I was so exhausted by the end of Day 2 I couldn’t bring myself to write anything… (it’s now the end of Day 4 and I still haven’t managed another post). What I do have however are a couple of videos from Day 2 to give you an insight into what happened – mainly just walking and eating sand! 🙂
Day 1 of the Te Araroa Trail:
So many things happened today I don’t even know where to start. Firstly I’m laying in my tent upon the thinnest white sand of 90 Mile Beach listening to what sounds like the waves crashing through my doorway. It’s 11 PM on Monday 4 December 2017, my day one of the Ta Araroa Trail. I’ve been suffering tendinitis in my wrist so I’m attempting to write this by speaking into the microphone on my notepad app. So far so good, except that my phone doesn’t know how to spell Ta Araroa and seems to misunderstand my Aussie accent.
Jumping back to the beginning of the day, I boarded a bus to Kaitaia at 7:30 AM this morning close to where I stayed last night at the Attic Hostel in Auckland. Kaitaia is approximately 100 kilometres south of Cape Reinga at the start of the trail, and when the bus dropped me off outside the library, I borrowed a piece of paper and pen and created a sign that said Cape Reinga or North. 
Once on the road I was picked up by a woman named Rebecca within seconds who drove me approximately 10 minutes back towards the main highway leading north. From there a lovely gentleman named Eric picked me up in his truck and drove me another 20 minutes north before he turned off to head east. A girl named Jody was my third ride, and she backed up down the highway after passing me, admitting that she hadn’t intended to pick me up until she realised that I looked friendly and felt guilty that I was hitching alone. Jody drove me about half an hour north, and on the way we stopped off for homemade ice cream made from local blueberries and raspberries at Tomo Orchard!
After Jody dropped me off at her local shops a woman named Rachel picked me up. Rachel was a local Maori woman who lived in a small village about 40km south of Cape Reinga. She told me she’d be terrified if any of her daughters ever did what I was doing, but that she understood all the reasons I told her about wanting to (simple living, escape from civilisation, opportunity to see the real NZ and meet its people)!
Rachel drop me off just outside her driveway and from there it took almost 2 hours to catch my final ride to the Cape. While I was waiting, I was joined by four local kids who were fascinated about what I was doing and where I was from. It was like a scene out of the movie ‘Boy’, and if you haven’t watched it I highly recommend it along with ‘Search for the Wilderpeople’ – both made in NZ. One of the boy’s parents drove past with about eight children in the back of her car and yelled out the window at the kids to get off the road and called them an ‘egg’. It was like a scene out of the movie, and the insult sounds so good in an authentic Kiwi accent!
The kids were on their way to swim in the river nearby but stayed with me for almost an hour chatting and trying to lift my pack off the ground. One of the kids was talking about how bad life must be in North Korea, and when I asked if he learned about that in school (he was in year 7), he told me he does most of his learning from YouTube. Go figure!
Though adorable, every car that drove past while I was talking to the kids assumed all five of us wanted a ride, which is probably why I only got one after they finally decided to head to the river. Maybe it was also because I waved at the car like I knew the driver, so he probably felt obliged to stop.
I arrived at the Cape at around 6:30 PM, and after re-packing my bag and walking down to the lighthouse to take photos I finally hit 90 Mile Beach at 7:30 PM. The trail deviated from the beach into the dunes as the sun went down, but thankfully the moon was almost as bright as the sun and rose looking orange and giant. My photo can’t do it justice, but it was a beautiful reintroduction to a sight I’m going to become very familiar with. 
I think my pack weighs about 20kg and by 10 PM all the familiar muscles that used to hurt during the PCT began to complain. I had considered walking for longer but I’ve decided to set up my tent, write my blog and get some sleep so that I can wake up at sunrise and start early before the heat sets in. I’ll be posting photos to Instagram @serial_nomad too and will do my best to write as much as I can along this journey – though likely not as much as the PCT, I still don’t know how I did that!
Good night from 90 Mile Beach!
I used to think my life truly began when I turned 30, but since then I’ve discovered how blind I was to the world around me. I certainly don’t have all the answers now and most definitely never will, but if there’s ever been a time in my life where I’ve harnessed clarity it’s now. Who I want to be and the direction I choose to head in are both in my control. It’s time to leap across the gaps, fill in the blanks, and choose the path I want to follow.
