A Journey of a Thousand Reasons

As the bus pulled into the car park, the sign proclaimed that we had reached Cape Reinga and that as it was a sacred place to the Maori, that food and drink was not to be consumed past that point. I filed this nugget away, saying to myself, must remember that and not drink anything until I had left. Cape Reinga is where the Maori believe their spirits depart from this world to the afterlife in Hawaiiki, through the roots of the pohutukawa tree.

Cape Reinga was a beginning, not an ending for me though. It was to be the beginning of a 1500 mile journey on foot from this, the northernmost point of New Zealand to Bluff in the South Island, possibly taking in Stewart Island. In truth at this stage, given recent events on Great Barrier Island, I wasn’t too sure that it was feasible, but I was determined to make it as far as Ahipara, which was approximately 75 miles away. Having completed that phase, I would reevaluate the situation and see if I wanted to continue on.

Back on the bus, Diarmuid and myself grabbed our gear, stuffed behind the last seat and I thanked the driver, Kingy Thomas, for the lunches kindly provided by the tour company. It was a glorious day with barely a wisp of cloud in the sky, its perfect azure joining with the deep blues of the Tasman Sea on my left and the great Pacific on my right. We sat down and started to eat the lunches not having eaten for a few hours. Almost finished my sandwich, I remembered the sign. Quickly I explained to Diarmuid about the notice, finished my sandwich and left the muffin for later. Diarmuid then went off to the lighthouse to take some photos while I finished writing some postcards. By the time I was finished Diarmuid had returned and after posting the postcards in the nearby postbox, it was time to be starting.

Diarmuid wanted to start from the carpark down the track, but I said if we were going to do this, we’d better do it right and start from the lighthouse. So we made our way down to the lighthouse and got the obligatory photos taken. At 13:55 we set off. On our way back up from the lighthouse, Diarmuid thought he had lost his watch so went back to were we had been sitting. He found it in his wallet. His wallet being in his pocket. We started down the track to Werahi beach.

The track was well laid out with a well defined and well trodden path down to Werahi beach. Going up and down through bush with the odd thick stemmed flower going across the path which Diarmuid wouldn’t warn me about as he pushed through it to come flying back into my face. We made it down to Werahi beach in good time where we took a short break, I went and washed my hands in the sea and tested out the sand. Thankfully it was good and firm so would be easier to walk in with the packs.

We continued on to the other end of the beach occasionally seeing some other walkers on their way back from their short walk from Cape Reinga. There is a strong stream at the end of Werahi beach where the next headland begins. After I tasted the water to make sure it wasn’t salty, I filled up my 750ml bottle which I’d emptied in the course of the day. After this short rest we continued on. I was eyeing the coming sand dune with doubt and intrepedation. Dunes are something that I’ve never really encountered before though I had heard that they were quite difficult to climb as the sand sinks beneath your feet. In short it looked big and difficult. We made our way into this alien terrain with its red stone that reminded me more of Mars than anything else. The sun continued to beat down on us, adding to the sensation of being on a foreign planet.

Around this time as I stopped for a breather, Diarmuid met Marcus (from Germany) who was coming behind us. He had left his car in Cape Reinga and planned to walk to Twilight beach and then from there back via the road to his car. He had loaded himself up with about six litres of water as he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. He was carrying about a 15kg pack and was a little aghast when I told him that I was probably carrying something in the region of 25kg.

He joined our little group and we continued on, soon leaving the sand dunes behind us and entering into scrubland once more. The track continued to go up and down in a most disheartening way and as the sweat continued to pour from me under the gaze of the glaring sun, I continued to drink from my water bottle and when that had emptied from my platypus. At one of our restpoints, two more trampers reached us. They were planning to go to Twilight beach and probably onwards, depending on water. I took out the map and pointed out several thin blue lines saying that they should be alright. Water was beginning to enter my mind as well, though I figured it would be fine. There were all those blue lines and the water would only need boiling to be safe. Around 17:00 we reached the start of Twilight beach and shook hands with Marcus who headed towards the road.

