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It depends on where the mud grows

How interesting it is to observe in which environment the mud we all love manifests itself. Where it makes the ascent to the Tararuas difficult, we find enchanted forests, with trees that seem to have died, clothed in a mantle of moss. In the shadow of the clouds towering over us, we get the impression that behind every corner a forest gnome could jump out, making us his prisoners and turning us into soup. Which is what he did on Christmas Eve, the jumping out, not the cooking.

When the sun shines its rays through the branches, it seems as if the world, full of fairies, is about to invite us into the realm of the elves. The light makes previously unrecognizable shades of green shine. It is this light that makes the dull slopes illuminate more than those on the opposite, descending side, which drops down into the valley with overwhelming brutality.

It is here where, in arid climes, staircases form from the roots of trees reaching much farther into the sky. On slopes where the moss is only an accessory to the overall composition and is not the main grower. This is paired with the tiny leaves that the light of the late afternoon sun makes glow. The fern that basks in the glow and spreads its leaves like wings.

The ascent was hard because we either got stuck in the mud or sat right in it. The descent, on the other hand, because it presented itself to us like a never-ending staircase, to which our knees thanked us with a cry with each step downhill.

Uphill we were motivated by breathtaking views, overlooking both oceans, the Tasman Sea and the Pacific, which to our relief were not denied by the weather clearing. We crawled a bit slower than our cohort, so we were rewarded with skies that opened up just in time. The descent, on the other hand, was motivating with the prospect of a dip in the river and a soft mattress in the Waitewaewae hut.

Our first day in the Tararuas ended early at the Waiopehu hut, after just 4 hours of leisurely climbing, off the trail proper. A route that is a bit longer, but not quite as steep and muddy. At least that’s what we were whispered. We certainly didn’t check ourselves.

Resting here instead of continuing on the same day therefore led us on an asynchronous hut siege, unlike what most hikers set out to do. However, this also meant that we would spend Christmas Eve in an old hunting lodge that could only accommodate two people. Fearing we wouldn’t get a free spot there. A fear that came true. The forest gnome Tyson, so aptly christened by the mother of one of his companions, had already made camp there for the night with his Australian companion.

We solved the space problem by setting up camp in the middle of the trail, the only place where there was room for not more than one tent. This was the first time the two-person capability of my tent was tested. Based on our testing, I would rather advertise it as a one and a half person tent. For people who are not necessarily averse to cuddling. Or kniffele, borrowed from Dutch, as we call it

After the hard descent from Mount Crawford, 1462 m down to 380 m, we treated ourselves to a rest day. We brought enough food to pass the time with writing, reading and bathing in the river and allow our knees some rest.

The following two stages were nothing that could have broken our necks anyway. At least not in the top shape we are in right now. It was a crossing of a forest, with a slight climb, passing a huge detour, passing a landslide that was described to us as bigger than it actually was. Once again, proof that you shouldn’t put too much stock in the reports of others. Everyone runs their own trail here, with their own experiences and based on their own stamina.

Lighter than expected, I just about flew through the woods within 4 hours. I love topping predicted times and pushing myself to my own limit at times. Our destination for the day was another river with deep spots that allowed us to do some headers off a cliff. After the refreshment we dozed in the sun.

The last day was then again a crossing with many meters of altitude, both up and down. Our destination this time was a church, which was converted by a family as a dormitory.

Now we have actually made it. I am proud to have mastered the more than 1700 kilometers of the North Island. A very surreal feeling.

I am already looking forward to the alpine landscape of the South Island

Since I’m already meeting Logan in two weeks at about kilometer 2100 and the Richmond Ranges are considered very tough, I’ll have to hurry up a bit and take a few long days. The times of lazing around are over for now.