After I turned 30 I decided to hike from Mexico to Canada. I’m still not 100% sure what I was searching for… but I found a lot more than I bargained for on that trail. I’ve spent the last few years reflecting, processing and writing about the experience, and now I’m at a point where I can leave the past behind and move onto a new chapter in my life.
For my 35th birthday I’ve decided to hike the Te Araroa trail in New Zealand. Not because I’m searching for answers or feel like I have something to prove, but because I crave the simplicity and the connection with nature I found while thru-hiking the PCT.
Sure I could pick a shorter trail, but that true connection didn’t strike me until I’d spent at least 2 months living outside. I became in sync with the sun and the moon, began to wonder why we ever need more than what fits in a backpack, and made connections with people along the way that would normally take years to build.
People laugh when I say I don’t like hiking that much, but thru-hiking isn’t just about hiking… it’s about throwing yourself into the complete unknown without your regular comforts to protect you. It’s about pushing your mind and body further than you ever thought possible, and discovering that you’re far more capable than you ever expected to be.
Thru-hiking is like taking a detox from modern society, the 9-5, the noise. Sure you can’t escape life even in the wilderness, but something magical happens when your world slows down to a walking pace. Time slows down, simple pleasures are magnified, and despite the constant pain your body, there’s something organic about having nothing else to do than hike, eat, shit and sleep.
On Saturday I fly to New Zealand, and on Monday I’ll start walking the trail from north to south. I don’t know too much more than that, other than it’s the next path I’ve chosen to follow.
I’ve been unpacking, washing and drying out gear for the last 4 hours since I got home, but that’s sea kayaking for you, and all I can say is the effort is well worth the experience we had over the last 8 days.
We arrived in Secret Cove on Saturday afternoon, after paddling 26kms that day and a total of 166kms over the 8 days we were on the water. Despite the wind warnings we managed to stay on schedule, and decided to spend Saturday night at Dave’s sister’s house after our final campsite was full of people enjoying the long weekend on the Sunshine Coast.
Yesterday we completed our crossing of the Salish Sea, and even though we did it in stages, we still did it! The experience was a lot more enjoyable than doing it in one hit with no island hopping in-between, and even while it was broken up, some of the 8-10km stretches against waves and wind were still a hard slog!
I’m definitely one to enjoy my alone time, but I have to say I can’t imagine doing a trip like this without companions. Tyson had to leave after day 4, but even with the three of us left (Dave, Amber and myself), we had such a grand time together, respecting everyone’s highs and lows that we inevitably all experience, and functioning like a super star team. A well-oiled machine doesn’t even cut it, we seemed to function just on instinct.
My favourite memories from the trip were the moments of silent belly laughter or contemplation whilst watching the sun set over the horizon. The worst times were carrying our boats through low tide sludge where the mud would suck my shoes from my feet and force me to step on the sharp barnacles beneath. Or the mosquitos that forced me to abandon cowboy camping on Ballenas Island and set up my tent in the wind on a slant, only to wake up to it collapsing on me.
But the challenging times make the good ones even more magnificent, and I wouldn’t trade any of them for a second (except for finding Amber’s car broken into when we returned to Horseshoe Bay today 😦 ).
I feel alive in a way I sometimes forget to feel when I’m deep in the grind. A week or sometimes even a few days away can press that reset button we should all switch on and off from time to time. Those moments when you watch over the ocean and think about how big the world is are just priceless. I never come to any grand conclusions about this insane world we live in, but at least I have time to think about it, and realise just how small I am in the big scheme of things.
A small hit of nature can do wonders for the soul, and I feel recharged enough to put my head down for the remainder of August and most of September before I do anything like this again. Thanks for coming along for the adventure and for sharing in the experience. Reflecting on these moments allow me to appreciate them for just a little longer.
We made it to Southey Island yesterday despite the wind warnings, and although there were waves and the paddling was tough, it was nothing like the waves coming into Nanaimo thankfully.
Southy was the first island that wasn’t an official campsite with outhouses and designated areas to sleep. I think that’s why I liked it so much, I finally felt like we were removed from the rest of the world.
A lot of these islands are just giant rocks poking their heads out of the ocean with trees sprinkled over the tops. We transitioned from smooth sandstone to granite rocks as we’ve headed north, or so my paddling companions tell me, I’m more focussed on the water and the sky and the beauty of having absolutely nothing to do. It’s amazing how quickly I fill up my days at home and leave zero time to even stare out the window.