By this time, I would have been very happy to have stopped for the day and made camp but that required a water supply. The map said there was a stream at each end of Twilight beach, so I looking. I found it, just about. It was a trickle and awkward to get at. A quick taste of it didn’t greatly enhance my opinion of it and I said to Diarmuid that we should continue on to the other end of the beach and try our luck there. On we went, trudging through the sand. Water was now seriously on my mind and my eyes were constantly peeled for a glimpse of any stream. I was also beginning to tire and towards the end when Diarmuid was talking about continuing on to Te Paki Stream that evening, I knew that that was madness as far as I was concerned. I had done enough walking for the day and come what may, I was going no further.

As it turns out there was two streams at the end of the beach. Unfortunately, they were barely even a trickle and didn’t look as good as the stream at the other end of the beach in the distance. We then met the two guys who had passed us earlier and had disappeared out of view a few minutes beforehand. They had made camp behind a small ridge of sand and scrub and after quickly surveying the area, we agreed that it was a better area than what we had been previously considering. We discussed the problem of water with them, they had taken three litres with them each, one litre per day. I had already consumed almost two litres that day and wondered how they could get by with so little, especially since they were cooking noodles for dinner. Between them and Diarmuid going on about the stream not being safe, I decided not to boil it and then drink it. That I would have to do with what water I had left, a little under 300ml I guessed and make it to Te Paki stream the next day. I hoped fervently that we would come across another water supply before then and there were a couple of blue lines which I still had high hopes for. Diarmuid didn’t believe in the lines at all by now.

We put the tent and Diarmuid made himself comfortable. Dinner was next on the agenda. It was a cold affair of cheese, crackers and some gelatine sweets for me, thought Diarmuid ate some of the salami as well. A quick glance of the ingredients, the second greatest one of which was salt put me off eating any, for fear it would make me any more thirsty. The gelatine sweets helped a little though.

After dinner, I went outside to have a look around. I was struck by lonely a place it was. There was only the four of us, for miles around. It was a bleak but beautiful place. A faint mist was forming over the waves hitting the rocks of Cape Maria van Dieman. I noticed the tide was coming in and wondered how far up the beach it would reach. I returned to the tent, tired, thirsty and realising that Ahipara was a bridge too far, that I would only be going as far as Te Paki stream.

I lay on my sleeping bag thinking over this and thinking that maybe we could reach Ahipara, that perhaps it wasn’t too far. I didn’t want the journey to end so soon. The facts of our situation couldn’t be denied though. Our water had almost run out, I had a little under 300ml and Diarmuid had maybe half a litre. We hadn’t made a lot of headway and our pace had been quite slow for a first day. I knew that we wouldn’t be making Ahipara in the three or four days that I had originally estimated. We would be too slow, perhaps taking five or six days I thought at the time. Water would be a continuous problem and I knew that there wasn’t that many good water supplies past Te Paki stream all the way to Ahipara. We would have to take the exit at Te Paki stream and catch a ride with one of the many tour buses that drive down 90-mile beach. I wasn’t encouraged by the fact that we didn’t have any method of contacting anybody if anything went wrong or to try and get in touch with the bus company beforehand. I finally realised how badly organised we were in some ways and that I wouldn’t be seeing Ahipara. If I didn’t get to Ahipara, I knew Te Araroa would be over for me.

Feeling quite down, I turned on my MP3 player and listened to The Goon Show which cheered me up before I went to sleep listening to the roaring of the waves on the beach.

The alarm went off at 08:15. Groaning, I got up and turned it off. I had not spent a restful night, Diarmuid’s phone had started to ring at 03:30 and had woken me up, but not its owner. In my fumbling to find the buzzing, I think I may have pressed the hang up button, but his mum didn’t try ringing again in any case. The next couple of hours were spent trying to get to sleep despite the door next door being constantly knocked on, opened, then closed loudly. Possibly I was successful but I think it was more of a waking doze until six or so in the morning before I finally fell into a more deep sleep.

