The End

I forced myself to wake up in the wet, black, night of a morning. Headlamp clumsily slanted over my rain jacket and hat. Shit. Battery's almost dead, just like my bloody feet. I had to wrap my tent over the ridiculously gigantic souvenir I so intelligently purchased for my last day on trail. This word cyclone vibrates fear through my veins, but it's really just a little synonym for storm.

I left early. So early that it was almost yesterday. Eerie silence. Calm and quiet. Just me and the moon. I was prepared. Five Bumper Bars and two bags of gummies in my right side pouch, a Red Bull on the left with my water bottle and countless hard candies hidden in the hip belt in case of emergency. I sat in front of the library to steal a few minutes of free wifi before running down the beach, at probably my fastest pace to date. It was going to be a 60 km kind of day, and I had to make it to The End, as my travel arrangements were booked for the following morning.

Someone was looking out for me because I tell ya, not a drop of water wet me nor my clothes for the first 25 k's. I was followed by a perfect blue circle of light... Rain pouring in all directions except for straight above. And then, the sunrise... The beautiful ocean sunrise. This brought tears to my eyes. I gave my momma a fat hug and grin, feeling her warm smile as she watched me with pride and joy for how far I've come.

A lovely local named Jason offered me a ride into town once I hit the road walking section, just two minutes before the absolute downpour. He's the frontman for an ACDC cover band and has the sweetest pit bull I've ever seen. Nine k's later and what do you know, my old hiking pal 10-Speed met me with the famed French Laura to lighten my pack and re-hike into Bluff.

We made it. We did. It was exactly 1.5 million miles from start to finish, filled with an abundance of blood, sweat, mud and tears. Actually, it was mostly filled with laughs, but that's not how the saying goes. The last day on a thru hike is always the best, and this one proved right. I wish I could leave you with some profound words of wisdom upon reaching my end point, but right now I only have one thing on my mind and it's that ITS TIME TO CELEBRATE! 

It's the Final Countdown

I'm moving fast, but I feel so slow. A line of storms was set to head through my last week on trail, but I put myself on a deadline so on we go.

I absolutely loved this last section. It had everything. It summed up so much of New Zealand's terrain in just 7 days. I made some new dear friends at the beautiful Greenstone Hut, which is more of a Swiss chalet if you ask me... flushing toilets, enough said.

I had my first and only "close call" while trying to ford a river alone in the early morn after days of rain. That was scary... Real scary. There was one last mountain pass, and I was early enough to catch the clouds part for the noon heat.

I got my tussock hiking on, and oh boy do I love those plants. There was a final farm to trek across, complete with a huge herd of sheep.

Some more road waking, too! By this time, both pairs of hiking socks were almost completely disintegrated and my heels were starting to bleed. Sean bandaged me up and I moved over to my knee high sleeping socks to finish in style.

Don't let me forget about the mud... It has been so long since I've been able to posthole in a deep bath of wet earth up to my thigh! Yes!!!

And of course, the exotic mossy forest sections I've grown to love. You'll get this here, too, right before the beach. Awe yes, the beach. I started on the ocean some three months ago, and how epically powerful to finish walking down the long flat sunrise sand.

Huts, friends, rain, fun. Tussocks, mud, a mountain pass and I'm almost done. Roads, sheep, ferns, and towns, one last morning beach walk, and I'll never forget when I almost drowned.

I'm in Tussocks up to my Buttocks

I've officially found my new favorite plant here on Earth, or at least my favorite grass: the glorious tussock... which is actually just a clump of grass, according to Wikipedia: Tussock grasses or bunch grasses are found as native plants in natural ecosystems, as forage in pastures, and as ornamental grasses in gardens. Tussock and bunch grasses, in the Poaceae family, are grasses that usually grow as singular plants in clumps, tufts, hummocks, or bunches, rather than forming a sod or lawn, in meadows, grasslands, and prairies. As perennial plants usually, they live more than one season.