Right now I’m lying on the rocky beach of Ballenas Island feeling as close to heaven as I think life can ever be. The waves are slowly creeping towards my feet and my only concern is ensuring that I and my boat don’t float out to sea. Like me, I need to drag my boat a few feet up the beach every half hour.
As a kid I always wondered what it would be like to be stranded on a desert island. I had no idea that it was even possible to paddle to an island in the middle of the ocean and stay for the night or longer. We weren’t a camping family, I spent holidays on a farm exploring the paddocks and river and sometimes went bush bashing with my sister, but I didn’t develop a real appreciation for nature and the outdoors until I hiked the PCT. I know it always comes back to the trail, but in the same way kids grow up camping or paddling and that lifestyle just becomes engrained into who they are, the trail cemented nature into my veins. It’s like an addiction now. I just can’t live without it.
We had a half day of paddling today, only going 10km from Southey to Ballenas Island via a marina that was under renovation. It’s been a treat to come across at least one marina on this trip, and it’s not something I ever expected, but when you are expecting it and it’s not there the disappointment can be enourmous. I dreamt of cinemon buns all night but paddled away empty handed.
We’ve paddled a total of 116km and have three more days to go. It’s funny how the first half of a trip you feel like it will last forever, and then once you’re beyond half way you have to conciously keep your mind in the present and not allow it to slip back to all the things you need to do when you get home. Like all good things it’s sad to think of it being over, but at the same time I’m grateful to even feel this way.
Soon it’ll be time to warm up the jetboils and get dinner cooking. We’re hoping to see phosphorescence this evening like we did on Day 2, and hopefully we’ll be able to stay up late enough to swim in them. We’ll be cowboy camping right by the water’s edge tonight so we can literally roll out, dry off and fall asleep. It’ll all depend on the moon, but we’re facing north east so hopefully we’re in for a good show!
The moon is shining like a spotlight through my tent this evening and it’s not even full. It’s probably also the first night in a while when I’ve camped and it’s been too hot to wear my sleeping bag! I love these nights. It’s the kind of night that I wish I didn’t have a single walled tent!
It’s day four, and we’ve had some incredibly eventful days already. Today in particular was quite hairy. We were paddling against 30 knot headwinds (approx 55km) into 5-8 foot waves attempting to reach Nanaimo. If my boat wasn’t fully loaded I’m sure I would have flipped, but instead we were just pelted in the face by salt water as we did our best to stay together during the 4km crossing. I didn’t get any video or photos of the experience. I was hanging onto dear life to my paddle which was being blown out of my hands. It was that kind of exhilarating experience you wish would be over while you’re in it, but you know you’ll look back on and be proud you survived.
There are severe wind warnings in affect tomorrow (like today believe it or not), so having reached our day 4 campsite by the hair of our teeth we’re contemplating what the next few days will look like. We’ve paddled over 80km already, and like Dave continues to remind me, sea kayaking is entirely weather dependant, so we’ll see what tomorrow and the next few days bring. The wind warning is in effect until Thursday afternoon, so it might stop us from crossing Georgia Straight entirely, but whatever, I’ve laughed so hard on this trip my ribs hurt, and the only reason I think any of us are out here is for a chance to escape reality and to have a bit of fun.
On this trip I’ve learned a lot about island life and boating life in general. Sea kayakers and sailboats/yachts move in similar circles location wise (beaches, marinas, island pubs), but certainly behave very differently when it comes to cooking and sleeping. It’s been fun getting a glimpse into their world and to realise that although their boat costs about a bajillion times more than mine, I’d much prefer to be paddling my boat with my soggy tortillas and hummus in the hatches, than be on their fancy crafts. It’s quite a liberating realisation I must say.
We’ve seen some incredible scenery, stunning beaches, beautiful sandstones cliffs with amazing shapes carved into them from the sea. We’ve seen bald eagles swooping down to catch fish, gulls attempting to swallow star fish, racoons surrounding our tents at night, and hoards of spider crabs that brought out the arachnophobe in me.
I could safely say if I left tomorrow I’d still be satisfied with the trip we’ve had, but we still have 5 more days to go, so undoubtedly there will be more adventures to come. Sometimes straying off course presents an entirely new possibility you never bargained for. We’ll see what happens tomorrow!
