A Whole New World

By Tyler Socash
IG: @tylerhikes

                                ACT II

[Our protagonists collectively stand with mouths agape afront the lush greenery of the Queen Charlotte Track.  The surf settles within the reaching arms of the Marlborough Sounds, as the hum of a departing water taxi's motor distantly dampens.  Nearby, an interpetive sign reads, "This morn I was awakd by the singing of birds ashore.  Their voices were the most melodious wild musick I have ever heard, almost imitating small bells..."  Calloused and tan, eager members of Cute Boys Club, Couples Retreat, and Comfort Theory drop their clothes.  The South Island christening is about to begin...]

QUEEN CHARLOTTE TRACK

Smelling the sea salt, I retreat from the cold shallows of Ship Cove.  Bekah, Reyne, and I had simultaneously touched the water to commemorate a new beginning.  A new island!  Would we all touch the great white shark-infested waters of Foveaux Straight beside Bluff? I wondered silently.

Suddenly Sebastien, Dan, and I were stripped down to our shorts.  With a little bit of courage we jumped off the wharf and into same cove where Captain Cook anchored his ship, The Endeavour, long ago.  Fear of the unknown residents within the depths drives me ashore faster than the frigid temperatures.  Will Bluff's water be colder? I wondered knowingly.

The interpretive sign informs us that our senses should be bombarded by an environment similar to the one encountered by Sir Joseph Banks in 1770.  As the naturalist among Cook's crew, he was taken aback by the teeming bird life.  Ambient wasp buzzing and pesky weka caws seemed to dominate in 2016.

Even though the Queen Charlotte Track was well-graded throughout our 3 day walk, Reyne, Seb, Bekah, Dan, Kate, and I saw change on the horizon.  Quite literally!  Above Picton's city lights the Kaikoura Range stood mightily in the sunset's alpenglow.  Jagged peaks perforated the clouds.  The South Island would be an entirely different beast.

Our celebratory first night was a catastrophe.  We separated from Couples Retreat, camped in the rain, slept on an uneven sloping hill of gorse (the bush was too thick to camp elsewhere), and had to breathe the smell of rotting possum throughout the night.  The night was even worse for Bekah, she spilled her macaroni and cheese dinner on the ground.  She managed to scoop up most of it, which fell inside of Kate's tent vestibule.

Unlike the Abel Tasman Great Walk, Queen Charlotte avoids the coast.  It undulates along a rolling ridge all the way to Davie's Bay.  Bekah, who vacations annually in the Sounds with her family, felt at home.  "You guys can camp where you want but I'm staying here," she resoundingly declared.  I'm glad we stopped!  We all pushed and tackled each other into the calm tidal waters, and picked up cockles (clams) to rinse and steam back on shore. 

Aside from the consistency of wasp stings (my foot ballooned up awkwardly, Seb's allergies were tested, but Kate didn't flinch or complain at all when she was stung), it was an amazing start to the South Island.

"Was the North Island really worth the effort?" "Wasn't it a lot of road walking?" "Should I only focus on thru-hiking the South Island?"

I learned on the PCT that people try to use fear mongering as a tool to sensationalize their own experiences.  Maybe they want to sound like a hero?  Maybe they want you to make the same decisions that they made?  Typically, they do this to try to justify their decision to hitch around a difficult stretch.

The steps in the Hakarimatas on the North Island had a quote from Henry Ford fastened to one of the railings, "Whether you think you can or you can't - you're right."  What kind of mindset do you want to have?

The North Island is laden with trail magic (especially if you endure the character-building road walks).  There is beauty also!  The Northland beaches, Bream Head, Ngunguru sea kayaking, Pirongia, Pureora forests, Tongariro Crossing, Whanganui River paddling, Tararuas... These are all places that you want to see!

You'll notice I didn't list Raetea, Rangariri stop banks, 42 Traverse, walking along State Highway One, but these places provide good stories.  They aren't bad.  Like Alex from Couples Retreat says, "It's all part of it."

I'm currently writing my Top 10 Te Araroa Quotes in hut books along the South Island towards Bluff.  Every single quote originates from the North Island.  Trail families are forged in the relentless grinding crucible that is Geoff Chapple's (curator of the TA) North Island path.  I'm glad that I took it.  Don't listen to the naysayers, the North Island is cool.

RICHMOND RANGES

Remote.  Rugged.  Weather-dependent.  The Richmond Ranges are unlike anything SOBO Te Araroa hikers have seen.  Here are some facts...

● It's 160km between resupply points, Havelock to St. Arnaud.

