily in the breeze. I could tell the day would be a hot one, but for now it was pleasant.
Early on I passed the estimated 1000km marker, though I was pretty sure I’d hit that distance a day or so before, and did an internal dance, that’s 1/3 down!
Then came the famed Timber Trail “spiral”, a work of trail engineering genius, supposedly. I was pretty excited to walk through the tunnel, which turned out to be so deep and dark, I was afraid of tripping and falling and my phone flashlight barely helped!
After the tunnel I zoned out thinking about the upcoming canoe trip I needed to organize, while still walking at full velocity, until two guys on mountain bikes surged up behind me.
I realized I was close to the end of the Timber Trail. One of the guys congratulated me on walking the whole thing; both looked like thru-hikers given their Altra trail running shoes, tanned legs, and the faint odor of sweat and moldy backpack (if you know, you know, and my pack is the worst smelling of them all!).
When I made it to the shelter, I officially met Rory (California, originally the UK) and Ralf (Austria), then the rest of their group rolled in: Eva (Lithuania) and Jordan (France). Peter and Taki showed up too!
It seemed we all had similar plans to make it to Taumarunui that day, though Eva, Rory, and Jordan all planned to hitch, while Ralf, Peter, and Taki and I planned to walk. I was relieved that we also all wanted to canoe the 5 days from Whakahoro to Whanganui (one of many options available for TA hikers to get to Whanganui).
I was stoked to have met hikers with similar plans to mine.
I also reflected on the fact that while hitching to town and skipping 16 long, hot road miles was tempting, I was happy with my continued commitment to walking the length of the trail, saying no to any rides or shuttles around sections, thus far.
I took off walking hard down the gravel road, knowing Ralf and Peter and Taki would eventually catch up with me. They were waiting on their packs to be shuttled back to them by the bike company.
I called my mom while I walked, averaging 3.5mph, the same pace I’d be walking if we were walking together. She and I loved to power walk in the mornings when I lived at home; I really missed being able to do that with her.
When we got off the phone, I took a brief sit to check my emails and that is when Ralf caught me. He was moving.
I joined him at his 3.6mph pace for the remaining miles. We didn’t take a single food break and I thought my feet were going to come flying off, but we made it to the New World Grocery by 3:30.
I had sweat buckets in the heat, it had to be the hottest day so far, and my face was crystallized with sweat.
I proceeded to tackle the next obstacle and resupply for 10days worth of living and eating, which felt wholly overwhelming considering I was starving, dehydrated, and smelled like a dead possum (well, hopefully not quite that bad).
I grabbed an OJ off the shelf and chugged as I prowled the isles. Do I want 12 tortillas or 18? Should I even buy cheese this time—it gets so oily in this heat—? And canned goods, I could get some kidney beans and chic peas for the canoe. How about a lot of sour gummies? Yeah, that sounds good. And potato flakes to soak up the excess water in pasta/add calories? Protein, can’t forget protein—oh, and dried fruit! Maybe pretzels too…
So it went.
I also grabbed a huge chocolate milk and a loaf of banana bread to compliment the OJ.
I decided to take the shuttle to the Canoe Hire from town, which was 2.5mi further down the “trail”, knowing I’d need to make the miles up tomorrow, but truly there was no way I could walk 10+days of food that far down the road—did I buy too much?!
There were SO many hikers at “The Shed” when we arrived and offloaded from the cramped, smelly van. The hikers present were in all stages of their hikes, some had hitched back to The Shed after the Tongariro Crossing, some had skipped large swaths of trail to come directly to Taumarunui and canoe 7 days, straight to Whanganui, others were like me—kind of—doing things in order, though whether or not they’d walked all the way here was up for debate.
I was learning that everyone had a different definition of “hiking the TA” and I really just needed to focus on myself and my own intentions, and not worry too much about theirs.
Just before bed, I found out the only option was to canoe from Whakahoro on the 17th, I couldn’t do the 16th even though I was sure I could be there by then. This wasn’t the end of the world but it just left me with an awkward 6th day—I didn’t need 6 days to do 100miles.
