A TRAIL OF TWO HALVES
“I’M BEING FLEECED, AND I DON’T LIKE BEING FLEECED,” Scott the American complained to me as we sat in Orewa Beach Holiday Park North of Auckland while holiday-makers sunbathed and blue waves kissed the golden sand beach just metres away.
“I came to New Zealand to hike,” he continued. “I didn’t come to walk poorly maintained trails and through knee-high mud and along roads, and then be funnelled through private campsites where I have to spend money I don’t want to spend.”
He looked at me, his moustache quivering with indignation. “This isn’t hiking. This was not what I was expecting from the Te Araroa Trail.”
To be honest, I couldn’t fault him. For the past month we had walked 540km from Cape Reinga along the Te Araroa Trail and had endured more mud, pavement pounding and bushwhacking than any sane human being would want. But that’s Te Araroa for you.
The next day, Scott announced he was bailing on the North Island. He’d had enough. Instead, he was going to try his chances in the South Island where proper mountains and wilderness called, where hiking was part of the land and part of the lifestyle, where road walking