● There are 14 on-trail huts to stay in during Te Araroa's path through the Richmonds.  Don't forget to purchase a backcountry hut pass from DOC.

● This section took Bekah and I seven days to complete.  Reyne did it in six days. 

● When the rivers swell they can become impassable, forcing you to wait out the weather in one of the backcountry huts. 

● This would be our longest stretch between resupply points on the entire trail.  For those of you who are looking for hardcore tramping ideas, you'll want to experience this part of New Zealand.  It's challenging, and very rewarding.

After the most wonderful rest day in Blenheim with Kate's friends Mac and Anne (not to mention an amazing chicken curry dinner) we hitched back to the trail.  I found a ragged, bloodied rugby shirt carelessly discarded alongside the road and added it to my wardrobe.  You want to look good when embarking on the most demanding stretches of the TA.

A 20km road/farm walk kicks things off, flooding our memories with North Island nostalgia.  Teal colored waters beneath the Pelorus Bridge invited us towards the cliff edge.  Seb, Dan, Kate, Bekah, and I all hurled ourselves into the frigid depths, just like the actors in The Hobbit did at this location, only to meet our new nemesis...

"Nothing dangerous lives in New Zealand."  Aside from three species of poisonous spiders, that statement is correct.  There are a few things, though, that you should at least be cognizant of while traveling to New Zealand's South Island: sandflies, spaniard grass, hook grass, matagouri, and gorse.  The latter four are spiky plants that trampers invariably walk into during a normal TA day.  Sandflies are simply a camping nightmare. 

Worse than mosquitos, blackflies, deer flies, and horse flies, sandflies are ubiquitous across the South Island.  "I thought they'd be gone by fall?" I asked hopefully.  "No, every season is sandfly season."  Kate, a native South Island Kiwi, brought unfortunate tidings.  As we exited the Pelorus River, the onslaught commenced.  The secret is to keep moving.  Once motionless, or drying off after a Pelorus River swim session, the sandflies reign supreme.

During our first night of camping along the Pelorus, we found no reprieve from the endless barrage of sandfly attacks.  I was honestly an immature baby about it.  Rolling my gloved hands over my socks (sandflies attack low) I would steamroll a dozen flies, only to see their numbers replenish within seconds.

"What do they eat when they can't get hobbit?!" Merry cries with utter disbelief in The Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition.  "Stop complaining Tyler," I could hear the others saying under their breath.  My tarp tent set up seems absolutely flawed in sandfly country.  I lamented my lack of enclosure, and hoped daylight would come soon.

I awoke irritable and tormented.  Sandflies abound, I stormed out of camp only to find more flies with Sebastien at the Emerald Pools and Captain's Creek Hut.  Previous visitors cried out in the hut book regarding the prolific sandfly population.  Protected inside the hut, I apologized for my morning frustrations and continued over beautiful swing bridges and up steep tracks to Rock Hut.

Glory awaits at Rock Hut in the form of a legendary flushing outhouse toilet.  Epic views unfold atop The Rocks side trail.  The Richmond Ranges surround us now.  The Tasman Sea is visible to the north, the seemingly endless Kahurangi National Park dominates the western sky, and our future alpine track lies to the south. 

Spotting Mount Owen to was particularly thrilling for me.  I climbed this peak six years ago, and to this day it is still the greatest mountain I've ever climbed. 

Reyne, who had an extra day off in Blenheim, surprised us the next day at Browning Hut.  He hammered out an impressive 40km day to catch us!  With the full squad back together, we went towards Hackett Hut.  In the hut book we learned that a group of TA hikers were stuck here for nearly four days due to flooded streams.  The Cute Boys Club had seven days of blue sky throughout our dry Richmond Ranges crossing.

Dan and I were the first to complete the 900-meter climb into the alpine zone.  The Starveall Hut was immaculate.  I went back down to tell Bekah and Reyne that unfortunately there was no view, no water, and that the hut was dilapidated with dead stotes in the rafters.  They couldn't tell that I was being facetious.  The truth was revealed soon enough.  At the base of Mt. Starveall we reached thru-hiking glory.  Every step since Starveall Hut has been backpacking bliss.  Te Araroa had become the most scenic trail imaginable.

The 20km hike from Starveall to Rintoul Hut was a glorious ridge walk.  Ridge walks are the best.  We scrambled over seven mountains and had great views in-between.  Scrambling might be an understatement.  Climbing and descending Little Rintoul and Rintoul were downright dangerous.  The risk was worth the reward, as we were treated to stellar views and an incredible sunset.