It was problem for the morning.
Day 33 (1/11/24) zero day: 3.5mi // 5.8km
Walk from Taumarunui Canoe Hire back to town center
I woke up feeling out of sorts, still undecided as to whether or not I should start walking today, or just take a rest day. Either way, I had to be present for the Safety Briefing at 8:45 and I definitely wanted the hot cup of coffee and fresh baked bread that came with it.
The hiker in the tent next to mine fell into a fit of rage—I won’t mention his name—over a disagreement with one of the bike companies. Calling the man at 11PM, cussing him out. I suddenly became very worried I’d get paired with him in a canoe—my anxiety knows no bounds.
The safety briefing wound up being an excellent refresher. I hadn’t canoed since 2019 when I took part in a 25 day canoeing expedition on the Hess River in Canada.
The trip had involved 5 days of upstream travel, which meant hauling our fully loaded canoes up and over beaver dams, wading through bogs, pushing against the current, and then, once we were finally paddling with the river, navigating rapids and obstacles of all levels of difficulty.
I’d seen so many of my trip mates’ canoes get swamped in boils and eddies, but mine never had, I did not want my first time to be on the Whanganui.
After the briefing Logan and I caught up on the phone, and at that point, I knew I did not want to walk today. The chaos of the original group staying at The Shed departed, and made staying put seem a whole lot more agreeable to me.
I walked to town—making up my missed miles—did laundry at the laundromat, showered at the info site, and purchased two dry bags from the outdoors store, a 4L and 10L—you know, just in case me and my stuff ended up in the river.
After that I grabbed some food from McDonalds and waited for the shuttle to take me back to the Canoe Hire.
I ran into a lot of new hikers waiting to get picked up, it seemed like a lot of these hikers had come back to The Shed for a second stay after a stretch of hiking, before they canoed.
My day wound down nicely and I slept much better without any agro neighbors camped next to me.
Day 34 (1/12/24): 16mi, +1889ft // 26km, +576m
Taumarunui Canoe Hire to Whakapapa River Bridge
I woke up to a soaking wet tent and sighed against the dew point. The humidity was high, as per the usual.
I packed up and moved my life into the big garage we were all referring to as The Shed, and made some oatmeal and coffee. I was eager to get started so that I could walk a few miles before the heat of the day struck.
Peter, Leo, Taki and I had all done our canoe booking together, and all planned to leave The Shed and hike a similar schedule to get to Whakahoro on the 17th. I let them know I was heading out, and told them I’d see them at the Whakapapa River, where we planned to camp that night.
It would be a shorter day than usual, but apparently going any farther was pointless because the possums were wickedly aggressive on the 42 Traverse; a few hikers had had their tents ripped into, food stolen, etc. and none of us wanted to deal with that.
We’d camp on this side of the Traverse tonight and walk it in one day, tomorrow.
I started tramping to the tune of an audiobook, it was a horror (sort of)—A Southern Bookclub’s Guide to Slaying Vampires, by Grady Hendrix—and it kept my mind occupied as I traveled on the pavement. Prior to this book, I’d listened to a fantasy series, Fourth Wing and Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros, which was incredibly absorbing, so this new book had come after a tough act to follow and wasn’t quite as consuming.
Quite suddenly, though, my full attention was stolen by a giant, elegant, person-sized bird.
“Well hello!” I cooed reverently. “You are so regal!”
The ostrich blinked is huge eyes at me, long lashes framing what can only be described as immense depth and intelligence. He studied me over his beak, which was held partially open, as if he was on the verge of speaking.
I knew the ostrich was a “he” because of his black and white feathers, females are mostly brown. He was in a paddock with some horses, who grumpily moved out of his way so that he could follow me along the fence line as I walked.
I spoke to him like a friend, telling him about the hike, that with his long legs he could probably do it faster, I told him, sadly, that he was the only ostrich I’d seen here and I wondered if he was very lonely.
