In the final days of 2018, I had spent eight days traversing some of the most spectacular terrain of my life. The three people I was with each had a unique approach to life, a level of commitment to adventure and challenge, that really moved me. I was working a lot this past summer, and had little time for these trips, yet this one left me hungering after... something? I felt a deep desire to set myself a goal, one that would truly test me. I pondered objectives. Climbing, mountaineering, or running? With small windows of time off, I thought running would be my best bet. I have always said of the Great Walks, that I would love to run them all someday. Right, 2019 would be that someday. Having never run farther than a marathon, this was a goal that would push me, but that I thought I could achieve. I knew the key to following through was to tell people about my goal, and then to take a first step. So, after seeing the New Year in near Wanaka, I set out on the first of January to run the Routeburn Track. The day dawned clear, my tummy full of bubbles of excitement. Starting near Paradise, the track weaved gradually up valley, making for lovely running. I passed smiling faces, everyone calling, “Happy New Year!” as I passed. This pleasant cruise continued all the way to Routeburn Falls hut, where the track left the beech forest, and an alpine wonderland unfolded. A tussock basin dotted with mountain daises and gentians, presided over by an increasingly moody sky. I stopped to put a warm top on, before continuing on in search of Lake Harris. When I popped up at lake level, rocky bluffs all around, I gave a woop of joy. It was so stunning. I passed a busy Harris Shelter, stoked for some flowy downhill running on the Fiordland side. My views were mostly shrouded in cloud, but I knew this landscape well enough to fill in the gaps. Somewhere between Harris Saddle and the descent to Lake Mackenzie, I came across the Te anau runners who I was to swap keys with, to get our cars back around to our respective sides. We snapped a selfie, all smiles, and it was neat to share a moment with other runners. As the track descended to Lake Mackenzie, I enjoyed the views and the magical goblin forest I was entering. I took a quick stop at the hut, and had a yarn with the hut warden, Evan, who raised funds for the large number of stoat traps in the area. A bloody legend. The work has paid off, and I appreciated the number of riflemen squeaking in the bush as I passed through. As the track climbed on, the rain really set in. I passed a group of trampers who couldn't believe I was going all the way to the Divide - “that's really far!” Hmm. Not quite the encouragement my tired legs needed. But hey, I asked for a challenge. Puddles under foot, rain dripping off my nose, plod plod plod. There, the turn off to Key Summit. A wave of relief and happiness. Smooth running ahead, with long switchbacks descending to the finish. I'd done it. 32Km 'off the couch'. It hadn't been easy, but it had been a great start to my challenge. Two months later, the Rakiura Track was in my sights. I collected my friends from the Invercargill airport and we set off to catch the ferry from Bluff, conversation bouncing between catching up on each others' lives and quizzing one another on the run ahead – Do you think I have enough food? Did you bring Gurney goo? Are you gonna run in shorts? Being so used to running alone, and having noone to ask these things of, I couldn't stop grinning. These were my people! We scored a pretty calm crossing of Foveaux Straight (despite the coffee stains on my shirt suggesting otherwise!), and stepped off the boat in Oban to find a cool and partly cloudy day. Perfect. We had not long checked in at the backpackers and our lift to the trailhead arrived. No time to get nervous, we were into it. Our local guide told us his daughters had also run the track, and snapped a group shot of us before wishing us luck and leaving us to it. There was a long pause before one of us asked, “I guess we start running now?” Nervous giggles and we were off. The first six kilometres of track had me feeling like I was on the Abel Tasman. Long golden sand beaches and tourqoise water that looked deliciously inviting as we warmed up. The track wound through a forest of tree ferns and kamahi, draped with tangles of supplejack – the kind of bush in which one is grateful for a cut track. After Maori Beach the track climbs up before giving us the choice of an out-and-back trip to Port William hut. We chose not to, based on the mistaken belief that this would add 4km to the stated 32km length of the track (it is in fact included in the 32km total). The ten kilometre stretch from this junction to North Arm hut was absolutely my favourite part of this run, getting progressively more muddy. Beautiful big Rimu trees towered overhead as I sloshed my way through the slop, giggling with glee. Having seperated from my mates, a 'halfway buoy' hanging from a tree overhead gave me a boost of encouragement as I plowed on. Nearing North Arm hut the forest changed to stands of Manuka, with mounting anticipation of reaching the coast again. From the hut, the track followed the coastline past several lovely bays. At Sandfly Bay I admired several big gorgeous rata trees, bent and gnarled. Tui twirled and chortled overhead, and I remembered startling a deer in this section when I ran this track three years ago. I eventually reached an old logging 'road', the trail became wider, and I knew I was on the home stretch. I stepped up the pace and reached the carpark feeling pretty wrecked, but stoked. I had a good sit down before starting the walk back to the backpackers. A couple of hours later we were at the pub demolishing burgers, and that beer never tasted so good. Two down, seven to go. The adventure was only just beginning.
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I am a conservation field worker in New Zealand. I love mountains, sunrises, river swims, barefeet, cold beer, campfires, live music and whiskey.
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