What happened the next was unexpected.  In the midst of the greatest hiking day on trail, the Cute Boys Club separated.  Reyne, Bekah, and I went ahead, while the others enjoyed various campsites along the way.  Despite the separation anxiety, we were all able to appreciate the Richmond Range brutality.  We were ready for anything the South Island could throw at us.

NELSON LAKES NATIONAL PARK

At Redhill Hut, the final hut in the Richmond Ranges, Bekah was reading some entries from the hit book aloud.  These hut books are like trail registers, and the personalized comments are typically humorous as well as informative. 

"Sounds like the Lodge in St. Arnaud has an all-you-can-eat barbecue on Sundays at 6pm," Bekah inferred from the notes.  "Hey Ty-Lah, what day is it?"

"...Oh my God it's a Sunday!"

The three of us hustled for three hours.  We made it to the Lodge at 6:10pm and enjoyed two hours of delicious food.  Medium rare steak, tender to the touch was our primary objective with each plate reload.  Cucumber salad, couscous salad, hearty potato salads, succulent chicken legs all went down smooth after completing the seven day gauntlet.

I had a trail deviation in mind for Nelson Lakes ever since flying back to New Zealand.  Six years ago I hiked to Angelus Hut, which is a ridge walk of a lifetime.  I didn't climb Mt. Angelus due to the snowpack, and I wanted to make amends.  Instead of valley walking, Reyne, Bekah, and I left St. Arnaud's, climbed Robert's Ridge, and camped in the Angelus Basin.

"Just magic!" as some Kiwis say.  After 12km of ridge walking, we were at Angelus Hut.  Positioned in a ring of mountains sits the most wonderful tarn one could hope to find.  The brand new Angelus Hut sits adjacent to it. 

Mary the 70-year old hut warden told us that she climbed Mt. Angelus in 1 hour 30 minutes yesterday.  Reyne and I nearly matched her ascent with a time of 1 hour 28 minutes.  This brings me to the conclusion that Hut Warden Mary is an absolute animal.

I feel like I could be an ambassador for Nelson Lakes National Park.  Instead of prose, allow me to bullet the highlights of this section. 

● Hike Roberts Ridge
● Stay at Angelus Hut  (requires a DOC booking)
● Climb up Sunrise Saddle and summit the 2,000+-meter Mt. Angelus
● Skinny dip in a tarn
● Jump into the Sabine Gorge
● Stop by Blue Lake, clearest known freshwater in the world
● Be on the lookout for whio, New Zealand's endangered duck
● Be on the lookout for whio pooping in what once was the clearest freshwater in the world
● Stand upon the Lake Constance glacial moraine
● Climb Waiau Pass and marvel in the glory of New Zealand's backcountry

The pictures won't do it justice!

SAINT JAMES WALKWAY

I'll end this blog with a bit of astronomy.  After a restless night in Caroline's Bivy, a sandfly stronghold, we ambled through fields of gold to Anne Hut.  Bekah stayed here years ago, and was excited to return.  An older group of trampers greeted us upon arrival.  You never know what type of characters you'll bump into at the huts, but they usually have interesting stories.  Thus group, including mostly women over the age of 60, had done Waiau Pass the day before us.  We shared tramping tales all night, played an addicting card game called Quiddler, and received an astronomy lesson from Jupiter Jeff.

Jeff was rolling around in the grass to secure a primo view of Jupiter's moons.  I was permitted to use his binoculars to see them for myself.  I felt like a modern day Galileo!  Here we are hiking across a small portion of planet Earth, while staring at moons and planets in different parts of our solar system. 

Then Jupiter Jeff (I started calling him "Jupiter Jeff" in the wake of this astronomy lesson) showed us how to use the Southern Cross constellation to navigate. 

He wasn't finished!   Then he pointed out Alpha Centauri, the closest star to our very own sun.  Jupiter Jeff showed us the Coal Sack in the Milky Way.  Finally, he pointed our two other galaxies visible to the naked eye: the Magellanic Clouds.  It felt really good to dork out again.

This experience at Anne Hut made me want to be more aware of the happenings in the night sky.  There's a whole universe of new worlds out there, and no time is better than right now to start checking them out.

Where the Wild Things Were

By Tyler Socash
IG: @tylerhikes

"Hello everyone, I need your help!" I announced with grandeur to the assembling crowd.  "My good friends Kate and Reyne are going to need some encouragement..."

