...AKA...
The most physically difficult week of my entire life. My friend Elliot, who has solo backpacked NZ himself several times, just so happened to be in town for a bike tour the same time I was in the area. We met up and tramped together for a week. We started near the Klondyke Shelter and stayed our first night in Carrington hut. This wasn't too bad of a day, only 13km. Our second day we hiked from Carrington Hut to Julia Hut. This day was about a 10 hour day, over just 7km, if that provides any idea of how challenging the route was.
That day we literally climbed up and down mountains and through valleys. Crossing the river back and forth and back and forth. The route was quite often unmarked, and we found ourselves scrambling through Tussock Grass and bush often up to my shoulders. I fell over at least 50 times that day. Whether slipping on a rock while boulder hopping, sliding down the steep declines of saddles, or falling into hidden holes in the Tussock grasses and bush - my ass and knees and toes were not happy campers.
I am using tramping poles for the first time ever. I have #REI variable length carbon ones. All I have to say is... Praise the Lord for these. They have been my crutch and cane for hours on end, giving me blistered hands from gripping them so hard, and literally saving my knee.
That second day I saw scenery ranging from climbing boulders up a saddle in the Alps, to waterfalls cascading down into rocky fields of beauty, fields of green grasses for miles on end, bushlines that extended as far as the eye could see... Overwhelming and frightening thinking of whacking my way through them one more time... Forested areas that were so silent and sacred even my breathing quieted when walking through... Riverbeds that were raging and full, hopping from boulder to boulder just to safely cross them... At one point in the day, when we made it to the top of our first saddle, I literally felt like I was in Lord of the Rings. The scenery was just so unbelievable.
The third day we hiked from Julia Hut to Dillon's Hut. This was about a 6 hour day, 15km. By this point the muscles in my thighs and calves were so sore I could barely shuffle around the huts at night. Every step hurt. My feet had blisters on every toe, the nerve damage from surfing months ago in my left foot was inflamed and so swollen I couldn't bend my toes, my knee was hyper extended from falling straight into so many holes in the bush... And I felt like the strongest person alive.
When you are out there in the bush, and you have no option but to keep going... You just keep on moving, no matter the pain, no matter the exhaustion, no matter the amount of tears or screaming at the Earth or emotional memories of your past seeping into your brain. You cannot escape your thoughts out there. Emotions will come as they will come.
At times on the trail, I couldn't think of anything other than surviving the moment I was in. At other times, I was so awestruck at Mother Nature's glorious beauty, I had to stop in my tracks and just breathe it all in. And then there were other times... When the parts of my brain I had not had the courage to face yet, opened themselves wide and clear and stood completely in my way. I dealt with emotions from my past I did not know existed... It was beautiful and difficult and wonderful and freeing.
I am so grateful Nature placed sights like this all along my pathway, encouraging me to keep going. As if she was whispering a quiet "thank you" to me for gently exploring her, regardless of a manmade pathway or not. She gave me the gift of her beauty. And it was the most beautiful gift I could have asked for.
Elliot was such an amazing cheerleader. I am not sure how he put up with me that portion of the trail. I was walking as slow as a 90 year old in bad health. He waited at the top of each mountain. Telling me I could do it, that I was amazing, that now I could do anything. All of my emotional heartache and broken past started pouring out in the form of uncontrollable tears. I could hardly see through the clouded vision of saltwater, but it didn't matter - you couldn't see a damn thing anyway. I just kept thinking "when I get to the top of this mountain, it will all be okay. When I just get to the top, I will look out, see the view and it will all be worth it. Well... Since we were literally in the middle of a cloud, we never "got to the top" because you couldn't see even 5 feet in front of you.
Out in the backcountry here, you follow these little tiny orange triangles. In most places, there isn't even a track and you basically just wander in a similar direction of the last triangle, looking for the next one. Well, needless to say that traversing the top of the Southern Alps through clouds and fog so thick I could barely see Elliot in front of me...... The orange markers were near impossible to find. I actually can't believe we made it to the hut that evening. The instant we got to the hut, I took off my pack (aka home,) got out my sleeping bag, laid down and instantly fell asleep.
Several hours later, I awoke to everyone in the hut shouting "the clouds are clearing! The clouds are clearing!" I opened my eyes, and saw the most spectacular view I had ever seen. "I did this!" I thought to myself, as I ran out of the hut and looked out on the miles and miles and miles I had just walked. Wow...
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The last day of my tramp was from Carroll Hut down the mountain to the roadway. It was at this point that I completely let go of all pride and recognized that my dignity was not based on "how far" I could go physically - but simply the fact that I was out here, doing it. I had planned to continue another 4 days with Elliot, but the thought of taking one more unnecessary step caused me to burst into tears. Elliot woke up early that morning and trekked out on his own, finishing the continued routes we had planned. In my past life, it would have been very easy to beat myself up over this. To tell myself I didn't complete it, because I didn't do it "perfectly." I, of course, had the natural tendency to want to "prove something" to myself and others. |
I had the opportunity to feel each and every step, both the soft, wind blown grasses under my feet, and each pointed, sharp boulder nearly cutting through my soles. I watched the birds soar in the sky, whooshing past me in beauty and grace. I stopped and inspected flowers, in colors and shapes and sizes I have never before seen. I watched the wind rustle leaves on trees as I passed by, and felt every raindrop and teardrop as I experienced gratitude for water.
On my last day, I gained a little travel companion. A small, chirping bird, who followed me for at least a mile, jumping from branch to branch, singing his songs. He flew in front of and around me, chirping all the while. I at first thought a mouse was following me - as his chirp sounded very rodent-like. He looked me in the eye, and I knew he was cheering me along, helping me take those last steps down the mountain. I forgot about my broken toenails slamming into the ends of my boots with each step, and was able to laugh and sing along with him. It was beautiful.
This Earth is big and wide and powerful and glorious and magnificent. We all have our different ways of exploring her, but I beg you - please do, "always explore."
Xx