A Dangerous Business

Date: 7th December 2023

Start: Jo’s Funny Farm (km 831.4)

End: Waitomo Holiday Park (km 865.6)

Distance Travelled: 34.2 km

Total Distance Completed: 862.2 km

Song Currently Stuck in Head: august by Taylor Swift

Weather’s Decision-Making Abilities: severely indecisive

With a big day ahead of me I had set my alarm nice and early. Turns out I needn’t have bothered, I woke up half an hour before it to the sounds of Lupi and Destroyer packing their stuff and making breakfast. Ah well, no worries, I had a good sleep anyways and this gives me more time to properly wake up, although I’ll never know how they can so easily just wake up and get going straight away.

Jo had left breakfast with us the previous night: toast, eggs and baked beans. I elected to forego the beans. My attempt at frying an egg was… sad. Vicki gave me a bit of stick for it, but it still tasted the exact same as hers so I call that a win.

Without a dew-soaked tent to put away, getting ready was a breeze (much like the weather outside, a very brisk southwesterly courtesy of Antarctica). We were away by 7:30 in a group of four (Vicki, Sonja, myself, and Till from Germany), although quickly joined also by Ron the Scottish Rocket. A pleasant road walk greeted us for the first hour and a bit of today, a gravel road taking us past lush green fields, our enjoyance only hampered by the fresh winds blasting our faces. No matter, I had Andy Serkis singing as Tom Bombadil in my ears, I was having a great time.

The trail turned off the road and into yet another overgrown, allergy-inducing farm track. I’m sure at some point the grasses along here were of a decent length but I suspect that the landowners rarely use the track so they don’t bother going over it with a mower all that regularly. The same can’t be said for the trail after we turned off the farm track and onto, well, an actual walking track. Yes, we were back to the mud.

Remember how I said I preferred the sticky mud going down Pirongia yesterday? Well now I got a lovely trail covered in red clay. It was slip city, of which I thankfully did not become a resident of. Vicki had once again darted off by this point along with Till, with Snacks joining our party halfway along. She epitomises the mindset of “I couldn’t care less about my feet being dry, so let’s just send it through the mud.” Sonja – with feet covered in strapping tape – and me – in boots – opted for a more cautious approach, although if the mud wasn’t too deep I went for the direct line through it.

After this it was back to the road for a short time before making a left turn onto what used to be a regular sheep farm but was being converted into a nature reserve. The hills were covered in newly planted native trees, the whole thing was surrounded by predator-proof fencing and filled with traps. I tried having my lunch break here, but the clouds clearly took offence to this and had a little cry about it, forcing me to move on another kilometre to an airstrip containing a well-placed shed that was a much better location to eat at.

The wind was howling by this point and I really wanted to wait it out. With no sign of it abating and knowing I still had a ways to go yet, I pushed on, rainjacket cloaking my body from the elements. Another red clay farm track greeted Snacks, Sonja and I for a little while, followed by a much nicer trail skirting over the hilltops, the trees offering some protection.

It was on this track that Sonja and I made a bit of a silly error. We reached a point where it seemed like the trail led down a steep ridge. The track looked well-used, despite the lack of visible trail markers. We were also sure we saw Snacks go dow that trail herself. It looked very slippery, but we were getting used to that by now so we went for it. It took all of about 10 metres before I had fallen onto my butt and figured it’d be easier to just slide down. Sonja’s spidey senses then kicked in and a check of the map suggested this wasn’t the actual trail. This was confirmed shortly after by an unsighted Ron calling out, “IT’S REALLY BAD DOWN HERE!” Reluctantly, we climbed back out, looked to our right… and saw two bright orange arrows pointing to a much nicer track not even 5 metres from our noses. We are a clever bunch.

It was a good thing we came back up as this trail led us down into a lovely forest with a nice, stable track surface with the occasional red clay trap. Slowly and calmly, we descended down to a stream, then leading to what Far Out described as a large stream but was in reality a small river.

We stopped on the grassy embankment on the other side for a break, joined soon after by Ron and Anne from France. I expected we’d only be here for 20 minutes but in the end we left right on the stroke of 4pm. There was still 10 km to go before reaching Waitomo, but the track seemed to be in decent shape and the last 4.5 km was road walking; no concerns then about not getting there before sunset. Honestly, it reminded me a bit of the trails I see back home: red dirt track that could double up as a 4WD trail, short bushes lining the edges, bright sun in the sky. Only difference is, say it with me, no snakes.

We emerged onto the road at 5:30. I was finally starting to feel like someone who’d just walked over 30 km. Up until that point I’d been feeling amazing, but fatigue was starting to set in and I was looking forward to reuniting with everyone at the campsite and getting a meal from the pub across the road. Sonja was feeling the same motivations, so we made quick work of the road section, passing by the glowworm caves and reaching the holiday park at 6:30.

Tents were set up rapidly not due to any poor weather but our desire for good food and beer. And it was good, a hearty burger, some garlic bread and beer being consumed gladly. We’ve got a bit of planning to do for the sections ahead but with none of the mental capacity to do it right now. That can wait for the morning. Right now, I need to hot shower and a good night’s rest.