The Cute Boys Club made it to kilometer marker 1688 of Te Araroa.  We had a reunion in downtown Wellington on the waterfront just outside of Te Papa Museum.  At this site a large diving platform at the harbor gives tourists, locals, and thru-hikers another reason to celebrate the city.  The accolades of Wellington extend far beyond the city limits.  We've been hearing about this magnificent place since meeting Marcus, Sue, Louis, and Ella north of Auckland. 

Rewinding one week, the luxuries and amenities of the capital seemed ages away from Wanganui.  Our group splintered once the river adventure concluded.  Couples Retreat + Reyne went ahead, while Dan, Kate, Seb, Bekah, and I slowly made our way through the towns of Bulls, Feilding, and Palmerston North.

The trail magic in this road-heavy section was extraordinary.  After swimming on the driftwood beaches of Turakina, we were welcomed into Mike & Jo's homestead.  Their hiker haven, "Mayhem Roost," is open to wary travelers walking Te Araroa.

Mike shared that by opening their doors to trampers, an educational opportunity arose for their children.  Mike & Jo's four kids were eager to interact with us, learn where we were from, and to introduce us to their favorite games.  Mike even rode his unicycle around the property, inspiring Kate to purchase a unicycle of her own someday.  (Commit to this, Kate!)  Our conversations were wonderful, and "Mayhem Roost" will never be forgotten...  Nor will that incredible venison dinner!

While strolling through Palmerston North two days later, another unexpected act of kindness morphed into a spectacular evening.  We were approached by a friendly man on the street inquiring if we were walking Te Araroa.  His name was Anthony, and he thru-hiked the South Island with his wife Fiona last year.

"I'd invite you all to stay at our house, but we are renovating right now.  I'll happily take you all to the grocery store though!"

Anthony, who has a legendary beard that he started on his last thru-hike, obviously wanted to assist us in anyway he could.   It wasn't so shocking to see him back in the Countdown supermarket minutes later with an update, "Nevermind!  You all are welcome to stay at our house."  Apparently Fiona was very keen on hosting us despite their home repair projects.

We consumed Scrumpy's all night, learned of Anthony & Fiona's plans to hike the North Island in an atypical way by linking remote mountain ranges (a way that I wished the TA could emulate - fewer road walks), talked about conservation efforts, ate an amazing pesto pasta dinner, and saw our best New Zealand sunset from their rooftop.  Fiona encouraged us to get a better view of the red sky from a higher vantage point.  Dan, Kate, Bekah, Seb, and I had a night to remember.

One of our discussions continues to permeate my thoughts...  Anthony & Fiona, along with the Department of Conservation and other wonderful volunteers, do a lot to remove invasive species from the Tararua Ranges.  Before the arrival of the British, New Zealand only had 2 native mammals: the long-tailed bat and the short-tailed bat.  Every other mammal seen on New Zealand today is invasive.  Sheep, cattle, red deer, dogs, possums, boars, rabbits, weasels, ferrets, stotes, rats...  This a big problem for New Zealand's native bird populations.  For millions of years, New Zealand's birds evolved without the threat of predators.  Some of these birds are flightless.  The whio, kākā, kokako, kākāpo, kākāriki and the kiwi, once teeming around New Zealand, are all disappearing...  The eggs and chicks are being eaten by mammalian predators. 

The British vision of changing New Zealand into a pastoral paradise was only the beginning...  Possums were introduced to spur a fur trade.  Rabbits and red deer were introduced for people to hunt.  More native bird habitat was destroyed for sheep and cattle to graze.  Once these animals arrived, they had no natural predators to worry about!  Brilliantly, we introduced more predators (including falcons and hawks) to help cull the booming rabbit population.  It turns out that slow, flightless birds make easier prey.

Small victores need to be celebrated.  The whio is an endangered New Zealand duck.  Stotes, described by Fiona as "effective killing machines," eat the duck eggs.  Along with Anthony, Fiona carries 10+ kilograms of eggs to reset stote traps throughout the rugged Tararua Ranges.  It's a thankless job, but vital as an endangered species hangs in the balance.  Due to Anthony and Fiona's trap setting efforts, the remaining ducks in the region are being protected.  You can read more about the adventures of my heroes here: http://whiowhio.weebly.com/blog

As we entered the Tararuas, our friend James from Christchurch rejoined us for a long weekend!  James hiked from Pakiri to Huntly with us earlier in the North Island.  It was nice of him to return to see us reach the halfway-point of our journey.  One of the highlights of this section was meeting an ultralight hiker named Mike, sporting 7 kg's of gear (I carry 15 total) with a dash of fear mongering.  He was a hoot.  We enjoyed a long river swim, a beautiful campsite near a reservoir, and some arduous ascents with James along the way.

