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The sun had risen on 4 November 2019.
I was still nervous when I woke up the next morning. I tried to hide it from the other Te Araroa hikers that were mulling around whilst I had breakfast, but I really don’t think I was doing a good job. I felt absolutely terrified.
I had a decent shower and washed my hair for what felt like the last time. I packed all my spare food and a few bits of rubbish into a bag to leave with Pauli and Tania at Utea Park… and before I knew it I was in the truck on the way to the Cape.
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The ride was about an hour and I tried to distract myself by talking to Pauli. We had many conversations about Pauli’s role in transporting and hosting TA hikers over the years, Tania’s iwi and the local Māori relationships up here in Northland… and also an extensive discussion on the negative consequences of an influx of avocado farms to the region. At one point Pauli pointed out the extent of a new farm. It’s reaches extended as far as the eye could sea, from one coast to the other.
All the conversation must have worked, because before long we were pulling into the car park at Cape Reinga. I was distracted by the toilet block – I would get one last flushing toilet before I headed off! That was a relief.
Pauly bid me farewell and wished me well, and then all of a sudden I was alone. After a quick toilet break I walked down to the Cape Reinga lighthouse. There was a temporary path through the brush, due to repairs being conducted on the main pathway (I assume preparing for the influx of tourists over the summer season). As I caught a glimpse of the main peninsula out to the lighthouse, I saw that there were a few people dotted around but it was just on 9am so still pretty early for most tourists. As I walked I realised that by the time I arrived, I would have the entire peninsula all to myself. It seemed rather fitting in a way.
When I reached the bottom of the path I reached out to touch the lighthouse and feel the metal under my skin. It seemed important to do that, to connect in some way to this northernmost terminus of the trail. I dropped my pack in its shadow and began applying sunscreen. It looked like today would be a scorcher, and I was determined to keep the sun off me as much as I could so I lathered it on thick.
I stopped to do a quick video before setting off. I would, after all, be filming the entirety of my journey down country. Unexpectedly the words stuck in my throat and I couldn’t find the right ones to say.
A man named Scott from Canada appeared as I was finishing. He asked what I was doing. He was the first complete stranger to do so on the trail. I told him… and for the first time it really sunk in. He asked if I would like a picture taken and I said Yes. He obliged and took a brilliant starting photo for me.
He wandered off back up towards the carpark and as he did so I made some final preparations to head off. I found it seemed like I was stalling. Eventually there was nothing left to do but start. So I did.
I took about three steps before I realised I’d forgotten to turn my GPS tracker on. So I had to stop again to do so. I didn’t want to miss these first few footsteps!
The path to the lighthouse is on a hill so my first steps were uphill and they were surprisingly difficult. I could really feel the weight of my pack on my back. Before I knew it I was at the junction with the Te Paki Coastal Track, and here I met Scott again. This time he asked if I would be blogging my journey and I told him I would instead be making videos and gave him the details. Then he wished me well and on my way. It was a strange feeling. He was the only person who would witness me take my first real steps on the trail, and indeed on my very first thru hike EVER. A very special moment.
The Te Paki Coastal Track was beautiful and the scenery was mind blowing. I couldn’t help but stop for photo after photo, especially enjoying the view of the initial steps disappearing down towards the beach below. as well as views back up behind me towards the lighthouse.
The track went up and over a small ridge before heading down to Te Werahi Beach.
I rounded a corner and spied the rocky outcrop so often mentioned by hikers. It looked like I had inadvertently timed my departure perfectly. The tide was almost up but it looked like I would have just enough room to skirt around before it would be impassable.
As I got down to the beach and closer to the rocks, I noticed that they were covered in thousands of tiny black paua-shaped shells. In my naivete I actually thought they might have been baby paua. I still don’t know to this day what they are actually called.
The walk along the beach was amazing. I was really enjoying myself. The sun was gorgeous and there was a bit of a breeze but not much. As I got towards the end of the beach I saw some figures heading up and over the dunes. I hadn’t realised it would be a climb over them so I kept my fingers crossed as I searched for an alternative route.
But first, there was a stream to cross, the Te Werahi stream at the end of the beach. It was quite wide, and there weren’t a lot of shallow places to cross so I knew I’d end up having to get my feet wet for the first time on the trail. It was also a steep-fish bank on the other side. Once I’d crossed the stream I clambered up the bank and decided to take a quick rest break.
As I sat I looked back between the distant hills to where the lighthouse was still peeking out. I took a good long look at it. It might be the last time I see it for a very long time.
As I looked down the beach I noticed two figures making their way along the beach. They had packs on and I assumed they were also TA hikers. When they arrived we introduced ourselves and got talking. There was an older man named Joe from the USA who I had met on the bus the day before. He had previously hiked the Appalachian Trail in the USA.
His companion was Julia from Germany. I later found out she is a similar age to me, and has done some long distance hiking before (although nothing quite like this).
