ONE.LIFE Blog

Athletic-induced Endorphins Gives You the Power

2012-01-13T18:38:00.001+13:00

A daily hit of athletic-induced endorphins gives you the power to make better decisions, helps you be at peace with yourself, and offsets stress.

~ Lululemon

Me at the top of Single Cone Mtn - December 27/11

New Year. New goals. New cat. New post. or at least that is how it feels anyway... that and I am a bit late at getting this whole "new post" thing done. Amazing how time slips through the fingers. Already the middle of January... or at least almost there - Friday the 13th it is. Spooky.

The first couple weeks of this new year of 2012 have started with a bang for me. Or technically speaking - not so much of a bang for me as I spent New Year's Eve curled up with a good book and ended up asleep by 8pm. So much for staying awake to bring in the New Year. Not that it mattered - the New Year came just the same (as it does every year) and I haven't quite figured out what the big deal is with the New Year representing new beginnings and such. The whole resolutions thing I haven't really bought into. I mean... by all means - if having a specific date each year to encourage people to reflect about their lives and put together a list of randomly vague goals to hopefully accomplish (and most don't) by the turn of the next year is what is needed to get people to improve upon themselves... then go for it.

As far as I'm concerned - each and every day is an opportunity to better myself and create reachable goals for both the near and distant future. Such as running. Last time I wrote I talked of wanting to do a marathon (the person I was a year ago is still putting up a bit of a protest as to why I would want to do something so incredibly insane) and I am still working towards that goal. So much, in fact, that I have done some research for some races coming up and have found one for the beginning of May - t42 (http://www.t42.co.nz/). Taking on the form of New Zealand's iconic 42 Traverse track, racers will come to either run or bike the route.

The 42 Traverse is part of the Te Araroa Trail, only this race will go from South to North as opposed to the other way that TAT takes trampers. As it happened when Alex and I were walking TAT, we ended up avoiding the 42 Traverse section and following the road. Partly because we were behind schedule. Partly because we wanted to get to Tongariro for Christmas. But mostly because we had had one of our worst weeks of bush walking in the rain and were a bit tired of it all.

When I heard of the opportunity to go and run this section - I knew that was it. This is the marathon I am meant to do. Had my name written all over it. One of my co-workers heard of what I was aiming to do and she had a bit of a laugh at me and commented that it was a bit ridiculous that I don't just try to do a marathon - I pick one of the more difficult races to do. But hey - the way I see it - I got 4 more months of training and that is a hell of a lot more than what I gave myself to walk the length of New Zealand... and I still did that right? How hard could - 4-6hrs of running up and down mountain trails be?

Anyway - my days have been filled with early morning run - watching the sun rise as I huff and puff my way through hill training or interval training or strength training. All the while my mind is more focused on the end result than it ever has been at anything else in my lifetime. I have never trained for anything before. I don't think practices for team sports back in High School quite make the cut. I figure if I have done all I have done in my lifetime, I can do this. And I will. I'm completely and utterly stoked.

And so I broke through the New Year by falling asleep at 8pm only to wake just after 5am and crawl out of bed for a run. The air was so fresh and not a soul to be seen on the trails that day. It was a perfect way to start the New Year.

A couple days later it was the same story, only as I was running along the road, I could hear a cat mewing from a tree. I didn't want to stop then as I had just begun my run, so I made the mental note to check it out on my way back if I still heard the noise. I did. I followed the noise to the tree only to find myself face-to-face with a blackish kitten that had clearly gotten itself stuck too high to jump back down. With no firemen to help me in sight, I stood at the bottom and tried to coax it down. Eventually it made the move and jumped into my outstretched arms and immediately began purring. I was hooked.

As we were essentially in the middle of nowhere, there was no possible home nearby to take the kitten, so I took it to mine. And it hasn't left since. I have named her Lucy and haven't quite figured out how committed I am to keeping her as keeping her surely would mean long term responsibility -- something of which I am just not convinced I am ready to have. But in the meantime she stays.

And so that is the extent of 2012 for me as of this date. Not much has happened outside of my daily runs and cat feeding. Work is as usual - work, but I am still loving it. Summer has finally decided to come around and I only hope that with it it will bring so much more adventure.

Nature Wants us to be Mediocre

2011-12-12T19:02:00.001+13:00

Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocre is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.

~ Lululemon

I got them out – my stitches that is. It had been a full two weeks and it seemed as though the day would never come. I had injured myself on November 22, while trialing a new activity for Activity Hanmer. They needed the staff and volunteer backpackers at the Forest Camp to help them test their new activity prior to actually putting it in place for customers. Seemed pretty straightforward at the time.

In an Amazing Race style, we were meant to decipher our first clue which would send us to a new location and a new clue, continuing the game until we had found all the clues and completed all the challenges. I happened to take it a step further. On the first clue, we had to head down to the stream at the back of the camp, me – in my flip flops – deciding to running down the steep hill to get to the stream rather than head around the corner to take a more gradual route. All was going fine until I hit the bottom of the hill and slipped on some mud – I fell forward and banged my knee. After a quick look down, I realized I had torn my leggings and had mud all over. Perfect.

I continued with the activity, running all around the forest and eventually back to the camp, forgetting about my incident with my knee until someone pointed it out with a clever line such as “oh – look at your knee.” I looked down a second time and immediately waved off their worries – there was only a minor amount of blood – most of the mess was a gapping hole in my leggings and caked on mud. There was barely any pain so I continued to conclude that I had most likely jus t grazed myself. I figured I’d finish the activity and then clean up once done. And so I did.

Nearly three hours after the incident, I walked home, a smile on my face at the absurdity of the challenges we had to complete. Once inside, I figured it was time to clean the mud off my knees and assess the damage. In pulling off my leggings, I quickly realized that I hadn’t simply grazed my knee as I had first thought. Somehow I had cut open a chunk of flesh and it now hung off my shin like a flap. Inside the wound was incredibly dirty, muddled with pieces of rock, mud and plant material. I knew it needed stitches and I knew I needed it cleaned, but I didn’t know much more than that. So I called Sandy, the Forest Camp’s Assistant Manager, to come help me out.

As Sandy also lived at the camp with her husband, it didn’t take long for her to arrive. Immediately I knew I had made the right choice. Having worked with the New Zealand ambulance service, Sandy took charge of the situation right away. I was in good hands.

Most of the dirt and debris at this point was so well ingrained into the wound that the only way Sandy and I could figure out how to clean it was to run a bath and soak the wound so that it would soften enough to brush the foreign material away. The only reason we were opting to do it ourselves was because the medical centre was closed for the day and our only other point of medical contact was to phone 111 for emergency services. This was hardly an emergency. I would have to clean it as best I could, bandage it and go to the medical centre first thing in the morning. Nothing like living in a small town.

And so we soaked the wound. Pretty soon things started to break loose and float away, making me feel more confident that things would be okay. The grayish looking skin on the inside of the wound was worrying me a bit though. But there was nothing I could do until the morning. Once Sandy and I determined there was nothing more we could clear from the wound, I hopped out of the bath and she bandaged me up. Surprisingly, I still felt minimal pain from everything that had happened. I only hoped things would stay that way so I could get some sleep.

The following morning I hobbled my way across the camp to the office. It was to be one of our busiest days at the camp and I didn’t want to sit at home being useless while the medical centre had yet to open. And so I sat in reception with my leg propped up as I answered phones so Sandy and her husband, Graeme, ran around organizing school groups to leave so that the new ones could arrive. Once the medical centre opened, I gave them a ring to see when I could come in – I didn’t see any sense in just showing up only to have to sit and wait hours when I could help out a bit longer at the camp. The receptionist checked the schedule and offered me an appointment at either 9:20 a.m. or 3:00 p.m. I am not even sure why she would have thought I would take the later one as I had already explained to her my situation. So 9:20 a.m. it was.

Eventually it was time to go and Graeme drove me down to the medical centre and dropped me off. I checked in and as I was sitting in the waiting room to be called, the receptionist came to me to inform me that because of my situation, the appointment I was booked in for was too short (10 minutes) and she was afraid that there wouldn’t be enough time to do the stitches and such. Would it be possible for me to come back later in the afternoon?

I think I sat there with my gapping open at her question as how was I supposed to answer that? An open wound (surely infected by this point) needed to be tended to on my leg and I was being asked if I could come back later as they were too busy to see me right away. Huh. Well I told her in the best way I could that there wasn’t really anywhere else I could be – or had to be – until I got my leg fixed. Her booking me in for 9:20 a.m. when apparently there wasn’t enough time to do what needed to be done wasn’t really my problem. And so she went back to confer with the doctors again.

In the meantime a doctor came out who recognized me from working on Robin Hood way-back-when together. We said our how-do-you-dos and then she got down to the business of asking me what had happened. I told her and then she promptly grabbed a hold of the top bit of my bandage and pulled it back to see the wound (ripping open everything again and causing me to gasp in pain), to which I kindly asked what she was doing and she replied that she just wanted to see what it looked like. Had she asked me that beforehand, I would have informed her that the wound was shaped in such a way that the best way to “look at it” would be to peel back the bottom part of the bandage, not the top as she did, in order to not disturb the flap of flesh.

She eventually went away and I was just about getting my heart rate back to normal from the doctor carelessly pulling back the bandage, when a nurse came out to inform me that they could, in fact, see me now. Perfect. As I hobbled into the medical room, the nurse told me she was a student nurse and would be learning from her experiences at the medical centre. I figured she was bubbling with excitement at the potential of what my wound could teach her.

I was relieved to find that Sharon would be seeing me as she is a friend of Steve and Lynne’s (the camp managers) and I had gotten to know her over the past few months and found her to be really easy to get along with. That and she has had many years experience working down in Stewart Island in really remote areas where though she is a nurse, had to make some very tough decisions. I figured I had lucked out and was with the best person I could be with to get me fixed up.

Sharon asked me to remove my own bandage (as opposed to ripping it off like the other doctor had done) and proceeded to ask me what had happened. By the time I had fully removed everything, she had calculated that it was now 16hrs since it had happened. Immediately the three of us could see the effects my delayed action in getting things fixed had caused with the wound. It sat there all puffy and sick-looking, bits already on the grey side. And when Sharon pulled back the flap of skin to inspect the inside, it was clear that things were still quite dirty.

Things went relatively quickly after that. Sharon injected some local anesthetic to the area and proceeded to discuss with the student nurse how she was going to go about fixing the wound. Up until that point I was doing fine with everything, but the descriptive talk combined with the feeling of Sharon scrubbing out my wound was a little much. I put in my iPod and focused on breathing.

Time slipped on and before I knew it, Sharon was yelling at me over my iPod music that they were done. I took my headphones out and sat up. there sat my leg with the wound all nicely stitched. It didn’t look near as bad as what I thought it wound. Five stitches Sharon told me. They couldn’t close up the top bit of the wound as the skin was too thin, so Steri-strips would have to do. In no time at all I was bandaged up again and sent out the door.

The rest of the day I spent lying on the couch, counting the hours away as I occasionally hobbled around the house. Time passed as I took nap after nap, unable to concentrate on anything for more than half an hour. It was okay, but I was crossing my fingers my leg would heal up soon. I hated the fact that I was limited from doing what I wanted to do, but grateful that the next few days I was scheduled off anyway.

Days ticked by and things slowly started to improve. I found myself hobbling less and being able to take showers with my leg in the water (initially I could only have baths with my leg straight up in the air to avoid the wound getting wet). Everything revolved around my doctor’s appointments. The first one I went to Sharon discovered that the infection had spread further than she would have liked – my five days of antibiotics turned into ten. The second appointment was a dressing change and the third was to allow me to remove the bandage permanently. But the date of stitches removal was being pushed back further and further.

Finally, after two weeks to the day since being injured, I was able to head to the medical centre and have Sharon pronounce the words that were music to my ears. I was able to have the stitches removed. That meant I could run again. It meant I could stop thinking about it. It meant a return to normal life.

Sort of. Sharon provided me with mini-bandages to just put over top of the wound area to protect it while it continued healing. The bit that Sharon was unable to stitch closed had pulled back and died off (as she had initially thought would happen) so now the new skin was still trying to form and any excess stress to the area could cause more damage. I didn’t want that so I gladly took the bandages.

The other day I went to change the bandage Sharon had put on, only to find that it was sticky across the whole thing. I didn’t realize that until I had pulled it back to find that the bandage had taken the top layer of half the wound with it. Bummer. Apparently with the bandage on, the skin had soften enough while showering and going about my day to allow it to break free and stick to the bandage itself. Underneath was essentially pussy goop that my body was fighting off. Perfect. So I’m back to cleaning wounds again. Good old salt water and tender loving care.

So now that the stitches are out and though the wound is still healing, I figure it's good that the whole injury has inspired me for something greater. Starting today I have begun training for a full marathon. Not sure which one or when, but I've started a new goal and it feels fabulous. As far as the wound I figure with everything that's gone on, at least the scar should be good.

Live Near the Ocean

2011-11-11T19:01:00.002+13:00

Live near the ocean and inhale the pure salt air that flows over the water, Vancouver will do nicely.

~ Lululemon

Or live near the mountains and breathe in the fresh pure mountain air - I figure it works just as well. Or at least that's what I'm doing right now and it suits me just fine.

It hit me the other day while reading Stolen Time – a true story by Sunny Jacobs (American) in how she was sentenced to die for a crime she didn’t commit. I have the Goldfish Syndrome. Temporary, of course, but none the less – a very serious case of it. Sunny Jacobs had it when her appeal went through and her sentence was changed to life from death row and she found herself completely unaccustomed to the simple notion that she was allowed to go outside of her cell during the daytime hours without any particular reason at all. She no longer needed a guard to gain permission in leaving her cell – she could do so herself. And yet, the simple notion of expanding her space – to be able to stand just outside the door of her cell for five minutes at a time was an incredible feat in itself.

“Five minutes. I look at my watch to check the time. Stepping over the threshold and to the left, I press my back to the wall, sliding down into a squat, oriental-style, with my arms wrapped around myself. I settle in for the five interminable minutes that make my skin crawl and my teeth clench. It feels foetal. It feels like when the first amphibian crawled out of the sea. It reminds me of a goldfish that has lived its life in a small bowl and suddenly finds itself in a larger tank. It will still behave as if it had the original space around it. You get used to having a certain amount of space around you and anything more or less is a cause for discomfort” (Pg. 193, Jacobs).

And so here I am feeling very much the same in a completely different set of circumstances for I am definitely not living my life behind bars for a crime I did not commit and I most definitely have not been trying to adjust to my newfound “freedom” of being on a life sentence rather than death row. Nope – I have merely moved house. And just to clarify, by “move house” I actually mean I moved INTO a house. It finally happened two weeks ago and I still feel as though I am living in a dream and am going to wake up any second.

Kaikoura - where mountains meet the sea

To go back a bit, the only reason I have the house is because a set of events went into motion a while back that resulted in Stu (Assistant Manager) and Geoff & Julie (Duty Managers) leaving the camp. Long story short and one very large emotional rollercoaster ride, Steve and Lynne have hired on a couple to act as the new Assistant Managers who will take over Geoff & Julie’s old house. Which left Stu’s house up for grabs. Enter me.

For the past month I have been counting down the days. I have been day dreaming about the possibility of being able to move into Stu’s house. I have drawn diagrams of how I would decorate the place. I have written lists of all the things I want to get to fill it. I have thought about what I want to plant in the garden and all the plans I would have to entertain those that came over. But never, in all my wildest dreams, did I actually believe I would get it. A part of me always believed that something would alter the course of events to result in me having to live in Cabin B1 a while longer yet. A part of me figured I would end up having to figure out how to convert a porta-cabin into an adequate accommodation unit for myself instead.

But as it were – nothing happened to alter the course of events and before I knew it (actually – that’s a lie – it seemed as though the day would never come) it was time for me to move in. I wish I could say it was bittersweet, to leave my beloved Cabin B1 behind, but it wasn’t. The morning of moving day I was up at 6:00 a.m. making sure everything was packed, ready to be moved and that my cabin was clean for the next tenant. Nearly 7 months in that box of a home and that was plenty long enough for me. Not to mention that before that it was a year living in a tent and before that was 2 months living in a van. Prior to the van was about 5 months sharing a flat with a guy I barely knew and was about to fall to bits and the only thing before that was a month jumping around hostels and 2 months living in a tent. Needless to say – I feel as though I have only been dreaming of the day I could become a “normal” person in the realm of accommodation – for what feels like forever.

The cat camp pretending it doesn't like being in the house

And that day has arrived. Or it did arrive and it really hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Hence the Goldfish Syndrome. I mean, really – what does one do in a house that includes a massive kitchen, living room with a fireplace, two bedrooms and a bathroom (with a bath)? The living room itself is about four times the size of my former cabin – so large that last night I shut all the internal doors so it felt as though the living room was my only living space and then I spent the night sleeping there. Not that there was anything wrong with that – something quite lovely about falling to sleep in front of a roaring fire.

But really, half my issue is that I literally have no furniture to my name. Moving in consisted of a few boxes of clothing and then “shopping” around all the storage facilities at the camp for any extra furniture lying around. I managed to scrounge enough to make my kitchen and living room look presentable, but with no bed to speak of the second bedroom has taken to being in an indefinite lock-down situation. And that’s just the beginning. Along with my own private outdoor patio overlooking the mountains, there is what Stu used to call the “Man Cave” which is really just an extension of the house that is the exact size of my old cabin. I figure if I ever get too overwhelmed with all the space, I’ll just go and sit in there for a while.

And then there’s the single-car garage for the car I do not possess, but upon doing a bit of searching inside I found a really cool vintage-looking mirror that I’ve brought inside to use for decoration. For where – I haven’t a clue. But at least it’s a start.

Finally, there’s the camp cat – Squeaky. Been with the camp for who knows how long, but the camp has kept Squeaky around to help kill off the mice and detour any other animals from overtaking the property. Stu used to feed it (no one knows if it’s a he or she), but with him gone, the responsibility falls on me. So now I have a house and a cat - though I am not entirely convinced that the cat I am feeding is Squeaky. I might have attracted a brand new mascott in all the changes that have been going on as of late.

Not to mention that I have also been given a job with a proper title. All of a sudden I am starting to feel as though the pieces of my adult life are falling into place. And I don’t at all feel freaked out about it. Just the space. The endless copious amounts of space – THAT I can safely say I’m slightly freaked out about. I mean, the house has three entrances and I’ve spent the last two weeks simply making a point to change which one I come in or leave out of whenever I can. Just to figure out which one feels best. At this point the jury’s still out, but I have to say it’s sure nice to have the option.

