We’ve been in Wellington, the capital of New Zealand and the southernmost point of the North Island, for a few days now and we’ll be here for a few more. I am stalling. In the last two weeks I have passed the actual halfway point (the 1,500 km mark), the temporal halfway point (two-and-a-half months), and now we’re sitting at the bottom of the North Island, the psychological halfway point. I am worried that the moment we set foot on the South Island, the rest of this trek is going to be over before I even realize it.
Te Araroa. The Long Pathway. It’s estimated that more than 800 people set out to walk this narrow strip of land this year. Most of the other hikers I have met are from North America, New Zealand, and Europe in equal parts. We all carry similar, basic camping gear: a shelter, a sleeping bag, a stove and a pair of trekking poles. And you can spot us pretty easily by our packs, our dorky sun-blocking hats, our hungry look, and our dirty everything. Then the similarities start to break down.
The most obvious differences are the logistical ones. I have met trampers on the TA who have yet to pay for a night of accommodation, freedom camping on the side of the road instead of staying in holiday parks, and trampers who have had a roof over their heads most nights. Some are walking sections and others have months-long plans to do it all in one swoop. I have met hikers who are hitching the roads that might kill them and others who are hitching the roads that might bore them. There are TA hikers who have marched their way down every inch of this trail. Of these, I have met some who love this challenge and are “embracing the suck” of road walking with aplomb. Others carry this decision as a heavy burden, complaining bitterly of the traffic and exhausted by the effort. There is much discussion in the Facebook groups and in the huts about these stylistic decisions, but the TA is young enough that, unlike the PCT and AT, a predominant culture has yet to appear. I frankly hope it never does.
Everyone I have met on the TA has come here for different reasons, drawn by unique aspects of the trail and their own need for a vacation, a challenge, or an escape. I have noticed, in myself and in others, that when we are comfortable and excited about whatever we are doing, that is when we are less likely to judge others harshly. We are less defensive about others’ successes and plans. This pattern is particularly evident on the trail with everyone playing their own variations on a theme in such close proximity. We are all on the same trail, but we are all on very different paths.
My own path down the Te Araroa has varied these last few months. I have moved quickly and glacially and painfully and with joy. There have been times when I made decisions for myself and times when I have compromised my plans to suit others. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing it right and sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I’m not. One thing has been consistent: I’m doing it my way. Maybe for the first time in my life I have the fortitude to not question myself at every step, to not be swept up in someone else’s journey, to celebrate the unique decisions my fellow trampers are making for themselves without feeling threatened. Every day this reminds me of why I am passionate about young women getting out in the woods, pushing themselves to move through their self doubt and become themselves. It’s not just a process, it is a challenging practice.
In two days we board a ferry for the South Island. There, we have heard, the mountains are bigger, the trails more continuous and remote, the weather wilder and the views more spectacular. One more island, 1,300 more kilometers of trail, and every day I’ll practice becoming me.
Wild Woman in the Woods 