Article by Natalie Gallant With lots of flat road sections between Whanganui and Palmerston North I thought I’d be up & running and knocking back the Km’s in no time. Unfortunately not. Firstly I felt very wonky following five days paddling hard out in a canoe, my hip flexors, hamstrings, calves… you name it, they were tight. Secondly my shoes were trashed. If a client appeared in my clinic room with shoes looking as worn and sorry for themselves as mine I would have given them a very informative talking too about the impact of tread wear patterns on your entire body. In fact, an article I wrote last year was published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine, specifically about this exact topic, yet still I ignored my own professional advice and put my feet through another 200km in them! To be fair on myself though, I had ordered a new pair of Joe Nimble trail shoes at Christmas but unfortunately as the Australian stockists Bprimal were out of my size they were being shipped from the European HQ via my mum. Postage just took a little too long before I headed back on the trail. The result? Road running became painful, yet power hiking on uneven terrain was a dream. The Tararuas was where I really found my feet again. But first, rewind to Koitiata. Yet another estuary crossing was required at low tide…packs above our heads and pants on show we waded through the water a little too early. It was dinner time and hungry hikers don’t wait for low water lines! |
Palmerston North I met Roel, a dutch guy who I quickly came to believe was Jamie’s brother from another mother. He had a bag of skittles literally the size of my pack. With his straight talking Dutch-ness we quickly became great hiking buddies pushing each other with speed and grace as we hot footed the Tararuas. Theres no way we could actually run them; the terrain was rooty and muddy and loosing concentration for even a second meant loosing a footing in an instant. We felt focused and strong, joking we were the Te Araroa special forces for how fast we managed to navigate the tricky terrain. Not that beating suggested timings between huts is in any way a competitive sport… but we were quick. We loved the challenge we had set, we worked hard, enjoyed the views and had an absolute blast! My most favourite day on the north island.
Climbing out of a stream I’m looking down at there floor, as I emerge I find myself head to head with a dog that had randomly appeared out of the bushes…getting a good fright I leap back and fall down a hole. With the weight of my pack being in the hole I cant easily pull myself back so floundering in the bush it took a good 5 minutes to get myself back up and recover from the laughing fit, I looked ridiculous!
I think everyone felt more than a little fatigued coming out of the ranges. Luckily the trail headed west out to the beaches north of Wellington where we took half a days rest to enjoy the sand between our toes and the salty water to wash away the dirt. Now having eaten through the contents of my pack I found returning to running actually much less painful for my foot than walking. I trotted into Porirua still feeling far from fairy like. However, all my woes were lost when greeted in a park by some of the lovely girls I’d met at the start of the Tararuas, I was handed a beer and relished in the joy of drinking on a park bench with my new trail family…pure & happy hiker trash right there! Apologies for the photo blur, that maybe shows how a few of them felt getting up to hike the next morning!
I think everyone felt more than a little fatigued coming out of the ranges. Luckily the trail headed west out to the beaches north of Wellington where we took half a days rest to enjoy the sand between our toes and the salty water to wash away the dirt. Now having eaten through the contents of my pack I found returning to running actually much less painful for my foot than walking. I trotted into Porirua still feeling far from fairy like. However, all my woes were lost when greeted in a park by some of the lovely girls I’d met at the start of the Tararuas, I was handed a beer and relished in the joy of drinking on a park bench with my new trail family…pure & happy hiker trash right there! Apologies for the photo blur, that maybe shows how a few of them felt getting up to hike the next morning!
That night around 1140pm I woke with a start thinking a hundred feet had just stomped by my tent, rumbling the ground beneath me. Only later did I find out that it was an 5.4 magnitude earthquake that had woken me, the epicentre being not far from where I had camped the night prior near Paraparaumu. Apparently it has since been reported as the most felt earthquake in NZ. Feeling a little zombified the next morning from poor sleep, Roel and I finally made it up Khandallah hill into Wellington. I felt so fatigued I wanted to simultaneously scream and cry at the wind…
I said my goodbyes to Roel and flopped into the kitchen of our good friends Amie and Dan in Ngaio. One caffeine kick later and a bunch of baby cuddles I feel reenergised to get myself back out on the trail to finish off the north island, possibly forgetting how hilly Wellington is! I left my pack at their house and ran with my shopping bag - hiker trash part deus. Finally made it over Mt Victoria only to then run off Mt Albert on the wrong side. Now only 3km from the end I couldn’t face adding an extra two, it was 7pm and the rain clouds were rolling in so i caught an Uber to get myself back on track! Funny, you can travel 1695km on foot but the thought of adding 2 more unnecessary km felt totally out of the question. I finished the North Island exhausted with sore feet but feeling as proud as a pea for accomplishing the first half of my adventure.
Now home to Marlborough Sounds to organise resupplies and head into the real mountain ranges of New Zealand!
