Angelus hat

The day off passed as quickly as it had come after the exertions in the Richmonds. We had planned an easy, short half day away from Te Araroa proper, way up in the mountains instead of down in the valley. Twelve kilometers was to be it. We wanted to take further rest for the what was to be left of the day at a mountain lake before heading back towards our actual destination. Incomplete planning has ensured that we had rather 20 km on the speedometer. Well, almost a rest day. As hardly to be expected from New Zealand, we, Connor and I, had a breathtaking day zigzagging up Mount Roberts, towering at more than 1000 meters above our starting point of St. Arnaud.

After the hike along Lake Rotoiti, through coniferous forests, up a gravel road to the parking lot at the base of the mountain, where the first day hikers were already waiting for us with their cars. We seemed to be the only ones, who with their fully packed backpacks, planned to spend the night up in the height. The first slope overcome we were rewarded with a view over the one hour before still at feet lying lake. Only a few hundred meters further on, a cardboard man warned us about the dangers of the route ahead, the altitude and exposed terrain are very susceptible to strong winds that could seemingly carry you away quickly.

We just returned the man with a weary smile, we are experienced hikers and the weather is also excellent. Where the weather didn’t throw a wrench in our plans, it was our battered bones and the anticipation of a slack day that made the day feel heavier after all. Nevertheless, we had a fantastic view that would have been completely hidden from us if we had followed the actual path through the valley. The beauty here is that so many different types of stone seem to mate with each other. So every few miles the landscape changes dramatically, with its light to dark gray pebbles with rock sticking out of them as if they were just cut through.

Every now and then grassy hills join in, giving a clear view of other mountains covered with lush dark green forests that reach up to the sky. Each one of the mountains piles up in a sequence far into the horizon. Throughout the day I tried to make more than a prediction as to which peak our destination for the day would appear behind, a cabin for 28 people named Angelus, right next to two mountain lakes that seemed to have poured into a crater of sorts. Connor had even started joking about whether I had any more of those saucy predictions. I guess in the end it was just the desire to finally arrive. Arriving couldn’t be a greater relief. How nice it is to finally reach a goal I had set for myself.

The following day also turned out to be very strenuous, although technically less so. We hiked a stretch along a river that kept pouring down waterfalls, down into the valley, back to our actual trail.

Since there is no real time pressure anymore, I resolved to take the days a little shorter and make more sure to be properly rested. It’s just not fun to the same degree and you don’t have the capacity otherwise to soak up the scenery that is presented to us here.

Christian Leadership Course

In the cabin where we spent the night, a group had gathered consisting of some young Europeans and Americans and two seminar leaders. It was a Christian Leadership Course that lasted 40 days and consisted, among other things, of excursions in the mountains where the group gathered for retreat. What exactly was supposed to be Christian about the course, I understood only to the extent that the content was taught on the basis of the Bible. Nobody could really explain to me what the difference between this and normal leadership is. I guess I am not believing enough to get behind the mysterious work of the Lord. At least they all browsed a lot in their Bibles, in the absence of their cell phones, which were taken from them for the time.

After a hearty breakfast, which as usual consisted of muesli with chia seeds and nuts, as well as dried fruit, Connor and I set out to climb Travors Sattle, one of two traverses, of the otherwise fairly flat stage. Just before the final steep climb, we stopped at a hut for a rest. Already from far away we could hear the calls of Keas, mountain parrots which one gets only rarely to face. From the terrace of the hut we needed a while to find them, but then they flew past us only a few meters away. Connor lurked behind the hut for a bit to take some snapshots, with success. He’s much more enthusiastic about tracking all sorts of critters and plants in the process. I had originally intended to occupy myself more with nature here, but then I can’t get as excited about it as he is.

Travers Pass

If you climb up a mountain, you have to climb down the same mountain on the other side. Connor fell back a bit on the top, so I continued alone towards the Blue Lake hut. For more than two hours it went down the steep slope through a forest, along an ever swelling river. I am again and again inspired by it, how rivers create it in shortest time to a traveling river to swell. Sure, I see smaller streams flowing into them every now and then, but that somehow doesn’t seem to me to make up for the masses of water, the thousands of liters that flow past me every second. Surely there is magic at work.

Arriving at Blue Lake, a large pack of largely unknown faces is already sitting at the dining table. The only face we know is that of Noor, who has been traveling with me on and off for probably two months now. She is an upbeat, always with a grin, Dutch woman who runs a cake store.

In every hut there is a so-called Intensions Book, where you can write down if and how long you stayed in the hut and where the next destination is. In case of an emergency it is easier to find out where you are. In the comment box of the one book, Noor indicated that she couldn’t find her motivation. When we ran into her at the cabin, we surprised her with a sign that said “Noor’s Motivation.” She totally loved that we thought of her. It’s sometimes the little things in life that make it so worth living.