My new home

But over and above the Goldfish Syndrome, I have come to realize that with this amazing opportunity to live in this house, I have been dumped with a heap of responsibility that I have only ever dreamed of but never had to partake in. As soon as the keys were in my hand I became fully aware of the fact that I now had to buy my own toilet paper and dish soap again. The electricity bill would be coming to me every month and I have the continuous expectation upon myself to ensure the place is neat and tidy. For if I don’t do it – who will? And then there’s the garden – of which I am both excited and terrified for. I have never had to take care of a garden before and I have distant memories of killing off a cactus when I was growing up that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. This property is so much more than a cactus. It’s mowing the lawns, trimming back bushes and weeding the garden. And that’s just the basic plants. There’s also the option of using the many spare car tires lying around for raised garden beds. But for what? That’s the million dollar question. What do I want to grown in there and how do I do it?

I try not to get too caught up in all the planning and such as I have come to realize that I simply do not have a million dollars to do everything instantaneously. It’s going to take a lot of time to get everything sorted the way I hope to do it and in the meantime there are many walls to wash and weeds to pick. Today I cleaned the gutters and mowed the lawn. At least I can’t complain of boredom in the next upcoming months.

Home sweet home.

Visualize Your Eventual Demise

2011-10-19T18:18:00.001+13:00

Visualize your eventual demise. It can have an amazing effect on how you live for the moment.

~ Lululemon

As soon as I turned off my cell phone, a wave of enlightened freedom washed over me. The weight on my shoulders had been lifted. I had done it. Disappeared.

That was yesterday – when I arrived in Kaikoura. After endless hours of working over the course of 10 days, I had finally made it to my four-day stretch of nothingness. And it felt brilliant. Originally, I had planned to head off to the west coast, to see Nelson and surrounding areas, but plans changed when Cat had to go home to see her family before work started up again. She was the one with the car. And in the midst of school holidays in which both of us were off, it would have been perfect to have a few days of adventure together. But also, just as important – it was a perfect time for her to make the long trip to Dunedin to check in with her loved ones. It only made me wish that it was that simple and easy for me to do the same.

Instead, I was left without a ride. Without a plan. Without a companion to share an adventure with. All I had was a “Plan B,” but no plan. As I laid awake in my bed two nights ago tossing and turning at the frustrating thought that I had finally gotten time off but had nowhere to go – one thing continued to come to the forefront of my brain. I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to let go of everything. To get away. To be free of all ties of responsibility and obligation. The stress of the past month at work was eating away at me. Worrying about doing my job right. Stressing about internal staff relations. Trying to keep a smile on my face as I shared the camp with customers, fellow co-workers and volunteers to which I supervised – all the while wanting to curl up in the corner and hideaway. It was time for a much-needed break.

Sunrise - Mt. Isobel

And so in the late hours of Monday night, my Plan B was formulized. I would skip my morning run in exchange for rising early to walk to the petrol station on the outskirts of Hanmer Springs and hitch a ride east to Kaikoura. I had never been to Kaikoura before and with what everyone continued to tell me about it, it seemed like the ideal location for a few days of rejuvenating “me time.” I only hoped the nerves of hitching on my own wouldn’t eat me alive before I even left town. I focused my energy at smiling brightly and appearing care-free and casual as I stuck my thumb out and hoped for a ride. By 7:00 a.m. I was on the road with a lawyer on his way back to Christchurch for work. He dropped me at the next major highway intersection as he headed right to go to the Garden City and I walked to a pull-off point along the road so that I could head left. Within five minutes I had another ride.

Three guys in a rented campervan picked me up within five minutes and I joked with them on how no one with a rented campervan ever picks hitchers up. They were all from South Africa and touring around the country with the primary purpose of following the Rugby World Cup. Sitting in the back of the campervan on the made-up bed (which the guys informed me was much too short for a South African man – to which I noted they were rather tall), I happily settled into the get-to-know you conversation that comes with spontaneously being together with random people. I only wondered how backpackers riding the Kiwi Experience tour buses ever felt as though they got any sort of “Kiwi experience.” I have never been on any such bus while travelling and felt the comfortable ease of spontaneously conversing with the person in the next seat. I, in fact, avoid such travelling “experiences” for such a reason. I suppose that explains my desire to hitch to Kaikoura rather than take a shuttle bus. That and it was a little easier on the wallet.

After one gas stop and some time winding our way along the narrow mountainous roads towards the famous seaside town, we came across a man running on the side of the road. It was none other than Richie McCaw. Only in New Zealand would you come across one of the most recognized faces in sport casually doing his morning run on the side of the road. We honked at him and shouted words of encouragement as we zipped on passed – and then we were there. Kaikoura.

With no time at all, I had found my way to a hostel that could offer me a private room with ensuite that suited my budget and after a quick walk to the local grocery store, I was sorted. I haven’t even minded that it has rained nearly continuously since arriving here – being outside and doing the touristy things wasn’t my primary reason for me.

I’ve just needed time to shut out the world and be by myself. Be in my own bubble where there are no worries of recognizing people I know. Be anonymous to those around me. Be invisible. And so I have turned off my cell phone with glee. There is nowhere I need to be. No one that I need to be in contact with. No one that needs to know where I am. And it feels brilliant.

This morning I went for a run and found myself missing the mountain trials out my back door in Hanmer Springs. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying the ability to do some yoga on the beach while watching the water lap the shoreline and the sun come up over the horizon. Early morning fishermen were out in their boats on the calm water and I watched them as I did my sun salutations. I did the warrior as I gazed back at the majestic snow-capped mountains just behind Kaikoura and felt my soul calm down in a sense of peace. Today would be a good day.

And it has been. The hours have ticked passed as I took a long shower, leisurely ate breakfast while gazing out over the ocean, had a late morning nap and walked to the secondhand bookstore to pick up something to read. But most of all I find that my mind is aimlessly wandering through all the things I haven’t felt I’ve had time to think about in a while. I find my brain picking up a topic and critically going over each angle of it, testing it, analyzing it and then letting it go.

Ever since walking Te Araroa Trail, I have felt as though my “me time” has lessoned quite considerably. I got used to having the time to simply just think. The pace of life was such a way that a person could finish a day and feel quite secured with how they fit into the world around them. Or at least that is how I felt. A quiet contentment would fill my soul on most days – even the worst days – in the knowledge that the simplicity of life would ground me in whatever I was thinking or doing.

But not any longer. Sure – life is still fairly simple. It’s not as though I have a high-powered job in a fast-paced city or anything. But my life now is a lot faster than what it once was. I am no longer walking through life with a fine-toothed comb. In some ways that’s a good thing, but in other ways – it eventually builds up inside me until I get to the point where I need to hideaway for a while and untangle the mess that my thoughts have become.

I have now passed the year mark of which Alex and I started walking Te Araroa. A year ago we would have been setting up camp in Ahipara, thanking all the higher powers that we made it off the beach and had found civilization again. A year ago we were unsure what the future held – Alex’s ankle was injured. My blisters hurt. My shoulders felt as though they were going to fall off. And that was just the beginning of the adventure.

And now I sit here in my private room in Kaikoura and contemplate the rain as it pours down outside and think of how much I am still so much traumatized from the rain Alex and I walked through while doing Te Araroa Trail. I avoid any sort of time being out in the rain simply because the feeling of being wet eternally as become a fear ingrained within me. I have yet to re-discover the fun I once had in the wet as I did as a child. Right now it is lost from me and I much more content to simply watch it from the comfort of my room while reading a good book.

So much has happened in the past few months that these few days have been needed for quite some time. I haven’t quite processed all that happened while trekking Te Araroa Trail. I am not sure I ever will. Not to mention that it hasn’t really sunk in what I am doing here in New Zealand. My aim of travelling the world has somehow morphed into the desire to seek out putting some roots down in Hanmer Springs. And oddly enough, I am at peace with that. I think. Every so often I start to freak about it and I have to remind myself why I am doing what I am doing. And sometimes I am not even sure what that is.

With all this reflection, I have started to enter my age into the equation. I have never before considered my age to be a factor in what I do with my life or what I want to do until now. All of a sudden I find fleeting thoughts and concerns about where I am at with my life and wondering if it’s where I am supposed to be. Though I know I am where I am meant to be – how could I not be? – It still makes me wonder. With all the people I have met around the world, everyone is in a constant struggle of competition with everyone else to find where they fit in the world and be able to declare that they have found “it.” Whatever that may be. It seems to always come down to the battle between settling down and living the “dream.” I have yet to see if a person can have both.

As it stands – I have figured out in my time of being with myself – I am living my dream. I figure I am probably living more of a dream than I ever figured I could dream. I also figure that I need to stop worrying about what will come – what will be – and enjoy the ride that will take me there, as it surely will be good won’t it? I also need to stop stressing about things that don’t matter and just work on loving the people around me that care about me. Including myself.

I find it easy to get caught up in a whirlwind of self-destructive thought processes with regards to my own personal perspective on myself. Who doesn’t? But when in a foreign country, with no word on whether I will be staying longer or leaving tomorrow and living in a small town surrounded by people I have only known for a few months, it is easy to get caught in the trap of feeling isolated and lost. My solution? To disappear.

And so here I am. Cut off from the world – other to write this very public blog entry – and it feels brilliant. Time to work out the thoughts in my head. To figure out where to go from where I am. To come back to work and life in Hanmer Springs stronger and more determined to go after what it is I want. What it is I am meant to do. What it is that will continue this adventure another day.

Better to not know which moment will be your last – every morsel of your entire being alive to the infinite mystery of it all.

~ Pirates of the Caribbean – On Stranger Tides

Comunication is COMPLICATED

2011-10-04T12:53:00.000+13:00

Communication is COMPLICATED. We are all raised in a different family with slightly different definitions of every word. An agreement is an agreement only if each party knows the conditions for satisfaction and a time is set for satisfaction to occur.

~ Lululemon

Still no word on the visa and yet things continue to chug along here in Hanmer Springs. I have unofficially officially started my new position here at the camp as a Volunteer & Fundraising Coordinator. The paperwork may still need signing but my purpose each day at work has been re-ignited. No longer am I simply expected to ensure there are enough toilet rolls beside each toilet. Now I simply have to ensure that someone else has put enough toilet rolls beside each toilet.

Cat, Alex, myself and Ben watching the Rugby World Cup
opening game and ceremony.

And so it has begun. The past few weeks have been filled with both recruiting and training up backpackers to work at the camp for their accommodation. We now have what us camp staff have started to refer to as our own volunteer army. It’s been brilliant. All of a sudden, all the things we have been struggling to get done – all the things that continuously sit on the back burner to do during a slow day (but never get done) are now all being ticked off our never-ending list. Spring cleaning. Washing windows. Stacking wood. Weeding gardens. Re-painting fences. Tick, tick, tick. And through all of this I have realized that I am pretty comfortable with the whole “coordinating” side of my job, but it’s the communication part of it that leaves me completely flat-lined by the end of the day.

See – it would all be quite a simple process if everyone knew the thoughts and ideas going through my head, agreed with them and were able to successfully complete what I had in mind without a hitch. If only life were like that. Instead, I spend most of my day struggling to communicate what it is that I have in mind, what I want done and how to do it better for next time. And not for lack of trying either.

Stu FINALLY climbs the tree at the
camp. His son is only slightly distracted.

First off, bringing backpackers to the little bubble of our camp in the wonderland of Hanmer Springs isn’t that difficult. And getting them to work for free isn’t that hard either. It’s trying to communicate with them when they are all from different countries of the world. Different ages. Different backgrounds. Different ideas on how to do things – on what works and what doesn’t. Different work ethics. Not to mention when they speak different languages.

So – here I am in a learning curve of sorts as I have discovered that generally speaking, my biggest struggle is learning to not be so nice all the time. Learning to have boundaries. Learning to have standards of how I want things done. Learning to be a strong and competent leader. Easier said than done.

In particular, it’s been rather difficult the past month in trying to balance being a Volunteer Coordinator while living with the backpackers. I am still surviving in my little cabin of B1 and because of that, I share the kitchen/lounge facilities with the volunteer backpackers. Not exactly horrible, but when I finish work for the day and am craving my own space – all I have to laze around in is a cabin the size of a shoebox. But, with any luck, that will all soon change.

The Forest Camp is gearing up for some major staff changes here in the near future. Out Assistant Manager and Duty Managers are all jumping ship – leaving Steve & Lynne (Managers) and myself to run the camp while we hunt down a new couple to take on the roll of Assistant Managers. Long story short, one of the staff houses will be available for use by none other than me. That’s right – an actual house. Seems too good to be true. And so I pretend not to think about it in case it is just that.

But really – a house?! How do I even begin to contemplate how beautifully wonderful that would be?? How can I possibly begin to describe what it would mean to have a place not just to call my own, but somewhere that I could literally settle into and feel at home? The past 7 years of my life have been spent moving from place to place, jumping from one building to the next – never quite staying long enough to officially have changed my address with all my contacts. Not quite officially staying long enough to make the place feel lived in. Never staying longer than a year. Not to mention that of the past two years of my life, a year has been spent living out of tent, six months in a cramped box of a hut and the other six months jumping between flats, house shares, hostels and sleeping on people’s couches. To go from all of that to my very own two bedroom house would be a dream, to say the very least.

Lynn Lunn (2nd from left) plays in the band for a little
birthday party entertainment

To have one single roof over my head – a place where I can not only sleep, but eat, shower and have space to relax. A place with enough space to have people over. A place where I can get back into my art. A place to hang pictures and cook meals. A place to grow a garden. A place to make memories and call home. Like I said – it’s too good to be true.

And so I try not to think about it. But that’s difficult to do when the idea of moving into a house seems like the only stable thing in my life right now. I still don’t know about my visa and as far as I know – it might be until nearly the end of the year before I hear back just due to how long it will take to process my Canadian police check. I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen with the staff here – the gap in the team that Julie, Geoff and Stuart will leave here at the camp is tremendous and I try not to think about it. I try not to think about who is going to potentially fill their shoes. It’s out of my hands and up to Steve and Lynne to make that decision. Even the thought of how long it’s been since I’ve been back to Canada is something I push from my mind – the only thing that seems remotely realistically within my grasp is the potential to have my very own house. And even that still comes down to waiting.

So I count down the days to everything that could be. Might be. Should be. Will be. I count down the days to when I might hear word on my visa. I count down the days to when we could have new Assistant Managers at the camp. I count down the days to when I think I should be going back to Canada. I count down the days to when it will be a year from when Alex and I first stepped foot on Te Araroa Trail.

Steve and I make the climb up Mt. Isobel for the sunrise.

And as I spend my days feeling like The Count off of Sesame Street, I am increasingly more aware of how important it is to make the most out of life as it comes. The other day a friend in Hanmer Springs had her birthday. She turned 70. At her party that consisted of live entertainment and two Māori hāngi (pronounced [‘ha-ŋi]) which is a traditional New Zealand Māori method of cooking food using heated rocks buried in a pit oven with the ground, commonly used for special occasions. Oh – and then about a million people. Lynn literally invited pretty well all of Hanmer Springs and encouraged people to bring whomever they wanted to the party. And then there was her family. Brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – it was more of a family reunion than a birthday party. And the best part was that as an outsider, you still felt like part of a family. It was the biggest gathering of love that I had ever seen. Everyone just rocked up to one of Lynn’s daughter’s back garden with their own drink in hand and spent the evening chatting it up with everyone and everyone. There was a massive poster to sign for Lynn of which I can only imagine what she thought while reading it over the next day – many signatures were from people she would have never met before.

The food was fabulous, but the bit that got me the most was the big collage of photos from Lynn’s life. Here was a woman captured throughout her years – her full life of everything that life could be. I have only gotten to know her in the past six months – months of which we worked together, did Robin Hood together, played darts together and spent many moments just simply spending time together. The few stories she’s told me and those I’ve heard about her have just left me completely inspired to continue living life to the full. And that’s exactly what she has done – and it was all captured within the collage. Her as a child with a goofy face. Her riding a bike, completely care-free. Her with her siblings. Her with her children. Her living life.

Solar panels get added to the new
toilet/shower block at the camp.

And that is probably what inspires me most about Lynn Lunn. She has found a way to live life completely to the full without a need or desire to take more than what life has given her. She has never left New Zealand. Hates to fly. Has grown up in the Hanmer Springs area as something like a 5-generation family member and still loves it to bits. She knows everyone and anyone in Hanmer Springs and gets along with practically everyone she meets (hence the large crowd at her party). She makes the most out of the life she has and loves every minute of it. She doesn’t apologize for what she has done in life or who she is. She accepts people for who they are as much as what she accepts herself for who she is.

She is everyone’s grandma. Everyone’s mother. Everyone’s sister and friend. She is the person you could talk to about anything. She is the person who is up for anything. She exudes this passion for life that I have seen in few people and all it does is make me want more.

Lynn has lived 70 years on this planet and has so many stories to tell and yet she is still going strong. I only hope that by the time I reach that age that I can say I have lived like she has. Danced as she has. Laughed as she has. Loved as she has.

And as much as Lynn has inspired me in life, so has so many other people. She reminds me of family back home of whom I think of regularly and am reminded of what is important in life. I have come to realize that life isn’t about what job you have, where you have been, how much money you have or who you know. Life is about the simple things. About going after your dream. About loving the people in your life for who they are. About taking that risk to become a better person. About taking the smallest moments in life and living them to the full. Life is about life.

So as I wait for so much of the life that I hope will be, I am still taking the time to live to the full with what I have. Morning runs have become a regular thing, many being accompanied by Steve & Lynne’s dog – Jess – and as I spent the first hour of light letting my feet lead me up, down and all around the forest trails, I feel blessed to know that this is my life. Blessed that I can sweat my way up to the top of a mountain saddle or hilltop and then stretch my tired muscles as I watch the sunrise. Blessed that I can push my body, all the while laughing at Jess as she comes tearing around the corner in an effort to outrun me.

It’s moments like that that I treasure. Moments like when me and Cat go out for dinner at a local pub and just spend time having a nice meal by the fire. Moments like when I see the kids from the next school group coming to the camp – faces that have no power to contain the excitement bubbling inside. Moments like that are what matter.

That Which Matters Most

2011-09-02T19:30:00.000+12:00

That which matters the most should never give way to that which matters the least.

~ Lululemon

Today I went to the dentist. Doesn’t particularly sound spectacular except for the fact that it’s been nearly 3 years since I last had a visit. And that was in Canada. And so now, in a completely different country – an entirely different hemisphere – I booked in to see a South African dentist. Talk about going international.

Not only was I due for a check-up and clean, but I also knew I was due to get one of my molars sorted. Back during the days of walking 8-9hrs/day along Te Araroa Trail, I had a moment of which a piece of my molar broke off. Or its filling – it wasn’t entirely clear. Regardless, the event left a deep hole into my molar, causing me to have to develop a brand new skill of sucking food out of the hole every time I ate. Joy.

There wasn’t much I could do about it until now for the simple fact that I’ve been on a backpacker’s budget and dental work such as what I wanted wasn’t exactly considered emergency-related. I couldn’t get it covered by insurance. And no matter what job I ever possessed in New Zealand, dental work is never covered. As such, I am apparently part of the normal population who waits years in between dental appointments due to the sheer magnitude of a bill they receive at the end of each visit.

