Walking out of town was a bit more pleasant than most of us had expected. At least as far as the route to the airport was concerned. Many of the other hikers around me preferred to take public transportation and then continue back on the trail where it was a bit nicer. If you classify the trails through residential areas as not nice. Another argument would be the lack of options in town for camping. I didn’t find it particularly difficult. You can just ask if you can pitch your tent in someone’s backyard

I had ignored all the warnings and was rewarded with a nature preserve along the coast and the Botanical Gardens. I stayed on the property of an elderly lady, right next to a pond, full of ducks and geese. To refresh myself after the day’s exertions, I rewarded myself with a dip in the pond.

Lunch break

Mount Williams

On my way out of town, I’m sure I’ve wandered through most of Auckland’s parks, past idyllic and not so idyllic residential areas, along a seemingly endless road, a cafe with delicious breakfast and coffee.

I read while enjoying Flat White and my eggs. A Flat White is another coffee and milk combination that the Kiwis invented, unlike a cappuccino they don’t put cocoa on top of the Flat White, the way it tastes better to me.

The many concrete and asphalt makes the feet hurt. I therefore make enough breaks, take off my shoes and let my socks dry. For a while I walk with Angus, apparently the only other hiker in my group who also dared to leave town on foot. In retrospect, it turns out that there were definitely a few others, they just didn’t get in front of my eyes.

After a while I looked for a nice place for lunch break, with a table and a few other people, obviously workers who spend their lunch break there, a lady who first pulls a head in her van and then a second, until they finally all go back to their own daily routine

I spread out my tent, damp from condensation, to let the sun dry it. I eat. There are wraps with peppers, kale and brie. An excellent combination

My two apps show different routes for the next section. I follow the official Te Araroa app. I’m in luck, as it turns out. The road I’ve been following for a few miles is closed. There is no getting around, not even for pedestrians, I am told by a construction worker. He regularly drives the route to collect hikers who have ignored all warnings, as I have, and trot down the dead-end road. I load my backpack into his pickup, get in and let him show me the construction site. Afterwards he drives me to the other side, surely some kilometers. Nobody in Germany is that friendly. Here it happens to me every day that someone offers his help without being asked. It seems to me to be part of their culture. A way that perhaps has something to do with the small population. A country where everyone seems to move a little closer together, even though there is more than enough room.

Later in the day, I ask someone for water. He lets me fill my bottles. I walk a while further out of the place called Bombay and up Mount Williams to find a place to sleep for the night. I find what I am looking for next to a pasture in a small area of forest. I am joined by two other Germans I had not met before. We exchange stories and food. Real wild camping, where people help each other out. I retire to my palace to write these lines and read. How nice it is in the new tent and the newly gained space.

The day was long but good. I am satisfied.

Civilization

I can smell myself, the way one smells when one has spent a few days in the bush. A smell that when I am alone I don’t seem to notice at all. Yet here I am, in the midst of washed and parfumed people, civilized people, all going about a daily routine that does not allow them to look like me.

Early I was awakened by a pressing on my bladder, not even 5 o’clock, after less than 10 hours of sleep. Certainly enough time to empty myself and sleep for another hour. The former I suppress , because I am afraid of the horde of mosquitoes that swarm between my protective inner tent and the tarp. I know they can already smell my blood. They are already pawing with their hooves, can hardly wait until the curtain finally falls. But I am wiser, I hold out until the first rays of sunshine lull them to sleep. Finally the time has come for me to break out and shake off the culprits. My plan works out. An early start also gives me the prospect of an early breakfast in civilization, in a village 12 kilometers away. There I must seem like a renegade, and in a way I am.

I’m the only one who hangs his tent and socks out to dry on the porch of the café. I’m the only one who hasn’t washed in days. I am the only vagabond in a round of otherwise preened individuals.

Strange views

This was the second time in a few days that I had the pleasure of speaking with someone who has quite strong opinions to express about a variety of things. One of the ladies was wearing a t-shirt that read “100% Human DNA.” Before she addressed me, I thought to myself how little truth there was in the statement, given the amount of bacteria that live in and on our bodies. It didn’t take long for her to explain to me in great detail how Pfizer is trying to manipulate our DNA with their vaccines, Yuval Noah Harari is the devil for publicly advocating vaccination, and the British blew up Nord Stream. Little that I could have contributed anything meaningful to, let alone that she would have acknowledged me for my contribution.

What irritated me most about this was the cross that hung around her neck. I always thought that the concept of DNA and creationism were mutually exclusive. But even there, faith is apparently flexible enough in its interpretation of Scripture.

Overwhelmed again

After about 30 kilometers, the day before my next Zero and the prospect of a barbecue party at friends from the trail, I didn’t feel much like running another 10 km on hard ground into Hamilton.

Since a bus would have taken an hour, I tried hitchhiking. After a while of sticking my thumb out, a young lady actually stopped and asked where I was going. Downtown would have been optimal for me, but she asked me the exact address of my friends and drove me right to the front of their house. I can’t stress enough how natural it seems to be with New Zealanders to help someone out, even if you have to drive a few extra miles to do it. She just waved me off and said she would have had time anyway.

Arriving at Bruce and Zeph’s I am greeted by probably 10 of my friends, all already set up with their tents in the backyard and were in the process of preparing the BBQ. Salads were prepared, beers chilled and laundry done. It was a real pleasure for our two hosts to invite us all and welcome us to their home. The food was on the house, and Bruce offered a ride into town for those who had errands to run. Together we had a rollicking evening and kept each other entertained with stories. It is so nice to have these great experiences with all these great people.

A few impressions of how messy the trail can also be