On day four, I headed from Aowara to Whariwharangi (a word I think only Kiwis can pronounce), the longest day of my journey clocking in at seventeen kilometers. I woke up bright and early at the crack of dawn to pack my things and cross the bay at low tide. Our group numbers had dwindled now that the kiwis had left, so the only people doing the crossing were my Aussie friends, the man from South Korea, and two others who had come taken the water taxi in for the night.
I was dreading the bay crossing, but it was actually pretty fun. I waded through sand, mud, rocks, and water, but thankfully the highest the water ever came was about knee deep, although it was quite chilly.
By the time I reached the other side, the sun began to rise over the hill. I sat on the hill ate my breakfast.
By the time I was finished, I was the last one on the beach and headed up the trail. The walk was pure bliss. I didn’t pass another human for two hours. There was no sound other than the leaves blowing in the trees and water running through the creek parallel to the trail. It was chilly and wet outside, and the sun was unable to break its way through the trees permitting a trail that felt very dark and lush and wild.
As I reached the first beach, my early rise started to catch up with me and I laid down and took a nap. I’ve been spoiled from this trip, getting used to having a beach all to myself, a luxury I definitely won’t be afforded back home.
A few hours later, I came across another beach and took another, (shorter) nap. When I woke up, I saw the Aussies sitting on a bench making coffee. My caffeine headache had finally subsided so I decided to forgo the coffee and instead ate lunch. As we sat on the beach staring out over the ocean, we saw two dolphins jumping out of the water.
It felt like the perfect day.
Today had the most diverse paths on the trail.
The trail that day was long but manageable. The inclines were never very steep and other than for a brief period with no shade cover, the weather was never too hot. I arrived at the hut in early afternoon and laid down in the grass out back to take yet another nap. I woke up and explored the hut – it was by far my favorite place I stayed on the hike. For one, I snagged the top bunk in a room with only two beds, meaning instead of having to share with fourteen people, I only had to share with one other person.
The hut was a converted home built in the 1920s, complete with bone talismans decorating the walls, balconies that can only be reached by climbing out the windows, and an old, rusted plow parked out front next to a large, shady tree. The inside was made of beautiful, dark wood, and the area was a short walk from the beach.
Whariwharangi Hut
I had been feeling fragile since I touched down in New Zealand. Five months is a long time to be away from home, but at the end of that fourth day, I felt much stronger, knowing that I was almost done with the hike and had already experienced the worst of it. After the last few days, it was hard to imagine anything I would encounter in the coming months that would be much harder than this.