Now home to Marlborough Sounds to organise resupplies and head into the real mountain ranges of New Zealand!
When I grow up I want to be like her… Fifty- something and as tough as nails. I met Willie at the end of my second day in the Richmond Ranges, she appeared out of a side trail shortly after I arrived at Old Man Hut. We traded trail running stories and shared common ground around ultra running and Outward Bound. Willie was heading up to wild camp on the ridgeline and then continue on to complete her ten day solo tramp. She was so full of life and passion for the mountains, it was a delight to meet her and so very inspiring. My love for time in alpine terrain was deepening by the day…
Pelorus River Track - Browning Hut: Entry to the Richmond Ranges for the Te Araroa trail is via the Pelorus River Track. A beautiful trail twisting and turning along the crystal clear waters of the Pelorus. I was joined initially by a poorly Jamie, determined to hike away his cold and bugs. He left the lovely OB instructor Nick and I to continue into the heat of the day. With Nick determined to reach Ada Saddle at a reasonable time the following day (in order to do some off trail navigation to Richmond Hut), we needed to sweat it out and push onward and upward! We reached browning hut at 8:40pm as the light was dimming and the sandflies were having their last feeding frenzy before nightfall. Cooking for us looked like some ankle slapping, arm flinching pain dance!
Pelorus River Track - Browning Hut: Entry to the Richmond Ranges for the Te Araroa trail is via the Pelorus River Track. A beautiful trail twisting and turning along the crystal clear waters of the Pelorus. I was joined initially by a poorly Jamie, determined to hike away his cold and bugs. He left the lovely OB instructor Nick and I to continue into the heat of the day. With Nick determined to reach Ada Saddle at a reasonable time the following day (in order to do some off trail navigation to Richmond Hut), we needed to sweat it out and push onward and upward! We reached browning hut at 8:40pm as the light was dimming and the sandflies were having their last feeding frenzy before nightfall. Cooking for us looked like some ankle slapping, arm flinching pain dance!
Browning Hut - Old Man Hut: Officially we entered the Richmond Ranges. As the trees fell away we met our first exposed ridge line. The wind and sun beat down as I said farewell to Nick at Ada Flats. It felt a little strange initially to be alone again but it wasn’t long before I found my happy place and tootled off to Old Man Hut, a cute hut about 20mins ascent from the ridge line.
The wind in the night was intense! I laid awake listening to the creeks and groans of the hut and surrounding forest. All the while I kept thinking Willie would burst in at any moment in an attempt to escape it!
The wind in the night was intense! I laid awake listening to the creeks and groans of the hut and surrounding forest. All the while I kept thinking Willie would burst in at any moment in an attempt to escape it!
Old Man Hut - Mid Wiaroa Hut: The day began with a steep climb up Little Rintoul (1643m). This was effectively a warm up for the actual Mt Rintoul (1731m), with the trail sending us down to only then scramble back up the rocks and scree to reach the second peak but oh wow was it totally worth it…
Glistening through the trees I saw a beautiful tarn (lake made from an old glacier), unable to resist the lure I stopped for lunch by its waters and headed in for a dip. Sandflies didn’t leave me hanging around for long though before upping and leaving for Mid Wiaroa. This was what I now see in hindsight as being a gentle introduction to the glorious sandfly…
Mid Wiaroa Hut had bad karma; wasps, sandflies and a stinking hot hut. After a quick splash in what looked like a perfect emerald pool I couldn’t stand any more winged insects for a second longer. I dressed in full rain gear to hide my skin, attempted some yoga, attempted to sit still, attempted anything for distraction until eventually, I gave up. Now too hot and bothered to stay in the hut I went to set up my tent outside to find a breeze and a safe space from the buzzy things!
Mid Wiaroa Hut - Hunters Hut: This was a technical stretch with lots of river hoppings but a well earnt treat at the top with a refreshing alpine waterfall bath. It was bloody icicles! Note to self- read Wim Hof’s (aka the Iceman) book on cold water immersion; I’m on a mission to get over a hate of cold water! After Upper Wiaroa Hut the terrain turned to the rich red rocks of the Red Hills and climbed steeply to Mt Ellis saddle (1374m). I didn’t want the day to end, so, after multiple more alpine baths to cool down I reached Hunters Hut with stunning views back down the valley and the Milky Way overhead at night.
Mid Wiaroa Hut had bad karma; wasps, sandflies and a stinking hot hut. After a quick splash in what looked like a perfect emerald pool I couldn’t stand any more winged insects for a second longer. I dressed in full rain gear to hide my skin, attempted some yoga, attempted to sit still, attempted anything for distraction until eventually, I gave up. Now too hot and bothered to stay in the hut I went to set up my tent outside to find a breeze and a safe space from the buzzy things!