Why did it take me so long to realize your beauty? I can't think of anything more gorgeous now that you caught my full attention. You are so big and strong with a perfectly developed color combination of grayish purple, green, yellow, orange, brown... topped with a handful of golden blond highlighted tips. And when the sun hits you just right... speechless dipped in sublime. You are so soft and gentle against my leg when I pass by, not like that damn Spaniard Grass. Tussocks seem to flirt with me, too, as they protrude a bare shoulder while the wind blows back their hair... begging me to gaze at them with admiration and envy. You are just perfect. Well, perfect until I have to hike through you on some long distance trail across a country, that is. Then you can be a real bitch.

Welcome to the land of NO SHADE

It was 842 degrees... Fahrenheit and Celsius combined. I didn't leave Lake Tekapo until 5:00 p.m. in hopes of avoiding the hottest part of the day. Ha. Right. Nice try. I love the desert and used to drink sunshine in a tall glass with a slice of lime, but it is something else down here in New Zealand. It sucks all the energy from you with a fierceness I can't quite describe. With every step forward, I fall back a meter or two. What a delight to see the tiny telephone hut emerge for my night of cool sleep.

I accidentally slept in, perhaps my body needed the rest. Oh, how I wanted some early cool hours of walking. I can't complain... It was still beautiful... With an all day view of Mt. Cook and plenty of opportunities to jump in the lake.

The trees have completely disappeared for this last week on trail. I even had to crawl into a spiky bush one lunch break to shade myself from the sun's blistering rays. But the mountain passes are still here... and I sure love it up high. I'm drinking gallons of water, it would be just horrible to go dry. Oh, and the sandflies are on vacation. They don't like this heat either. Finally, I cowboy camped... 4 nights in a row, at that! I guess it was a blessing Wanaka was booked out.

50 Shades of Sunburn

I'm so red that it penetrated into my eye whites... tainting them a nasty shade of pink. The ozone hole shows no mercy. I've become an obliging submissive to my tube of sunscreen. Sun blisters of pain as I beg and scream for more rain!

The Harper River track was lovely. It was crisp and overcast, without a chance of rain... what I consider to be perfect hiking weather. You can experience four seasons in one day down here in NZ, and so I'm always delighted when I stay dry. Mostly dry, that is, as I probably forded the river a dozen times. I hiked this section alone. I blame the beautiful riverbed flowers for my slow speed... distracted by their good looks. If you've spent a few hours with me, chances are that you've heard about at least one of my three phobias:

- White creamy sauces such as sour cream, mayonnaise, yogurt and whipped cream, (I'll make an exception for Alfredo sauce, because life is too short not to have a few exceptions)

- Putting my hand inside a bag of chips

- The color pink

Well, I tell ya, this beautiful pink flower helped me put my color judgements away. Nature pink is A-OK. I am, however, still grumpy with all the outdoor companies who think woman's gear and clothing should be saturated in this god awful hue... Come on, red is so much better.

But I digress... Onward into Methven. A gentleman gave me a ride from the power station at Lake Coleridge. What an interesting town. My new friend Johnny took me on a pub crawl ending with midnight karaoke and a bad headache. He also gave me a 21 year old hat that his horse drank water from and made me promise to never wash it. This is the most valuable item I'm carrying now and I'll wear it with pride all the way to Bluff... Thank You!

Here's Johnny

My morning breakfast was like a dream. Cafe Primo, you stole my heart and tickled my toes. I think it's the cutest cafe I've been to EVER. Antiques and odd collections decorate the ins and outs of this humble shop and the staff was as friendly as can be. I spent a few hours writing notes on napkins, and after my fifth coffee, I started to get the feeling back in my bones. (Notes on Napikins... Another good band name, remember this for later, Ashley).

Nadia and Bianca, this place makes me think of you

That night, well, let's just say inebriated men at bachelor parties should still have some form of decency... Thankfully, my hiking pal Petr showed up in town and helped me make an early exit.

I decided to skip a small section after Methven... No need for me to justify it, it was something I just felt like I had to do. We have to embrace our decisions. It's hard when I hear this word "cheat" from other hikers and I feel like I'm doing something wrong, but I know I still have the encouragement and will try with all my might to stay strong.

Spaniard Grass, you are not my friend.

