The Routeburn

It felt good to be back in Queenstown, but we weren't staying long.  We had paid for a shuttle to take us to the beginning of the Routeburn track early the next morning.  Backpacks stuffed to the brim with food, clothes, sleeping bags, water, and everything else you need for a 4 day hike, we set off on our next adventure.

I hurt my knee that one early morning in Mount Cook, twisting it on a large rock that had unexpectedly given away.  It still felt on the weaker side, but this was our last chance to do this infamous trek, and I wanted to make it work.  

The beginning was surreal.  A thin path through ancient forest teeming with bird life.  The first thing I noticed was just that, how much life there was there.  Even the trees were often completely covered in mosses, ferns, and even small plants.   

It was life stacked upon life.  Everywhere you looked, touched, and even stepped, was covered in something very much alive.  

There were beautiful waterfalls and crystal, blue rivers that were crossed on thin, wobbly, cable bridges that only could take a few people at a time.  They were strong, but the sway and bounce they made when you were crossing gave you that lift you get in your stomach when you're suddenly falling.  

We stopped near the end of that first days hike for a rest and ate a snack.  But when I got back up, my knee practically seized.  It felt as if I had just torn something the way it became unbendably stiff with frequent, sharp pains.  I couldn't believe how bad it hurt.  After trying to go up a small hill I practically fell.  It was pretty much apparent that I would have to turn back as I could barely bend it.   Mariel insisted on going back with me. I knew she had waited a long time for this hike and tried to convince her otherwise, but she made it clear we were going back together.  It was my fault and a hard thing to swallow..  

Mariel any more cool and understanding, but I was the total opposite.  This sucked.  There wasn't ever even a major injury.  Just a slip, and a twist that somehow added up to THIS!  The voice in my head was ranting, boiling over with sheer frustration.  I just wanted to do this god damn hike! I just couldn't accept it...

In a flash, I decided I wasn't having it.  I was at least doing the first leg of this hike, even if I had to drag myself there.  I'd turn around the next day, but I wasn't going back empty handed.  I started hiking, limping up the hill the best I could.  The more I tried, the more it hurt.  Mariel was yelling at me to come back.  It hurt, bad, but the more it hurt, the more flexible my knee became, and soon I was walking on it!  

I eventually found a walking stick, and full of anger and determination, I lugged myself up the hill the hour and a half or so to the Routeburn Falls Hut.

That night I started talking to a really cool German guy named Tim.  He mentioned he was a musician and was hoping to make a future out of it.  He put his earphones in my ears and I have to say, I wasn't expecting much, but I was actually blown away!  I'm gonna put it on the site next week, so you all can hear what I'm talking about. 

I took a bunch of Ibuprofen before I went to sleep that night as to try and get the swelling down.  Lying in my bunk I was a little bummed, but glad that I was able to see at least this part of the Great Walk.  

Waking up the next morning, my knee felt totally fine... To this minute I have no idea how or why.  It ached a little but nowhere near the amount of the day before.  I ended up meeting an American guy who was studying to be a doctor as well as a lady who had had more than her share of knee injuries, and after a check out, they both agreed that it was okay for me to continue on.

(Photo of the Week)

They told me to just take it slow and use the walking stick as much as possible.  Tim even insisted on carrying some of our food for us to take some of the weight.  Good on ya Tim!

Between my bum knee and my ridiculous need to always take photos, it was painstaking slow (especially for poor Mariel), but I was just too happy to be moving on.  We'd make it to the next hut before dark.  Besides that, what was the hurry?  Anyway, something good came from it.  Due to my extreme slowness, we were the only ones able to see the series of glacial lakes that bordered the trail.  The fog that plagued the walkers earlier that morning had lifted by the time we got there.  What luck!

The walk that day stayed high up on the mountain with a steep drop of to our right.  The varieties of plants that bordered the trail were unbelievable for how high up we were.  I had no idea there would be so many plants thriving this high up the mountain.  

Eventually we zig-zagged our way down towards the second hut.  Hitting the tree-line, everything immediately became dark, and damp.  Spiraling branches reached out into the path like witches fingers, and everything was eerily silent.  It was truly a haunted forest, but in an indescribably good way.  It reminded me of something from The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy picked an apple and the trees became angry with her, throwing apples at her, except these trees seemed a bit friendlier. 


I was constantly expecting one of them to tap me on the shoulder, and then vanish by the time i turned around, just to let me know that my suspicions were true; we were definitely NOT alone!  

It's like that feeling you get when you're sleeping and someone enters the room.  Or when you know someone is looking at you, even though you can't see them.  I don't think I've ever felt that watched, that surrounded, without anyone actually around.  I've always had my suspicions that trees were a lot more sentient, more conscious, than we would think, and this definitely seemed to be proving that true.

Bad knee and all, we made it to the second hut.  After an unbelievably long speech by the hut warden that was 1 part safety speech, 9 parts stand up comedy routine, and 0 parts funny, we were fast asleep.

The next morning we continued the slow pace onward.  I didn't have my walking stick anymore because I broke after a, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" impression from the Lord of the Rings I performed for Mariel at the end of the previous day.  Well apparently I got a little to into it and snapped it about a third of the way down (it was very passionate...) But, my knee felt better than ever, so on we went.

The scene changed yet again as we hiked back up the otherside.  Back in the forest, we came across the coolest little waterfalls, one after the other.  Eventually arriving at a 160 meter one, where we just had to stop and take it all in.   

As we continued on, we passed by yet another unbelievably clear pool of running water.  I had no choice, I had to get down and have a drink.  The water was cool and refreshing in a way I will not try and describe.  It was the way water was meant to be drank; chalk full of all the natural minerals and electrolytes the mountains provide.  Mariel had to agree.

We made it to the final hut.  It was near a place where 3 river systems split, all from one area.  One went to the south, one went to the west, and one went to the east.  It was a sacred place for the Maori, and it was easy to understand why.  

The final day was an easy hike down to the carpark where we got picked up.  It was finally time to make our way back to Christchurch; back to the source of inevitable problems.  Between the van, the recent earthquake, and the fact that this day signified the end of Mariel's trip, and thus, the end of our trip together, it was a bit overwhelming.  Times would be different from here on out.  Tough times were inevitably ahead.  I could see it like a storm brewing in the distance, and we were heading straight for it.  I could feel my stomach turn in a soup of anxiety from the anticipation.   But there was no way out of it now...