The next morning, following my evening of limping through the Waitangi forest, I wake up to an immensely swollen ankle. I can’t say I’m surprised but am annoyed that this will keep me off the trail again. Sitting up in my top bunk I say hello to my roommates who are already awake.
Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better.
— Albert Einstein
I’m happy to be on the trail again. Waiting around for 4 days made it feel like I was falling behind. The ankle only hurts slightly so I have a slight limp to my gait. Not a big deal since it’s an easy day on the trail. The first 4 miles take me by the Stone Store and along sidewalks and roads. But by the time I reach the turn off to Waitangi forest the pain in my foot has gotten worse particularly where my boot rubs my leg, just above the ankle.
Continue reading “Hobble Along Forest and Diamonds in the Sky”
The next morning, I wake up and notice pain running from the bottom of my left shin to about mid-foot. Looking down I see that my ankle and the surrounding area are incredibly swollen. It looks like a bratwurst left on the grill too long but with 5 little bratwursts coming out of the end of it. It’s painful to walk on or flex. I can’t explain how or why my ankle is injured. If it was due to my time in the forest it shouldn’t have taken 2 days to manifest. I suspect that I may have lightly sprained or tore something slightly, and that the next day of road walking made it worse. It looks like I’ll be stuck in Kerikeri for a bit, so I extend my stay for another 2 days.
When despair for the world grows in meand I wake in the night at the least soundin fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,I go and lie down where the wood drakerests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.I come into the peace of wild thingswho do not tax their lives with forethoughtof grief. I come into the presence of still water.And I feel above me the day-blind starswaiting with their light. For a timeI rest in the grace of the world, and am free.— Wendell Berry
So far I’ve done my best to post date each blog entry with the date in which it occurred. I’m changing that. From now on, I will post the blog with the date in which I actually push it to go live on the site. I think that it’s more important to show readers that the site is active and when that activity occurred. I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve abandoned the site. It’s also hard to remember exact dates and there is a need to compress or extend time in writing. With that, it’s important to know that the posts are behind my current progress on Te Araroa. That’s just the nature of writing on the trail, but as time passes it gives me some perspective as to which details matter and how to better connect places, people, and events.
One last thing. Thank you to everyone who reads this blog. It gives me purpose to continue the blog and in turn writing about the trail helps me to deeply commit my experiences to memory.
– C.J. (a.k.a Scroggin)
The next morning on the farm track the grey and gloomy overcast skies hung over me threatening to rain. Still not having made up my mind about whether to go through the rest of the forest I decide to cook a freeze dried meal for breakfast and ponder. Sitting cross legged in my tent I notice the pitter patter of rain on the rain fly. I have to get out of here. Continue reading “Herekino to Kerikeri”
When I first started this hike, I naively thought I was going to be a purist and hike every step of the trail. After hiking for three and a half days straight, that delusion was happily left in the sand. And having arranged a ride from the hostel in Ahipara to the start of the Herekino Forest, to avoid the 5 miles of walking on the road shoulder, I find myself waiting in the hostel’s reception area.
Standing in the rain, I stick a thumb out on the only road out of Ahipara hoping to catch a ride back to Kaitia. In a rain jacket, wet hiking pants, Teva sandals, and sporting a pathetic start to a scraggly beard I realize I look like a serial killer. I have put this moment off as much as possible. To this point I’ve used public and tour buses to get to anywhere I’ve needed to be. I even spent the better part of the morning pouring over maps and hand washing my clothes just to prolong the inevitable.
A skeptical laugh stirs me half awake in my tent. Even through my sleep filled eyes and the thin skin of the tent I can tell it’s pre-dawn. I can hear one of my particularly skeptical aunts ask me why would I go to New Zealand. In my half dream state I know this isn’t right. The laugh sounds again, maybe 100 feet away, but slowly transforms into the grunts of a pig. I remember hearing about feral pigs around here from some of the locals. Thinking I’m in danger I sit upright and my head skims the top of my tiny tent. Continue reading “90 Mile Beach — Day 3 & 4”
Kimchi and Kiwis 