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.

What do you miss most on a long hike?

That's so sweet of you for asking! Let me take a second to lay it down on the table.

 - Q-TIPS!!! I produce enough ear wax to fill all the candelabras in Dracula's castle. I know they are lightweight, but I've never packed out a q-tip on trail.

- White sheets and worn in pillows, (hey, that sounds like a good album name). I also miss sleeping in on Sunday's with my handsome face while binging on Netflix and frozen pizza.

- Original Joe's meatballs... Enough said

- Actually, almost all the restaurants and bars downtown SJ: Good Karma and my favorite vegan Ryan, Chachos taco Tuesdays, Mosaic's happy hour with Danielle, Stritch and the entire crew, Paul over at 55, the Cinabar, the Caravan, the Continental and that damn good mezcal Bloody Mary downstairs... Oh, and of course, Ozu SUSHI with Jeff and Steph while we wait for Chris to get off work.

- I miss shooting the shit with my amazing big sis on the back porch with a few fancy beers and organic cigarettes.

- I miss walking down a street where people know my name.

- Music.

- Electric toothbrushes... The first step in going light is to cut your already tiny toothbrush in half. It's been over a year point five of this nonsense and I'm ready for a big fat vibrating cleaning machine to wipe my sins, I mean plaque away.

- I miss my Momma, I miss my Poppa, I miss Laura and Mr. Gibbs... I miss my family, I miss my friends (especially those two loco ladies Nadia and Bianca), but in a tolerable way. This time apart strengthens my love and deepens the appreciation.

- Smelling good... Or just not smelling at all.

- Mostly though, I miss my baby, my love bug, my sugar, my spice, my everything nice. I miss your voice, your smile, your freckles, your toes. I miss the way you stare at your hand and snore through your nose. I miss you so damn much it's getting hard to continue on this hike. I bought a ticket back today, and even skipped a few miles along the way. Adventure, hiking and all these new experiences are still great... I'm coming home in three weeks, you better save the date!!!

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!

The Richmond Range

​They evacuated the Pelorus Campground the morning we set out for the Richmond Range. Evacuated due to the rising river levels from last night's torrential downpour. This was going to be interesting. Three of us braved the storm and made it to the first hut in time to light a fire and dry out our clothes. Three independent 30-year-young women with enough chocolate to feed an entire rugby team... Suzi, Zebra and me.

The next day was hard. The river rose 1.5 meters by morning. We slept with our food and gear on the top bunks just in case. It was wet, miserable and full of new battle wounds to show off how slippery mossy tree roots can be. We took an alternate route, not technically on the Te Araroa, but still heading South through the Richmond Range. After some 11k's of struggle, a beautiful untouched hut appeared behind the sketchy wire footbridge. Sometimes, it's more difficult to choose comfort over pain, but with enough food in your pack, you can wait out the weather until the time feels right. We did just that at the Roebuck hut. Suzi and I spent hours planning out our futures, dreaming of the divinity we will most certainly build. I'm going to open a Bloody Mary bar, and she will have a sheep farm in Spain. We'll both sell scones and offer free beer to thru-hikers in exchange for their stories of the distant world they've seen.

We decided to hike out before sunrise to make up for some lost miles. It was my favorite morning ever... cooking porridge together in the dim candle light... watching the moon reflect off tiny rapids as you slide across a cable bridge.

5 am breakfast by chef Sue

The weather turned for the better. Onward to the mountain passes. The fucking fantastic mountain passes! My memory is blurry, but when I get above the tree line, it's clear as quartz why I do what I do. The high alpine feeds me with energy. Where few things survive, minus a shit ton of sand flies and pride. I dropped a happy tear at the top of Mt. Rintoul thinking about all the others before and behind me who stood and will stand in this very spot. A big fat thanks to you, Ian and Richard, for the delicious blueberries and slice of encouragement that got me to the top. I jogged into Tarn Hut, only to find some of my favorite hikers sitting outside by the campfire. We stayed up until midnight sharing stories, smokes and lemonade. Happy birthday Antoine!!!