Before our 800-meter ascent into the High Tararuas, we said goodbye to James, jumped off a bridge into the Ohau River, and said hello to Kate's friend Scotty.  Scotty surprised us with a 12-pack of Speight's beer at the beautiful Waiopehu Hut.  Clouds billowed over the Main Tararua Ridge like a soft blanket.  Sebastien and I ran up to the see the sunset.  It was magic!

Describing the Tararuas is difficult.  I'll mainly leave it to the pictures below.  It's like hiking in the Great Range of the Adirondack High Peaks, but with Fangorn Forest trees in every col.  It's also like hiking above treeline in the Mountain West, but with the Cook Straight and the South Island visible in the distance.  The vegetation is lush, the wind unforgiving, and the tramping is well-earned.

Our three days in the Tararuas were as difficult as Ultralight Mike warned.  Every ascent seemed to by followed by an equal descent.  The undulating ridge involved strenuous climbs, but the views made it all worthwhile!  We were in the clouds!  When the clouds cleared, we were in a slice of heaven!  Among all the hiking trips in my life, the Tararuas rank in the top 10.  Messages from Reyne and Couples Retreat in the hut books kept us laughing.  We were eager to catch up to them.

Reyne surprised us outside of Wellington's Botanical Gardens.  We almost couldn't recognize our friend with his sun-kissed hair!  Reyne rejoined the Cute Boys Club on our walk to kilometer marker 1700 at the end of the North Island.

The pathway guided us towards the waterfront where a towering platform enticed us to swim.  Seb, Dan, Bekah, and I were quick to take the leap.  Reyne and Kate balked. 

Every passerby is drawn to the platform.  Wellington's waterfront is beautiful, and a public diving area only accentuates the uniqueness of the city.  A crowd assembling, I seized the opportunity to be a show pony.

"Let's put our hands together for Reyne and Kate everyone!" I encouraged the masses.  "They are terrified of heights so they are really going to need your support," I added only to draw intrigue.

To the dismay of Reyne and Kate, the proverbial slow clap began.  Strangers shouted their names.  Simultaneously, they approached their respective platforms and quickly retreated.

Without warning, Reyne sent himself over the edge, leaving Kate in the unwanted spotlight.  It took another excruciating 30 seconds of coaxing for Kate to follow Reyne's lead.  Everyone cheered with delight.

It concerns me to announce how the six of us completed the North Island.  With 12 kilometers to go, I announced that we would attempt the "12 in 12."  Some of you may remember my blog post about the 24-24-24 on the PCT.  This was like that.

12 beers in hand, we marched south!  It didn't take long for us to fall into bushes, ask random people to join us on our quest, and to lose the trail.  We even walked past the end point of the North Island's Te Araroa and had to double back.  Much unlike the 24-24-24 Challenge, I completed the 12 in 12. 

A plaque commemorates the end at Island Bay.  It was amazing to think how far we tramped together as a group.  I finished the North Island just under two months, and just across the Cook Straight lied our next objective.  Sebastien, Bekah, Dan, Kate, Reyne, and I returned to Wellington.  We readied our food mail drops (with the help of Scotty who graciously hosted and chauffeured hikertrash around Wellington for 4 days) and purchased our Interislander Ferry tickets.

Welcome to the greatest head fake of all-time.  Te Araroa lulls you into an elevated state of self-confidence, and suddenly you're dropped off by boat at Ship Cove.  At the tip of the Marlborough Sounds you are about to embark on a starkly different thru-hike.  Welcome to the South Island.

Enter the Marae

By Tyler Socash
IG: @tylerhikes

"The kauri trees were massive," Petuere walked solemnly in a large circle around a Māori statue, outlining what would have been the circumference of New Zealand's tallest tree.  Our canoe entourage had arrived at Tieke Kainga, our fourth campsite along the Whanganui River trip.  "They once touched the sky."

Tieke Kainga was unique.  A marae, Māori meeting and ceremonial grounds, was adjacent to the campsite.  Reyne once told me that you could not enter a marae without first being welcomed in.  This blog begins with my first powhiri, a Māori welcoming ceremony, involving speeches, dancing, singing, and a hongi.

Our host for the evening was the Waimarino tribal leader.  Petuere, an overtly passionate man in his fifties, stated that tonight's ceremony would be closely followed by a heritage talk.  This was an opportunity to learn about the Māori culture firsthand.

As we sat down for the introduction, Petuere asked for a volunteer to speak on behalf of their group during the powhiri.  My hand immediately went skyward.