I did not feel like going to Rangitoto Island, I only wanted to go back to bed and in a half awake talk with Diarmuid, he seemed amenable to the idea and I returned to my bed to try and get some more slumber. I was surprised when Diarmuid then proceeded to get up and have breakfast. Imagine my dismay when he then informed me that we were still catching the 09:15 ferry. “What? I thought we had decided to get a later ferry.” “No, that was just me talking before I got up.” I groaned and then got out of my bed, dressed and threw together a couple of sandwiches and filled my water bottles. Ready to go, I was waiting for Diarmuid to finish getting ready before we set off for the dock.

Thankfully, we made the ferry and I proceeded to get a breakfast of a good healthy sea wind. The ferry took around twenty minutes to make it’s way to the island. We disembarked from the rocking boat along with several other tourists including, one German man, two German women and a group of German teenagers. There were others, but the majority were definitely German.

There are several tracks on Rangitoto, but I had planned to follow the summit track to the crater with a sidetrip to some lava caves and then taking a road and coastal track back to the dock, all in all about 4-5 hours walking. We set off on the summit track ahead and quickly stopped as I put on my gaiters and organised my camera. Diarmuid soon uttered what he would repeat many, many times that day. “Take a photo of that.” I glanced at the expanse of lava rocks that he was pointing at. I couldn’t help thinking that there’d be plenty of other opportunities but figured that he was right, it was a fairly long lava flow that stretched into the distance. The camera made it’s clicks and whirrs and I put it away in it’s pouch hanging across my shoulder.

We continued along the track, overtaking people who had just overtaken us, this would happen at multiple times along the track. We then came to a display stand that was just off the track on a boardway. This explained about the various volcanic features of the island, how it was formed and if it was dead or dormant. By the by, the island’s volcano is considered dead but it is thought that Auckland has not seen its last volcano and that at some stage in the future, lava will flow and pumice and ash will fly.

The forest is quite thick on the island, surprising considering it started as a large lump of lava. The display also explained how the plantlife first started with moss and lichen before later clumps of trees began to grow which eventually joined up with each other to create the forest. The forest is of course different from our own forests in Ireland. The first thing that struck me was that it smelled differently, the trees are of course different but not so strange from our own, but the smell in the air instantly struck me as alien. We would later see palms further in the island and birdsong and chittering that sounded more like it belonged in a rainforest, but then again, I suppose most of the forests in this country are bordering on rainforests and I know that in the South Island there are some rainforests.

We eventually came to a glade where the summit track joined with the track to the lava caves. Diarmuid, who was carrying more or less his full pack for weight training, was anxious to reach the summit so we could return to get the 12:45 ferry. This hadn’t been my plan at all, something I thought he’d realised, surely he’d read the route description from the “Tramping in New Zealand” book? It would appear he had not. I said that we were going to the lava caves and started to walk off in that direction. When he’d caught up, I told him what the route that I’d planned was, that we’d go up to the summit, making the sidetrip to the caves and then making our way along the coastal track and that I didn’t think we’d be catching the 12:45 ferry.

Ten minutes later we had reached the lava caves, the German arriving just before us. We dropped our bags and I got my torch out. Taking my hat off and putting the torch on, I went into what looked like the bigger cave just after the German. Looks are deceiving, the cave only went in around 15ft before rapidly getting too small and then finishing. “Definitely too small to continue” I said to the German. He smiled in agreement. I left, a little disappointed, this isn’t exactly what I’d imagined. Back outside Diarmuid was waiting. I looked at the second cave to the left of the first one. It looked smaller, darker and distinctly wet. Ok, let’s go.

