My three days (well, nearly, didn't take that long) around the forests of Stewart Island with some really weird, annoying, people.
Distance: 42km
Total Distance: 5175km
Ok, what's that racket? How can you all be such terrible people? It wasn't so bad in the morning or the evening when you were all just grumpy and unsociable. But now...
Is that ticking? Who TICKS in their sleep. Seriously. Ooh, they've stopped. No they've started again. They're like a human metronome. It would be impressive if it wasn't so F!@£?ing annoying.
And not one but two snorers? One normal, rhythmic, quieter snorer, the other an occasional hippo impression thrown in for good measure.
Then there's someone whispering in their sleep. Some how load enough to hear, but not enough to understand.
And evidently you can't sleep through this either, eh? The man apparently sleeping under 3 sleeping bags, made of alternating layers of tin foil and crepe paper who insists in turning over every 5 minutes.
Add screams and gnashing of teeth and this would be a soundscape for an Hieronymus Bosch painting. I'm tempted to complete that ensemble...
Sod it, I'm going to the toilet. Maybe the cool breeze outside will refresh me.
Stewart Island's a lovely place. There are plenty of birds here- many that are rare in the rest of New Zealand. The terrain and forests aren't all that so different from many other parts of the country though- maybe muddier in places, but that's about it. Hence, if we're honest, I'd suggest not doing the long 3 day "Great Walk" here and instead staying in the lovely hostels and hotels of Oban and doing some day walks, or going out fishing on a boat. Two older ladies just came into the hostel having caught 20 blue cod and a shark between them in an afternoon!
But I'm probably biased. Here's my "Great Walk" experience.
Day one was cold, slightly windy, and pretty wet. I wasn't really in the mood, but the walk was due to be short so I could wait until lunch time, when the worst of the weather would be gone.
As I started out from Oban the skies were grey and dull. Over roads and along beaches I headed for Lee Bay where I'd start the true walk.
From here it was just all forests, small hills, and coast line. Plus sand flies. I hate sand flies.
Not much to report, I'm afraid.
Tired and wet I was glad to get to the first hut, Port William. Up on the white board there were reports of Kiwi sightings nearby- this is the real reason to come here. There are supposedly a few that appear around the hut, as well as on a beach 20 minutes north.
A few small groups were sat around the communal tables as I entered. I smiled, said hello, made a joke about how grateful I was to get away from the sand flies... And was met with stoney faces or grumpy boringness. What a crowd. I miss the hostel.
I read for a little while, wrote a little, ate some bread and cheese, then went to bed. Not much else to do.
At midnight I awoke and went out to brush my teeth. On the higher land where the grass met the sand 4 young Germans sat in the dark, waiting for Kiwis to appear.
"Seen anything yet?", I whispered.
"Just Possums", they moaned.
As I made my way to the sink I realised what they meant, damn things are everywhere, right by your feet. Doubting I'd see any kiwis I went back to bed.
The next morning I had less than 6 hours of walking to do. Thus, unlike everyone else, and unlike my usual morning, I had a long lie in. It didn't matter when I left.
As the rest exited I began breakfast (bread, cheese, nutty cereal bar), repacked everything, filled water bottles. Once set I ran outside, slammed on my boots and gaiters as the sandflies descended, then took off before they began to bleed me dry.
A simple muddy stumble over a hill into the forest today.
I do like walking at these times. When one learns to let go of trying to control everything, realising one can't think it all through- my spinal cord kicks in and my legs tell me that they work better on auto pilot. They create a rhythm of their own, I don't have to think about it. I'm orchestrating events, but not controlling them. A rider, not the steed. The world goes by as my legs pound along and my mind is free to think about other things.
By 4 o'clock I was at the second hut, having passed a few groups on the way, climbed a fallen tree, done a little sunbathing, taken photos, seen old timber mill sights, watched the birds, and eaten the last of my jelly babies.
Hmmm...6 hours until bed time. What to do?
I finished my present book, read two more short ones, and started another, whilst finishing my cheese and most of the bread. There were a few less grumpy and boring people around, a mature family having joined us, but it wasn't much of a change.
Eventually I went to bed.
Hut beds are just two large platforms between three walls, one above another, with mattresses for each person, most usually with each having their head closest to the edge.
I'd secured a spot next to the wall, so I'd only have another person on one side, leaving me near to the well insulated wall and ceiling, as well as giving space by the wall for my necessities- light, kindle, phone, Walter Knitty.
Here I slept in my thermals, too warm to need my sleeping bag, listening to the cacophony that was my neighbours.
In the morning there was only "5 hours" to do back to Oban. Again I was the last to leave the hut, but I passed many groups as I ranked up the gears on the flatter ground, heading towards lunch, a shower, and clean clothes.
Then I stopped.
Kiwi!!!
As documented in my previous post, I stumbled, with every bit of luck I could conjure, upon a kiwi. Well done me.
So in the end it was all worth it. I'd been hoping to see more of the island's birds, and whilst this wasn't true for much of the trip in the end I got my kiwi.
Some say it's the journey, not the destination that's important.
This weekend the journey wasn't fun, but the destination was worth it.
I've seen a kiwi that lives wild and free.
That's good enough for me.
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