Mid Wiaroa Hut - Hunters Hut: This was a technical stretch with lots of river hoppings but a well earnt treat at the top with a refreshing alpine waterfall bath. It was bloody icicles! Note to self- read Wim Hof’s (aka the Iceman) book on cold water immersion; I’m on a mission to get over a hate of cold water! After Upper Wiaroa Hut the terrain turned to the rich red rocks of the Red Hills and climbed steeply to Mt Ellis saddle (1374m). I didn’t want the day to end, so, after multiple more alpine baths to cool down I reached Hunters Hut with stunning views back down the valley and the Milky Way overhead at night.
Hunters Hut was built as a memorial to two DOC (department of conservation) workers killed in a flash flood when it destroyed the hut they were staying in. This was written on the wall in Hunters Hut, from the poem ‘Listening to the River’ by Brian Turner.
‘The river is never silent. Even in its deepest pools thrive with dark or dreamy utterance. They shelter more than we can say we know.’
Hunters Hut - Redhills Hut: I was joined by a Finn named Miriam, a kindred trail running spirit who had managed to get entry into the UTMB this year - the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, an esteemed world trail race starting in Chamonix, France. It’s on my event bucket list so I passed the hours quizzing Miriam for details.
The red rock balancing act continued through to the next hut. Up until this point I’d successfully avoided getting stung by a bee but whilst doing a bit of lunchtime yoga one stung me in my armpit, charming! Rain moved in that afternoon and we bundled into Redhills Hut for the night to escape the bad weather. With low lying cloud I set off early the next morning to run the mountain bike trail leading toward St. Arnaud. I think a little piece of my heart is in the Richmond’s now, how grateful I am to live so close by these beautiful ranges. I’ll be back for more for sure, maybe even with Willie as a trail guide…
‘The river is never silent. Even in its deepest pools thrive with dark or dreamy utterance. They shelter more than we can say we know.’
Hunters Hut - Redhills Hut: I was joined by a Finn named Miriam, a kindred trail running spirit who had managed to get entry into the UTMB this year - the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, an esteemed world trail race starting in Chamonix, France. It’s on my event bucket list so I passed the hours quizzing Miriam for details.
The red rock balancing act continued through to the next hut. Up until this point I’d successfully avoided getting stung by a bee but whilst doing a bit of lunchtime yoga one stung me in my armpit, charming! Rain moved in that afternoon and we bundled into Redhills Hut for the night to escape the bad weather. With low lying cloud I set off early the next morning to run the mountain bike trail leading toward St. Arnaud. I think a little piece of my heart is in the Richmond’s now, how grateful I am to live so close by these beautiful ranges. I’ll be back for more for sure, maybe even with Willie as a trail guide…
I’d heard how amazing Mt Angelus & Sunset Saddle were, so from St Arnaud I opted to skip the trail on the eastern side of Lake Rotoiti (which I have honestly ran before) and headed west up Robert Ridge. Absolutely the best decision. This side trip has to be one of my highlights, not just because of the stunning scenery but more it was us girls doing it for ourselves, off trail, supporting one another and bonding over frosty wild camping and hard summit climbs.
The hike down through sunset saddle, named for its orange / pink rocks, was tricky and time consuming. Navigating boulder strewn terrain and snow patches via small cairns I think it took near enough 4 hours to cover 6km! Finally reaching the trail head leading down to Hopeless Hut, I turned around to look what we had just scrambled down, wow! I’m so glad we came the way we did as it looked very daunting to do it in reverse.
Part of the enjoyment of this trail is setting little mini challenges for myself. I love the feeling of my heart pounding, my feet dancing over rocks and trusting the strength of my legs…and their even increasing muscle bulk in my calves! I accepted skinny jeans were a no-go for me a long time ago. If I tried to put them on now, rather than they look ridiculous I actually think my calves would burst out like the hulks! Seeing as I can’t really see them they astheticlly don’t bother me, I giggle when people comment; I’m a physio after all so I’m all about the function, in fact I’m feeling extremely grateful for their hulk-ishness as those bad boys (girls) are boosting my ass up mountains like a Duracell bunny! I’ll keep working my butt muscles but dang my calves just keep wanting the centre of attention over those glutes…if everyone could just work fairly now…
So my challenge of the day was to get to Blue Lake from Hopeless Hut. That meant really going for it on the ups and fast pack flying. I was moving so swiftly in fact a wild pig didn’t even know I was there until I burst out the tree line into an open grassy area and gave it the fright of its life and vice verse! It snorted off through the bushes so I carried on bounding down the path... However, for whatever reason it decided to do a 180 degree turn and leapt out the bush in front of me standing motionless and staring me down. This pig was an absolute tank, it looked like it had eaten all the truffles and then some, I had no doubt it my mind it could eat me! What is the correct thing to do in a pig-tank stand off? Thoughts of what to do when meeting a black versus brown bear flew through my head. Do I make noise and act all big and scary or stand silently?? I don’t think I could of outran the piggatron. In that instance with adrenaline pumping I choose to use my hiking poles as a sword and pulled an ‘on guard’ position making something like a HiiiiYA!! Kinda noise. It worked a treat and he waved his piggly tail at me as he trotted off , for a tank that thing could move I tell ya!