But today I went. I had chosen the dental office out of a series of random phone calls to various locations in order to figure out which would be the best price to go to. Sure, dental work may not be covered in New Zealand, but because of that, dentists are fighting to bring in new patients. It was almost like shopping the streets of Mexico in that I had all the power. I bartered my way into an office that had the friendliest reception staff and when I finally arrived today, I was slightly taken back by the homey feel of the reception area. This wasn’t just about visiting the dentist. This was about visiting family.

After seeing the hygienist who cleaned my teeth, gave me some dental floss and informed me that not only should I stop brushing so hard (my gums are putting up a protest), but that I should be careful with how much I chew the insides of my cheeks (stress), stop grinding my teeth (stress) and that the hole in my tooth might have a cavity. I wasn’t surprised at that last one. She then hustled me out to go and officially see the dentist.

He was able to take some x-rays and in doing so, figured out quite quickly that, yes, I do have a cavity in the holey molar. The only worrying factor was that the decay had progressed quite closely to the nerve which could me bad news for me in the near future. So he suggested immediately fixing it, which I was all for until he stated the cost of everything would come to $500. Right. Not the kind of money I have lying around even though I just got paid. When I told him I didn’t have that amount with me, he responded by moving my chair back and got busy numbing my molar. Before I knew it all sorts of drilling tools were in my mouth and with no time at all he was setting the filing to harden. He asked if I had heard of the movie Pay it Forward. I had.

He then left the room and had his assistant hygienist work out a price for the work that was done. I ended up paying only $300 for the whole appointment. Craziness.

I left the dentist chair feeling completely humbled. It wasn’t just the dentist. It was everything – New Zealand in general. The culture here is immersed in the philosophy of paying it forward. No one ever seems concerned with who owes who what. There is simply an understanding that everyone will take care of everyone else. I mean, really – how many other places are there where you can walk into a business such as a dental office and spontaneously get a massive discount simply because you need the work done but can’t afford it that day?

Where else can you go where people will simply just hand over their car keys (thanks Cat) so you can drive the 2 hours to your appointment? Where else can you go where people let you live in their house while they’re away on holiday – giving you full reign of their pantry? Where else can you go that when disaster strikes people pull together so fast you almost wish it would happen again just to hang onto that raw feeling of community just a little bit longer?

Not many places I have been do have been like it has here in New Zealand. To wake up every day and know that there will be complete strangers to take care of you. Because they want to. Because they can. Because they know that is what is important in life. Not money. Not things. Not a busy schedule. What’s important are the people around us. Doesn’t matter if they are family, friends or otherwise. Everyone is human and deserves a break once in a while.

So – as it stands, with all that has happened today – I am due to pay it forward. I don’t know to whom. I don’t know what it will be. But I do know that I will pay it forward.

The Pursuit of Happiness

2011-08-30T19:11:00.000+12:00

The pursuit of happiness is the source of all unhappiness.

~ Lululemon

What is it that makes us run? What is it that makes people push others away and hide behind their metaphorical wall? Why do we do it to ourselves? Why is it that the moment we finally get everything we could ever dream of, we turn and walk the other way? Why is it that everything we’ve ever wanted is the very thing we destroy once it’s in our hands?

Maybe it’s fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of the past. Fear of the future. Fear of being inadequate. Fear of what could be. Fear of what isn’t. Fear of ourselves and everything in between.

Maybe it’s a habit we cannot break. Maybe it’s something that will always be there. Maybe it’s our own intuitive defense system for prevention of hurt. Prevention of pain. Maybe the walls will never fully be broken down. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s everything.

I find it funny that the basis of all our existence here on this planet is an eternal search for love. To be loved. To love. To have love. To give love. To be with people who care about us the same way we care about them. To surround ourselves with people who “get” us. Who accept us for who we are. Who can be a shoulder to lean on. An ear to listen. A figure of support. Someone to laugh with. Cry with. Someone to share life with. The good times and bad. A best friend. Someone to just be with. To do everything. To do nothing. It’s funny that this is what we all long for. Crave for. And yet it is the very thing we run from once we have it.

It's the thing that when taken from us feels as though our heart has just been ripped out. It feels like we've been trampled. As though we can no longer breathe. It makes us question why we let ourselves love to begin with - may even question our reasons for existing at all. When taken away, love can make us feel the lowest of lows. Make us wonder what we did wrong, even when it was nothing we did at all. It crushes us as though we were merely a pest under someone's foot. When love is taken from us, it takes everything we ever thought we had.

Someone recently told me that they have a history of randomly pushing people away for no reason at all. As if things were too good to be true and they had to ruin it to prove it wasn’t meant to be. I could relate. With a history of building a fortress around me so tall and strong it’s impossible to break through, I get it. It’s tough to let someone in and be okay with it. It’s tough to let the walls crumble, to let someone see the real me and not freak out about it. It’s tough to let my guard down. To show I don’t have it all together all the time. To be vulnerable. It’s tough to care, all the while knowing that I could one day be left to pick up the broken pieces of my heart.

It’s why I think the pursuit of happiness is the source of all unhappiness. True happiness comes from love. It comes from deep inside the soul. So rich. So pure. And yet, with love one risks everything. To truly love one must give their all. To have it be real. Hold nothing back. Trust the other person to catch them when they fall. And the brilliance of it all is that you cannot ever help who you love. You just do.

And I’m not just talking about the kind of love found in some romantic relationship. Love is so much more than with that one person. It is with your friends. The kindred spirits that surround you. It’s with your family – the people you may never quite understand, but will love till the day you die. It’s the love that happens when you get the phone call at 3 a.m. and don’t care that you’re sleep’s been disturbed. It’s the love that happens when you share a stupid joke with a friend and can laugh about it for hours until your sides hurt. And then laugh some more. It’s the love that happens when someone holds back your hair when you’re sick. When the world can come crashing down around you and they stand by you, holding your hand. It’s the love that happens when you can look into each other’s eyes and have a full conversation without ever saying a word. It’s the love that happens when you can screw up royally and they can still forgive you and move on like it never happened. It’s the love that happens when you push each other to reach for the stars. To take chase your innermost desires. To go after the goal that seems crazier than life itself. It’s the love that just is. That stands the test of time. That won’t budge no matter how ridiculous it seems. It just is.

It’s that kind of love that everyone searches for. That everyone longs for. That everyone dreams for. And yet it is that very love that everyone runs from. That everyone crushes. That everyone shuts down and scoffs at. It’s that love that everyone is so skeptical about that they’d rather be miserable on their own than risk getting everything they ever wanted.

As time goes on, I find I am realizing more and more what exactly is important in life. What should be important in my life. I don’t care about money. I don’t care about things. I don’t care about aging or being famous. I don’t care about a lot of things that society continuously tries to tell me I should. All that matters are the simple things. All I care about is that I make the most of the moment. That I have good health. That I enjoy what nature has blessed this world with. That I spend time on the relationships that matter in life. That I take time to love those that I care about.

I don’t know what makes us run. I don’t know what makes people push others away and hide behind their metaphorical wall. I don’t know why we do this. I don’t know why the moment we finally get everything we could ever dream of, we turn and walk the other way. I don’t know why it is that everything we’ve ever wanted is the very thing we destroy once it’s in our hands. I don’t know much. But what I do know is quite simple.

All we need is love.

~ Beatles

Dance, Sing, Floss and Travel

2011-08-15T11:29:00.000+12:00

Dance, sing, floss and travel.

~ Lululemon

I find it hard to believe that I am here in New Zealand still. Continuously I have to pinch myself to remind myself that it's not a dream. This is my reality. And it's awesome. Now that Robin Hood is done, my short acting career has come to a close and life is slowly returning back to normal. I got my hair cut (it's been a year). I got some new shoes (I'd been trading off between gumboots and borrowing Alex's). I went and joined the weekly darts tournament. That's right - darts. Never played before, but I figured it'd be interesting to learn and get to know some more people. It was a blast and I can't wait till I can actually throw the dart where I want to.

I've begun experimenting with cooking - spicy chicken fajitas. Pumpkin and chickpea curry. Hearty lamb and veggie soup. Yum. Not to mention the fact that I FINALLY invested in a hairdryer. I've been without one since I started travelling over two years ago. Went okay when in Australia and my hair would dry in two seconds with the heat all year round, but here at the camp -- well, I tend to think twice when there's frost on the ground and I have to scamper in-between buildings with wet hair as my exhaled breath clogs my vision.

Yup. Life is good. It is simple. Next week I hope to get up to the slopes to do some much-needed snowboarding. With any luck I won't be constantly comparing New Zealand's snow to the deep powder back in Canada. It'd also be cool to head out of Hanmer Springs and go exploring in the nearby areas. Kaikoura comes to mind. In the meantime I've got work to focus on as well as a decision of what to do in a month's time. The clock keeps on ticking.

The other week I walked home after an evening spent catching up with friends at a local pub while listening to live music and I found myself alone on the road. In the dark. Surrounded by the Hanmer Forest. All I could do was stand in awe as millions of stars shone brightly above me. Shooting stars darted across the sky and I made my wishes. And then I danced my way home, not caring who saw. Because it was dark. Because I was alone. Because there was a good song on my iPod. Because I could.

That seems to be the theme here in Hanmer Springs for me. As I look back over my time that I have spent here, so much of what I have chosen to do has been because I could. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be spending these past few months running a half marathon. Never would I have thought I would be taking the lead role in a local pantomime production nor would I have thought I would be taking photographs for the camp to update their website. Not to mention I never thought I would be sleeping in a box of a cabin while I spent my days cleaning toilets for minimal money. And not wanting to really change a thing.

Hanmer Springs - living in a snow globe

And so... because I can – I have made the decision to stay on a while longer yet. Steve and Lynne at the camp have graciously offered me a newly-created job position to work at the camp as a Volunteer and Fundraiser Coordinator. As the camp has never had someone filling in this role before it would be an amazing experience (and big challenge) to step into that position and see what I can do. Everything I have been doing in the past few years has been leading up to this point and I’m totally stoked to see where it will take me. Sure, there are many - many question marks surrounding what this all means for my future, but I am okay with that. It will all work itself out.

As someone close to me recently said, “good things take time,” I am well aware that the universe is telling me to be patient for what is yet to come in my life. I have been discovering that decisions such as these really are not as simple as what they first appear. Making the decision to stay on was one thing. Developing a solid job description of what I would be doing was the next. What has followed those few minor days of angst have been a whirlwind emotional rollercoaster ride which has left me both completely brain-fried and breathless – not to mention the inside of my cheeks are totally munted from me unconsciously chewing on them to relieve the stress.

See – technically I am not actually applying to extend my working holiday visa. I am applying for a completely new work visa to stay in New Zealand. Quite simply because it would allow me more flexibility to stay on for a longer chunk of time and get the most out of the experience. At this point I am looking at a general scope of two years to stay on. Yes – I know – two whole years. It seems crazy, but why not?

And so with the decision to do something like this, the paperwork to fill out has piled up. My phone bill has been exceeded multiple times in order to contact related persons of interest in order to answer my many (so many) questions of what is involved to get this right. I went to Christchurch at 6 a.m. one day to try and get in for a medical check-up only to find myself on the side of the road as me and Nick fixed a flat tire we got after driving over some invisible object that made Nick’s wheel rim spontaneously explode. No joke. When we eventually made it to Christchurch and Nick dropped me off at the doctor’s, I quickly found out I wouldn’t be getting the check-up needed for my visa application. I had forgotten my passport back in Hanmer Springs. So I went shopping instead.

When I finally made it back to Christchurch a few days later (passport securely in hand), I went through the agonizing process of waiting my turn to get a chest x-ray, then blood work, blood pressure, height, weight, waist circumference (not sure what that had to do with helping me to stay in New Zealand) and an urinalysis. Never knew peeing in a cup was such a skill. From that they told me I was not pregnant. Good to know. $428 later, I left the doctor’s office with a lighter wallet and a spinning head. I hadn’t eaten since the night before because of the blood tests and it was now after one in the afternoon.

The next hurdle was the “proof of character.” Aka: Criminal Record Check. Aka: Police Certificate. As I am in New Zealand, this process involves me getting fingerprints done at a police station here and then sending them to Canada along with a processing fee of which I then wait patiently for them to process the request and return me the Police Certificate. Sounds simple in theory, but when considering time is my enemy here, and the Canadian Post has a tendency to go on strike every other month; the estimated time of processing by the RCMP of 12 weeks seems like an eternity. Even still, while in Christchurch I went on the hunt for the nearest police station. It happened to be a good half an hour walk to the city centre from Riccarton where across the street the Bridge of Remembrance sat completely munted still from the February earthquake. I walked inside and stated my request to the receptionist only to be informed that they only do fingerprinting in the morning. It was nearly 2:30 p.m. Fortunately for me there wasn’t much crime going on that day and there happened to be a constable available with nothing better to do but roll my fingers in black ink. Perfect. Within 15 minutes I was done. If only the actual processing of the fingerprints was as easy.

And so it goes. There have been issues of trying to get a money order from the bank here in Hanmer Springs only to be denied because I am not a customer of that bank (and therefore I have to potentially go to Christchurch again). There’s been the issue of ensuring the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp Trust is behind the decision to create a new job position. There’s still the issue of where I am going to be sleeping every night as I surely don’t want to be holed up in a small cabin for the next two years of my life. And now the issue of my quickly depleting bank funds due to all the fees involved with processing the application. Not to mention the fact that if my current visa expires before the new one gets processed then I am essentially stuck in New Zealand as I would have no legal right to leave or enter until I get word from the immigration office. Guess my dreams of a holiday on a hot tropical beach on some island north of here will be out of the question for the next few months.

Alex and I make it into the current issue of
NZ Fitness Magazine for trekking Te Araroa Trail

But that’s all fairly minor in comparison to what this means as far as my overall lifestyle is concerned. Because that is what this comes down to – me choosing to stay here in Hanmer Springs is a lifestyle choice. It is choosing a community that has welcomed me with open arms. It is choosing a slower-paced life that allows me to do everything I’ve always wanted to do and then some. It is choosing to live where my backyard is the mountains all around me. It is choosing to do something to push myself further. It’s choosing a challenge of a new job that will add to my experience in the area of community development and social services. It is choosing to just be.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what I will be giving up in order to stay here. And that thought is very difficult to contemplate. How does one choose something like this and not feel remotely torn up over knowing it will mean a further extension of separation from loved ones back at home? Granted, I have already done two years, so what’s two more? But the thing is – when I started travelling, that was all it was. Travelling. There was no time limit, no expectation or commitment for when I would be done. It just was. One day at a time – see where it would take me. I just never thought it would take me here.

And sure, two years is not forever, but it is still a long time. A lot can happen in two years, the last two years is surely a case in point. And it’s heartbreaking to know that in choosing to stay here in New Zealand, I am missing out in what is going on back in Canada. Birthday’s, holidays, summers, winters, coffee dates and movies. In choosing to live here I am giving up living in Canada. Right now it’s not forever, but two years is still two years.

Yet, even still, I know that this is right for me. Provided I get accepted, of course. Lululemon’s four small words certainly ring true to me in this time of waiting. Because I have danced. Because I have sung. Because I have flossed. Because I most definitely have travelled. And it still isn’t over. It never is. This is the journey that never ends.

Successful People

2011-07-29T22:37:00.003+12:00

Successful people replace the words ‘wish,’ ‘should’ and ‘try’ with ‘I will.’

~ Lululemon

This past week has been something of a massive whirlwind of dreams and goals – some of the past and some of the future. Between finishing Robin Hood (went awesome!) and enjoying a fabulous Christmas in July (YAY for snow!) the days have flown by. It’s hard to believe that in about a month my time as I know it here in New Zealand will come to an end. And as they say – when one door closes…. Another opens, right? It’s just I haven’t a clue which door to choose. Still.

Yup – that’s right. I still don’t know what is to become of me and my life a month from now. A month from now everything as I know it will come to an end. And all I can think about is everything that has brought me to this point. Every choice I have made. Every day I have lived. Every breath I have breathed. To get me to this point. It was not an easy ride and it certainly won’t be one I will ever forget.

Robin Hood (me) and his mother discuss the complications of ACC

Straight from that first day I set off into the bush to walk from Banff to Vancouver, I knew I was in for something big. Just not this big. I never figured I would ever be at the point I am today. At the point of which I am so completely and utterly torn in two as to what to do. Where to go. Which door to open next. I never figured I would meet so many incredible people along my way. People that would turn my world upside-down. People who would become like family. People who will forever be imprinted on my soul.

I never figured in my wildest dreams I would do the things I have done. Never would I have thought I would have climbed the mountains I have. Crossed the rivers I did. Seen the wildlife I have. So much more than the birds and the bees. Try bears. Dolphins. Whales. Crocodiles. Snakes. Millions of sand flies. I never figured I would see the places I have. To be able to visit locations I have only ever seen in photos. Now those photos are mine. The memories engraved in my mind for all of eternity.

And what memories they have been. The moments of pure happiness. The tears of pain. The times of trials and those moments were so bizarre all I could do was laugh. The time spent getting to know someone new and the many goodbyes that followed. The sunrises. The sunsets. The countless kilometers travelled by every mode possible. Plane. Train. Boat. Kayak. Bike. Bus. Car. Oh yeah – and foot.

Siobhan and I in Hanmer Spring's winter wonderland

But most of all it’s been the people I remember most. The random strangers in the street. The instant friends that I can share anything with. The surrogate grandparents, brothers and sisters. And the numerous acting moms and dads that pretty well have to have a roster to sort out who can lecture me about walking home alone in the dark next. It’s those people that have made my journey what it has become. It’s those people that have made me feel at home – no matter how far from home I actually am.

So what now? That is the big question. The ironic thing is that there is no words like ‘wish,’ ‘should’ or ‘try’ floating around in my head. There’s just the big ‘I will’ and then – nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I haven’t a clue what it is that ‘I will’ do. I just know I will do it. There isn’t even the luxury of being able to choose my head or heart to follow – everything is muddled together. All I have is the luxury of choice and I haven’t quite figured out if ‘luxury’ is the best word to describe it.

Ever since that day I left home – over two years ago – it seems as though many of my decisions have come to me. As though they were meant to be. As though there could be no other way other than the one that lay before me. Maybe there was no other choice. Maybe there was. It didn’t matter much. I just went with it. And I have been going with it up until this point. Up until this moment in time. Up until now. And now everything has changed.

Now I just realize how much it is only me a part of this decision. It is only me who can make it. It is only me who will move forward. Wherever I go, I know I will have those who support me and those who may question it – but it is my decision to make. I think the big reason I hesitate in actually making the decision is the grieving process linked to what I will be letting go in order to make it. Whatever I choose will mean the end of something spectacular. It will not just mean the end of a chapter, but the end of a book. It will mean saying goodbye to so much that is a part of who I now am. It will mean letting go of the life I have come to love. It will mean saying goodbye to those I love.