I followed Petuere towards the marae.  He led the procession with a powerful haka.  Tongue out, eyes wide open.  The scene was emotionally charged when Petuere beckoned me to come forward.  Holding the ceremonial staff, I introduced the members of the Cute Boys Club and Couples Retreat.  I felt very lucky to be standing there, and I was certainly nervous.  I'm not sure if I found the right words for our group's collective purpose, but I was honored to be the voice.

Earlier upstream Girl Alex and Jer encouraged us to learn group songs for the powhiri.  Jer recommended Bill Withers Lean On Me. Girl Alex adapted an Australian song to appeal to our gracious host...  We sang both numbers.  Girl Alex, who often sings Disney tunes with the voice of an angel, had us learn the following song:

We are one, but we are many
And from all the lands on Earth we come.
We share a dream (Jer and Boy Alex's echo: We share a dream!)
And sing with one voice.
I am, you are, we are whānua.  (Māori for "family")

Upon completing the ritual, we were welcomed to tour the property.  The marae was even offered to our group as a shelter.  Jer, Anna, Alex, Alex, Maria, Bekah, and I decided to sleep there.  "...When in Tieke Kainga," you know?!?

Petuere transitioned into the heritage talk, which covered his tribe's origin, identity, and land acquisitions / holdings.

"Uenuku is the tribe, Ruatipua is the great ancestor, and we are the descendants of the 101 non-seller owners," he recited with pride. 

It was a rather impressive oratorical performance.  He credited his ancestors and referenced his extensive genealogy throughout the talk.  Petuere highlighted the Rainbow Tribe's lands, extending from the summit of Ruapehu to the Whanganui River, much of which we had traversed over the previous week.

Then Petuere spoke of Great Britain's impact on the Waimarino tribe.  This final portion of the heritage talk really moved me.  Petuere stared with great reverence into the air at the base of the Māori statue, looking at an imaginary kauri tree. 

"...And with these mighty old growth trees that the British cut down, they built Wellington, and Auckland, and Christchurch, and Dunedin..." he spoke with trepidation. "When my ancestors asked for compensation from the British, who took trees from our lands, and minerals from our rivers, the Waimarino tribe was offered 2 cents for every dollar that they deserved."  Tears formed in the corners of my eyes.  I just recited The Lorax the day prior at the John Coull Hut.  Petuere's retelling sounded eerily similar.

After the presentation, I asked Petuere how he deals with the frustration of injustice.  "You have to have forgiveness in your heart," he replied earnestly.  "And those trees, they made a promise to my ancestors: 'don't cut us down, and we won't ever cut you down.'  And the trees never have."  That made me cry. 

Walking Te Araroa, I take a lot of pictures.  I share the best ones.  Perhaps I give a distorted image of what the TA is actually like?  It's 15% road walks.  Our halfway point, kilometer marker 1503 is a massive clear cut on a logging road.  Some people say, "Yeah, but those were planted pines.  They aren't native.  They were grown to be cut."  We forget to think back to a time when these pine groves were all native bush.  There are nearly 8 billion people on Earth.  We need to log trees, a renewable resource, to thrive.  That makes sense from an economical perspective, but we also forget that we don't own the trees.  That part is hard to understand.  I guess I still don't understand it.  After walking 3,500 miles this year, I can only say that it makes me sad to walk through clearcuts and along roads where once beautiful, untrammeled forests existed. 

I stared at the ceiling of the marae that night.  A classic line from The Lorax crept into my head.  "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better.  It's not."

I'm not quite sure what to do about that message.  But I am starting to care about whole awful lot about the natural world on this walk.  I cared before.  I just care more.  We all have the chance to be stewards of the land.  Even the rubbish bin next to me at this McDonald's where I'm typing my blog says, "Inside, Outside: Be a tidy Kiwi." 

                           * * *

The river trip ended on another emotional note.  I thought I'd have to leave the group to stay on schedule with my calendar year plans...  My mood became quite somber. 

Unexpectedly, I heard my name being shouted from atop a river bank.  It was Tobi!  Tobi left the group one month ago to go explore the South Island.  He came back to do one last big hike in Tongariro before flying home.  Tobi drove along the Whanganui River all day, hoping to spot us.  It felt like divine intervention to see him again.  I was reminded about how fun it was to stay with the group.

The Alex's of Couples Retreat gave me great advice: live in the present.  "The trail will always be here, but the people change," Girl Alex said.  "The past is history, the future is a mystery, right now is a gift, that's why they call it 'the present.'"  Sage advice.

Kate added, "Focus on what you have right now."  I know she was telling me to stop being so mopey.

