Some butterflies

Announce themselves

About the unknowns

Of white water      what kayak     what partner

I will have

Donning the blue jacket    the life vest

the helmet over my sun hat

In a long line

We carry the

Inflatables

Down to the water

Safety checked

We step aboard

Then we’re off..

Pelorus is up

Full     and

Beautiful..

With expert eye and commands

From the  skipper,

Careful listening

And feeling into

The flow of it all

From her mate

We glide

Follow the guide

Aim for the best channel

And rush into

And through

The rapids

Exhilaration!

Water so clear

And emerald green

Rocks fitting

The fantasy of

Hobbit-land

My mate reliving

The excitement

Of the film

And her elf

In it.

We return to camp

A few hours later

Filled

In so many ways.

 

Road waking has its own

Rhythm

A.steady cadence

No need to look at

Where feet touch the ground

Clear      still

early morning air and sky.

With some reverence

and regularity

I step onto the berm

When occasional cars

Pass either or both ways

Heavy trucks carrying milk or oil,

Rumble for a while

then thunder past.

Car tyres hum their own tune,

Giving wide berth

to three solitary walkers

In a close or spread out line.

The zoom of motorbikes

taking the centre line

because they can.

Then ZAP! an insect’s near-collision

with my ear.

The chatter of friends behind me

muffled by distance

gained through different walking pace.

Treasures found and left on the verges

Bottles, plastic wrappers,

a most good-looking spoon

the body only of a tiny

toy police car

a car mat

glass..

Other lives

Intersecting with mine

For brief and fleeting

Moments

 

Zero day

For body and mind

Understood as vital

Even amongst the sustenance

Of simply walking

Why am I still surprised

At how this nourishment

Pours

Then slowly seeps

Some more

into all the little

Crevasses

Of my frame

And soul

Craving silence

Solitude

Motionless

Creative movement

 

Even after having fallen into

A comfortable rhythm

Of packing

Walking

Resting

Eating our simple tramping food

Stopping,

Unpacking

Pitching tents

Setting up home for the night

Sleeping

Walking

and more walking,

Soaking up the

Breath-taking beauty of

Blues and greens of the Sounds, of the hills and mountains surrounding us, the trails, tracks, paths, walkways  lined with full flowered flax, white kanuka clouds, beeches, ferns in all shapes and sizes, fresh white daisies and pink foxgloves

Accompanied  by fantails’ excited chirps and dances, bellbirds’ haunting chimes, tuis’ cheeky chortles and swishing wings, an occasional lizard, wood pigeon, even a wild goat familk of four, no six, and the ever present cheeky weka, who stole my sunglasses on day one, we think

The face that looks

Back at me

From the mirror

Is fresh

Healthy

Happy

Vibrant and

Alive

With so much fresh air, deep sleep, sunshine, invigorating exercise, and satisfying achievement of simple physical being

Yet

Still

This day’s pause

Is a soothing balm

Softening the edges

Of a very different life

Of recent times

Sitting

On a solitary seat

The Bay sings

to me

splish     gurgle      splish

slap

gentle swishing of leaves

in the breeze

a buoy bobbing

on emerald blue

bellbirds everywhere

squeaking youngster weka

searching for treasure

by the tents

then

excited by the big

fat

wurm

provided for breakfast

by its mum.

 

Held by the still

surrounding hills

far and near

peace-ful

 

The walking has started, we’re on our way. A maelstrom of memories for day one; accompanied by gently lapping waves of Schoolhouse Bay, the first stop on Queen Charlotte Track.

Departure from Auckland

Rushed, like the many months

That went before.

Em and Boris gone in a flurry

Too rushed      for a proper farewell

Packs wrapped and ‘fragile’

Plane             to Blenheim

Shuttle

Bus                       to Picton

Mail-run ferry           to Ship’s Cove

On go the packs

Photos galore in any

imaginable

combination

of the first step

on our Te Araroa.

 

AUT angels

Are blessing my dream

Michelle  (at Piha beach on Christmas Day)

Charmaine (ex-student on the plane)

Emily (year one student at Ship Cove)

Random ex-student wearing AUT sweatshirt on the track!

Tentative relationships beginning to form

Grappling with

Logistics of backpacking

And living

A walking life..

Where is my (anything)?

Everything in and out of the pack

Unrolling and rolling drysacks

Who wants to do what?

How shall we do money?

How shall we walk?

How do the tents work?

Who carries what?

How does modern technology

work with all this?

There’s a softness between us,

laughter,

and slowly it seems we’re easing into

who we are together.

 

Moving on the earth

Moving with an extra

16 kg on

my

back

I notice

my body      feet    hips   back

We need to stop earlier tomorrow

 

 

 

Prepping bounce boxes

The numbers seem logical

Wait till you see it..

How do you prepare food boxes for places without resupply opportunities, for three intrepid trampers, weeks ahead of time, having not much idea of how long the walking will take, what the weather will be like, how much energy we’ll need, what condition we’ll be in,  how long the boxes will take to get there, how much weight each will be able to and will have to carry???

Gratitude

for the statistician

who looks for the numbers

skips the details

and gets to work:

4 (boxes) x 3 (people),

1 week there will be 4,

altogether 124 days, calculated,

of breakfast, lunch and dinner

not to forget energy-dense snacks

for inbetween,

and drinks,

for refuelling

rehydrating

refreshing

replenishing

and warming

the body, mind and soul

 

you go

figure

what THAT looks like

in a shopping trolley