Friends don't stab each other in the leg (or thigh, ankle, bicep, chin and palm... for that matter). They don't make each other bleed... or if they do, they say that they're sorry. Ok, I know I smashed in your brother's face when I landed on him after jumping over the mud slush near Breast Hill, but it was an accident... and he sliced my calf open in revenge. I still think you're beautiful, but I need some distance and space. I have some hiker friends behind me... can you do me a favor and knock off the violence?

Aciphylla colensoi is a species of Aciphylla, commonly known as Speargrass or Spaniard. Individual plants may be up to 90 cm (35 in) in diameter and half as high, and consist of sharp spines, all pointing out from the centre. It has caused many Te Araroa hikers to cry in pain. - Wikipedia 

Just a bunch of adjectives and verbs

Thrilled, nervous, prepared, wide eyed, eager... Like a little puppy dog chasing after her first bone, as if all shiny objects are gold.

Tired, sore, grumpy, exhausted. Confident, nostalgic, angry, determined... I'm not giving up, no no no, not just yet.

Wet, cold, muddy, broken. Radiant, burned, tan-red-brown... Sun poisoning's no joke, the 90 mile beach water blisters taught me that.

Gaining, losing, falling, climbing. Soaring, fighting, crying, dying. Used, abused, bloody and bruised. hungry, Hungry, HUNGRY!!! I can out eat and drink the biggest man I know.

Motivated, thrilled, enthused, overwhelmed. Loud, obnoxious, flirtatious, happy. Longing, craving, needing, feeling... Oh, I feel it, I feel it all.

Enjoying, breathing, being, seeing. Thinking, overthinking and thinking again. Stopping, continuing, resting, hitching. Sleeping, snoring, laughing, dreaming... Can I talk to you about my dreaming? You were there, you were there, you and you and you!

Smoking, indulging, overindulging, hungover. Embarrassed, bashful, humbled, proud. Mourning, grieving, grateful, growing. Doing it, doing it, and doing it well...Don't worry, she wasn't raised in Brooklyn.

I'm just a bunch of adjectives and verbs... intensified by travel and dulled down with time. I've been up, I've been down, I've spun round and round. The one thing I don't know is regret. I'm not ready to put an end to this just yet.

Animal Bones

I don't know where my love for dead animals came from, but it burns loud and bright deep down in my soul. I want to set the record straight, I don't support sport shooting or killing things for trophy, in fact, I'm mainly a vegetarian when I'm not hiking. I'm just innately drawn to the dead animals I find along my travels, roadkill included. Not just bones, but teeth, talons, wings and feathers. And I enjoy carrying them with me for extra company. Kind of like a pet you don't have to feed. I think of their past life while I hike and feel connected in a strange way. I like to rescue old taxidermy, too...The big game heads collecting dust in your dead grandpa's basement, yeah, I'll always have a spot for these on my wall. The difficulty with an international hike is that it's not so easy to post the bones you find home. So, I've been carrying them for a few days and passing them off to new friends along the way.

The Tough Life

Yet another beautiful stretch of hiking. So much good stuff happened here, I can hardly recall it all. There were mountains, there were waterfalls, there was a zero day in a full 16 person hut to wait out the rain. There was another American woman who takes as much pride in peeing standing up as me. There was candy, lots of candy, even some hubba hubba hiker eye candy. There was a misty rainbow morning and a few more scratches and scabs to validate my name. I met some rad people in this section, rad people with great life stories I hope to see again somewhere around the world someday in the future. 

The trail ends in Boyle, where most hikers have resupply packages waiting for pickup at the outdoor center. Well slap my knee and call me Mary, because who should be waiting for our arrival but the famed Crusaders Rugby team with a hand full of All Blacks. My hormones sure have been hungry and my shame went out the window at puberty. I let down my hair and flirted so graciously to the shirtless athletes. You know, I think it's important to equalize gender biases, and I was happy to give these men obnoxious catcalls, almost as it were my responsibility.

Watch out ladies, he's going to be a heart breaker!!! 

Some great locals took us in and offered us showers, a place to charge our devices, beer and feed. Matthew, my FAVORITE 10 year old, even toured me around on his 4wheeler before the backyard bonfire. I couldn't ask for anything more. Thank you to the moon and back. I miss you already! TA hikers, I highly recommend meeting up with my friends at the Alpine Log Cabin in Boyle. Check out there Facebook page here!