But the other side of that door is looking pretty spectacular as well. What exactly is behind that door is a completely different question. I suppose time will tell and as everyone sits and waits in great anticipation (*rolls eyes*) I’ll just be here doing my pros and cons list. Weeding out what I want from what everyone else thinks I should do and eventually – I reckon it’s going to come down to a coin toss. All I know for certain is that whatever it is…. I WILL do it.

Practice Yoga

2011-07-15T14:30:00.003+12:00

Practice yoga so you can remain active in physical sports as you age.

~ Lululemon

As time goes on here in Hanmer Springs, I find my mind to be continuously bogged down with what’s next. What’s the next big adventure? Where to go. What to do. All these question marks float around in my mind as I carry on going about my daily tasks of cleaning buildings, taking photographs, practicing for Robin Hood and writing a book about Te Araroa Trail. The only thing that is certain is that in about 1.5 months everything will come to a head and things will become clear on where I am to go from here. In the meantime I’ve found myself to be practicing a lot of yoga. Partly because it’s been quite cold to be outside running with my five fingers on. Partly because it’s been a really energizing way to start my day. But most of all, I’ve been doing it to clear my head of all the cobwebs.

When I go to work each day here at the camp, I find myself contemplating how much I enjoy working at such a place and how much I would like to go back to school to study community development so I can get more involved with projects such as this. When I take photographs of the camp for the website, I become inspired to pursue my art further with all the things I now want to create. When I head off to rehearsal twice a week I find that by the time I get back home I am thinking of all the reasons I wish I could stay longer in Hanmer Springs. When I get into writing my book about the adventure of Te Araroa Trail, I find myself entering a dream world of the many adventures I want to pursue in the future. The list never ends.

And so yoga has been there to keep me grounded. To keep me in the moment. The here and now. It not only strengthens my body, but my soul. It helps to focus my mind in clarity I otherwise would not have. I only hope that all the yoga I’m doing will benefit my athletic ability for when I get back into running. As brilliant as yoga is, it is nothing without running. Both sports go hand in hand and it feels wrong to do one without the other. But as the weather gets colder and colder, snow threatening to blanket the ground here at any moment – I can’t focus on that right now.

I find it funny to think that right now is probably the most unplanned I have been in my life. To look ahead and know that at the end of August there is a grey void of which I haven’t a clue what is to happen could be scary. But I am not scared. Whatever happens will happen. What is meant to be will be. Nothing more, nothing less. What I do know is that whatever it is that comes my way that gives direction on what is to come next will be big. It will be a life-changing moment, shaping my future to what it is meant to be.

And so yoga it is. Sun Salutations. Tree Pose. Downward Dog. Warrior. It doesn’t matter what it is – all that matters is that I continue doing it. Maybe it will open my mind to a new idea. Maybe it will strengthen my soul for what is yet to come. Maybe it will push my body to new heights. Maybe it will do nothing but give me self-satisfaction of doing something. All I know is that in my world of many maybe’s and not a lot of certainty, yoga is that one thing I can count on for my own time. Anywhere. Anytime. It is there for the taking and I love it.

Write Down Your GOALS

2011-06-17T22:26:00.001+12:00

Write down your short and long-term GOALS four times a year. Two personal, two business and two health goals for the next 1, 5 and 10 years. Goal setting triggers your subconscious computer.

~ Lululemon

It is funny how time continues to slip past – days blend into one and it was only the other day that it began to sink in that my birthday is in less than a week. In precisely 2 days I will be celebrating the day I was born. Crazy to think that is now 25 years ago. Growing up I had never really thought much about what it would mean to be 25 years old. I had plans for when I turned 18 (go to University) and when I turned 20 (get married), and when I was 21 (have a child) – but nothing for past that. Those long-ago goals were something I dreamed up back when I was 6 or so and thought that being 18 would make me oh-so adult-like. At the time 25 seemed something of middle-age. I thought it should be something of the time when I would be settled down into my own family complete with a dog, 1.5kids and a white-picket fence. Right. Not exactly what my life has become.

Back when I was younger I never would have dreamed I would be where I am today, doing what I am doing. I never would have thought that I would be hunkered down in an insulation-free house with many layers on while the frost lays thick on everything outdoors. In the middle of June. I never thought I would have learned to drive on the left side of the road, much less just recently finished walking the length of New Zealand. I never thought I would be publishing articles, much less being in the process of writing a book. I never thought I would have the lead in a play – I never thought of the many things I am doing now, even a year ago – I never would have dreamed I would be in this moment now. But I am.

And so turning 25 just makes me realize how much can be fit into a year of my life. How much I can do – how far I can push my dreams. It makes me realize that anything is truly possible if I put my mind to it. And so I have – put my mind to it, that is. I figured such an occasion of turning 25 is only appropriate for starting to get some concrete goals in mind of where I want my life to go. It’s not about making plans with deadlines – it’s about dreaming big and allowing myself to not just spread my wings and fly, but soar up as high as I can. Because I can.

Taking on Lululemon manifesto, I have developed goals for the next 1, 5 and 10 years of my life. And they look pretty insane to me. Well – “insane” is probably the wrong word. They are all things I have longed to do for some time, but they are things that are seem so crazy and out of reach it’s hard to imagine them being obtainable. But hey – if I never would have thought in my wildest dreams I’d be here right now, then I reckon anything’s possible. Particularly if I have already had enough thought about it to know it is something I truly want for my life.

Who knows where life will take me. Maybe things will change drastically for me where new goals and dreams take a priority in my life. But that’s the thing – life isn’t about focusing on what we haven’t done but what we have and what we can do in the future. Because if I had done absolutely everything I wanted to do with my life I’d probably be living in a house with my best friend from elementary school where we shared bunk beds and we ate strawberries for every meal. Oh yeah – and I’d have a pet monkey and go to work on my magic carpet. For that I am glad that in life you can’t have everything.

Two days from now I turn 25 and rather than freaking out over being halfway to 50 or something equally ridiculous, I celebrate the fact that being this age allows me the freedom to be who I am. To do what I want to do – the responsibilities and otherwise. Life is what you make it and I reckon my life is pretty alright right now. I wouldn’t change a thing. Well – a magic carpet would still be pretty cool right about now.

Breathe Deeply

2011-06-03T16:58:00.000+12:00

Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment. Living in the moment could be the meaning of life.

~ Lululemon

It’s funny how life goes. How some days everything seems so clear and precise with meaning and other days seem a blur of confusion as to which direction to go. Right now I am living very much in the latter. I feel torn with the endless amounts of options begging me to choose them and yet when I dig deep down into my soul to figure out what it is that I truly want – I honestly do not know. And so I wait. Wait for something to happen to give me direction. Wait for something to show its face and say this is the true way. Wait for a sign. A signal to indicate that one choice is better than the other.

Ironically enough, I do not think that there is any one thing that can guide me in the correct direction. I think that this is one of the few times in life of which it is completely up to me to choose which way I want to go. Choose my destiny. Choose my fate. Choose something that will change the way my life is forever.

Maybe I am wrong. Maybe this is all just a feeling and that is it. Maybe this moment in time isn’t so much a pinnacle of life-altering events that I will forever look back on and remember it as being “the” moment as it is just a mesh of choices of which my brain is too muddled to pick one from the lot of others. Or maybe, just maybe – this is life as it is meant to be when I finally decide to sit back and simply enjoy the ride. To just be.

Today I finally had time to simply do things such as go through my photos. I haven’t done that since – well, I don’t remember the last time. There has always been something else that needs doing. Something that proves to be more important than taking the time to reflect on where I have been and what I have done. It is crazy how many small memories have been slotted away, nearly forgotten until a glimpse at an old photograph brings it all back into focus. And so I spent time today going through such photos. Photos of my journey across British Columbia. Photos of the east coast of the States. Photos of Australia and the many adventures had with my year spent there. And then photos of trekking Te Araroa Trail here in New Zealand. It seems crazy to see where the last couple of years have taken me and I get the sense that my brain is still trying to play catch-up with the warped speed my life has been like.

Finally everything is slowing down enough that my life consists of enough regularity for me to finally be able to say that nothing “new” is going on. And it feels fabulous. But I still fight this deep urge to try and figure out what my next step is. Where I want to go. What I want to do. Who I want to be. The desire to constantly have a plan in place for tomorrow is so strong that it’s difficult to imagine a life without that need.

I have been avoiding writing my blog for that very reason. I find it hard to write about my life when there is nothing going on. When there are no plans in place to describe. When there is no amazing, crazy adventures being had. How does one switch from walking the length of a country to just living a normal life and yet still make it sounds as exciting? The reality is that I suppose my life isn’t completely normal right now. Not everyone lives at a camp 2.5km from town surrounded by mountains. Not everyone lives in a cabin that used to house forestry workers way-back-when they were doing research on the local forest. Not everyone does a shower dance under lukewarm water every time they want to get clean and dries their hair by a hand dryer. Not everyone has the luxury of choosing between two channels on the television every night or relishes the feeling of the lounge FINALLY getting warm after 3hrs of blasting the timed heater. Not everyone gets the opportunity to make a fool of themselves in a local production of Robin Hood whilst being Robin Hood himself. Yup – I suppose my life is still something of an adventure, even in all its normality.

So, in that regard, all this babbling leads me to the point that I started getting to last time I wrote. Sometimes it’s more important to appreciate the moment life is at rather than wishing it away in a heap of plans for the future. So here I am – not knowing what I want to do next. Not knowing where I want to go or who I want to be. Not knowing what place I want to explore next. Not knowing when I’ll ever make my way back to Canada. I am here not knowing a lot of things, but I think I am okay with that. Because life here right now is pretty good.

Things have even started to quiet down around the camp as winter is starting to push its way through and it makes me excited. Excited because the pressure of people is coming to a close. It means more time to breathe. More time to be. More time to live in the moment as it is and not be wishing for something more. It means more time to reflect on things that once were – that have been – to enjoy where I am at and what I am doing now. To be proud of who I am at this very moment. Not wanting, not needing something that I do not have. To just be.

DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW!

2011-05-18T14:09:00.000+12:00

The world is changing at such a rapid rat that waiting to implement changes will leave you two steps behind. DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW!

~ Lululemon

Friday the thirteenth is recognized by many people as a day to be wary of every situation. Strange things are said to happen on that such day. Things that are not so cheery and can change a person’s luck in a heartbeat. It’s why many buildings have been built with the thirteenth floor conveniently missing. It’s a dark day. A day of black. A day of mourning. A day when all bad things come to be.

But not this past Friday the thirteenth. This past Friday (May 13, 2011) a remarkable thing happened. Mercury, Venus, Mars and Jupiter lined up in a row causing astrologers and star-gazers around the world to stare up in the sky in awe. This rare occurrance, happening once every 100 years, signifying a major change in the world today. Some say that it represents the world coming to an end. Some say it's an event to celebrate - all the positive changes that will be. Regardless, change on a whole is in the air.

So this got me thinking. What is it that is my big change? What in my life – my world – is changing right now? Or better yet – what is it that I want to change right now? The more I thought about it, the more blank my mind became. Sure, there are things that I know I can improve upon in my life, but they are all things that are not going to happen overnight. I would love to cut the crap food out of my life for good. I would love to just simply not crave that food. Not want it. Not “need” it. Not desperately cling to the idea of what I could get for my next “treat” (I type this as I pop another jelly bean into my mouth). I would love that. But that will come with time.

I would love to be at my optimal fitness level – where I was at while trekking Te Araroa Trail. I would love to be able to maintain that level of fitness in my everyday life. I know that I could be better than what I am right now, but again – that will come with time. Time to sort out my schedule. Time to sort out the weather. Time to sort out my options. Time to get to where I want to be. Time.

Above this, I also want to develop my art further. I would love to be in a position of which I feel confident of how I am able to present myself as an artist. Confident of my skill base. Confident of selling myself for certain projects to boost my experience in the art industry. Again – time comes into play. I will get there. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I will get there. Step by step.

There are many more things above and beyond that I would love to do with my life. Things I want to learn. Places I want to see. People I want to build better relationships with. There are so many things – changes – I want to do with my life that it is ridiculous to ever think that I might have enough time to fit it all in.

So when I look at my life as how I have it right now. I figure I have it pretty good. I get to live with some wonderful people in a brilliant location in New Zealand. I get to learn of a business that I dream of one day developing into my own. I get to work with an awesome team that allows me to leave work each day stress-free. I get to try something new while getting to meet some locals as I learn my bit for the local production of Robin Hood. Not only that, but I get to work at developing my art portfolio as I work at showcasing my photography and producing photos for local businesses in the area. Dare I say it – I’m not looking at the other side of the fence and wishing I was where the grass was greener. The grass is pretty green right here where I am. Right here. Right now.

The biggest change I want to make in my life right now is to just be. To just enjoy where I am at. Not looking forward and not looking back. Just enjoying the moment for what it is. Where I am. What I am doing. I think the moment of right now is the most precious one to experience and all too often I personally get caught up in the doing of things for the future. Of the goal-setting. The future-planning. The dreaming of tomorrow all the while flying through today. I hope to stop flapping my wings so furiously enough that I can find a nice branch to perch on and just be. Feel the wind on my face. The snow under my foot. The smell of the leaves as they fall from the trees. The taste of my homemade soup. The sight of the mountains in front of me. Everything. Bit by bit. Just being. Living. Loving.

Sometimes the most important thing of taking the bull by the horns is the act of taking the bull by the horns. And that’s what I intend to do and I intend to do it right now. Just be.

Sweat Once a Day

2011-05-08T16:00:00.000+12:00

Sweat once a day to regenerate your skin.

~ Lululemon

Sometimes the simplest things in life can become the most complicated overall. When I first read this quote from Lululemon’s manifesto, it caught my eye because it was so simple. There’s no pressure as to exactly how much sweating needs to be done. Nothing to day what a person has to do to get their sweat on. It just is as simple as “sweat once a day.” Easy.

01.05.2011

“Sweat once a day.” Seems simple enough a concept and yet I find myself struggling with it. Maybe it’s the busy schedule that I find I am full of excuses (the most common being that I’m “too tired”). Maybe it’s the increasingly cool weather that causes me to hesitate in getting out of bed in the morning 0 much less leave my cabin. Maybe it’s that I’m just plain lazy. It’s not like anyone is pushing me to work out – plus I’m due to put on a little winter weight – right?

Truth be told – I think the real reason I am struggling is because of the half marathon looming ahead. I’m scared of what it will be like. I’m scared of failing. But the thing is – it’s easier to accept failure when I have control over it (ie: choosing not to train) than it is to give it my all and end up falling short. The reality is – when I really think about it – I want to succeed more than I fear failure. I spose it’s best to get my butt in gear and let a few drops of sweat fall.

*****

Well – the day’s now done and I look ahead to tomorrow knowing I can do better than today. Sure, I did my bit – went to work, drank water, did yoga and sweat on the bike, but I know I can step it up. Take it up a notch. Tomorrow will be the day I stop the “I think I can” and change it to “I will” – I know what I have to do. I just need to do it.

I started off my journey with this portion of the manifesto full of gusto. I was ready to go. I knew I needed to train for the half marathon and having the little voice in the back of my head telling me that my absolute baseline for each day would be to just break a sweat at some point. That was all, and yet that simple baseline I knew was not near enough for what I wanted to be doing for training for the half marathon. It wasn’t just the fact that I was setting out to complete a half marathon (which I have never done before), but it was that I had also just finished walking the length of the country. I didn’t want to be a disappointment – to myself – in completing the half marathon. I knew what I would be capable of doing given what I was doing while completing Te Araroa Trail and I knew that as time has passed, my fitness levels have been slowly dropping due to my lifestyle balancing out and becoming more “normal.”

05.05.2011

Some days I find it really funny how my brain works. As time has gone on, I am finding it more and more difficult to stay motivated to maintain my “sweat once a day” mantra. I’m still doing it – but the motivation is greatly decreasing. Instead of just kicking my butt in gear, I find the excuses building a stockpile in my head. It’s getting colder. The sun is rising later and I don’t like running in the dark. I’m tired – too tired. I’m becoming busier with everything going on. I’m bored. I honestly don’t feel like it.

As all these thoughts go through my head – my exercise has deteriorated to next to nill. As a result, my energy levels continue to drop, my body feeling like that of a slug. I’ve started noticing slight changes in my skin and muscle definition that isn’t so appealing. Not to mention my stress levels are increasing and my outlook on life is struggling to stay upbeat. Like I said – funny how the brain works. Or at least my brain.

Now, I know that my fitness level is still quite high in comparison to the average person and that it’s not as if I’ve completely fallen off the wagon food-wise, but I also know that I am lying to myself if I were to say I’m happy with where I am at. The truth is – I know what I need to do to be on track and the only reason I’m having a tough time is because no one’s telling me what to do. I don’t “have” to push myself nor do I “have” to keep reaching for my goals. It’s all on my shoulders. It’s up to me. So if I know all this –I suppose it’s time for me to just do it and quit stalling as I continuously try to explain myself.

Half marathon to the left; 10km to the right

As the days continued to fly by me and the day of the half marathon loomed closer, I became increasingly more excited and more terrified of that big day. I knew I could still do better in training, but I also knew that what was done was done and I couldn’t turn back time. I could only make the best of what time I did have left. I switched my treasured morning runs to the afternoons so I could get rid of the excuse that I was “too tired” or it was “too early” or “too cold.” Instead, I did my work-for-accommodation in the morning before heading off to St. James to do housekeeping. Then there were no excuses. By the time I got back to the camp in the afternoon, the day would have warmed up and it was still light enough outside to go running. And so run I did, cramming my last few days with pushing myself a little bit harder in hopes of breaking past the mental block of questioning my ability to do the half marathon.

07.05.2011

Today’s the day. The day of the half marathon. All things considered, I feel pretty chill about the entire thing. I’ve decided to compare the half marathon to some experience I’ve had with Te Araroa Trail and the truth is – there is no comparison. The distance I’ll do today on foot would have taken about 4 hrs with my pack on – today it will take about half that time. There’s no mountains to climb – only 2 small hills. No rivers to cross or trails to find. Plus, at the end of it all it will be the end. A shower and meal is what awaits me.

Not to say that today won’t be difficult. It’s drizzling rain outside and the temperature is cool. But I’m determined to do this. I WILL do it.

Yesterday I concentrated my efforts on sweating my way up the first hill of the route – 2km of up and I was at the top before I knew it. Going into this today knowing that I can do that hill, regardless of the fact that it’s pretty much the beginning of the run, helps tremendously. So yup. 21km. Half a marathon. I’m stoked, but so terrified. My goal in this? Finish it without stopping. Just keep going. And going. And going. Period.

Still all smiles after 2hrs and 20min
running in the rain

And so it is done. Finished. Over. Complete. I find it amazing how I can spend so much time and energy in the buildup of one event only to have it over in the blink of an eye. Okay, maybe it wasn’t over THAT quickly, but still. I did do it. I did what I set out to do. Yesterday I completed the half marathon and did it without stopping. Not only that, but in doing so, I was not the last to finish (not by a long shot) and I managed to finish under my ultimate goal of less than 2.5hrs. I did it in 2hrs and 20min.

