This photo also courtesy of the Hunua Ranges and Josh Salim.
Ok, I'm going to get artsy on your for a minute: I love the painterly way the fronds overlap and crash into each other and the kind of pulsating, outward movement in it. Always love a pretty tree.
This photo also courtesy of the Hunua Ranges and Josh Salim.
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A few years ago I agreed to join a friend on a half marathon--on a whim, like an insane person. I think I ran 5k a day or two before to "train", and that was it. It was a terrible idea. I moved like an old lady for days afterwards. I couldn't go down stairs or bend over, I was so sore. After doing Tongariro I was sure it would be a repeat performance. Life is just loaded with surprises though, because I've barely been sore at all. Some stiffness sure, but nothing even worth complaining about. Instead what Josh and I have both been experiencing is insatiable, all-consuming hunger. For days. It doesn't matter how much I eat, my stomach feels like an empty ravenous pit. I have breakfast; 5 minutes later I'm ready for another meal. It's crazy. I've probably been harder on my body than my muscles are letting on. Still, the memory was worth it. I look even happier in this photo than I realized I was in the moment. That in itself feels precious enough make up for the constant bouts of hanger.
And if I don't wind up spending this week's entire paycheck on beef jerky, I'll consider it a bonus. The signs told us the hike would be 19k long, but according to my phone by the end of the day we'd done 32k (about 20 miles). However, there's always the possibility that my phone is full of it. The night before embarking on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing we had honest to goodness plans to go to bed early and get lots of rest before our all-day tramp. Then we started a puzzle with a couple of South Africans, and...we were up until 10:30 doing that puzzle. We're reckless. We got up before dawn so we could drop our car off at the end of the trail and then take a shuttle to the beginning. I definitely recommend getting an early start. Apparently some people have done it in as little as 7 hours, but I'd be surprised if those people ever stopped to look around. It's hard work, so you might as well take your time and enjoy it. Given that we're not very fit, have a penchant for lots of mini picnics, and a tendency to wander, we took closer to 12 hours to complete the whole thing. Another good reason to get out early? Dawn over Mt. Ruapehu. For us it was all aquamarine with neon pink clouds that wisped over the mountains like a rooster's tail. Just unforgettable. It's the best thing I have ever wiped fog off a car window to see. (So far.) What I don't recommend is going on Waitangi weekend. There were so many people on the track, and there were times, especially at the beginning, when we felt like cattle. I'd love to go again another time when there are fewer people out. Also, be prepared for really harsh sun. I needed sunglasses even before the sun crested over the mountains. Once it rose over the ridge I could barely see my feet in front of me. Until the sun got a little higher in the sky I could only take in the view if I hit a patch of shade or stopped and turned around, which always startled the herd. That said, it was still an awesome experience. The Tongariro Alpine Crossing starts off pretty easy for the first hour or so, until you hit the stretch known as The Devil's Staircase. Hearing that name I imagined almost a sheer vertical climb, so when I saw the stairs were like those I'd seen on lots of hikes before, I thought the name was a bit over dramatic. I was being cocky. These stairs kicked my butt. They just go on and on! Further down the track there's a part that involves hoisting yourself on a chain along slippery rocks, and I had an easier time doing that than climbing these stairs. Thankfully after that the trail flattens out for a while as you pass through this ashen, sort of martian-feeling valley. The ground gives a little under your feet like a mix of sand and...maybe styrofoam? It's hard to find something to compare it to without saying, "it was like a volcano." The weather was nice and clear as we were passing Mt. Ngauruhoe, but then, as if it knew we were watching, dark clouds began building over the summit. I think this mountain's a bit of a show off. We were able to stay ahead of the weather for most of our hike, and it was amazing to be able to see it moving over the landscape. There was a point, about where we reached Red Crater, when I could actually see patches of rain coming down in the distance. It eventually caught up with us around the Emerald Lakes, but luckily the rain was sporadic and we didn't get too wet. Plus, seeing it pucker and ripple the surface of the green water was pretty cool. The walk down to the lakes is really steep and it's all loose earth, so slipping around is inevitable. It's not very kind to your knees and you will get rocks in your shoes. That's just a fact. Although this is probably a terrible and dangerous idea, I couldn't stop thinking about how much fun it would be to sled down instead.
After the lakes the crowds thinned out. Although it's posted as a one-way hike, I saw a lot of people turn back the way they came. As long as the weather isn't too wet, I could see that going fine, although you do miss out on some beautiful stuff by going back early. The rest of the hike isn't as famous as the first half, but it was honestly the part I enjoyed most. Maybe it was relief at not being around so many people, or it could have just been refreshing to see land looking kind of green again after so much volcanic rock. There are some stunning steam vents, gold and grey colored streams, and it's such a nice, gentle slope down that it feels really relaxing by comparison. Eventually the plants grow thicker, the trees get taller, and you're back in the familiar world. Then you realize how exhausted you are. We had big plans for Tongariro this weekend, but by mid week we scrapped them for a last minute business trip to Christchurch. Josh is visiting the office now and I’m sitting in the Hummingbird Café, enjoying some much needed coffee and shade among the brightly painted shipping containers of the Re:Start Mall. It’s a gorgeous day, full of intensity and warmth tempered by a fresh, icy breeze. Knowing how close we’ve come to Antarctica, I like to imagine the wind skirting over glaciers on its way to blow past our faces. The mall I’m in was built to replace a shopping area that was destroyed after the 2011 quake: a short-term solution to a problem—but to my eye it’s one of the most vibrant spots in the city. It gives a badly needed sense of renaissance in a city that still feels mostly like rubble. From what I’ve gathered progress has been slowed by disagreements over how money should be spent and over the vision of the city’s future as a whole. It’s a question I can understand: when something so central to your identity has been destroyed, which impulse do you feed? Do you fight to get back what you once had, knowing that it might be an impossible dream? Or do you wipe the slate clean and build something new, risking that it may never equal what you once loved? The choices we are given in the face of loss are always emotional, and never clear-cut. As it is now, it’s a city of contrast: it has beautiful parks, lovely historical spots, and lively street art right alongside piles of rocks, heavy construction, and ugly dystopian grey buildings. Our hotel was next to a beautiful mural (which I forgot to take a picture of), but the surrounding flat-faced buildings (which felt ripped from the paged of 1984) spoiled the effect. Come on ChCh, at least paint them a nice color. On Saturday we traveled south, and just as the last bits of urban sprawl seemed to be petering out, we drove through a tunnel. Christchurch is very, very flat, so when we came to the mountains south of it and drove through to Lyttleton on the other side, we felt like we’d traveled through a portal. We’d just been in a city built on plains that stretch far into the distance, but now we were teleported to a mountainside harbor town, with steep, narrow, serpentine roads and a harsh, industrial beauty that Josh was in love with. Judging by the mammoth piles of tree trunks, logging seems to be a big industry here. Here's a shot of the town from high up in the scenic reserves, looking more classically picturesque. We also spent some time getting to know the city center a bit. The first day we explored on foot and then spent a lot of the second seeing it all again by tram, just to add in a little 20s era nostalgia. We lucked into some seats on the evening dinner tram, which was pricey but a lot of fun! We must have circled the track five or six times during the course of the meal, and it was cool to watch the light change in all these little bits of the city as we rolled along into dusk.
A lot of people I’d talked to before coming here told me how depressing they found Christchurch, and I can see where they’re coming from--but it's also exciting. The city's got good bones, even if it is still half skeleton. It's clear from what's there that it was once something special, and judging from the energy that's poking through the cracks in the cement, it has the potential to be something pretty special again. |
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