The last day on the river we came across a rope swing.  It was gigantic.  At one point Dan, Reyne, Sebastien, Jer, Alex, and I swung together.  It was a hoot!

Bekah and I also had a fantastic experience capsizing our canoe.  We went through the aptly-named "50-50 Rapids" with a cavalier attitude.  After the second wave, our canoe filled with water.

"Bekah, we're sinking!" I shouted.  She turned around in disbelief as we hit the next series of waves.  My efforts to balance the vessel were futile.  Buckles snapped and our gear emptied into the Whanganui.  The canoe rolled, sending Bekah and I overboard.

I stayed with the canoe, Bekah floated safely downstream clutching our loose barrels.  We had our life jackets on, so we felt safe.  Bekah erupted with laughter, which made me laugh too.  It was quite the scene. 

A jet boat happened to be coming around the corner that very moment.  Talk about fortuitous timing!  The driver helped us gather our goods, and he helped us drag the canoe to shore.  It was a highlight of the river trip!  I only lost a pair of ripped trousers and three Mountain Dews to the angry river spirits that tipped-a-canoe-and-Tyler-too.

Yet again, I decided to prolong my southbound journey with my friends.  We are still hiking together, and I secured a visitor's visa.  The stories with the Cute Boys Club and Couples Retreat are too good to pass up! 

So all is well in New Zealand!  I'll be here awhile longer!  I can't wait to share stories of trail magic and hiking in the Tararuas in my next post.

Flotsam and Jetsam

By Tyler Socash
IG: @tylerhikes

 "Ty-Lah, I think we have a problem."  I was half-asleep when Bekah poked her head into view around my tarp.  The levity in her Kiwi accent went unheard.

"What is it?!?" I timidly begged.  "What's wrong?"  Admittedly, I was quite frightened to be awoken in such a way.

"...It's the canoes," Bekah stated matter-of-factly.

After hiking across Tongariro National Park, our group had one thing on our minds: paddling the Whanganui River! The Cute Boys Club, Couples Retreat, and literally boatloads of Germans were teaming up to form a massive group of 18 people.

We just had to hitch back to Taumarunui 30km to the north to resupply.

A few tidbits on hitch hiking...

● I never hitched in my life before thru-hiking.  Successful hitch #15 on Te Araroa was secured today!  I normally wait 5 minutes for a successful hitch, but sometimes it's a painful 30-minute wait.  Not too bad in the grand scheme of things!

● I have yet to pick up a hitchhiker myself (a fact that I will surely amend once I finally get that 2016 Tangerine Subaru CrossTrek).

● Hitchhikers who are obviously thru-hiking a long trail are typically intrepid souls at a crossroads in their lives.  They sacrificed a lot and planned really hard to be at that roadside spot along a popularized hiking route.  Picking them up is usually a great way to impress your friends later that night when you retell your genuine act of kindness.  Embellish our smell.  Be a trail angel.  Pick up thru-hikers! 

Tyler's tips on hitching in New Zealand...

Disclaimer: I am not the best hitchhiker.  I rank somewhere in the middle of the Cute Boys Club in regards to securing a ride.

1. Stick your thumb out.  Stick your thumb out like you mean it.  Don't half-ass this part.  It's the integral first step.

2. Find a partner to hitch with.  It honestly seems to work best when this hitching partner is female.  2-3 people seems to be ideal.  If your group is larger, split up.  Put you best smiler with the first group facing oncoming traffic.  It's possible that this person can charm the driver into picking up the second group further down the road.

3. Look like a thru-hiker, but take off your creepy hiker hat and sunglasses.  Show off that heavy backpack of yours.  Maybe make your collapsed and non-threatening trekking poles visible.  Utilize that roadside stream and clean off that excessive mud from your calves.  Appear slightly desperate but emotionally stable.  Allow that lucky someone the opportunity to identify you as a friendly hiker simply in need of a ride to town.

I once saw my friend Tobi hitch in the pouring rain.  Soaking wet, scowl on, all while dressed in a one-piece dark green raincoat with the hood up.  Tobi looked like a serial killer.  I was about to say something when he stuck his thumb out for the first car... Hitch secured.  Kiwi hospitality is unparalleled.  The hitch provider even took Tobi out for tea.  This is called a "Tobi Hitch."

I employ a few other tactics...  These are optional.  Kate and Bekah mock me all the time for doing this stuff...

4. Initiate the happy feet dance.  When making eye contact with a driver, look giddy with anticipation and rapidly pat your feet on the ground.  No serial killer hitchhiker would do this.  I swear that it assures the driver that they are about to board a harmless human being.

