My New Zealand Jobs

Papatahi Crossing

Rain they said, and Saturday morning, there was rain, and I wasn’t too keen on hiking in the rain. It stopped by the time I left my house, and I headed to the meeting location, otherwise known as the Railway Station. After being decidedly indecisive for a number of minutes, Harry said, let’s go, and so Kurt and I followed’, ‘After an hour drive, we pulled up to a bridge, which the water was flowing over. We proceeded to walk through it. Little did I know that would be the story of the day, and that all the other crossings would be much deeper and faster. So we crossed, and crossed. Many a stream we crossed. Then we sought an alternate route through the jungle. It’s not really a jungle, but the vines made me think otherwise, as they grabbed my pack and threw me to the ground. The vines got old after awhile, so we traversed this dirt ledge to get back down. I grabbed this tree-like creature and swung around…and down…scratching my arm and hands to pieces in the process. Bloody-handed, I crossed another stream, which was really the same stream, crossed again and again. My friends, it turns out, were wearing gaiters. I had never seen a gaiter, not in real life. What this means, in essence, is I got a lot more water and rocks in my boots than they did.

Then came the Papatahi Crossing. Now, I’ve climbed three fourteeners (which, for the uninitiated, is a 14,000 mountain). I ran a half-marathon last month. This did not prepare me for a 600 meter accent with a full pack. My fellow trampers went up with relative ease, as I went up, stopped, went up, stopped, looked up, let out a silent scream…you get the idea. There were a lot of mossy trees on the way up, which looked really amazing, when I wasn’t in agony. Eventually though, we summited, which was terribly unexcited, but I screamed in joy anyway. The hard part was over. That’s what I thought. Then we proceeded to go down an equally steep terrain that with a poorly marked, wet trail. I slipped a few times, then a few more. Sometimes I just plain fell. It went down a long way. At one point, we caught a glimpse of the ocean. Sigh. Then I slipped some more. After we went down the wrong way and backtracked, again. Eventually we put on feet on semi-flat ground. That’s when it started to rain.

It rained. Kept on raining. We only had an hour or so to go to the venerable hut. Through rain, stream, and stinging nettle we trudged, until for caught site of the lonely hut. Two dogs, two children, and an adult greeted us. The hut looked awful. To me, it was the best hut I had ever seen, as the rain poured across my face.

From there, it got more boring, as we sat, dried, made a big dinner, and eventually slept. We also listened to the small radio they brought, and heard them tell the dogs to “get in the box” a number of times. Aside from the dog barking in the night, and it raining on the tin roof half the night, it wasn’t too bad. Harry woke us in the morning, mumbling something about an early start. The rain got louder, as the wind howled, and the dogs barked for good measure. After breakfast, Harry let Kurt and I determine our fate. Do we stay in the hut another day, head to the coast for a long day of tramping, or find a phone to call for assistance. Kurt and I looked at Harry, looked at each other, and definitely gave him a blank look. We followed that up with some very unclear, noncommital statements, till Harry took charge and said, “We’re going.” And into the rain we went.

\r\n\r\nA stream greeted us. This one wasn’t too bad, but I still clung to Harry quite a bit. You see, he’s bigger than I am. My 130lbs against a current doesn’t scare it a bit. We traveled through the stream and some more stinging nettle, till we went up the hill. Wind greeted us there, and eventually the coast came into view. It was a beautiful coast…on a nice sunny day. Today, it was rather grey, and temptestuous. The ground was rather flat though, which was good. The three weary travelers walked on. A few cars passed, and then one stopped. The Department of Conservation driver offered to give us a ride for a little while, so we quite happily agreed to his terms. The dogs in back were happy to see us as well. After a few minutes, he parked and we jumped out.

Shortly before this fortuitous moment, the tendon on my right foot started to act up. In other words, it began to hurt. Why it hurt was beyond me. My left tendon felt fine. Other than fatigue, my muscles felt good. That made me extra happy to see the truck. A little rest, and my foot would be sweet as (as they say here). Umm, no. It got worse, and my pace slowed, till my friends became blue and yellow blotches down the road. They stopped to wait for me, and I limped along. This went on for awhile, as the wind picked up speed and it rained off and on. Grudgingly, I limped up to them and asked, “Do you have any pain killers?” Thankfully, Kurt had some. Pain. Go away. We walked on, as the pain killers slowly kicked in. Stopped for lunch at a hut along the coast. It was locked, but the porch provided adequate shelter. I dined on my bean burrito and apple. It was hard to walk after sitting, but the pain was lessened. Still, my pace was wretched, or at least slower than the other guys.

A sign informed me that the coastal road was 1:30 hours away. From that road, it would only be another 2:30 hours. If you have seen these signs before, you should know their estimate assumes a fairly slow pace. Finally, a goal! Could I, crippled and fatigued with a backpack, beat their time? Yes, by 22 minutes.

Before long, the road turned into pavement, and surprisingly, a few cars passed. On a day like today, one wouldn’t think so. Harry eventually got one pickup to stop, and they went out of their way to take us directly to Kurt’s car, and to freedom. It was a good day. The sense of accomplishment was tremendous. Just don’t ask me to do it again for awhile:)