Day 0 – Bluff to Invercargill

I passed a sad, anxious, thrilled night in Invercargill with Roxane before setting off. In th morning she was to board the Stray backpacker bus and start her tour of New Zealand, while I started walking. My plan was to leave most of my stuff at the Kackling Kea in Invercargill, hitch to Bluff and walk back as a day hike.

The day started well. I caught a ride from the chaplain of the Tiwai Point aluminium smelter, across the bay from Bluff. Hearing my story, he decided to go the extra distance and be a bit late for work. He dropped me off at Stirling Point, the official beginning end of the trail. I took some nice photos and got on my way along the lovely graded track that leads around Bluff Hill. It was a nice start, and I saw a handful of Paua divers along the track.

Soon I realized that I had made two mistakes in packing my day bag. For clothes I had grabbed the bag that had socks and shirts, but no rain layers. For food, I had grabbed the bag that had dinners but no snacks or lunch. And, somehow I had my tent with me. My meticulous repacking job the night before had almost exactly reversed my intent.

Then, near Foveaux Point, I took a wrong turn and wound up heading to the top of the hill instead of around. By the time I realized my mistake I decided it would be a good chance to improvise. I went over the top into Bluff town, and picked up some food at the local market. This put me on the road only a kilometer or so south of where the official road walking begins according to my information.

I had promised myself a long time ago that since Te Araroa is not yet complete and there are many roadwalks, I would allow myself to skip any roadwalks, since they’re very unpleasant – hot, hard on the feet, and loud. This being my first day, however, I figured I should do it proper and walk the roads. I could start slacking later. This road, Highway 1, was worse than usual though. Bluff is a medium-sized port and offloads many goods to be delivered by truck to the rest of Southland. I had dozens of double-trailered container trucks whizzing past me every hour, giving a hot, foul blast of air on my face.

Greatly dispirited I made it to Stanley Township Road, a small farm road that theoretically leads through to the stopbanks of the local river, from where I could hike off-road to Invercargill. After stopping briefly at a cow shed to ask a couple of fellows there for permission to cross the farm, I set out down the dirt road. At its end I found there was dense gorse and other shrubbery blocking my way. The road curved north, so I followed it and tried several other access points, but none seemed suitable to get my through to the river. At one point I came to a large enough hill that I could see there wasn’t much margin along the river anyhow, so I gave up. This section of the track is not officially formed yet, but I had hoped with some determination I should have been able to make my way through.

I returned, dispirited, to the road. By now it was quite late in the day and I faced a long roadwalk still to get to Invercargill. I decided now was the time to exercise that rule about skipping roads, and stuck out my thumb. Hitchhiking with my left thumb will take some getting used to, like using an underdeveloped muscle for the first time.

I was glad that Roxane and I had befriended Antonia and Peter, the hostel managers, as it helped a lot to have a sympathetic ear when I returned to the hostel.

On the high sides for the day, I found that donning my pack and boots again triggered all sorts of body memories from when I hiked the Appalachian Trail. When my hips were bruised from the waist belt on my pack, it wasn’t just a dull pain, it was a dull pain that reminded me of a great and happy adventure. When my legs were stiff in the morning, I thought of New England mornings creaking my way out of a lean-to and talking about the day’s challenges with my Dad. So even when I had my down moments I was able to say to myself “At last, I’m on a long trail again!”