I woke up yesterday to find the skies grey and it drizzling rain. I tried to look on the positive side that at least the sun wouldn’t be blinding in my eyes and at least there was no snow on the ground. All I had to run in was my Five Fingers shoes, which aren’t exactly the warmest pair of footwear when the ground is cold. The weather was only a minor part of my thought process. I was stoked that it was the day to do the half marathon. It was time.

Alex and I arrived at the sports complex to get ready to go (she did the 10km run) and by the time the half marathon group set off, the rain was starting to get a little heavier. I was just glad I had previously done the first hill of the route as it allowed me to focus on my pace and forget about all the people stampeding too fast up the hill in the mud that was quickly forming on the track. Making it to the top of that 2km stretch of hill was exhilarating and even more so when I knew that the next few KM would be downhill.

By the time I made it to the first water station around the 5km mark, I was feeling good. The next few KM went just as smoothly until the 2nd hill loomed ahead. Given that this was near the halfway point, it shattered my mental focus – my body wasn’t ready for it. So I made it halfway and then power walked up the rest to the second water station. Then it was downhill again. From then on it was a mission of simply following the people in front of me as we wove our way in and out of the forest, across cold-water streams and around increasingly large muddy patches. By the time I reached the third water station at about 16km my feet were starting to get cold and my muscles tensing up. The air had cooled and the rain had increased, making it a potential recipe for disaster if I didn’t keep going. I didn’t want my muscles to cramp up and I refused to give up. I wanted to finish. I needed to finish.

Eventually I approached the sign to say that there was only 1km left to go. I was stoked. I had made it to the final stretch and I couldn’t be happier. Rounding the corner to the school field, I barely noticed the people cheering everyone over the finish line. I was too busy taking into account the big timer that told me I was finishing under 2.5hrs. I was ecstatic. I had pushed myself further than I ever thought I could go while running and I had done it in miserable weather in Five Finger shoes.

21km in Five Fingers - love it

That won’t be the end of me either. Getting back to the camp to have a hot shower and put on dry clothes, I knew that I was hooked. I know I am not quite ready to jump into doing full marathons or anything, but the half marathon is definitely something I would love to do again. Sweating once a day in preparation for the half marathon was only the beginning. I want that to become part of my entire lifestyle. The high I get from completing something like that half marathon far exceeds the difficult bits of being tired, cold or otherwise unmotivated. Doing it to regenerate my skin is just a bonus.

Life is Full of Setbacks

2011-04-30T13:20:00.000+12:00

Life is full of setbacks. Success is determined by how you handle setbacks.

~ Lululemon

Travel can be tough. Behind all the photos of glorious sunsets, exotic stories of lands from afar, relationships with an united nations of people and adventures jumping out of planes, riding elephants and lazing on white, sandy beaches – it can be difficult. It can be hard making the adjustment into a country that is foreign. It can be challenging trying to balance life between what was left behind and what is happening now in the moment. It can be incredibly complex to not get so lost in the moment of what is going on that everything that once was is lost forever.

Talking with Sam (USA), who is another backpacker at the Family Trust Camp here, the other night, reminded me of the fine line us travelers walk when being away from our homes for a long period of time. There comes a point that all of us reach in which we have to assess just how important our relationships are from back at home. The family we left behind. The friends we said goodbye to. The significant other or potential love our hearts are with.

There comes a point when each and every one of us realizes that we cannot keep up our lives from back at home without completely sacrificing our new lives travelling. Because that is just it. Travelling long term is not as simple as a holiday. It is not a vacation of which you go away for a few weeks to “relax” and “get away” from it all – only to come back refreshed and renewed. Long term travel is a complete life-changing experience. Jobs are quit. Things are put in storage. One-way tickets are bought. We do not know when (or if) we will be back. We set out in search of adventure. In search for a new experience. In search of that perfect wave, mountain, lifestyle, country, something. In search for love. In search for ourselves.

And in doing all of this – there comes a point of which we have to let go of the life we left behind. The only other option is to return home.

Everyone I know has come to this point with regards to long-term travelling. Some have only remembered it as a brief moment in time, where as other struggle to process what they should do for days, weeks or even months. Some call it “loneliness.” Others call it “homesickness.” Whatever it may be, it happens to the best of us and those who reach the other side of it all become more open to the experiences all around them. Life seems fresh – new, even.

This is the point that Sam is at – or at least in the process of letting go of her life back at home. It doesn’t mean that she forgets everyone she left behind or that she doesn’t care. It just means that she is making herself more open to the travel adventures in store for her here. The life she can have here. The friends she’ll make here. The memories that she’ll have forever.

For myself – my setback in the travel world hasn’t been so much of an external force causing conflict in my life. It’s been myself. My mind. My body. Myself.

21.04.2011

Today I was just reminded of what I am aiming to do with my life. For the past few days I have felt as though everything has been a massive blur of going-ons, most of which has just taken me for a ride so fast that I have just now started to catch my breath. And so here I am.

The truth of the matter is that for the past week I’ve let myself slide in the health and fitness department. I’ve been skipping runs – telling myself that it’s too cold outside or that I’m tired or that I’ll do it later. I’ve also been eating way more than I need to, not all of it being healthy food either – again lying to myself that “it’s okay” and that I’ll burn it all off in the runs that I’m not doing. The thing is – I’m really good to lying to myself when it comes to my health and fitness and the stupid bit is that that is one of the few things in life that I have complete control over.

As much as I tell myself that I’m okay with how I look and what I eat and how I live my life, the reality of it all is that I’m not. That’s why I did all that soul-searching on Te Araroa Trail. I finished it knowing that I needed to change my lifestyle if I wanted to reach my goals. It was easy at first, but I know I’ve let myself slide. And that’s not okay with me.

I’ve let myself slide this last week, but here it ends. Right now – because I don’t want to lose everything I gained by doing Te Araroa Trail. I don’t want it all to be for nothing.

And so – back on track I went. And then I slipped off again. On-again, off-again I have been this week. One day waking at the crack of dawn to blast through the forest trails here in a kick-ass hour run that leaves me on a high that I never want to come off of – and then the next day I can barely roll out of bed to face the crisp morning air. I’d rather sleep all day and eat chocolate. Some days I’ve been amazing at keeping hydrated with water and other days it’s all I can do not to forget my water bottle.

It’s been a ridiculous up-and-down rollercoaster ride of motivation, inspiration and fascination at where I’ve been, where I am and where I want to be. But there’s truth in the message that says it’s not the setbacks that count – its how you deal with them. And so here I am. Bring it on.

I refuse to be that person that wishes that they could do something. I will do it. I refuse to have regrets in my life. The past is what makes me who I am today. I refuse to give up. Every day I start fresh. I refuse to limit myself to what I “should” do in life. Anything is possible and life is what you make it. I refuse to be anything less than what I know in my heart of hearts I can be. And so here I am.

27.04.2011

It’s difficult to know where to begin today. My mind feels so full of thoughts – so full of life. Everything is going on and as great as it is, I get the feeling that I’m holding my breath. Holding my breath for it all to fall apart – for me to lose my grasp on everything that I’ve worked for. I suppose I should quit all the worrying and just enjoy the ride that life has given me.

It’s crazy really. Being here in Hanmer Springs. I really do feel like finishing Te Araroa Trail has not just opened up new doors to possibilities I’ve always dreamed of – finishing Te Araroa Trail has meant a fresh start – truly a new beginning in life.

And so here I am – working hard to train for a half marathon. Trying to figure out what to write for my next article with Green Joyment. And life is good. Brilliant, really. I’m completely stoked for what’s to come next.

I have let myself slide – it may not be noticeable to other people – but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know what I can do and who I can be and I won’t settle for less. Half marathons don’t run themselves on their own. A healthy body and mind doesn’t happen overnight. Being at peace with myself doesn’t come without a little effort on my part. And so here I am – ready to give it my all.

I know I have changed from the person I once was when I left home nearly two years ago. I have grown stronger in who I am. I have become more of the person I want to be. Maybe it would have happened regardless of where I was in the world, but I owe a lot of it to the fact that I have been travelling. I don’t know where I would be if I had given into the internal struggle of how to separate myself from the life that was and live in the life that is – maybe I would be in the same place, but I don’t think so.

Travelling can be hard. It’s not all hammocks and good times. But it sure is one hell of a ride.

Do One Thing a Day That Scares You

2011-04-25T15:56:00.003+12:00

~ Title quote by Lululemon

I am not sure I know what I am doing – or how I am going to do it. Quite frankly, I’m a little bit scared. I know that in doing Te Araroa Trail, I finished it thinking and truly believing that I could do absolutely anything that I put my mind to. But now – well now – I am just not so sure. Seems crazy really, but it’s true. I mean, really – what HAVE I gotten myself into?

Really, if I were to dig down deep inside, I would find that as scared as I am with everything going on, I want oh-so-much more. This feeling is incredibly addicting and exhilarating. It’s freeing. It’s knowing that I’m flying high and pushing myself to do what I always wanted to but never really had the guts to do it. Apparently Hanmer Springs is where I’m going to dive in – that’s right – no sense in jumping in with both feet – I’m diving in head first.

This past week, it’s really begun to sink in just what I have signed up to do here in Hanmer Springs. My life has become one of lifestyle – not just any longer about the drag of work every day to get the money to spend the money to go back and make the money again. My life has become so much more. Above my regular job at St. James doing housekeeping, I have started writing articles for a website called Green Joyment. It’s all about becoming eco-friendly in everything we do and it’s crazy to think that I actually got my first article through this past week.

I also have just recently been in touch with Lululemon and I have been approved to get my photographs showcased in the new store opening up in Queenstown the next couple of months. Scared? You bet. As well as excited and completely intimidated. My art won’t just be shown – it will also be for sale as well. Talk about putting myself out there – I can’t wait!

But that’s just the beginning – I recently got the script for the upcoming pantomime production of Robin Hood here in Hanmer Springs. Auditions over with and roles given out – I got a part. Not just any role though – I’m to be Robin Hood himself. I wish I could say that I’ve had a heap of experience in theatre production, but I really haven’t (let alone the fact that my singing voice is nothing amazing) – even still, I’m super stoked to be a part of this as this play will be a big laugh and so much fun to do (even if I’m on the verge of wetting my pants from fear of screwing up).

And so with all this fear inside building up and nowhere to direct my newfound nervous energy – I’ve decided to add another thing to my list of things to try on. I’ve decided to sign up for the local half marathon race set to occur for May 7, 2011. I’ve only ever run a 10km run once. And even then I walked for part of it as I wasn’t in the head space to run the full thing. But here I am after doing Te Araroa Trail and I know that my fitness level is still quite high (and I hope to keep it that way) where I am able to run for an hour every morning without any trouble – 10km is an average distance I’m putting in. There’s not really any reason I shouldn’t be able to push for a half marathon (21km). It’s just the mental block of knowing I have never actually done such a run before in my life that makes me hesitant and completely unsure of myself.

Thinking about all of this makes me wonder why I’m doing it all. Not that I want to back out of all of it – but out of my entire life, this would be one of the few moments of which I have jumped at the chance to try so many different things all at once – most of which scare me to pieces simply because I have never done them before. They’re all things of which other people out there in the world will see me do. See me succeed or fail. And that’s a bloody scary thought. It’s not like the odd time I’ve gotten a new shirt and tried it out around the house to see how I like it first. It’s me getting paid to write my opinions on eco-friendly solutions online for the world to read. It’s me printing my photographs for others to see and decide if they like them enough to purchase them. It’s me deciding to put myself out there and say that “yes” I’ve walked the length of the country, but let’s see if I can run 21km. If I can’t do that – what does it make me? Does it make me any less of a person if I fail at something I never had tried before?

Lululemon has many quotes they frequently put forth for others to be inspired on how to lead a “longer, healthier and more fun” life. One of which challenges everyone to “do one thing a day that scares you.” I have decided that for the next four months of my stay in New Zealand, in Hanmer Springs, that I will take on each one of the countless quotes of Lululemon and try them out. It’s time to stop simply reading them everywhere I go – it’s time to put them into practice. So, with that in mind, my new adventure for life is the adventure of life. People always comment that the grass appears greener on the other side, but I’m determined to appreciate the fact that the grass is pretty green right where I’m at.

Adventures do not necessarily have to be doing rare death-defying excursions that are blatantly different than anything the average person dreams up. Adventures are simply doing something above the line of mediocrity. So, yes, my new adventure may not include a lengthy time span of living in the wild or even in a tent. It might not include major river crossings or wondering how long my one pair of shorts will last. It may not even be about incredible mountain climbs or scaling rocks with a heavy pack strapped to my back. It might not mean fighting my way through Gorse or Bush Lawyer, but an adventure it still will be. Each week I will take on the challenge of one of Lululemon’s principle quotes and test them out – heaven knows where it will take me and, going with the theme of this past week, it scares me a bit. Much like the movie “Yes Man” with Jim Carrey, I will say “yes” and dive in. Life is what you make it and I want to live it with intention. After all, as Whoopie Goldberg once said, “Normal is just a cycle on a washing machine.”

Hanmer Sweet Hanmer

2011-04-21T15:35:00.001+12:00

E huri tō kanohi ki te rā ko te atarangi kei muri I a koe

(Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you)

~ Maori Proverb

It’s official – I have fallen in love. Or at least I think I have based on what everyone around me says love is. Not sure if anyone can ever been 100% confident that what they feel is love. Who knows. Regardless, the way I feel deep down inside is like a million sunny days complete with daises, butterflies and all things cheesy in the romantic manner. There is not just one thing that I can put my finger on that makes me feel this way. It’s the little things. Quite frankly, there is something very magical about Hanmer Springs that one cannot help but fall in love.

Hanmer Springs from above

The other day we had our first snowfall – or at least the first one since I arrive barely two weeks ago. It’s been nearly two years since the last time I got to step in the snow and I didn’t even care that the cold ate away at my fingertips.

APRIL 18, 2011

For the first time since July 2009, I have found snow. Sure, I have seen glimpses of it in the last couple of months here, but never have I been so close to it. This morning I got all ready to do some gardening and I opened up my door to find everything completely covered with snow. I’d forgotten how beautiful and magical snow can make everything. I was left in awe.

Guaranteed – the snow won’t stick around. What little is on the ground will melt away quick enough –it’s just not cold enough right now. Even still, this morning left me unable to do any gardening and instead I bundled up so I could come inside the lounge area for a cup of tea. All I wish for now is a good pair of winter boots and a nice thick winter coat.

It’s so incredibly magical here with the snow. A white blanket covers everything, from the fallen leaves on the ground to the mountain tops that backdrop Hanmer Springs. I love it. I had forgotten what it is like to have snow around – the quiet calm that follows such a snowfall is incredible. Everything is still in its sparkling white beauty. Granted, the snow has since melted from the streets and is only left high up on the mountain tops, but it doesn’t matter. Winter is coming and for the first time in a long time I am excited.

APRIL 21, 2011

Today I was just reminded of what I am aiming to do with my life. For the past few days I have felt as though everything has been a massive blur of going-ons, most of which has just taken me for a ride so fast I have just now started to catch my breath. And so here I am.

Hanmer Springs

“Here I am” is right. Since arriving here in Hanmer Springs, this little town sure knows how to move things are warped speed. Alex and I got here on the night of April 7, completely exhausted from our marathon driving schedule of coming to Hanmer to drop off our things, then back to Christchurch to drop off the car, meet Richard and Co. then come all the way back to Hanmer Springs. By the time I settled into my own cabin at the Hanmer Springs Family Camp that night I felt as I had been hit by a truck – but in a good way. I could feel that I was on the edge of something good – the brink of a new life so full of good things that my only worry was how I would feel when the time came for me to say goodbye to my new home.

The next day I woke up set and determined to find a job. Steve from the family camp had given me the day off from working for accommodation so that I could get “settled in” and so I headed off to town early in the morning to do just that. Groceries were bought. Resumes printed. Jobs applied for. By the end of the day I had two jobs – one as a waitress/barista/bartender at the local pub and another as a housekeeper at a 5-star accommodation in town. I was set.

APRIL 11, 2011

I’ve got so much to say and so little time. My brain is exhausted with the multitude of thoughts crammed in there trying to be processed. Not good. Not good at all.

I just need a bit of breathing room to sort myself out, but I haven’t quite gotten it yet. This is only now my fourth day in Hanmer Springs and already I feel behind. I’ve quit my one job before it even started, made some new friends, worked two shifts housekeeping at St. James, found out Hanmer Springs has a lot more to it than just hot pools, explored some of the forest tracks, walked the 2.5km to/from town numerous times and, as of last night, I’ve auditioned for the local production of Robin Hood. Not to mention, I still have to write an article for New Zealand Fitness magazine (due tomorrow for their August/September issue), catch up on my blog and photos, research for an article for an online eco magazine and apply for my IRD number so I can get paid. Oh yeah, and I need groceries as well as some warmer clothes. The list of things to do seems to be growing by the minute and though I’m completely excited about it all, I have the feeling right now as though I am simply holding my breath in hopes to make it through another day.

It is tough as there is only so much I can do at such a pace. I realize things will slow down (and I got plenty to keep me busy when that does happen), but until then I never really figured life could go at such a warped speed in such a small town . At least I’m not bored!

And so, life has gone on – whipping by me as I try to hang on with a tight grip. At the Hanmer Springs Family Camp I work for accommodation, putting in 2hrs/day of gardening and other odd jobs that need doing. Weeding, raking leaves and piling wood have become a thing of daily occurrence in my life. Each day I pull on my working gloves and grab the wheelbarrow as I head off to do what needs doing. It’s simple enough and a whole lot more satisfying to know that I am doing something to pitch in rather than paying for accommodation elsewhere.

Love it

At work, the standards are high as I work hard to clean whatever needs clean so that St. James will continue to be a high standard of 5-star accommodation. It’s incredibly refreshing to be working somewhere that actually ensures that everything is cleaned up. Any mark, any scuff, any bit of dirt or lint is removed from the rooms so that they are sparkling new by the time we’ve finished with them. True bliss comes into play with the fact that we also make sure we stop for tea every shift and all sit down together to have a cup of tea and biscuit (I commented that this was “very English,” at one point and was corrected as apparently this is also “very Kiwi”).

And that’s the basis of my life. Walking 2.5km to town every day to work housekeeping and then when I’m done I walk back to the family camp to do gardening before it gets dark. No wondering where fresh water is or where the flattest piece of land is to pitch a tent. I don’t have to worry about how much loo roll is left in my pack or how much food I have left to stretch the days. I have finally succeeded in getting back to “normal life” where I can wear jeans if I want and wash my hair every day. It feels good.