How many times are you allowed to say "best day ever" in one week? By golly, it happened again. In this little life of mine, I've never seen more pristine swimming holes as those found crossing the Richmond Range. I had just two simple intentions for my Te Araroa hike, and one was to jump in the water as much as possible. Well, you can check that off the list and tie it up with a pretty red bow.

Swimming with shoes!!! 

I was ready to call it a day at the Top Wairoa hut, but it was full and offered limited tent options, so Suzi and I pushed on after a cold cup of coffee and two ibuprofen to ease my new knee pain. Best decision ever! We crossed our last barren pass at sunset, with raging gusts of wind that forced us to smile like giddy little school girls. Epic, indeed.

I know I'm strong. I know I'm capable. I know I can cross 5 mountain passes in one day. But sometimes, I feel equally weak. Mentally depleted and alone. I still long for you to hold me and make the bad weather go away. I still think of our future plans to cause chaos around the world and bring smiles to all the crying children we see on the streets of San Jose. Who else can put up with my antics, or keep me in check like you do? Oh, I love you baby, more than ever especially on this day... But when I crossed this last mountain top all alone and ecstatic, I knew I was more than just OK.

(Hey weirdo... Stop trying to rhyme... You sound like a goofball)

Havoc in Havelock

​The Queen Charlotte Trek was the perfect reentry trail after a week off in Wellington. Smooth, easy hiking. I finished it in 1.5 days... all the way into Havelock, in fact. Did you know that Havelock is the mussel capitol of the world? These beauties could disguise themselves as chicken breasts for Halloween, they were so big.

Big muscles need big mussels

I got in late. Thank the heavens that Rose, my sister from another mister, was the managing bartendress at the only open spot in town. "How long's a piece of string? That's how long we'll stay open for you, darling." She helped me secure a free night at the hotel and fishing day trip out in the sound if I promised to sing karaoke the following night. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

Sushi time! 

We didn't hit the water until 3:30, but it was a full day of fun and cider. I caught the first fish... my first fish ever. Couldn't get you out of my head Ty Guy!!! Wayne fried up the feed aboard while I captained the boat back to bay. Hiking is awesome... speechlessly supreme... but this comes second to the people you meet along the way. A million thanks to you, Wayne, Leon, Michelle, Rose and Ian... You have a special spot in my heart forever.

Go Rose Go! 

I Didn't Forget

Wellington is cool. Quote my profound words please. 

I was so excited to leave the North, that I forgot to write about the most amazing dinner ever. Susi and Petr made friends way back on the Wanganui River with a family from this Windy City. Lucky me got to join their invite to a proper barbecue at one of the most beautiful homes on the planet. Sylvie, James and Belinda hosted us, as we shared stories of life and adventure. We even went for a quick backyard hike to view the capital. Oh, the delights of a delicious home cooked feast! A gift... A true gift of inspiration and encouragement. People seem to move me more than the places I visit. I hope you all know how much I love you and how you are the ones who keep me pushing forward.

To the Future

OK... I know that I am supposed to "live in the now" and be present, but whenever I see a sailboat this idea goes out the window.

Hear it loud and clear friends: I, Bloody Mary, will one day own a boat and take a minimum of two years to sail around the world. It will be ornately decorated with a mermaid figurehead and have a bit of AstroTurf interior. How does red velvet do with moisture? You will see me a mile away and know when I'm docked in the bay. Nadia and Bianca, you will always have a designated bed aboard, just help supply the nautical themed costumes, please. Hats. I want a sailor hat, fisherman jacket and maybe a pirate patch. 

It all starts with a dream, babe, a big fat juicy dream. Then, you tell everyone on the planet about your dream and have total faith that someone will help make it happen. Who's with me?! I'm serious, guys, don't doubt me. I'm going to leap at every opportunity coming my way. 

Call me Captain Mayhem 

How Many Nautical Miles To The Next Bloody Mary?

It's time to say goodbye. Goodbye to the North Island. You treated me well and you pushed some buttons. I'm going to start fresh down South, and I haven't a clue what will come. There are no expectations, just a belly full of excitement and two big eyes ready to take it in.