Week 11 Glenorchy, The Routeburn Trek and going Home
February 5th
2012
I am in Glenorchy, a small town, if it can even be called
that. It is the last real outpost
resembling a town before the Routeburn Trek trailhead. I will be doing the hike
tomorrow, my final event of New Zealand.
My final event of my trip. As if
it all comes down to this, some otherwise unimportant mileage of dirt, rock and
grass, to capture my final memories of my trip.
Here in Glenorchy there is little to do, little but walk in the sun,
stare at the mountains and think. The ride
I received to this spot, one of my last to be sure, was unremarkable except for
the view. I honestly believe the short
drive from Queenstown to here was the most beautiful I have seen yet, and that
is saying something considering the miles I have ridden in someone’s car, half
listening, half staring, as life and mountain views alike, passed by with
graceful melancholy. My driver on this
trip? I’m not sure exactly. I can say he
was a man in the middle of his life, his wife sick with some cancer and he
himself a professor at a University in that pile of rubble Christchurch, I had
escaped not days before. I wonder even
now if I will remember him, or if I will need to call upon my words as they are
written and piece together his significance in relation to the rest of my
journey. If nothing else I will know he existed because
of the place where I am now, Glenorchy, one of the most beautiful places in the
world. Earlier I walked along the water’s
edge and stopped to sit and stare, unsure when I will have this opportunity
again. Tomorrow will be a personal
onslaught of determination as I make haste on the trail, eager to finish, eager
to move on. But for now I sit, taking in
the beauty, eating some ice cream, and smiling.
For now I am patient and here I linger, if for only a little while
longer.
February 7th
2012
Yesterday I began and completed the Routeburn Trek, a
32km hike through the northern stretches of the fiords of New Zealand. Like other treks that I have done, this too
is a so called ‘great walk’ of New Zealand.
To its credit the scenery was superb; the track began as a meandering
path through the forest floor before climbing up along the ridges giving way to
sights of surrounding mountain peaks erupting around you. There were also the high priced huts for you
to stay in if you so choose, with the average hiker taking a leisurely 3 day or
normal 2 day approach to the track. But
I have seen a million mountains and taken a photo of each. After having completed the Kepler Trek with
such energy (and a decent time), I was determined to make the Routeburn a
challenge. My interest no longer lay in
the expansive vistas but in the narrow and jagged path that lie between the
Start and the Finish. Originally I was
going to allow myself 8 hours to complete it, but after arriving and
recalculating I decided to set my aim for under 6 hours.
Unlike some of the other tracks the Routeburn was not as
smooth, with jutting rocks determined to repeatedly trip me as I foolishly tried
to walk and look at the mountains simultaneously. Even once I nearly stepped off into the abyss
below as I slipped; narrowly avoiding my front teeth catching me on the rocks. Like other tracks in the area, there are some
runners who complete such trails in astounding times, with results that seem
impossible as I listen to my breath gushing in and out of lungs, the noise only
competing against the resounding thud of my heart as it pounds within my
chest. The silence of the mountains allows
for my internal cacophony as I struggle up my path. My breaks were minimal and brief; only two
official stops were made. At these times
I would open my backpack and devour snacks before pressing on; pushing food
into my mouth as if that were a race itself.
I had still packed way too much to make this a real speed test. My bag contained a change of clothes, food
for three and my computer (and depending on the time, 1.5 liters of water). Boiled eggs, cans of tuna, bananas, snickers,
granola bars, an orange, and carrots were my fuel. Ignoring the song birds I instead opted for
headphones and cranked up some music you might expect to hear at a cage fight
or Hell’s Angels rally.
By the time I reached my second stop, which was one of
the huts, I had finished 95% of the uphill but still had nearly 12 km to go and
only 1 hour 40 minutes remaining to complete it. As I ate my Snickers and poured water more
down my shirt than throat, a middle aged German couple sat nearby. Maybe it was my crazed look or my inability
to properly feed myself that caused the man to remark in broken English “You
try to set record?”. I half choked,
half laughed and said “No”, the record holder would have finished nearly 2
hours ago. I put on another pair of
socks to reduce the ever increasing throb of the blister forming on my heel,
cinched up my backpack as tight as I could and started to jog out the
remainder. I was not sure if I would
make my time deadline but there seemed little reason not to try.
The last hut on the trail rests 3.4 km from the The
Divide, the parking lot and end of it all.
I had 25 minutes left but my energy was waning. To my dismay there was another hill; one I had
neither accounted for nor desired. It’s
timing could not have been worse. My
pace slowed to a zig-zagging walk; if I stopped I would probably never move
again. Unaware if the hill was 10 feet
or 1000, reaching the pinnacle had eaten up a precious 10 minutes. Given the proximity of the parking lot this
part of the trail began to swell with people; walkers out to complete the small
section to the first hut no doubt, not expecting a sweaty red faced man with a
bandana and headphones to come tripping around the corner. Oh how many times did I mumble “hi” or “excuse
me” through cracked lips, without knowing if they ever responded. It didn’t matter. I rounded the final bend and half stumbled
into the parking lot in time to push STOP on my watch, which read, 5:59:12.
For whatever asinine reason I ever cared what the time was I was still
happy to have completed it. I celebrated
with an orange, standing in the shade from a road sign and stood waiting for
someone to pick me up.
February 8th
2012
El Fin
This is the end.
For practical purposes this will be the last entry in the final chapter
of my saga. I am on a bus now, heading
from Queenstown to Christchurch airport where I will spend a night in the
terminal before beginning my series of flights back to the USA. Back home.
I can’t help but remember the entry I wrote in Hong Kong
as I rode the bus from the city to the airport.
At that time, like now, I feel most pensive, lost in my thoughts with
nary the speed to capture them. This
trip, this journey, or whatever it can be called; it is finishing and I am
spectrum of emotions. There is an unmistakable amount of excitement and joy in
going back home for no other reason than to reunite with Sarah. There is no denying the difficulty in being
separated for such duration, relying on intermittent internet and the novelty
of Skype to maintain our relationship.
But beyond that, beyond the gratification of seeing her,
I am not sure how I feel. If you were to
ask me what it was I set out to do or accomplish while traveling my answer
would never have been clear. My
intentions have been nebulous to me and yet there was rarely an uncertainty
that I wanted to do it. That I needed to
do it. Of that I am sure. It was a combination of the clichéd expanding
horizons, and immersion of cultures, and blindly groping my way beyond my
comfort zones. It also provided me with
a good reason to force a change careers.
I am not sure what I will come back and do but I have been given some
time to think about my options.
Of the things that I have learned or the realizations
that have manifested as I matured while traveling there is one that stands
paramount; the pursuit and maintaining of happiness.
Luckily for me I won’t actually be directly pursuing a
job immediately upon reentrance. There
are plans to start a new chapter of travels in April or May, embarking this
time with Sarah. Should we choose a road
trip tour of our own USA or fly down to South America for a few months has yet
to be determined. I’ll pick up where I
left off whence that begins. Until then
though, this is goodbye.