I haven’t lay in a tent and typed on my phone for years it seems. The months I spent tapping on this tiny screen on the PCT seems crazy to me now. How did I do it? Why did I do it? I guess it’s human nature to want to share your story when you’re riding a high. Like coming home from a great day at work or receiving a phone call that has the potential to be life changing. All you want to do is tell someone! I think that’s what this blog was to me back then. A vehicle to share those highs and lows. It’s what it still is I guess, though I question it a lot more now, like all social media. There’s just so much content out there, I can’t help but question why it is we do this.
What I wanted to share though this evening was my very best discovery of the day. It’s something I’d forgotten about being in nature, and one of the key reasons we should all get back to it from time to time. What I was reminded of is that time slows down. There is nothing to do out here except be out here. To watch the sun slowly slip behind the horizon and leave radiant colours in its path. To watch the tide slowly creeping up the sand until it’s lapping at your toes. Every microsecond the world around us is changing, but when you watch it change, it moves so much slower than you think.
We have been blessed with good weather for this trip, and a tail wind that had Dave moving around 5km/h just by holding up his giant umbrella. (Photos on my waterproof camera will have to be posted later). It was pretty choppy out there, but the waves were at least moving us forward.
We’re camping at a spot called James Bay on Prevost Island. It’s glorious, not the most secluded but private enough that we had our own beach front kitchen space and some flat grassy spots under a grouping of apple trees to pitch our tents.
Tomorrow we’re aiming to be on the water by 7am. I’m so looking forward to coffee and oatmeal in the  morning. Mainly for old times sake. I’ll be tired of oatmeal by day three, but it’s the routine of making it and the cooking of breakfast on the beach that will make up for the flavour!
Goodnight from James Bay!
Well hi there, yes it’s been a long time, and with time comes a big responsibility to satisfy whatever expectations you have of what prevented me from writing all this time. If I wasn’t fighting crocodiles or scaling glaciers or walking across the god damn universe, what excuse do I have for leaving you hanging in the balance, tapping the refresh button, waiting for this update to finally arrive? You were waiting for it though, right?
Unfortunately I don’t have any real excuses or a lot to report. I spend about 90 hours a week in front of my laptop, and the remaining time is spent paddling or lying horizontal. I see this year as my ‘head down get shit done year’, and if it doesn’t kill me I’m hoping next year will be my ‘let’s get as far away from my laptop as possible year’.
But until then, my next adventure is a 9-day sea-kayaking trip along the Salish Sea Marine Trail. For those of you who followed some of my paddling adventures last year, you may recall my failed attempt to cross the Salish Sea from Nanaimo to Vancouver in one hit. This trip is not that! We’re taking 9 days to go double that distance. It’s a vacation, and it’s meant to be fun!
So in addition to the story of my sedentary-soon-to-become-active-life for 9 days, I’m documenting my trip preparations for those of you who may also want to jump in a boat and go on a multi-day trip, or on an overnight trip, or at least just start dreaming about it!
Whether it’s a 9-day trip or an overnight excursion, your gear pretty much stays the same, (like hiking, but totally different at the same time). You just need to take a hell of a lot more food, but the nice thing about travelling in a boat is that provided it fits in your hatches, the weight doesn’t make all that much difference!
When you’re travelling on water (unlike hiking), you also need to keep an eye on currents, tides and the wind. I’ve just downloaded a new app called AyeTides, which I’m excited to test out. There’s nothing worse than waking up to discover the tide is out and you now need to carry your heavy boat 500m to the water, or even worse, waking up to find your boat has been washed away because you didn’t carry it above the high tide line or tie it up!
You can click on the links below to review my:
The biggest difference on this trip compared to other multi-day kayak trips I’ve done is that we’re rolling our boats onto the ferry to get from the mainland to Vancouver Island. This means I’ll be taking a set of kayak wheels that I’ll need to strap to the deck of my boat, which won’t be ideal but I’m sure I can manage. I’ve seen my friend paddle with a two-burner stove on their deck so I know it can be done!
Then once we arrive in Swartz Bay we’ll roll our kayaks off the ferry, head to the water, strap the wheels to the deck and start paddling!
You can read more about the Salish Sea Marine Trail here. We’re doing a 165km portion of the 260km trail, which goes all the way from Victoria to Vancouver, and when I say trail, I mean there’s official campsites you can pull up to on the islands you paddle past on the way. If we make good time we may even paddle all the way to Squamish to drop off my friend Dave. That would mean one less ferry trip coming home, but we’ll see how we do!
