Day 1 – Invercargill to Riverton

I had gone to a printer in Invercargill to get some route maps printed, and they were ready this morning.  So I set out a little late, waiting for them to open.  Nice thing too, since Roxane’s bus was coming back through town from Stewart Island.  She texted me and we were able to meet up briefly during their rest break, and say goodbye again.  I quickly shunted some of my excess maps onto her, so she could mail them to Queenstown for me.

My lesson of the roadwalks yesterday was evidently not well learned, since today I stubbornly refused to skip the first section again.  It was much quieter, not nearly as bad as Highway 1, but still unpleasant.  The closer I got to Oreti Beach, though, the quieter the road got, until it was almost peaceful.

The beach was lovely, sandy, and long.  It had nice compacted sand for good walking.  Close to the entrance, there were a few cars and people and dogs, but after a couple kilometers it was just me and the waves.  It was really a gorgeous walk.  I had been warned about a river mouth along the way, and sure enough I got there right at high tide, around five in the afternoon.  Fortunately the light lasts until ten oclock right now, so I didn’t mind waiting a bit.  I found the top of a high dune and for two hours watched the incoming waves fight against the river current and slowly lose.  They made fascinating patterns and eddies that changed based on the pattern of swells coming in.

Once I judged the crossing to be low enough, I took off my trousers to wade across.  At the deepest point the water came nearly up to my waist anyhow, so on the other side I took off my now-salty underpants as well, and let my nethers air-dry.  The great thing about hiking in a remote area is the options it gives you.

One of the other interesting things I noted near the river mouth was that the sand closer to the river was very soft, almost quick.  But closer to the ocean was nice and hard-packed.  Whether this was the differing effect of fresh versus salt water, or the compacting action of the waves, I don’t know.

A few hours later, by now fully clothed again, I trolled into Riverton.  It was nearly ten by now, and the town was quite closed up.  Lucky for me there was a fellow who lived at the backpacker’s just staggering home.  He showed me a bed and the kitchen and told me I could pay the owner in the morning.  I made a rather poor try at cooking one of my backpacking meals, ate what resulted, and fell sound asleep.