And more than that – it feels good to be in a place I can call “home” for the next few months. It feels awesome to be building on relationships with people and making new friends – all the while knowing that I won’t be walking away from it all in another day or two. Even better than that, with Hanmer Springs being so close to Christchurch, the friends Alex and I did make when we were there for the Student Army are people we will get to see more regularly the coming months. But even above and beyond that, I’m stoked to be here for the winter season. With a ski hill around the corner, hot pools in town and so much to do in my spare time – I don’t know if I will ever be ready to leave.

After the Curtain Closes

2011-04-08T16:27:00.000+12:00

APRIL 4, 2011

Now that we’re done there’s no more need to be writing in this journal according to what “Day Number” it is. Nor is there any need to be recording how many KM we’ve walked or any other info regarding “the” trek – because we’re done. Finished. Complete. And it’s freaking weird.

Alex surrounded by all our stuff that
was shipped in from storage in Auckalnd

I hope I will always remember it all. Remember waking up every morning not having a clue as to what is going to happen next. Remember the pain. The crazy mountain climbs. Remember the cold mountain rivers. The smell of goat. The smell of dead animal. Remember the different plants – those that were lovely and those that did everything in their power to prevent us from going forward. The farmland. The beaches. The rain. The sun. Remember the valleys and mountain ridgelines. Remember the dirt and grime. The blisters. The aches and pains. Remember the sunny afternoons tanning in bikinis and the never-ending struggle to make the crazy tan lines disappear. Remember gritting my teeth against the wind. Against the traffic. Against the heat. Against the cold. Remember the many times I fell. The many times I wanted to quit, but didn’t. Remember the crazy adventure of Te Araroa Trail. The mishap of trail markers. The overgrown trail portions. The non-existent trails. Remember the people. Remember New Zealand. Remember each and every waking moment of our journey.

And as I remember it all, I aim to move forward in my life as the person I have become. I no longer feel as though I am on the same path as I was when I first started. I have come out the other side of Te Araroa Trail feeling more focused. More in tune with who I am. Stronger. More determined. Enlightened on the life I want to lead.

But figuring out where to begin has been incredibly hard and overwhelming. How can I when I literally have to start from scratch? Finishing the trail I have realized that I am left with a blank canvas for which to begin the process of designing who I want to be. I have no clothes. No make-up. No jewelry. No anything to my name. No cell phone. No job. No home. No nothing.

And so I begin. A new journey. A new adventure. The adventure of life.

It feels so surreal to be here in Queenstown after talking about it for so long. Since Alex and I started trekking Te Araroa Trail, and even before we started, we were dreaming about what we would do once we finished. Not just what we wanted to do to celebrate that fact that we just walked the entire length of New Zealand, but also what we wanted to do after the celebration died down and “real” life kicked in. And here we are. It’s no longer just a dream, it is our reality.

Alex and I ready for a night out to celebrate (FINALLY)

Arriving here at Reaves Lodge in Queenstown on April 3 after a whirlwind of finishing in Bluff and hitching our way up to Queenstown, making a final stop at the local grocery store for some food for dinner, we quickly took some “before” photos of us in our trekking clothes and excitedly stripped them off for the last and final time. Our smelly boots were banished outside our room and the old socks got chucked into the bin. No longer did we have to wear the same underwear, the same pair of shorts or the same shirt again. We were done and it felt awesome.

Cracking open a bottle of wine, Alex set to sorting through her things and getting comfortable while I took my first shower of the rest of my life. Scrubbing down never felt so good as the hot water pelted down. All the dirt. All the grime. Everything was washed clean, right down to between my toes and behind my ears. I washed my hair. Twice. Three times in fact. The shower continued to steam up as I cleaned every inch of myself. Five and a half months of walking the length of New Zealand without a care to how I cleaned myself had taken a toll. I now cared. I wanted that clean feeling. I wanted to know that when I showered I wasn’t going to get dirty again within the next five minutes from walking back to the tent.

I relished that shower. The feeling of the hot water. Of the soapy suds renewing my skin. I treasured the moment I finished and was able to wrap myself in a large, white, fluffy towel – one of which I knew was mine for the next 3 days. One of which would be there should I want to take another shower again. Coming back out to the main room – our main room – I sunk down into one of the chairs with a sigh. I looked over to Alex with a big dopey grin on my face and saw my expression mirrored on her face. The room. The towels. The beds. The sheets. The fridge. The bathroom. The toilet paper. The mirror. Everything. It was better than Christmas. Better than my birthday. Better than anything great and lovely in the world. The feeling of being there in that moment was the best feeling – the best high – I have ever had in my 24 years of living. That was it. I wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. I wanted to just be and let the moment roll over me for all of eternity. We had done it. We had finished.

No more trekking. No more tent sleeping. No more same-short wearing. No more smelly socks or leaky boots. No more 20kg pack wearing. No more greasy hair or dirty finger nails. No more food rationing. No more sleeping bag pillows. No more deflated mats or broken trekking poles. No more duck-taped Ziploc bags. It is over – all over. I will miss it – surely I will miss it. But right now I just enjoy the fact that we are done. It’s not just the feeling of knowing we did what we set out to do, but it’s also just the fact that we have finished. And I don’t know what I am most happy about.

Since being in Queenstown, Alex and I have pampered ourselves with hot showers, real beds, fresh food and “normal people” clothes. We have spent time walking around Queenstown and planning for where we go from here (fingers are crossed for Hanmer Springs). One night we went out to a local pub and met up with a friend from Broome who worked there. Alex, Siobhan and I hung out in the pub by the log fire, enjoying the live band playing into the night. It was bliss. Absolute bliss.

It's a good thing the truck has a sign on its back end. Heaven
knows we would have missed seeing these houses otherwise.

By the time we were due to check out of Reaves Lodge on April 6, neither one of us was ready to say goodbye. Our stuff from storage in Auckland had arrived the day before and we were completely overloaded with stuff that it was overwhelming to think of how we were going to be able to not only pack up, but find some way to get out of Queenstown and head to Hanmer Springs. Armed with two massive backpacks each plus numerous amounts of small bags stuffed to the max, there was no way we were able to hitch our way out of town and hoping on the local bus didn’t seem like a viable option either.

With the help of the local staff at Reaves Lodge (Thanks John and Zelda) we were able to get in contact with a rental company that needed a vehicle relocated from Queenstown to Christchurch. The deal was that we had to get the car there within 24 hours and all we had to pay for was the gas. Given the amount of luggage we had, this was a sweet deal for us. And so we waved goodbye to Reaves Lodge and set out in our little blue car to head towards Hanmer Springs – not only were we done the trek, we were wearing “normal people” clothes and had a car to drive. Life couldn’t get much better.

And drive we did. Popping into Wanaka on our way up and then over to the east coast where we drove until we got tired. Then we pulled over, piled on the clothes and climbed into our sleeping bags – crammed in our little car we caught some shuteye until sunrise the next morning. And then we put the key in the ignition and drove onwards. To Hanmer Springs we went to drop off our luggage before we zipped back to Christchurch to drop off the car.

It was strange to be back in Christchurch after all that had happened. Last time we were there it was for an entirely different purpose – to help those in need through the Student Army. This time we went to drop off a car and meet up with friends we had made on our previous visit. It was awesome to catch up with our friends – especially considering they were as excited as us about the fact that Alex and I were wearing “normal people” clothes (jeans!).

And now we’ve made it to Hanmer Springs.

Hard to know what to do now that we're normal people again

APRIL 8, 2011

Well… it’s my first official day in Hanmer Springs here and I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve gotten settled here at my work-for-accommodation at the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp with my own little cabin (tiny and cold) and it feels good, but I’m still a little hesitant to fully relax yet. I still need a job – BAD. That’s my main goal for today and I only hope it goes alright.

The adventure in Queenstown already seems like a world away.

Finish Line in Sight

2011-03-28T11:58:00.000+13:00

PRESS RELEASE - MARCH 27, 2011

On October 15, 2010 Alex Ward (England, 28) and Shalane Hopkins (Canada, 24) put on their trekking boots and stepped out into New Zealand's wilderness with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. The goal was to walk the entire length of New Zealand from Cape Reinga to Bluff following its newest (and not officially opened) trail, Te Araroa. The idea for the adventure, which was first formed in Australia where Alex and Shalane met, was a unique way of exploring a country, but has since become so much more.

Since starting the lengthy tramp of over 3000km at Cape Reinga so many months ago, the female duo has been working hard to raise money for Solomon Islands. Teaming up with Indigo Foundation (Australian-based), Ward and Hopkins found cause to help support Indigo Foundation's project in the Guadacanal coastal community of Turusuala. Aiming to help this struggling community get on its feet with a program designed to allow the people to move forward through education on hygiene, life skills and literacy - Alex and Shalane have been spending their tramping time advocating for this community in hopes to inspire people to give to the cause. "It's not about guilting people to give money - we're not out there demanding a certain amount for people to give. Alex and I believe that people should give because they want to, because they believe in what Indigo Foundation is doing in this community as much as we do," Hopkins says. Their goal is $10000AUD which will fund the entire program for two years.

The women's efforts haven't ended there either. While forging rivers, climbing mountains, scrambling over logs, avoiding gorse and pitching their cozy two-man tent hundreds of times, the women quickly came up with another idea to promote change in the world. "As we were walking up in the Northland we began to take note of the rubbish lying around everywhere as we past," Ward explains, "We figured we should do something about it." And so they did. They began picking up one piece of rubbish each day and spread the world to fellow Te Araroa Trail trampers in hopes that they'd take on the challenge as well. Their motto of "every little bit counts" continued through their adventure.

Highlights of the lengthy pathway have included many aspects that New Zealand is well known for such as 90 Mile Beach, Bay of Islands, Auckland, Tongariro Crossing, Whanganui River, Hunter's Pass, Nelson Lakes and Queenstown. However, the trail also contains major highlights that not even the average New Zealander has experienced such as the Richmond Ranges. The ten days of tramping through New Zealand's best-kept-secret has remained a vivid memory in Ward and Hopkins' minds. Even more than the scenery they have walked past (and around, on top of, under and through), both women recognize their experiences with the local people as being the most memorable aspect of the adventure. In particular, their experience in Christchurch has become one of the most significant memories of the entire tramping experience.

Christchurch is not on the route for Te Araroa Trail, but that didn't matter for Ward and Hopkins when the earthquake of February 22 occurred. They had been restocking for their adventure in Greymouth and upon hearing of the devastating disaster to the east, they opted to put their plans on hold and head there in hopes they might be of some help to the city. "When it happened, we didn't have food to give. No extra bed to spare. No money to offer. Not even a spare lunch to hand out. All we had was time," Shalane explains. And so they put on their trekking boots and packed up the tent and out to Christchurch they went. Alex and Shalane spent the next 10 days helping in whatever way they could through the Student Army. With their tent pitched in the garden of a local resident, the women got up each morning to shovel silt, hand out pamphlets and do whatever needed to be done to help those in Christchurch begin the process of picking up the pieces. "We went their to help out people in Christchurch and left completely blown away by the heart of the city," Ward stated, "The people there and everywhere around the country pulled together to do what needed to be done. We were priviledged to be part of that." By the time Ward and Hopkins reconnected with Te Araroa Trail in Arthur's Pass, they were left inspired further by the idea that if "everyone did just a little to help each other out, the world would be a better place."

And now, after over five months of tramping, Alex and Shalane are coming to the end of their journey. People who have asked why they have chosen to walk 3000km to see a country will probably get the answer that they simply "don't know." Those that are wondering what they plan on doing upon finishing in Bluff need not - Hopkins regularly states that she plans to "sit down" for a while. The one thing that is certain for both Ward and Hopkins is that they feel they have acheived something more than either women imagined they would. The memory of the adventure will surely stay with them forever. Hopkins and Ward are also quick to point out that they couldn't have done it without any of the people and companies supporting them. Having received sponsorship through some of New Zealand's own such as Macpac, Swazi, Bivouac and Back Country Cuisine, Shalane and Alex state that without them, they would have had to stop long before the finish line was in sight.

As for a finish date, they plan to finish their journey in Bluff on April 3rd. Though once doing so, they won't be completely done. Ward and Hopkins plan to update their blogs and keep the donation link to the Solomon Islands open until the end of April for those who "didn't think we'd do it," Ward says, and wish to donate upon the women completing the trail. Shalane also hopes to write a book on the adventure, but says it will be a while as finding jobs in New Zealand will come at a higher priority initially. All in all, Alex and Shalane have had an epic adventure discovering New Zealand and though they both say they'll miss the "lifestyle" Te Araroa Trail gave them, they're excited to get back to "normal life" for a while - even if it's just to be able to exchange a cold river with a hot shower.

To find out more about Alex and Shalane's adventures, donate to the Solomon Islands and/or contact them, visit their websites at: http://www.missionlivelife.com/ (Alex Ward) and http://www.onelifeadventures.com/ (Shalane Hopkins).

BBQ Bash

2011-03-27T13:00:00.019+13:00

Sunrise near Twizel

After leaving Twizel, we walked. Not much else to do, but that. Same story, different day. The days all blended into one big one of waking up, packing up, walking until we were tired and then finding a place to camp. On March 20, it turned out to be a particularly long day of 32 KM on difficult terrain. Essentially we woke up so that we could climb up to reach a saddle and go down the other side. What we didn’t take into consideration was that the actual route over the saddle was both uncut and unmarked. The most difficult portion of the Te Araroa Trail with regards to navigation. Alex and I have been increasingly more confident with our orientation skills using the map and compass, getting good enough to pinpoint where we are on the map by reading the topographical lines defining the mountainous terrain. But we were in entirely new territory with a non-existent trail. Oh yeah, and we happened to pick a morning with severe cloud coverage. Visibility was particularly non-existent.

After a mishap of following the original cut track and markers up to a set of mountain peaks about a kilometer from where we wanted to be (and then be redirected by a couple of trampers packing up their tent from freedom camping among the peaks), we were on our way. Kind of. The clouds hung so low, that Alex and I would have to stand in place with our map out and orientate ourselves with what little information we could gather as the clouds moved over the mountain peaks. Staring intently into the white mass, my brain hurt and I wondered if we’d catch a break in order to move forward. It was critical that we didn’t move to quickly without knowing both where we were going and where we were coming from as it was moments like that that people got lost. Or worse. And Alex and I were determined not to become part of the statistics.

Our little pea pod

Just as I was about to suggest to Alex that we turn back to the cut trail and make our way down to safety back the way we came, the clouds split for a few seconds, giving us a glimpse of a mountain peak. I was able to match it to what we had on our map and we moved slowly forward. Bit by bit, the clouds would continue to show us aspects of the mountain peaks around us and we carefully matched them with what we had on our map to ensure we wouldn’t walk over the wrong saddle and end up somewhere completely different from where we wanted to go. Hours later we managed to get to the other side of the trail and spotted the river we were meant to follow out along the valley floor. We had done it. Once safely at the river, Alex and I opted to stop for lunch. Our One Square Meal (OSM) bars never tasted so beautiful.

From there it was a relatively easy journey along the valley with minimal thinking involved. The hours passed us by as we made our way out to the main river – Ahuriri River – it was our last challenge of the day. Dead tired and hungry for dinner, all Alex and I wanted to do was stop and set up camp. But we also knew we shouldn’t. To cut short our day without crossing the river would mean that we were adding extra time and distance onto the following days. We had a schedule to maintain if we wanted to make it to Lake Hawea in time. And neither one of us felt like waking up the following morning to have to face getting our boots wet first thing in order to cross the river.

And so we faced the Ahuriri. It didn’t look too terrible – quite small in comparison to both the Rakaia and Rangitata Rivers that were considered “safety zones” according to Te Araroa Trust. Just four braids in the river and Alex and I would be on the other side. There was even a lovely flat piece of land on the other side covered in bright green grass. It was perfect. We would camp there.

One of the many reasons we get up so early

Alex and I crossed the first three braids of the river without an issue. We had to link our arms for them to ensure that we were crossing as safely as possible – the river water came up to mid-thigh in some areas and given that we were tired and the water was fairly strong, it only made good sense. We reached the final braid of the river and began assessing where we could cross it. It looked pretty deep and it was difficult to see the bottom of the water. Plus the water was going faster than the other three braids. Alex and I found the best spot we could, took a deep breath and linked arms. We agreed we would go with the one foot method. Only one of us would step a foot at any time, allowing us to keep three feet on the ground at any given point. In we went.

Right from the get go, the water was strong and deep. So strong that we had to fight each time to just get our leg forward to put it down. A few feet into the river braid and it became so hard to get our feet secure on the bottom of the river that I had to put all my effort and concentration into ensuring I was stable. The water pushed hard on my legs, threatening to topple me and it seemed as though the fact that I was carrying a pack on my back did nothing to weigh me down. The water level crept up above my hips and I pushed the worry of my bag getting wet out of my head. We weren’t even halfway.

Then there was this moment when I looked up and saw the patch of grass on the other side of the river waiting for us to put our tent up on it and I knew we were close. So close. So desperately close to where we wanted to finish for the end of the day that I wanted to cry. We had been going for nearly 12 hours and I was tired. Not to mention the fact that I was also hungry, wet and cold. I wanted to be done and I could see the end right there. Almost within reach. But the river water was so strong that it was becoming harder to visualize us crossing the river without being swept away in the current. We hadn’t even gotten halfway and already the two of us – linked together with weighted packs on and only moving one foot at a time – were being moved every which way and were fighting with everything we had to stay up right. It was a choice between admitting defeat or being defeated. We admitted defeat.

Tin Hut (private)

So back we went, back across the other braids in the river. Back the way we came. Back to the original shoreline we had wanted to pitch our tent on. Only this time we came wet, cold, and more hungry and tired. We didn’t speak. There was nothing to say – we both felt completely defeated and didn’t know what to do. So we set up camp, got out of our wet clothes and ate some dinner.

The next day we woke up to glumly pack everything up and walk the 6km south to the bridge crossing the river before walking the 6km back up to where we would have been had we crossed the river the day before. So much for not having an extra long day to look forward to. Onwards we went.

MARCH 22/11 . DAY #159 . 20 KM .

I am plain old exhausted. There’s no secret about it. I am plum pooped. Done. Finished. I wish I could get out now and escape. But with every fiber of my being I know that I can’t. It would be perhaps the worst timing of all to feel this way which sucks big time.

Lake Hawea

As it stands, we have made it here to Lake Hawea as planned – but we didn’t anticipate being welcomed with such open and loving arms as we have been. Bless Mike and Sarah here at Lake Hawea’s Holiday Park as they not only recognized our faces as we walked up to the front office, but they put us up in one of their cabins, showed us their best hot showers and let us do our laundry (mine hasn’t been properly washed in over a month) upon arrival. To top it off, Sarah’s putting together a BBQ tonight for us and tomorrow the newspaper for the Otago region is interested in chatting to us about what we are doing. Fabulous.