Happy paddling! 🙂
You know what, I’m cooped up at home on a Friday night, my housemates both in separate rooms, wondering what to do next on my never ending task list.
I’m nearing the end of an 8-week creative non-fiction writing course, that has not only taught me all the things I don’t know about writing, but has worn me down with a mountain of assignments and reading tasks. I should be reviewing the work of my peers and reading about lyrical essays and mixed media. But I can’t. I just want to write without intent, or style, or consideration of a beginning, middle, or an end.
I’m writing tonight because I want to. To rid myself of that feeling of being under-qualified, or as my friend Chrissy so rightly put it, a complete literary fraud. I’m going back to the form I know and the voice I’m familiar with. There’s been a lot on my mind that I’ve wanted to communicate, so I’m writing because it feels liberating.
The writing course, of course, has been incredibly insightful none-the-less. I’ve learned to express myself in eloquent metaphors, but I’ve learned a lot about myself in the process. I’m one of the least creative, creative people I know, and I put it down to a life full of efficiency. I eat the same foods, wear the same combinations of clothing, and try to use every second of every day productively. I don’t take time to soak in the details, use clever language or colourful prose. I want to get my messages across succinctly, so I can move onto the next assignment before the next.
It sounds awful, but even when I’m not doing something it’s because I’ve scheduled time to do nothing – like meditate, or fold laundry, or speak to my housemates because it’s socially required. My life is one calculated move after the next, but it’s essentially what drives me. There’s nothing worse than an unproductive me.
The interesting thing is that I recently found my breaking point. The moment when I realised I’d tied myself in so many knots, I could no longer undo them all.
I experienced this in a number of ways; increased anxiety, inability to focus, moments where I’d burst into unexpected tears wondering what the hell was wrong with me. My life had become a series of tasks, and if I didn’t get them done I was failing.
The problem was overselling myself. There wasn’t enough time to do everything. But instead of prioritising, I just continued to steamroll ahead. Like a deflated balloon in much need of air, I began to sink instead of breathing.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned this year is that I’m not perfect, and that’s okay. Though I’m a strong independent woman, admitting that I need help has made me feel more empowered than I’ve ever been.
I’d always viewed help as a sign of weakness. I want to do everything I can on my own. But it’s amazing what happens when you accept vulnerability. Reaching out is often harder than going it alone.
So if I were to extrapolate a theme from this, as my writing coach would insist I do, I’d say it’s about accepting that I’m human. And instead of juggling life’s demands while sitting at my desk on a Friday night, I’m going to celebrate humanity instead, by setting aside time to share this story.
I’ve been sitting in a lot of meetings at work recently, discussing ideas and creative solutions to problems that often cause me to drift away on my own thoughtful tangents resulting in two columns in my notebook. One for work, the other for my own inspiration.
Friday was one of these aforementioned occurrences and I thought it worthy of sharing, as my notebook weighed more heavily towards the B column.
Sometimes the solutions to a problem can only be found by working back from the desired result. I’ve been applying this principle to the project I’m currently working on, but because I’m equally consumed by thoughts of what to do once this contract is up, I’ve begun applying this philosophy to myself.
In other words, to decide what to do next, I need to start from the end and work back, which as a concept raises some rather interesting questions.
Where am I when I die?
Who is around me and where do I live?
What was I doing before I died?
Was I sitting on a yacht drinking champagne, living in a cottage in the woods nursing squirrels, or did I plummet to my death as a human kite?
What job did I retire from?
What possessions did I own?
What was on the wall of my bedroom?
What languages did I speak?
What was my greatest skill?
Who will remember me?
What was the final chapter in my memoir?
Death is a reality I usually sweep under the carpet and avoid thinking about, but the more I accept it, the more I remind myself to live. And perhaps if I consider these sorts of questions before my mortality catches up, the better I can steer my choices when it comes to making decisions.
Like a lot of people, I don’t have these answers, any of them in fact. I don’t have a five or ten year plan, I feel weighed down by options, I change my mind frequently, and I’m constantly questioning what the hell I’m doing here. But if the decisions I make today shape my tomorrow, perhaps I should start to consider what my tomorrow actually looks like.
I purposely reversed my regular walking route today for a new perspective, while considering the questions above. Though it didn’t result in specific answers, the common themes revolved around simplicity, community and activity. Who knows how this translates over the next five, ten or fifteen years, but for now it feels like a good place to start.
Happy 2017 and beyond!
Serial Nomad 