5. Allow the sunlight to accentuate the hitch hiking hand.  Throw it up higher and prouder than any other potential "thumber" on the road.  Assume a stance that leans you both into the road, yet also passionately towards the direction you wish to hitch in.

6.  Wave at cars going the opposite way.  Sometimes these people are simply  running a quick errand.  You might score a ride on their return trip.

Hitching is a two-way game.  The driver has to make a decision whether or not they want to pick someone up.  The hitchhiker then has to determine if their gracious driver is suitable to transport them.  Be safe out there.  Remind me to tell you Yankee Doodle Dan's hitching story if I ever see you in person.  It's the best story from Te Araroa this year.

It's been wonderfully easy to hitch on the North Island.  I'm very thankful for all the help. 

                               * * *

So we all managed to hitch our way to Taumarunui.  Resupply time!  Our pack weight limits the amount of goods that we can carry on the trail, but this weight is nullified on a canoe trip!  We were given 3 barrels, and I planned to fill mine with 3 things: camping gear, fruit / produce, and Scrumpy's. 

That evening I was happily coerced into leaping off a 12-meter bridge adjacent to our campground.  The local Māori adolescents were shouting, "You're a man!  You have a beard!"  I stood in a state of terror clutching the railing.  The kids gave me all the advice in the world.  I watched Sebastien and Mo' Fun Dan jump multiple times without requiring the charade of attention.  That's when the Awesome Principle was mentioned...  At that point I was forced to do it.  Bekah, Dan, Seb, and Kate gave me the final support I needed.  Legs shaking, I jumped!  It was quite the free fall.  My scream was pathetic, but I'm glad that I succumbed to peer pressure.

The day of reckoning had come.  It was time to embark on our 7-day Whanganui River quest.  We used a company called Blazing Paddles, which we thought was quite clever.  The owner became disgruntled when I failed to follow his instructions on how to properly secure my barrels or something... I don't really remember what he said because I wasn't paying attention. (Oarshadowing...)

The river was calling!  At the last minute Bekah and I were paired up.  We pushed off into the water.  Nearby were Kate and Downstream Dan.  We immediately tied our boats together and began our river float with an obligatory opening of our Scrumpy's.

"This is literally the best thing ever you guys!" Kate expressed with glee.

Our floatilla was interrupted by a rope swing.  Reyne, Sebastien, and Otis were already soaring into the warm river.  It was too perfect to pass up!  The floatilla quickly resumed, rapids were negotiated, and we frequently jumped out of our canoes for mid-afternoon swims.

Guys, go on a canoe trip with your friends.  It's a vacation-and-a-half!  Your problems really seem to drift away on the water.  Please email me directly with your witty pun.

Pulling up to our campsite, we found all of our friends waiting for us.  Couples Retreat had already assembled their tents.  I made a quick costume change into a mismatched suit and tie that I bought at a thrift shop in town (channeling my inner Trey Socash) just to host a game show night at our site.  We played Te Araroa "Fishbowl." It was a hoot.

The floatilla continued the following day.  At times we had 4 or 5 canoes tied together.  At one point my canoe came close to a rocky cliff.  There were a few natural steps along it, so I jumped out, ran up the wall, and cannonballed Bekah and the group.  I felt like James Bond!  A very childish version of James Bond.

Rain fell hard on the second night.  Relentless rain.  "Maybe we should tie up the boats?" Jer subtly suggested.

To be honest, we were a bit cavalier about the whole river rising thing.  "There's no way enough water could descend upon our watershed and wreak havoc on our perfect river vacation," thought everyone.  I put my mismatched suit back on and pleaded for everyone to play more trail games.  Tonight would be Te Araroa "Things."  It was a hoot.  We went to bed blissfully unaware of the torrents of rain falling upstream...

Jer and Anna couldn't hear the short conversation between me and Bekah, but they could easily decipher from my tone that something was wrong.

I unzipped my bivy and hurried to the river.  What was once a crystal clear passageway of hopes and dreams was now a murky brown flood plain. 

Our canoes were filled with water! Paddles and life jackets floated carelessly in the chaos.  This is why we can't have nice things!

I entered the water with Sebastien and started sifting through the flotsam and jetsam.  We collected submerged supplies.  "Bring out your dead," I wanted to callously call. 

"Being an adult is tough," Alex jokingly stated.  "Who did this?  We did this."

The debacle was a teachable moment.  I'm glad it happened because, 1) it was pretty funny, and 2) we quickly realized that all of the canoes were accounted for.

...Now what could I have possibly meant by Oarshadowing?...