I heard a thump! And looked behind me. He’d collapsed into a seated position and began fanning his wings outwards, shaking them violently, his feathers looked to be on the verge of getting tangled in the barbed wire of the fence.
He then swung his neck from side to side, popping it back against his body at each turn. I’d later learn from Google that this is a mating dance, and then feel even sorrier for this beautiful bird, so lonely that he would dance for a human girl (I do have long legs but definitely not feathers).
In the moment I had no idea how to respond, so I awkwardly bowed, teetering precariously under the weight of my pack. The bird looked at me curiously.
I said goodbye over my shoulder and carried on, looking back once to see him standing at the fence line, watching me go.
The rest of my day unfolded uneventfully. I walked, I sweated, and I listened to the story of a bunch of southern moms vanquishing a modern day vampire to protect their neighborhood.
When I reached the river, I dropped my pack in the shade under a tree, and then found a path down the steep embankment to the water, eager to wash the sweat off.
When Peter, Leo and Taki arrived, we spent the afternoon half asleep, lounging in the shade, killing time until we could pitch out tents in the picnic area and make dinner.
A sweet and simple day on trail.
Day 35 (1/13/24): 23.6mi, +3730ft // 39km, +1137m
Whakapapa River to Tongariro Holiday Park
The morning of the 42 Traverse I was eager to get going. I’d heard odd things about this route, some hikers raved about it, others said weird things about it being a deeply rutted and “unusual” walk. Plus there was a somewhat large stream crossing to look forward to!
I marched across the bridge and into the jungle on the gravel road. The 42 traverse was a mountain biking trail but also a very popular 4X4 route, so I wasn’t expecting it to be hard, really.
I got to walk across a huge earth-slide (a slip) and the views were great! Then it was back to 4X4 road walking for a time.
Finally the trail deviated onto a more adventurous path than the main, and I began to understand the “deeply rutted” description many hikers had given it.
The path narrowed and jungle closed in around me; I had the choice of walking up high, on a clay embankment, or down low, in a clay luge. The height discrepancy in the terrain was due to massive erosion; motorbikes created the ruts, the rain deepened them.
I did my best to climb the steep trail, though I seemed to slip backwards a little with each step. It wound up and down, keeping me in a dark, vegetated tunnel, feeling a bit like a mouse in a maze, until the path dumped me into a creek.
The creek was the trail, I realized, and so I forged my way upstream for a stretch, over slick, knobby rocks. Eventually the small stream I was standing in intersected a larger stream; I saw I was meant to cross it.
Again, I found myself really grateful for the good weather. This was not a stream I’d like to cross on a rainy day as the current was already quite quick.
The deepest the water got was just above my knees, and once I reached the other side, I ditched my pack and went back for a swim in one of the eddies. It was breathtaking, icy cold water and I loved it.
I had about 4 miles left of jungle, then 4 or so miles of road to get to Tongariro Holiday Park. I hadn’t seen the boys all day, but I figured they were close behind.
I slogged on through the heat—and eventually, mud, the final portion of 4X4 track was quite boggy—until I hit pavement and saw where I’d be hiking tomorrow.
The volcanic Tongariros loomed big and impressive on the horizon, and the mysterious alpine world called to me, luring me in with its promise of sweeping views and new terrain.
Some said The Crossing was like walking on the moon; I pictured it being similar to the environment on Mauna Kea, on the Big Island, but with several lakes.
I couldn’t wait.
The Tongariro Holiday Park came into view as if a mirage, bending and warping in the heat of the highway. Relief flooded me.
It was a great campground (sans the copious and raucous possums) but wound up being a brief stay, followed by a hike out in the pitch black.
You have to get up early to catch sunrise on top of a volcano…
Peter on the Ridge; a sneak peak of my sunrise Tongariro Crossing!To view daily maps of my progress, follow me on Strava:
https://www.strava.com/athletes/ivey_smith