In the app that most TA hikers here use, you can leave comments. Giancarlo, a friend I met at the beginning of the North Island, with whom I clicked directly, left a comment on a hut in the Tararuas that read, “Be aware of a German man called Jens in this area. He is tall and muscular and LOVES to talk about eugenics. “I was asked several times what that was all about. A special humor that always makes me smile. Too bad I couldn’t spend more time with Giancarlo.

Waiau Pass

The highlight of this section is Waiau Pass. For quite some time I wake up in the morning after many hours of sleep in my tent. I overslept, so to speak, if you can call it that. I had not set an alarm clock, of course. Freed from fatigue, but still a bit wobbly on my feet from the exertions of the previous day, I unzip my trusty tent and move outward, first one foot, then the other, and finally I bring the rest of my body into an upright position afterward. Without knowing what time it is, amazement hit me. All but one tent, apart from mine, had disappeared. A look into the nearby hut revealed to me a desert of abandoned beds. Two New Zealanders were packing. They revealed to me that everyone had been gone for more than half an hour.

Not driven by haste, I prepared myself a big breakfast, knowing that no matter how big it turned out, hunger would catch up with me again in the next three hours. The still wet clothes felt a bit strange at first, but the steep climb from Blue Lake up to Lake Constance helped me dry them quickly and also wet them the right away. This time from the inside and not from swimming.

Lake Constance was formed by a landslide about 12000 years ago, during the last ice age, and you can still see it clearly today. The water makes its way through the fine rock from the upper to the lower lake. It takes two years to do this and becomes the clearest water that can be found on earth. Visibility is only three meters below the theoretically possible visibility of 83 meters, in chemically pure water.

Despite my hour and a half late start, I already meet the first other hikers after the gravelly climb up Waiau Sattle. Two older ladies were just trying to wish someone a happy birthday with the little reception the altitude gave her. I use the reception to do the same, send a greeting and send my dentist a few pictures and questions about my fallen out implant. He just says that it is probably easiest to let the hole grow closed and wait until I am back in Germany. He would then take care of it himself. It’s fine with me, because the hole doesn’t really bother me and it’s not visible anymore.

The descent down from the pass was the highlight of this day for me. I could see from a distance that others ahead of me were having a hard time climbing down the sheer rocks. In some places, you had to bridge several vertical feet to land back on solid ground. I fearlessly worked my way from step to step and just about jumped down, mountain goat-like, with my poles ahead. I would have loved so much more of this kind of descent, where I kept aiming for the next step and then jumping for it. Sometimes it’s hard for me to put into text exactly how something feels in the moment. The adrenaline that boils up inside of me and the highly focused mode I fall into would probably just have to be experienced first hand.

The next two days were pretty unspectacular in terms of the hiking itself. Easy route along a river and across steppe in the valley between massive mountains. The route gave me time to do a few easy miles and rest my knees a bit. Nevertheless, my surroundings impressed me. Even in the flat country, New Zealand shows its most beautiful side. Not having to pay so much attention to the track gave me a bit more room to think.

Further plans

The greater part of my trip in New Zealand is already behind me and so slowly the thoughts are spreading, what should come after that. I know where my journey should go physically, but I don’t know yet what will happen then. We have now brought two thirds behind us, more than 2000 km. The days are starting to be counted. I can hardly imagine what it will be like when I no longer walk an average of 25 kilometers every day.

Will I know what to do with myself? My current plan is to fly to Australia and spend a few weeks there. Actually, I only got the flight to Sydney because my visa required me to have a flight out of the country when I entered. Since I’m already there, I might as well have a look at the country. I probably won’t get back to thia side of the world that quickly. My big plan after my hike, however, is to go to South America and discover a few cultures that are still foreign to me.

What exactly I will do there is still completely undefined. What is certain for me so far is that I want to take it easy. I want to do slow-tourism. I want to get involved in the culture of the locals instead of just running from attraction to attraction. I would like to stay somewhere for a few weeks to engage with myself. I would like to rent a room, take a dance class, and get a little more involved with writing. I get a huge amount of enjoyment out of documenting what I experience as I travel. I would love to explore and learn to write for others, not just people I know. I’d like to find out if I can add value with what I put on digital paper.

Shoe had

I can happily report that my battered shoes have put up with me for about 1600 km. The temporary sole has extended the life of my shoes by 400 km. However, I’m glad to wear my new shoes on my feet now and not have to jitter whether I’ll make it the coming kilometers with more than one thread on my foot.