The only issue in this wonder-world scenario that sucks is that I am SOOO incredibly ready to be done this trek that I can’t wait to just be done. I am not mentally prepared for inquires about the trail. Not prepared for newspaper interviews. I’m simply not prepared for being suitably “inspirational” for others right now. But the bottom line is that both Alex and I have to be. It is part of our responsibility in what we have come to achieve. Part of our goal. Our purpose in this trek. To inspire. So if that means one night of eating at a free BBQ to laugh and be merry with locals and share our adventurous stories then so-be-it. I think I can handle that.

MARCH 26/11 . DAY #163 . 10 KM .

Homemade blackberry pie - YUM!

Yet another day has gone by. Another day closer to the end of everything at all. And I am so beyond excited I can hardly stand it. Waking up this morning I could hear the rain falling down on the hut’s roof and all I could think was how much I wish I was done. Finished. Complete. I did not want to walk anywhere.

But that meant nothing. In a hut, a fair walk away from any form of civilization – in the wild – there is no say involved. I HAD to walk. HAD to keep going. No choice involved. And that realization sucked. Big time.

That being said – today’s walk from Highland Creek Hut to Roses Hut was really lovely. But I still want to be done so bad it hurts. I don’t want to walk anymore. I want to be done. To finish. To leave it all behind. But I’ve committed myself to doing this trek with Alex – “Till Bluff do us part,” if you will – and I want to do it right. We only finish this trek once and there will be no turning back once we do.

So here I am. Wanting to do right by Alex. Wanting to do right by Te Araroa Trail. But wanting to be done so badly it hurts. So I keep my mouth shut because in the grand scheme of things, whether we finish today or in eight days – we’re still going to be done this adventure of a lifetime pretty quickly and that’s the only thing that keeps me going.

Eventually Alex and I made it into Queenstown and now that we’re here it feels as though I am living in a dream. For so long we have been talking of getting here so that we could book everything needed for when we finish in Bluff, as Queenstown will act as our stomping ground in celebration of finishing. I can’t believe how close we are to the end – to Bluff we go!

TOTAL = 2657 KM

Hitting the Breaking Point

2011-03-18T12:46:00.012+13:00

MARCH 17/11 . DAY #154 . 12 KM .

Tomorrow I have a physio appointment booked. It’s time. My knees are shot, which causes my hip to act up. My right Achilles is strained – pain flares up through my heel. And then the entire sole of my foot feels as though it has pulled apart. Great.

So physiotherapy appointment it is. I only hope I have enough left in me to finish this trek. Minor details.

Royal Hut - where Prince Charles once stayed

Yup. That’s right. Here we are in Twizel and it’s my time to shine in the injury department. After the Rangitata River Alex and I spent the next few days following the track over saddles, across rivers and through tussock-covered land. Perfect territory for my body to decide to give up. Climbing up Stag Saddle (at 1925m high, it is said to be the highest point of the Te Araroa Trail) my Achilles tendon started to feel strained. I had to adjust the way I climbed upwards to avoid the shooting pain I’d feel on the back of my ankles with each step I took.

Reaching the top of the saddle proved to be a memorable moment in our journey, but more so for the fact that our trail notes told us to “follow the markers” down the other side to the valley where we were to continue along the river to the next hut. The bit that wasn’t mentioned is though there were multiple markers present within the next nearly 10km; they were so spread out from one another that Alex and I were wishing we had a pair of binoculars on us to spot them. At each marker we got to, Alex and I would have to stop and strain our eyes to the furthest point we could see in order to try and spot the next marker hidden in amongst the tussock-ridden ground. It was like a real life version of Where’s Waldo as it became somewhat of a game to see how quickly we could find the next marker to continue onwards.

Coming down the saddle itself proved to be a mission as my knees began to indicate that they were not having much fun anymore. I chose to press on, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling under my knee caps. The day was not over yet. There was no option but to continue. And so we did.

After a quick break at the next hut, Alex and I decided to make the final push of the day – the only issue being that after the break (of which I taped up my Achilles tendon) my knees had completely stiffened up. Now, every step I took, caused severe pain to scream out from beneath my kneecaps with every. Single. Step. I fought back the tears because there was nothing I could do about it right then. Every couple of steps I had to stop and take a deep breath, trying to relax the seized up muscles and tendons around my knees. It’s all part of the adventure – right?

Alex climbing up Stag Saddle

As I went, I started to take chalk of my “injuries.” None of them were anything to lose sleep over on their own, but put together (including the hip pain that came from walking differently due to the knee pain) I knew I had to do something about it. I wanted to finish Te Araroa Trail, but I didn’t want to finish it having ruined my body.

And so here we are in Twizel doing just that. I set off to the physio today with the knowledge that I may come back out with news that I should not be continuing the trek. Not exactly the happiest thought I have ever had in my head, but it was there just the same.

Fortunately, when the physiotherapist asked me “What’s wrong?” and I listed off my countless points of pain (knees, hip, Achilles and foot), he was able to go through each one and account the pain to be a warning from my body rather than an actual injury. That pretty much just means that my body has about had enough of walking – of walking all day with a pack on my back. It’s time to finish up this trek and finish it before I actually do seriously injure myself.

Alex and I make it to the top of Stag Saddle (1925m)

I went back to the caravan park to inform Alex of the “good” news that I can still walk, but I need to be careful. Armed with new stretching exercises to relieve the tension in my muscles and tendons during each break of the day, I taped up my foot and packed up my gear – again. We’re off - on a mission to the finish line. Heaven knows what tomorrow brings and I only hope that my body hangs on there – a few more weeks to go.

I hope I can do it.

STOP! Safety Zone

2011-03-14T13:04:00.013+13:00

After a total of 17 days off from tramping, Alex and I took to the trail again. It both felt incredibly foreign and completely like home – all at the same time. Everything felt utterly insignificant and yet entirely refreshing, but most of all, everything hurt.

Back on the track, Alex and I take a break

My body has been resting so much in the last few weeks that it’s currently wondering what the heck is going on now that Alex and I are back on track walking extra long days with 20kg on our backs. Shoveling silt in Christchurch and walking the streets to hand out pamphlets all day was nothing in comparison to Te Araroa Trail and so now that we’re back into the swing of things my body is screaming at me in protest. I’ve told it to suck it up. We still have a long way to go.

The distance alone is something to keep us pushing forward, but when we arrived back in Arthur’s Pass on March 6; we could see a lovely layer of snow had sprinkled the tops of the mountains. Te Araroa Trail is no longer just something we want to finish sooner rather than later, it has become a race against the season change.

MARCH 8/11 . DAY #145 . 35 KM .

“Second Day Syndrome.” Or at least that’s what I call it. It’s what happens to my mental state every time we “restart” trekking and I hit Day #2. My body aches in pain and my mind screams for me to stop. I become lazy and lethargic, wanting to take extra long breaks and eat all the time. The first day I’m fine. Third day I’m great. It’s the second day that truly throws me for a loop.

View from above - where we've walked from

Regardless of that fact, Alex and I still put in for along day today and it feels good to know we’ve done it regardless of the Second Day Syndrome. Bring it on.

By March 9, Alex and I had made it to our next food drop at Glenthorne Station near Lake Coleridge. We opened our food box only to find out rather quickly that there was no way we would be able to carry all that food. When we were in Christchurch there was so much food being handed out to the student army that Alex and I were able to stock up on muesli bars, scroggin and all things trek-worthy. We were so set with regards to food that by the time we reached Glenthorne Station there was much need for us to even pick up more food. And so we took what we could, squished it into what little space was left in our packs and sent the rest of our food onwards.

From there we set off to conquer the Rakaia River by none other than hitching a ride around. Now, before everyone gasps to say we cheated in doing this, I will explain. This well known massive river is set in a deep gorge and is so powerful and deep that it is ridiculous to consider crossing it on foot. Naturally, Te Araroa Trail has made that part of the trail a safety zone. The only way to cross it is to go around. It was a “natural break” to the trail and because it would have taken Alex and I an extra day or two to walk around it (all on the highway), we opted to speed up the process. The only issue was that the ride we got around couldn’t take us all the way to the trailhead on the other side. So we needed a ride with a second car.

Alex and I stood on the side of that road for what seemed like an eternity, quickly finding out that the road was so quiet that the main form of traffic was farmers herding their sheep from one paddock to the next. And so, as we watched them work, driving by on their ATVs, Alex and I occupied ourselves by playing I Spy, 20 Questions and other games we made up such as throwing pebbles at a big rock to see who could hit it first.

About two hours later the school bus (more like a van with a sign stuck on it saying “school bus”) drove by and asked what we were up to. We told the driver where we were hoping to go and he offered to take us at 6am the next morning before he picked up the kids for school. We agreed and then promptly went into the bush to find a camp spot for the night.

At promptly 6am the next morning the driver came and picked us up and took us to the trailhead. Definitely made my first trip on a school bus memorable with Alex and I squished in the back with our packs, reading the newspaper the driver brought, chatting up the driver and watching the sunrise. Brilliant way to start the day!

The day continued on as lovely as it started. And so did the next day. And the next. Before we knew it, we made it to Manuka Hut. As sweet as its name.

MARCH 13/11 . DAY #150 . 31 KM .

Me crossing a braid in the Rangitata River

Ever since Christchurch, I’ve felt as though a bit of the adventure in this trek had been lost. As though maybe Alex and I reached a climatic point in our journey and from now on it is more a matter of making some distance while counting down the days until we reach Bluff. Today I was proved wrong.

Today began with Alex and I waking earlier than everyone else (6am) in Manuka Hut to get ready to be on the track by 7am. It was to be just another day, but with one exception. We had the minor detail of having to get to the other side of Rangitata River. Not an easy task given the sheer magnitude of the river’s width. At about 3km wide, it doesn’t take one shouldn’t cross it in bad weather.

Last night Alex and I had been informed that rain was on its way – for tomorrow. That meant our window of opportunity to cross the Rangitata River was quite small. We had to do it today or risk getting stuck waiting for the water levels to go down. And so we went.

Reaching the rivers “edge” just north of Potts River, Alex and I took a deep breath and headed onwards. It took us a mere 2.5 hours to cross the 42 braids of the massive Rangitata River and once on the other side we were beat. With only enough energy to set up tent, chow down on some Back Country Cuisine and go to sleep. Tomorrow the adventure continues.

A DOC Hut

As the Earth Shakes

2011-03-06T12:54:00.002+13:00

FEBRUARY 24/11 . DAY #133 . REST DAY #38 .

As I sit here and watch the news on Christchurch I am overcome with this feeling of wanting to help. I want to be there, working, helping, doing what I can do to pitch in. They have opened up the option of being able to volunteer and I want to be there.

The thing is, I can. I could. Today we (Alex and I) plan on leaving Greymouth to head to Arthur’s Pass. But we don’t have to. We could just as easily head on further east to Christchurch. We don’t have to go to Arthur’s Pass. No one but us says we have to.

A boulder rolled through this house

But what is it that we should do? Should we be finishing Te Araroa Trail as we planned or should we go and do what we can in a city that has fallen to pieces? It severely lays heavy on my mind and I just don’t know which route to go. On the one hand, the entire purpose of our trek is to finish it. It’s to help promote Indigo Foundation’s project in Solomon Islands. It’s to have an adventure. But here we are with an opportunity to do something hands on – to help people. That’s what life is all about. It’s all about life. Not about material possessions. Not about money. Not about work. Life is about life. And this is an opportunity for us to help.

So which way do we go? Which path do we take? And does it matter if Alex and I want the same thing?

***

Well – after a bit of thought and discussion, Alex and I have decided to go to Christchurch. How could we not? I realize that they might turn us away once we get there or we may get there and stay so long we risk not being able to finish in Bluff. But it’s worth the risk and it’s a hell of a lot better than not doing anything.

And that’s the thing – if I had money to give, I would. If I had a home to open up to a stranger, I would. If I had food to make or extra clothes to spare – it would all be for the people of Christchurch. But I don’t have any of that. All I have is my time and myself. That’s all I have and so that’s what I give. I just want to help. Just a little bit. I don’t care how big of a difference I make – I just want to help make one. Every little bit counts. I want to do my bit.

So at this point Alex and I have said “goodbye” to Greymouth and have found our way back to Arthur’s Pass area again. It feels like so much has happened since we were last here and yet it feels like we were here just yesterday. I do not know what tomorrow brings. I do not know where we will go or what we will do for food and shelter. All we have is our tent and tramping food. We have enough water for a day or so. That is all.

And we have hope. Hope in the future. Hope for things to come. Hope for all things good. Hope for all things of love. All we need is love.

FEBRUARY 25/11 . DAY #134 . REST DAY #39 .

It’s difficult to know what will happen in the next few days here. Today we managed to hitch a ride in to Christchurch by a local resident. By the time we arrived in the garden city, he had offered to let us pitch our tent on his front lawn. His house is in the outer suburb of Spreydon where the effects of the 6.3 quake can be seen. Liquefaction can be viewed along all the streets and potholes are scattered about, yet we are still about a good 30 minute walk to the CBD.

I don’t know how people can do this – those that live here. How do they continue day in and day out with the emotional stress and strain of the earthquake? I feel the stress of it and I have only just been here a few hours. The aftershocks alone leave everyone on edge. Everywhere you look there is something not quite right with the city and the emotional strain of trying to find somewhere to fit in and try and help out is beyond training. I only hope that tomorrow we are able to find something. Anything.

FEBRUARY 26/11 . DAY #135 . REST DAY #40 .

The Student Army marches on into a neighborhood

It’s amazing to me in how Alex and I can set out this morning in hopes to be able to help the people of Christchurch and yet return back to our tent later in the day feeling as though we were helped more than anyone else. What is it with Kiwis that just keep on giving even when there’s nothing left to give? I can look back on our time since arriving here in Christchurch and all I see is people who are so generously helping Alex and me out while being here that it feels as though we have done nothing on our end to give back.

Today Alex and I managed to find our way to the University and joined the masses of people in line to sign in for the Student Army. From there we happened on a city bus and were taken to an area of the city to work. And work we did. Armed with shovels and wheelbarrows we marched down the streets like the army we were and started door-knocking to find someone needing help. It was amazing to see the extent of liquefaction on the streets – the pavement all cracked and covered with water.

Lunch time came and we were overwhelmed by the food that was provided. Here we are trying to give back to a community that’s lost nearly everything and they end up giving us more in return. A hot lunch in the park was followed by tea from an elderly man while we helped clean up his front yard. Then, on our way back to the university at the end of the day we were met with more food that the locals had prepared for us volunteers. I was completely overwhelmed. I feel like I haven’t done nearly enough to deserve such kindness.

FEBRUARY 27/11 . DAY #136 . REST DAY #41 .

People are without water. Without electricity. Without homes and yet they still hope. The people of Christchurch have this amazing ability to look disaster in its face and still be able to continue on living as though they have only merely a scratch to worry about. Such as was my experience today when I spoke with a local who happened to be clearing some liquefaction and when I asked if he needed any help, he stated that he was alright as he was just “playing around.” Like a kid in a sandbox he was.

FEBRUARY 28/11 . DAY #137 . REST DAY #42 .

Today Alex and I headed off in the early hours of the morning to walk to the university. Today we worked on the street team again and ended up going to the area of North Brighton and surrounding suburbs. Completely and utterly devastating.

Road damage

Broken water pipes. Leaning power lines. Crumbling houses. Piles of silt. Flooded roads. No power. No running water. Raw sewage. It was all there and completely overwhelming if I sat to think about it. All I could do was continue to hand out pieces of paper that contained info regarding services available. Numbers to call. On the phones they can’t use. Brilliant. With any luck our feedback on the difficult situation at hand would be dealt with ASAP.

MARCH 1/11 . DAY #138 . REST DAY #43 .

It’s hard to believe that today is the first day of March. Even harder to believe that not only are we not done our trek, but that we’re in the midst of volunteering to help Christchurch clean-up after its tragic earthquake.

Right now it’s the early hours of the morning and Alex and I woke up to use the kitchen (breakfast) and toilet before Richard (the university student whose house’s lawn we’re pitching our tent on) leaves to go to the university to set up for the student army. And now we wait (Alex attempts to go back to sleep) until we trundle on over ourselves.

This entire experience in Christchurch has been incredible and essentially life-changing. It will be difficult to figure out the best time to move on from here as no matter when we leave, we will always be leaving before everything is finished. So we take it one day at a time.

And one day at a time is about all I can function at this point in time. The amount of sheer devastation I’ve seen each day in this city overwhelms me. The fallen buildings. Homes doomed to dangerous to live in. The silt. The flooding. The stench of raw sewage as it pumps into the rivers, streams and streets. The army personnel ensuring everyone stays safe. And the faces – young and old of people who are desperately clinging to the last shred of hope they have in their lives returning to normal. But what IS “normal” when everything around has fallen to pieces – literally?

Not all is horrible though. Just as this earthquake has brought out the bad in people. The looters. The sadness. The desperation. It has also brought about a lot of good. It’s brought people together, not just from the locals of Christchurch, but from New Zealand as a whole – as well as the rest of the world. There are people giving free food and water. Gas stations giving out gas. Massage therapists working out the knots of stress from the shoulders. Strangers hugging strangers. People offering their spare rooms for those in need.

Earthquake damage

And the volunteers. They don’t call it a “student army” for nothing. Hundreds of students, visitors, locals and heaven knows who else, gather every single day at the university to help. Arriving on foot, in car or on bicycle with a shovel in hand, we line up to sign in. And then we’re shipped off by bus to the designated area that needs support.

Yesterday Alex and I helped in the street team and we ended up riding a Kiwi experience bus. I suppose that’s why they say “never say never” as I honestly had NEVER thought I would ride one of those buses, much less ride it with a load of other people wearing high-vis vests so we can go help those in need.

It’s amazing to see everyone came together for the common cause of helping Christchurch get back on their feet. It seems as though the job will be never-ending, but bit by bit we’ll get there. One day at a time.

MARCH 2/11 . DAY #139 . REST DAY #44 .

I’ve never seen so many pizzas in my life. They came in carrying a massive tower of boxed cheesy pies into the volunteer tent today. One by one, stacking the pizzas on a table as the rest of us sat there in disbelief. People hesitantly stepped forward, obviously eager to just have a piece – it wasn’t until we were told to “go for it” that anyone really began to comprehend how many pieces there actually were. Truth be told, there was an entire truck load.

The truckload of pizzas for the Student Army

Each of us started with taking one pizza each, giggling amongst ourselves at how crazy it was that we could even do that. And then the pizzas kept coming – so we snagged another. Some people grabbed four or five. They just kept coming and coming. It was ridiculous. All we could do was sit back with a box on our lap and a slice in our hand as we continued to gawk at the rate the pizza boxes were continuing to pile up.

Needless to say – I’ve rediscovered my love for Hawaiian pizza. Nothing like a thick, cheesy slice of ham and pineapple. Made my day. Not that I even needed that. Aside from strong winds blowing dried silt in my eyes all day, things went pretty smoothly. Today we did the suburbs around Sumner and it was amazing to think that today was my fourth day working on the Street Team and I am still so amazed at the destruction left behind from the earthquake. Today was Day #8 since the quake came and there is still street flooded so badly from water/sewage pipes that no one can even walk past. Crazy to think that 30 seconds of the ground shaking could do that. But it can. It has.

