Summer. The same word evokes a series of emotions. The joy of warm weather, long days, swimming, etc., etc. Here in New Zealand, these emotions felt by many other nations are not felt here. In fact, every year there is a lot of speculation about what kind of summer could come. We rarely dare to dream of a long, hot and stable summer.
This morning I woke up and I could see my breathing. Inside the cabin. In February. The hottest month of the year historically. To put it mildly, it was very cold. I ate oatmeal while tightly wrapped in my minus two degree quilt.
The weather wasn’t going to stop me from starting fast and early. My goal was today or tomorrow and I wanted to give myself every chance of it being the former.
I packed my few possessions into my backpack and was on the road twenty minutes after my brain opened my eyelids.
I thought it was cold in the cabin. It was absolutely cold outside. He was in the shade as the sun still lazily crept into the sky. Frost covered the ground. As I waded through the tall grass, my pants, shoes, and socks were instantly saturated by the freezing spray.
There is nothing left but to accelerate the pace. I flew along the trail, putting all my thoughts on how wonderful it was going to be when a) the sun appeared and b) when I walked triumphantly into town having finished my three-section hike of the mountain range.
The sun finally peeked over the surrounding mountains and I was very happy to be able to meet it once again. I reveled in the warmth it provided and looked forward to enough heat that I could feel my fingers and toes again.
After about an hour I saw my first hut of the day. There were a couple of horses in the nearby paddock, so I’m sure the riders I saw yesterday were still inside to keep warm.
The trail then turned into a swamp in which I spent the next hour or so. It stunk. Literally and figuratively. My shoes were now wet and muddy. I cursed all the people who were involved in creating my current state. Turns out all the people were me. Which in turn made me even angrier.
After I got out of the swamp I looked around and thought that life wasn’t all bad.
The weather was turning the morning into a pretty spectacular day. I climbed a decent pass that did a lot of things for me. Finally he allowed me to dry off. It warmed me so much and I could feel all my extremities. And the most important thing is that it allowed me to see some beautiful views.
The rest of the morning went swimmingly. After reaching the pass, I spent hours absorbing the scenery and wondering if I would have much luck on the path ahead.
Hitchhiking in New Zealand
I could see the dirt road I was hoping to get a ride on about an hour before I got to it because I was high up and the road was in the valley below. During that hour I was paralyzed by the artery that was my possible escape route from this walk. I didn’t count any cars on the road at that time.
This old cabin was located at the junction of the road and the trail. There were no beds, bunk beds, or fireplaces.
The challenge that was presented to me at this time was logistical in nature. It was noon. More info: DiKyYl. I walked 18 km. Hanmer Springs was a further 22km away. I’m old. I’m not going to walk 40 km in one day. My trekking pole was broken and there weren’t exactly Sticky’s in this valley. This was the last cabin before the city.
So I did what I love to do when presented with a road that a car could drive on. I stuck out my thumb. Ok, that’s not really true. I could see about 2 km along the road and there were no cars. So sticking out your thumb would be silly. I took off my backpack and started staring down the road looking for the car I wanted to exist.
About an hour later I saw dust on the horizon. My heart skipped a beat. I did everything I could to look as presentable as possible. I put my biggest smile on my face as physics allowed. I extended my arm as far away from my body as possible, thinking maybe I could stop the vehicle on a coat rack like the great Hulk Hogan would have done. I stuck out my thumb as violently as I could.
The vehicle slowed to a stop. My heart soared. The driver rolled down the window, looked at me curiously, and simply said, «Where are you coming from?»
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