Nomad Backpackers

Natalie and I set out yesterday, accompanied by our new friends and fellow WOOFERS Michael and Fanina, to hike the Mount Hobson summit trail. (Natalie and I had attempted to do this last Monday, but we were waylaid by an adventure with Dr. Peter.) Inspite of the fact that local fisherman assured us that it would definitely rain all day, we arrogantly ignored their warnings and headed out to summit Mount Hobson. After catching a lift to Grey Road, we walked for 2.5 hours before we came to the Tramline trail head. (Before reaching the trail head, we had already hiked 9 miles) As we had expected to get a lift to the trail head and were growing increasingly concerned about whether or not we would be able to catch a lift back to Tryphrena, we opted to hike along the Tramline to the Hot Springs which would let us out relatively close to Claris. We thought we were being smart by opting to hike through the middle of the island instead of following the parameter. As luck would have it, the rain began as we reached the trail head. This type of dark luck would haunt us for the rest of the day.

Informational packets on the the Barrier, warned that the Tramline track would have limited trail markers but that people of average fitness would have no problem navigating the trail. It would appear that average physical fitness here in New Zealand is equivalent to a Louis and Clark style fitness in the United States. This became increasingly apparent as we navigated a trail that commonly contained 60-70 degree downward clay paths that possessed the type of traction usually reserved for icy ski slopes after an ice storm, 65-75 degree upward inclines that required us to scramble on hands and feet up wet clay slopes, and 10-15 river fording that left my shoes with that annoying squeaky sound usually associated with the mixing of small children and large puddles.

For 5 hours we slipped (at one point, on an especially slippery piece of clay, I ended up sliding backward, on my feet, for about 10 yards before I was able to latch on to a tree), slided and fell up and down this treacherous “path” until we reached the hot spring.

When we arrived at the hot springs, I was soaking wet, muddy, bleeding freely from my right elbow and happy to be alive. We spent 30 minutes relaxing, drying off and gathering our strength (read: skinny dipping) for the 75 minute walk to Claris. Luckily, the rain had stopped and we were feeling optimistic. After about 45 minutes, while we were out on the road, the rain started falling cold and fast. All four of us were quickly soaked through to the skin and shivering from the icy blasts of wind that accompanied the rain. Seriously, it was really really cold. Tired and sore we stopped at the Crossroads Backpackers, to attempt to call or cab or bribe someone to drive us back to the pub. After taking one look at us, Kate and Bruce (the hostel owners) took pity on us. They invited us in, helped us dry off, made us coffee, and eventually drove us back to the pub.

I suppose that many lessons could be learned from this series of unfortunate events (read: listen to locals) but I learned once again that life is what you make of it. This could have been a truly miserable experience with the rain, the clay, the near death experiences and the endless, Oregon Trail style walking. However, Natalie, Michael, Fanina and I had an wonderful experience. Sure we arrived back cold and tired, but we saw a large portion of the island, bonded together as friends, and enjoyed our day off.

When life gives you wet clay, ah…..err….. make pottery.