MARCH 3/11 . DAY #140 . REST DAY #45 .

Imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like if your world around you just stopped. If you got to wash your hands or grab a glass of water and nothing comes out of the tap. Imagine not being able to turn on the TV, cook on the stove or even charge your laptop. There’s no electricity. Imagine pacing through your house – a complete nervous wreck as you can’t get through to your loved ones. The telephone lines are jammed and you’re running low on battery. It’s uncertain if you’ll even make it out alive as your house strains with the stress of being on an angle. Everything’s a mess. All the kitchen cupboards have dumped their contents on the floor. Broken plates. Smashed glass. The washing machine is found in the next room, no longer secured in its regular place. Chairs on their sides. Bbookshelves dumped over. And there appears to be a sewage line broken as brown murky water begins flowing across your floor.

To look outside, the back yard is a mess. The decking is on a slant so severe it looks as though it once was a part of a badly designed fun house. And then there’s the lawn. Where there was once a neatly trimmed section of grass, there is now strips of lawn separated by large gapping crevices due to the earth splitting in a million pieces. The garden is no more. Silt from liquefaction covers all plant life. Two feet deep.

The neighbor’s homes don’t fair any better. One has a hole in the roof where the chimney once was. One has completely collapsed on itself as though a giant leaned too hard against it. The front street is unrecognizable. You spot a few massive potholes before the water; sewage and liquefaction seep in to fill them up. There is no longer pavement – instead your street more or less resembles that of a very sickening beach-front property.

All there is is the vain hope that all your loved ones are safe and well. You can’t contact them now; your cell phone is dead. No electricity. No ability to leave for anywhere. No grocery store to buy food. No more work to go to. No showers. No toilet. No anything. Gone.

And yet – even with nothing there is still hope. There is always hope.

MARCH 5/11 . DAY #142 . REST DAY #47 .

Today might be our last day in Christchurch as tomorrow we plan to be heading out to spend the day at Castle Hill before making our way onwards back to Arthur’s Pass. As weird as it feels to think of the idea of saying goodbye to everyone here – I am completely excited about starting to walk again. Not so much because I WANT to put 20kg on my back and walk for 8-9hrs, but more because from Arthur’s Pass onwards it’s going to feel so much more as though we’ve reached our final stretch to Bluff. And I’m even more excited about the prospect of pushing my body to get there quicker. I only hope Alex’s foot holds up.

The Student Army resting after a hard days work

Right now it’s windy, rainy and bloody cold outside and looking at weather like that from the warm comforts of the couch inside doesn’t exactly make me thrilled of the prospect of heading out to the bush again. We’re coming down the home stretch of the summer season here and it will be a race against time to try and finish in Bluff before the major weather changes. And that’s still the primary goal – finish in Bluff. We’re going to do our best to do it.

MARCH 6/11 . DAY #143 . REST DAY #48 .

Well – we’re back in Arthur’s Pass now. For the third time. It’s a little strange as it feels as though we were just here and yet at the same time it feels as though a lifetime has passed. It’s difficult to really process everything that has happened in the last couple of weeks. As I look at the towering mountains outside this café window, everything that has been seems like a surreal dream. Where do I even begin to process the pile of information my mind has stockpiled?

Life here in Arthur’s Pass appears all as normal. Water runs free. The toilets are working and the tour buses file through one-by-one, stocked with nametag-wearing tourists all with cameras positioned ready to take the same photos as everyone else.

And I feel numb. My mind wanders to everything I’ve seen. Massive potholes. Crumbling buildings. Raw sewage. Silt. Crooked power lines. Dirt. Broken pavement. Missing chimneys. Desperate faces.

Yet tomorrow we walk on.

TOTAL = 2206 KM

The Final Countdown - FINALLY

2011-03-04T15:15:00.014+13:00

Leaving Queenstown after a rest day filled with planning for the end, it was crazy to think that this would be the last leg of our journey. Heading onwards through Lord of the Rings territory to Glenorchy and onwards to the Greenstone track, my mind was filled with thoughts of all the stuff Alex and I had booked for the end of our journey. This was it – all our dreaming and hoping and finger-crossing had finally paid off. We had found a gorgeous lodge for an amazing price of which our room has twin beds with crisp, fresh sheets and two plush pillows (each!). That would have been heaven on its own, but there was more – oh, so much more. Our room had its own bathroom - shower included (think of the loo roll!), fridge and wardrobe (we can hang things up!). Not to mention that the entire lodge is absolutely perfect with a view overlooking all of Queenstown, a hot tub that can be freely used to soak our well-used muscles, a log fireplace and a massive communal kitchen. I couldn’t have imagined celebrating Te Araroa Trail in such style.

Tussock territory

MARCH 30/11 . DAY #167 . 28 KM .

Today we tramped from Greenstone Hut to Carey’s Hut via Mararoa River – plenty of tussock and swampy bits to go around. It was annoying, but I just kept reminding myself that whatever the terrain, I would likely be bored, annoyed and/or really frustrated. As we near the end of our entire journey, I just wish more and more that I was done. Period. The effort I have to make in order to get there is beyond my ability to truly appreciate anything around me.

Instead, I focus my thoughts on the positive aspects of today’s tramp. There were no major climbs or descents. No ridiculous rivers to cross or markers to find. No sidling along mountain-faces with my feet permanently at a 45 degree angle. No warzone bush to hack through and no near-death experiences. Overall, today rated pretty good on the Te Araroa Trail scale and we now are at what is probably the last hut in our journey. Only a group of fishermen have already claimed it as theirs so Alex and I will sleep in the tent tonight.

Just as well. I prefer to remember the lovely time we had at Roses Hut with Kim (Belgium) to keep us company as our last DOC Hut experience of the trek. I only wish I had known that was going to be our last night sleeping in the hut.

And so now, sitting on the grassy hill here outside Carey’s Hut, as I squish sandflies and attempt to count all the rabbit poo (impossible) around me – I find my thoughts drifting to what’s to become of my life only a few days from now.

It seems crazy to think that in such a short period of time that Alex and I will be finished our adventure of a lifetime. It has been an experience so much greater than I could have ever imagined – I would have never guessed Te Araroa Trail was going to be like this and it amazes me that we’re actually about to finish it. From the moment I first found out about this trail, I knew I was meant to do it and that in completing it, my life would change forever. And it has.

I feel different – a new person really – than when I started out. I have been challenged so much in every way possible to get to the point I am at now that I don’t know if I’d entirely recognize the person I once was. I’ve grown up. I’ve come to terms with a lot of things about myself (both good and bad) and feel stronger about the direction I want to go in life. And it’s not even over yet.

From the bottom of my soul I feel as though by finishing this trek an entire realm of possibilities and opportunities will be available to me. All the contacts I have now. Work options. Volunteer options. Options I can’t even begin to imagine will be there for me to choose should I want. I can’t wait.

Almost done….

We're getting there...

By the time we reached Riverton, I was in complete disbelief that we were that close to Bluff. As Alex and I gathered information at the information centre regarding tides (our next bit was beach walking) and such, the worker s there – upon hearing what we were up to – asked if we were the women in the Southland Newspaper article. We were. They then informed us that there were two residents of Riverton who had done Te Araroa Trail a couple years back and asked if we wanted to chat with them. Alex and I said “sure” and before we knew it we were sitting down with a cup of tea as we shared tales of Te Araroa Trail with the two gentlemen who had gone before us. It was fabulous to be able to talk with people who knew all about what we had been through the past 5.5 months. It’s never the same to talk with people who just simply do portions. Or people who just do tramping. Or people who just like to camp occasionally. It’s not the same as talking to people who have actually set out to do what Alex and I did – walk from Cape Reinga to Bluff in one big stretch.

Eventually we reluctantly made our way to the beach where we set off to walk to Invercargill. This was our last beach walk. There were no more mountains to climb. No more tussock. No more major river crossings. No more significant surprises from Te Araroa Trail – we were now at the bottom of the map and essentially just had to get to Bluff. Piece of cake.

That night we camped right in the middle of the sand dunes and woke up to a glorious sunrise where the sky looked as though it was on fire. We walked in silence as we both relished the beauty before us. This would be one of the last mornings we would ever see such a sight and it was bittersweet.

On April 2, 2011 Alex and I made it into Invercargill and we went into “mission mode.” We had received word from Paul up in Auckland that our stuff from storage there would be late in arriving to Queenstown. That meant that when Alex and I would get to Queenstown, we would have nothing to our name but our trekking gear on our backs. No shampoo. No clean underwear. No normal people clothes. No anything to feel as though we could strip ourselves of everything Te Araroa Trail and start fresh. Our last hope was Invercargill where we could power through the city for an Op shop to find at least one outfit to change into.

Lake Wanaka

So we did just that.

Finding the Op shop was easy – finding everything we needed (and wanted) before the owner closed up shop shortly after we got there was the hard part. Fortunately our issue wasn’t so much as trying to find something as it was in trying to figure out what we should be putting back. Our arms quickly filled up with all different clothing pieces that we loved and fit us – we had enough for an entire new wardrobe. Each.

The store owner took pity on us and offered to hold the items there for us while we trekked the last day to Bluff and then would meet us back in Invercargill after we were done so we could pick up our clothes. She was our saving grace in that regard, so we left our new (but old) clothes with her and went on our way to buy things like new underwear, makeup, moisturizer and all things girlie. By the time we left Invercargill I was beat, but I didn’t care. It was our last night before getting to Bluff.

And in true style, Alex and I walked our way to a camp spot for the first time during the sunset. We had never, during our entire journey, still been walking while the sun set on the horizon. A first time for everything I suppose – it was a glorious one at that. Once camp was set up Alex and I spent our last waking moments of our last night telling each other that this was our last waking moments of our last night. Our last Back Country Cuisine dinner. Our last night on sleeping mats that didn’t inflate. Our last night sleeping in our pea pod tent. Our last night putting up the tent. Our last night peeing blindly in the bush. Our last night sleeping on a pillow made of clothes stuffed in our sleeping bag covers. Our last night over everything – it was our last night.

And the following morning we woke to be taking note of our lasts of everything as well. Our last time boiling water over a gas stove outside. Our last morning waking up before the sun. Our last time eating nearly plain oatmeal. Our last time packing everything up. Our last time packing up the tent. Our last time to be walking – anywhere. It was our last day.

Alex and I walking during sunrise onroute to Invercargill

Making our way to Bluff was both exciting and painful. We had to walk along the State Highway to get there and for the better part of the morning we could see it in the distance, but it just never quite felt like we could get there quick enough. Instead, I tried to focus my thoughts on reflecting on everything Alex and I had gone through in the past months. Cape Reinga. 90 Mile Beach. Alex’s first foot injury. Healing time at Kerikeri. Getting lost in the Mangamukas. Kerikeri – the second time. The fierce Gorse bush of Russell Forest. The coastal beauty along the east of the North Island. Sheepworld in Dome Valley. Kayaking Puhoi River. Getting to Auckland. Walking for what seemed like forever to get out of Auckland. The painful State Highway #1 walk into Hamilton. Pirongia Forest with the DOC hunters (jellybeans). Getting to Te Kuiti after days of walking in the rain. Getting to Bog Inn Hut after more days of rain. Wanting to quit. Getting Giardia. Having to escape the forest for a doctor. Ending up back at Te Kuiti. Celebrating Christmas early. Getting to Tongariro Crossing for Christmas Day. Getting to Whanganui River for New Year’s Day. Pressing onwards through Whanganui, Bulls, Fielding and Palmerston North. The lovely workers of Macpac Palmerston North. The hospitality we found in Makahika (thanks Sally!). Doing the coastal walk down to Wellington. Meeting up with David. North Island – finished.

And then there was the south island. The Pelorus River. The Richmond Ranges. St. Arnaud. Nelson Lakes area. Waiau Pass. St. James Walkway. Boyle Village. Rest day in Hanmer Springs (fell in love). Back on the track down to Arthur’s Pass. David parts ways with us. We go to Greymouth for Alex’s second foot injury. The earthquake of February 22 happens. We go to Christchurch to help out. Eventually we get back to Arthur’s Pass to continue walking. Down we go to Lake Coleridge, Lake Tekapo and Twizel. I go to the physio for my potential injuries. We continue on to Lake Hawea, Wanaka and eventually Queenstown. From there we head straight down to Riverton, Invercargill and now Bluff.

By the time Alex and I made it to the coastal walkway around the bend to Stirling Point, my mind had shifted gears to reflecting on the small memories of the trail that both made me want to keep going forever and throw in the towel to leave it all behind. The Gorse bush. The mountain climbs. The sunrises. The stars in the sky. Our home – the pea pod. Putting up the tent. Taking down the tent. Falling over with my pack on. The blisters on my feet. Getting lost. Finding our way. The roads. The trails. The farmland. The beaches. The every type of terrain that we had to conquer. The endless pages of map we went through. Throwing out a piece of the map that we had completed. Picking up rubbish every day. The random conversations with locals. The culture shock when we got to a town. The excitement we’d have over finding a Pick N Mix in a grocery store. Finding the perfect bush to pee behind. The sandflies. The huts. The rivers. The cliffs. The maze of everything we had to go through to get to where we were.

Stirling Point, Bluff - WE'RE DONE!!

And – eventually – at 12:40pm Alex and I rounded the final bend to spot the signpost at Stirling Point. We had done it! Walking up to that signpost – to touch that signpost, everything I could possibly be feeling was being felt at that point. I am not sure I could ever begin to describe the emotion that was overflowing from me that that point. It was difficult to know what to do first, if anything – the tears, the excitement, the relief, the grief – it was all there. We had finished. Cape Reinga to Bluff. 2829KM and we had made it.

And now we’ve made it back to Queenstown after one interview for a newspaper, four car rides, one pit stop in Invercargill for our clothes, one coffee stop before Queenstown, a stop off at the grocery store and one tax ride. We are here. At our lodge. Our room. Our beds. It feels fabulous and the shower hasn’t even been had yet. We are done. Complete. I don’t know if it will ever completely sink in. I don’t know if I ever want it to.

Down the Home Stretch?

2011-02-22T13:02:00.001+13:00

February 17/11 . DAY #126 . 4 KM .

Our dinner spot after a major river crossing

Today was one for the books. Kind of. We were on a mission to get to Arthur's Pass so that would could pick up our Back Country Cuisine and then hitch to Greymouth in order to get groceries and find Alex a physio for her foot.

Whatever has happened to Alex's foot has appeared to be getting worse as time has gone on. It's worrying as I don't like the idea that we don't know what's gone on to make it go that way. Tomorrow is Alex's appointment and I'm worried of the outcome. I reckon it may be a repeat of Ahipara. Ordered to rest until the swelling goes down.

As it is though, instead of walking in to Arthur's Pass, we hitched there due to Alex's foot causing too much pain for her to be walking at all. From there we then hitched to Greymouth. We managed to score an awesome place at one of the local hostels, Neptune's, where there's free internet and cheap laundry. It's been great here, but I'm still holding my breath for tomorrow. We'll see...

So Greymouth it is. This is now our fifth day here and it's still unclear as to when we'll be heading onwards. It's difficult to know that we are starting to see the end (Bluff) in sight and yet there is nothing making us get there any sooner. We've estimated that we have about 6 weeks more of tramping to go, but that's 6 weeks of tramping and we're not exactly doing that at the minute.

The swelling of Alex's foot has gone down considerably since arriving here, though the strict diet of RICE (rest, ice, compression and elevation) is wrecking havoc on Alex's drive to do something. Anything.

The physio Alex went to a few days back stated that it could be an injury to do with one of her tendons. Or not. It could be a stress fracture. Or not. It could be anything, really - but Alex would need an X-Ray to find out. As that procedure includes a hefty price tag, we opted to wait out the swelling in hopes that the pain would go down as well with time.

As difficult as it's been having yet another injury to wait out, being here in Greymouth has helped considerably. As the largest city on the west coast of New Zealand's south island and was the home to many of the local miners who died a few months ago in the tragic mine explosion before Christmas. The longer we stay here, the more like home this place feels.

February 19/11 . DAY #128 . REST DAY #33 .

On route to Arthur's Pass I discover we've made it to Bluff

So - here we are. Our 3rd day in Greymouth and I'm surprised at how relaxed I feel for the fact that we technically shouldn't be here. We are here only so Alex's foot can heal and each day we are here we run the risk of depleting what little funds we have to get us down to Bluff. We've sent food onwards already so at some point we DO have to head onwards.

Yesterday I came to the realization that throughout this journey of Te Araroa, Alex's main challenge has been dealing with complicated injuries while my main challenge has been dealing with the possibility of not having enough money to finish the journey. If should could just pay me to heal her injuries, we'd be laughing, but unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

And so w stay here at the Neptune's hostel. Free stay for a few hours work. Free internet. Free pastries (awesome pies!) delivered from a local bakery each day. Not to mention the normal comforts of a hot shower, tea and TV. We couldn't have picked a better place to stick around. I only hope that everything else works out when it comes to moving onwards. It's all part of the adventure.

And yet, the longer I am here, the more restless I become...

February 20/11 . DAY #129 . REST DAY #34 .

It's hard. THIS is hard. Hard to be completely stopped in one place and not let myself go crazy with thoughts, dreams and ideas of what I'd do "if only." The longer I am here in Greymouth, the more inspired I get for what I hope to do when finished trekking. The clothes I'd wear. The job I'd get. The food I'd stock in my fridge. So many ideas fill my mind, I feel I may explode.

I don't even know if I'll have enough money to get down to Bluff - let alone spend endless days in Greymouth. I see all these things around me that inspire me and it makes me want more - want so much more. Everything - even. It's not greedy. Just inspired. Right now I feel like someone pointed a remote control at my life and pressed the pause button. Maybe Alex and I have come here to learn something. Maybe it all means something. Maybe it doesn't. I haven't a clue other than to know that everything is at a standstill. Though I feel incredibly comfortable and relaxed here, I am hoping something happens soon. My fingers are crossed that Alex's food heals up and we can head on our way. Time will tell...

Alex working to get us a ride

It's comforting to know that Alex's foot no longer looks like an inflated surgical glove. The bones and muscles are beginning to have more definition. But we still have to wait as not all the swelling has gone and when she walks for any length of time it gets worse. Heaven knows what would happen should she try walking with a 20kg pack on.

One day at a time is all we keep saying. Bluff is in sight and yet we still have a ways to go. The adventure isn't over yet and though I'm excited to get going again, it's been nice to explore an area of New Zealand not on Te Araroa's map in thorough detail.

Life isn't about the destination, but the journey it takes to get there.

** NOTE: This is the end of this segment of blogs for now. From this point on, it will be a while for me to be able to update our progress again due to the remote nature of the south island. Look forward to blogs updates in the future as they WILL come eventually!