Te Araroa: Ninety Mile Beach

 

 

21.10.2019 Day 1 (12km)

The mild weather and gentle breeze made it the perfect day for hiking. After a quick photo at the iconic Cape Reinga marker we followed the dirt path through knee-high bushes and down the cliffs overlooking the place where the Pacific and the Tasman Sea intermingle.

My smile was as wide as my face, and if my face had been larger, the smile would have grown to accommodate it. Everything I had heard about the beach was bad. People dreaded it as much as the plague, or so it seemed. From where I was standing, however, I couldn’t conceive why. The earlier tides had hardened the sand, and there was a pleasant mist in the air. 

At the end of the first leg a small river crossing marked the point where the trail turned up into the dunes. Unlike the shore, the sand was soft and slid carefree through the breathable fabric of my shoes. Thankfully my gaiters prevented additional filling; it was the first time I had used them and I must say they were quite handy. Nicole and I had a bit of trouble locating the first few trail markers, but once we knew what we were looking for we found our way through the dune labyrinth with ease. It was strange how the elements had hardened the sand into a firm yet spongy surface. Our shoes left no trace but the trekking poles dug past the crust leaving small indentations. 

We lunched in the green cliffs after the dunes, hoping high tide would be over once we descended back to the beach. Luck was on our side and the last section of the hike was more smooth sailing. There was even a seal sunning itself on the sand. 

Ben, Tobi, and Chris were already set up at Twilight Camp when we arrived. Together we relaxed on the grass, ate dinner, and watched the sun descend behind the distant clouds. 

Day’s Highlights: No blisters and the seal

22.10.2019 Day 2 (28km)

Pounding rain woke me in the middle of the night. Being the first night in the tent, my sleep was already restless, but that just made it worse. A little before dawn the showers lessened, allowing for an easy pack up; but we were revisited throughout the morning. 

Ben decided to join Nicole and I, as we began our hike in the hills bordering the shore. The elevation changes were a pleasant warm up to the day. We had weighed my pack that morning to discover it was a whopping 20 kilos…I just hated wasting food and so overpacked a bit. To be honest, it didn’t seem that heavy; at least to my back and hips. 

A series of wooden steps brought us back to the beach. From there on it was nothing but sand and the endless hush of waves. Unlike the beaches I’m accustomed to, where sets of waves come in, this beach had no order to its waves. They were assembled in constant broken jumbles, like a two-year-old’s scribbles on a wall. 

My feet began to ache, but I ignored the pain. The real problems began after our first stream crossing. Since it was modest, I didn’t want to change my shoes. Inevitably, my feet got wet and not long after my first blister reared its ugly head. 

By the time we arrived at camp, an exposed shelf of grass filled with wild horses, I had four resident blisters on my feet. I could only hope the next day wouldn’t summon four more. 

Day’s Highlights: Awesome hiking buddies, only four blisters

23.10.2019 Day 3 (30km)

It would have been an excellent night of sleep, if I had actually slept. When I settled in for the night the winds were a bit high, but nothing serious. Banshee howls woke me at three in the morning and I realized the walls of my tent were closing in around me. It was a brand new tent but I was certain it was about to meet its maker. Quickly, I hopped out of my sleeping bag and began reinforcing the central pole, holding it against the force of the wind. 

After the long day I needed my rest and wondered how I would be able to hold out against the tireless gales. I knew, however, I wouldn’t be getting any rest if my poles snapped; so I pushed back as though life depended on it. Occasionally, the gusts would die off and I would lay in a restless half-sleep, waiting for the next onslaught. By sunrise I was exhausted. Positioning my back to support the tent I packed my things and rushed over to the covered shelter to make breakfast. 

The night had been but a glimmer of what the day had in store for us. The beach remained firm and there weren’t any river crossings, for which I was grateful. Gusts of wind hit us at upwards of 100kph (70mph), threatening to knock us over with each blow. Seven hours of featureless beach, biting rain, and unforgiving winds were enough to cope with, but I still had the four blisters from the previous day, sending fire through each step. 

To make matters worse, eight kilometers from our destination my stomach went sour. There was no way in hell I was going to neatly puke or poo in that weather. I simply refused to do it and told my body it better fucking pull itself together. 

Somehow, I still don’t exactly know how, I made it and with only one additional blister to show for it. 

Day’s Highlights: I survived

24.10.2019 Day 4 (31km)

Today was rough; not because of the weather, which was quite lovely. It was because of walking down a monotone beach and coping with the aches from fighting the wind the previous day. All I can say is I don’t think I have ever been so excited to leave a beach. My feet are swollen, blotchy, and three blisters have been added to the collection. Maybe I should start naming them to keep track. 

Now that it’s over I understand why people dread it. I must say, personally, the most challenging aspect was the lack of features. There was literally nothing to look at, no change, just endless dunes and waves. It removed all concept of time and distance traveled.

Day’s Highlights: The beach is OVER!!!