“Not all girls are made of sugar and spice, and everything nice. Some girls are made of adventure, fine beer, brains and no fear.”
30km. After a good night’s sleep I wake to overcast skies and the magnificent sight of a group of wild horses feeding on grass not far from my tent. There are several mares and foals watched over by a stallion. I’ve only been on Te Araroa for two days and I’ve already experienced some breathtaking sights. Despite being a little scared at night on my own I think I am going to love this journey! Victoria and Emilie never made it to Maunganui Bluff but I’m not surprised. 28 kilometres is much too far for a 7-year-old carrying a fairly decent-sized pack, not to mention a mum carrying more than her share. They will be camped in the dunes somewhere.
It’s drizzling this morning so I transfer all my gear over to the cooking shelter where I make breakfast and load my pack. It takes ages to get everything sorted. I guess I’ll get into a routine and become quicker at the morning repack. My wet tent fly goes into the mesh front pocket of my pack. Hopefully I can dry it on the beach once the sun comes out. I put $10 in the honesty box and set off wearing my rain gear. After a while the drizzle stops, the cloud clears and the layers came off. Several cars drive past and I’m surprised when one pulls up beside me. The driver introduces himself as Bruce, a Trail Angel, who lives in Paihia. His daughter has a mussel spat business and he is taking her some mechanical parts. Bruce gives me his phone number and invites me to stay with him when I get to Paihia. This must be the ‘trail magic’ that I’ve heard other Te Araroa walkers mention. When Bruce drives back past me later he stops to tell me he has seen Victoria and Emilie and they are camping at Maunganui Bluff tonight. He tells me it is another 10 kilometres to Utea Park campsite. That is starting to sound like a big ask and I’m wondering if I should just stop and set up camp in the dunes. I quickly drop the idea remembering stories about packs of wild dogs on Ninety Mile Beach. I’ve seen paw prints on the beach today so I know there are dogs around. I start to wonder if I’ll be tough enough to deal with all the challenges this walk will throw at me.
As I walk along the sand, head down, doubt gnawing at my mind, I hear a car approaching. I wave and smile as the 4WD passes me. The driver does a U-turn and pulls up beside me to ask where I’m going. I tell him I’m going to Bluff. He looks a little perplexed as ‘the bluff’ (where I stayed last night) is behind me. I explain that (despite my doubts of a few moments ago) I’m walking the length of New Zealand. He takes a moment to comprehend the enormity of my declaration then says, “That’s a long way to walk!” All three men in the car (driver included) are drinking beer. I ask them if they have one to spare. “Sure do!” They have a chilly bin full in the boot and to my delight I’m soon sipping on an ice-cold Heineken. They offer me another one for later but I don’t want to carry the extra weight. More trail magic! Scoring a beer lifts my spirits and I know I can make it to the next campsite tonight. However, despite carefully studying the map and scanning the dunes I miss the exit off the beach to Utea Park. To be honest I’m not sure if it’s open for the season yet or even still operating at all. I eventually find the track off the beach to Hukatere Lodge. I’m relieved as I thought I might have missed that exit too. A sign just off the beach tells me it’s 200 metres to Hukatere Lodge. As I trudge up the shingle road it seems much further than that. I arrive at the entrance to the campground to find the gate locked 😩 My left shin is sore and I am nearly at the end of my tether from the exhaustion and monotony of 30 kilometres of beach walking. Why is this gate locked? It must be getting close to 7:00pm. Maybe they lock the gate each night. There has been no cellphone reception on the beach to phone and let them know I’m coming. Oh well, I’m staying here tonight regardless as there’s nowhere else to go. I take off my pack, dump it over the gate and climb the fence. It’s another trudge up a long driveway to the camping area. There is no one around and I wonder whether this campsite is actually open. I try the door to the kitchen and thankfully it is unlocked. There is a bunk room next door. I try the door but it doesn’t open. That’s a shame as a bunk would have been nice after my long walk today. I ring the campground number and start to leave a message but my phone cuts out. I feel alone and a bit defeated.
I take off my shoes and slip my sore feet into a pair of sandals. I put up my tent. The fly is still wet as I forgot to spread it out to dry when I stopped for lunch. It’s getting dark as I inflate my sleeping mat and lay out my sleeping bag. I go back to to the kitchen to find my aching feet are now also itchy from several sandfly bites. Once again I’m so tired that I don’t feel like making or eating a proper dinner. I make a hot chocolate and eat some biscuits and a muesli bar. Not great for energy replenishment but it will have to do. There is cellphone reception here so I send a text to Ryan and Teresa to let them know I’m okay. Am I okay? I can’t really say for sure. All I know is that this is the hardest day’s walking I’ve ever done!
The camp manager, Gabrielle, phones me back. She says the dorm room is unlocked and I can have a bed if I want. Too late, my tent is already up. I try the door to the bunk room and this time it opens. I just didn’t pull hard enough before. A fine mist has rolled in from the sea and settled over the campsite. I peel back the door to my tent, which is now saturated from the mist, and crawl into bed glad to be able to rest my weary legs at last.