In I went and it was indeed small, dank and dark. But it didn’t look like it was going to instantly end and it was fun. I could feel a little claustrophobia but pressed on and to face it and see what it was like I turned off my torch. It was pitch black, but not really sinister. I couldn’t help but think of Bilbo lost in the goblin caves below the Misty Mountains. I turned my torch back on and continued, the cave now quickly got bigger and I could stand up and walk. This was fun! There were roots or lichen hanging from the ceiling and the walls were wet. The ground was muddy with slimy bits of twigs and a larger branch left by a previous explorer. I continued on a little bit and could see a light in the ceiling up ahead. I climbed up through the opening and found myself in a place not far from the track. We had in fact passed the track on our way to the other entrance.

I rushed back to the start of the cave, exhilarated. I told Diarmuid about the cave and grabbed a drink of water. I tapped the German on the shoulder and told him pointing to the cave, “That’s the one to go into!” Again he smiled. “You can even stand up in it.” “Oh,” he replied and proceeded to go into it. I asked Diarmuid if he was coming this time. He said yes and got his own torch. I grabbed my camera and went back in. I took some photos and then left before some other people arrived just behind us. The German was outside, he’d lent his torch to the German women who were coming just behind us.

Making our way back to our bags we explained to the group of German teenagers that the second cave was worth going into. They caught on and entered as well. The two women meanwhile arrived and we struck up a conversation. One asked Diarmuid if he was camping on the island. I explained, “No, weight training.” Diarmuid then proceeded to explain that we were going to walk the length of the two islands. How long would that take us? “Around seven months.” “Seven months! And my colleagues thought four weeks for a holiday was long.” They left returning to the summit track. I wanted to see where the track to the right took us, so I continued on, followed by a doubtful Diarmuid. “Let’s see how it works out.”

It worked out well. After a few minutes, I could see another cave ahead of us. It looked much bigger. I was reminded of the cave from “Prince Caspian.” There must have been something in the air because Diarmuid mentioned Narnia a minute or two later just before we went in. This cave was much bigger and we could walk in with our bags on our backs, even Diarmuid’s huge pack. There was a light up ahead that you could see from the start, but I soon realised it wasn’t the end. The cave continued on but got smaller at the end, meaning that we would have to crouch or crawl to get through. I offered to take Diarmuid’s pack from the other side but he said he could crawl through. He did and I took a picture though it didn’t come out all that great. The cave was dark after all.

We had reached the end of the lava caves track so we returned to the summit track and then made our way to the crater, just before the summit. Diarmuid was getting a bit breathless by this stage. Diarmuid read aloud the information about the crater while I watched a single-engine plane fly over it. After a few obligatory photos, we continued to the summit up the last few steps. The day was very clear and we could see for miles. I asked Diarmuid whether he wanted to continue on or try and catch the 12:45 ferry, it was now around 11:45. He suggested that we catch the ferry as we had plenty to do back in Auckland and we’d soon be going on a much longer walk. I was happy to catch the ferry, since I was tired and still hadn’t eaten. We then fast tracked it down the steps and back along the track. Again Diarmuid occasionally saying, “Take a photo of that.”

We reached the bottom of the track within 50 minutes or so and proceeded to sit down and eat some food. I sat on a wall in the shade of the tree while Diarmuid sat in the sun on a chair. A duck in the almost empty sea-water swimming pool climbed up the ramp towards me and I threw him a scrap of bread. Some smaller birds were too quick though and swiped it before the duck could reach it. I threw him a second piece and he reached it just in time. I took some photos of the duck and other curious birds. The ferry was arriving so we made our way to the jetty. After the new arrivals had gotten off, we made our way to the woman who was checking for tickets. As I was trying to find my ticket, my hat flew out of my hands and heart in my mouth I dove for it. Unfortunately the ticket collecter had also reached down to try and grab it from being blown into the sea and I collided with here. Thankfully though I had grabbed it, I apologised to her and continued to try and find my ticket. Eventually I remembered I had it in my coat pocket and handed it to her. Diarmuid was already on the top deck and I joined him, sitting in the front row just ahead of him where on the journey back I would get blasted by the sea wind combined with the speed of the boat. After a few blows from the horn the ferry set off and I got my last shot of Rangitoto Island.