We made our way slowly up the dunes towards the top of Herangi Hill. All of a sudden I was aware of just how hot it was. There was no breeze up here, and the dunes acted like a huge mirror reflecting heat back up at us. In that moment, I subconsciously dubbed them the ‘Hell Dunes’. I stopped to put on some more sunscreen and chug some more water. Julia and Joe were waiting at the top. I got the distinct feeling I was holding them back.
This was reiterated after the second time I stopped to get a drink. When I caught them back up, Joe made a point on telling me I might want to consider switching to a water bladder. He mentioned if I had to stop every time I took my water bottle out of my side pocket, I’d never be able to finish the thru hike.
Despite the fact that I later realised my arms warmed up the more I hiked, so that I didn’t need to stop every time I wanted a drink, they were harsh words that haunted me for the rest of my journey.
We pushed on, and I was now conscious of dragging the pace. So I kept going. And going. And going. I pushed on way past the time when I would otherwise have stopped for a break, spurred by the pace of those up ahead. I was so grateful for my wide brimmed hat, which Mum had so expertly modified for me with a chin strap before I left home. But it still didn’t do much to stop the heat.
The dunes were incredibly exposed and there was nowhere (absolutely nowhere) to take shelter. I was at the brink of collapse when I rounded a bend and saw Joe and Julia stood chatting to two people in the shade of a small row of bushes up ahead. I sent a silent thanks to the universe.
The other two people were a couple from Germany who were each carrying what looked to be about 50kg of gear on their backs. As they wandered off towards Twilight beach campsite, it looked like Joe and Julia might follow so I promptly sat down and began pulling out some food to eat. Thankfully, they followed suit and we enjoyed a 40min break from the sun.
There was no rush today. It was only a relatively easy 12km hike to Twilight Beach from the Cape.
A little while later, we were on our way again. Before we knew it, we were stepping foot onto and then walking along Twilight Beach watching out for orange triangles which would mark our exit to the campsite.
Up ahead, we could see someone swimming in the sea. He greeted us as we arrived at the bottom of a short staircase. His name was Marcus and he told us he’d arrived at the campsite this morning.
When we climbed the stairs we found a large grassy area with a rotunda we could sit under to escape the sun. The German couple were already here when we arrived. Joe sat with us for an hour or so, then decided he would push on to camp somewhere along the beach to make a shorter day the next day. Julia and I discussed this, but decided it was better to stay somewhere there was an actual camp for the night with a good water supply (there was a tap at the campsite).
The German couple decided to press on as well. I asked them for a quick photo of them and their packs before they left.
We pitched our tents and soon after a girl from Texas arrived. Her name was Haley. She had a fantastically small pack and seemed very well put together to my [un?]trained eye. We quickly got talking and the three of us sat under the rotunda for the remainder of the afternoon making dinner and getting to know one another.
It had taken us 4 hours to hike from Cape Reinga to Twilight Beach, arriving at camp at 2PM in the afternoon.
Another hiker had arrived at some point during the afternoon. I didn’t get his name, but his story haunted me (at least the snippets I could get from others who were conversing with him). He too had started at the Cape earlier in the day with a companion. It sounded like his companion had given up only a few kilometres into the hike, however, and had now deserted him. He himself was struggling with ill-fitting footwear. I never saw the blisters but I could imagine how much pain he must have been in.
He barely spoke to anyone, except to try and glean any information he could get on how he could get back up to the road easily the next day. Marcus attempted to convince him to push on. Deep down we all knew that if he could find the will to make it to the end of the beach, he would probably be able to carry on. But I could see the defeat in his face. And in it, my own fears. Would mine look the same in the next few days?
After dinner Haley and Julia suggested we sit up and watch the sunset. I was all in for that. It was the first quintessential sunset I’d ever had the pleasure of watching. You know the one, where the sun slowly dips below the horizon (which is actually the sea) forming a beautiful semicircle of light. I felt like life was pretty good.
Once the sun had gone down, we made our way to bed. It was still light outside. I took a little while to settle, trying to get my sleeping pad and pillow to the optimum inflation level for comfort. Too much air and my back would quickly start to ache. Too little and I’d feel the coolness of the ground seeping up from below.
A little while after it had gone fully dark I heard tiny footsteps and some scratching at the foot of my tent. I raised my head only to be greeted by the silhouette of a possum trying to get at my food! I shooed it away, but minutes later it came back again.
I’m not sure how many possums visited us between the hours of 10PM and 6AM that evening, but it was a very sleepless first night on trail. My mind was cast back to the stories the TA hikers I’d met at Utea Park had been telling the evening I arrived. One had been regaling those who would listen with a story of how a possum had stolen a full bag of scroggin out of his tent on night one. I wondered if it was the same one that was now eagerly watching me.
Eventually the thought of being food-less for the rest of the beach took over, and I packed my food bag into my pack and sealed it shut tight. But every so often through the night I’d hear the rustling of the annoying creatures and wake up to find them standing stock still staring straight at me.
As if the thought of 28km tomorrow wasn’t enough to worry about…
