A Dangerous Business

Date: 30th October 2023

Start: Corner of State Highway 1 and Te Paki Stream Rd (km 20)

End: Maunganui Bluff Campsite (km 40.2)

Distance Walked: 20.3 km + approx. 6.5 km from SH1 to end of Te Paki Stream

Total Distance Completed: 26.8 km

Song Currently Stuck in Head: nothing, I was too angry about the rain

Weather Report: properly annoying to put it mildly

Now that I’m settled in my tent and have had time to relax my emotions, I think I can finally give an unbiased review of today’s walk.

It was disgusting. The worst day of hiking I have done in a long time.

Not exactly the way I wanted to start my journey on Te Araroa. For a long time I’ve had this image in my head of staring off into the big blue abyss from the Cape Reinga lighthouse on a beautiful sunny day. Well, I got one of those things.

Waking up in Kaitaia to the sound of rain was what I expected but was still disappointing. I desperately wanted to start with fine weather, but no amount of refreshing the Metservice app was going to change that. It was gonna rain, and I was the one that had to deal with it.

Ron picked up myself, Tom, Petra from Austria, and another hiker whose name I didn’t get at 9am, heading for Cape Reinga. The three of them were planning on starting at the Cape but still hoping to make it to Maunganui Bluff. I was skeptical, not the least of which because that’s a 40km walk in bad weather. As I write this, I haven’t seen any sign of them here, I expect they found a spot in the Te Paki sand dunes to camp for the night. The rain fell constantly for the entire drive up to the cape, but momentarily stopped once we reached the lighthouse, even offering the barest glimpses of sunlight.

I farewelled those 3 brave souls and hopped back into Ron’s car for the quick jaunt back to Te Paki Stream Rd, where I bid him farewell and started down towards the stream itself. The rain had subsided somewhat during a fairly easy jaunt down a gravel road, passing by sheep and cows happily meandering along the grassy verges.

Soon enough I was at the stream. Obviously not wanting to wade in with my boots, I swapped them out for a pair of reef shoes I had picked up for this exact purpose. They worked a treat, and despite the stream being cold and fast flowing thanks to all the rain over the past 24 hours, I made good progress through the stream, flanked on both sides by towering sand dunes.

Zig-zagging across the stream to avoid the deepest bits seemed to work well, and there were lengthy sections of dry sandbanks to walk along as well. It’s length was rather deceiving. At several points I thought I must have reached Ninety Mile Beach, but it never got any closer. But all good things must come to an end, and I arrived at The Beach.

You know what else arrived? Wind. And it wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. I can’t exactly measure wind speed based solely on feeling alone (if you can, please teach me), but it was strong, coming in constant gusts that sandblasted my legs and face. Oh, and it was a full-blown (pun intended) headwind. Do you know what this wind brought with it? Rain. Never heavy, but always falling right in my face. This is when I realised I had made a colossal error. I had taken off my rain pants for Te Paki Stream, but I hadn’t thought to put them back on once I reached the beach; it wasn’t raining at the time and I foolishly thought that it wasn’t coming back. I think you can see where I’m going with this.

I got very wet. Even my boots didn’t come out of it unscathed once my socks became saturated. In short, it was not a fun time at all, which saw me revert into “must reach camp as soon as physically possible” mode; didn’t even have the time or energy to take photos.

When I finally arrived at camp at 5pm, the rain had abated somewhat, letting me set up my tent relatively dryly. The campsite itself is pretty basic, just a grassy field with a simple shelter and a toilet. Most of the time as a hiker, that’s all I need.

Not only after arriving, I was joined by several other walker who had also started from Te Paki, including Marlon from Canada, Mirjam from Germany, and Vadem from Belgium (I didn’t get everyone’s names, sorry!). Marlon had brought some rope with him (in his words, he picked it up to take it out of his pack, realised how light it was, and kept it in) which he strung up as a makeshift clothesline in a vain attempt to dry everyone’s clothes. It’s the thought that counts I suppose. As any good hiker is obliged to do at camp, we spent the evening sharing stories from our various adventures before settling in for the night right before more rain hit.