Part of the enjoyment of this trail is setting little mini challenges for myself. I love the feeling of my heart pounding, my feet dancing over rocks and trusting the strength of my legs…and their even increasing muscle bulk in my calves! I accepted skinny jeans were a no-go for me a long time ago. If I tried to put them on now, rather than they look ridiculous I actually think my calves would burst out like the hulks! Seeing as I can’t really see them they astheticlly don’t bother me, I giggle when people comment; I’m a physio after all so I’m all about the function, in fact I’m feeling extremely grateful for their hulk-ishness as those bad boys (girls) are boosting my ass up mountains like a Duracell bunny! I’ll keep working my butt muscles but dang my calves just keep wanting the centre of attention over those glutes…if everyone could just work fairly now…
So my challenge of the day was to get to Blue Lake from Hopeless Hut. That meant really going for it on the ups and fast pack flying. I was moving so swiftly in fact a wild pig didn’t even know I was there until I burst out the tree line into an open grassy area and gave it the fright of its life and vice verse! It snorted off through the bushes so I carried on bounding down the path... However, for whatever reason it decided to do a 180 degree turn and leapt out the bush in front of me standing motionless and staring me down. This pig was an absolute tank, it looked like it had eaten all the truffles and then some, I had no doubt it my mind it could eat me! What is the correct thing to do in a pig-tank stand off? Thoughts of what to do when meeting a black versus brown bear flew through my head. Do I make noise and act all big and scary or stand silently?? I don’t think I could of outran the piggatron. In that instance with adrenaline pumping I choose to use my hiking poles as a sword and pulled an ‘on guard’ position making something like a HiiiiYA!! Kinda noise. It worked a treat and he waved his piggly tail at me as he trotted off , for a tank that thing could move I tell ya!
After Travers saddle I met 2 ‘NOBO’s’ (trail talk for North bounders. I’m a SOBO -South bounder) they said Blue Lake Hut was already really busy due to the extra trampers out over the long weekend because of Waitangi Day and suggested I stay in West Sabine Hut. Great intel as I hate full huts, I’d rather sleep in my little tent outside when they are that full; as much as Huts are amazing they do tend to get a little stuffy and I sleep poorly, waking everytime someone turns over on the noisy wipe clean mattresses. West Sabine it was… which actually then turned out perfectly as when I reached Blue Lake the next morning - the clearest Lake in the world - there was no one there, I had the lake and then continuing over Waiau Pass totally to myself. It was a dream! DOC had done a fantastic job at attempting to clear the trail following the floods and avalanches but there was still a lot of fallen trees, branches and new river gorges you had to navigate. The trail only reopened on January 23rd so I’m very grateful I was able to make it through - thanks DOC for your epic work.
The Waiau pass sits at 1870m - the second highest point of the Te Araroa trail and my biggest highlight. My heart and lungs were pounding when I reached the top and all alone up there surrounded by incredible alpine peaks I couldn’t help but have a teary eyed moment. So special.
Mornings are a lot colder in the mountains before the sun rises and the oven temperature is turned up to max heat. The water stays cold though whatever the time of day…
The final leg of this section ran through the Ada Valley and joined the St James Track. When I finally reached Boyle Village it was 31C and boiling it was! I’m thinking it was a few degrees higher back in the Valley. I couldn’t stop jumping into the rivers, I know when I’m reeeally hot and bothered and slightly heat stricken/ stroked when I’m consciously not walking in a straight line - which is still better than unconsciously walking anywhere (!). I chatted to some lovely horse packers trekking from the east to the west coast and then in an attempt to cool down I took a slightly longer lunch in Anne Hut - a lovely big new hut with fantastic views.
The final leg of this section ran through the Ada Valley and joined the St James Track. When I finally reached Boyle Village it was 31C and boiling it was! I’m thinking it was a few degrees higher back in the Valley. I couldn’t stop jumping into the rivers, I know when I’m reeeally hot and bothered and slightly heat stricken/ stroked when I’m consciously not walking in a straight line - which is still better than unconsciously walking anywhere (!). I chatted to some lovely horse packers trekking from the east to the west coast and then in an attempt to cool down I took a slightly longer lunch in Anne Hut - a lovely big new hut with fantastic views.
Nelson Lakes was a pure joy. My soul food. I feel I’ve only touched the edge in explaining its beauty, how I felt and things I experienced. I hope you can find your way there one day. I’ll happily be your guide. x