🗓️ November 07, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 357

Pablo and I decide we would walk together today. We'd each been on our own for days, so the prospect of walking with someone at the same pace and being able to chat is appealing. Before setting off, we go back to see the woman who is running the snack bar/supermarket/campsite, who had told us the day before that she is making breakfasts, but who once again announce that she has nothing to eat… what a shame ! It’s gonna be oatmeal from our bags, like every morning!

We only have a few steps to take before we arrive directly at the Whananaki pedestrian bridge, which spans the estuary for 400 meters and is just wide enough for two people to pass. The structure is striking and very pleasant to cross. Once on the other side, we take a sandy path that leads us to the start of a trail that crosses several small coves. From the very first cove, we are captivated by its charm: a small bay with turquoise water, bordered by meadows and a small river flowing alongside. The scattered trees are bent and gnarled, undoubtedly the result of constant gusts of wind. Two houses are sharing the space, and one couldn't help but think that their owners must be the happiest people in the world in such a delightful setting! We continue on, passing coves one after another, each different in layout but equally charming. The journey then becomes less enjoyable, as another 15-kilometer stretch along a road awaits us.

Our destination village is called Ngunguru, a name surprising in its originality and its African sound. But there's no need to look for a connection to the African continent; its origins lie in Maori culture, its name meaning "rumbling tides." We stock up on supplies and then head towards the estuary where James, the manager of tonight's campsite, picks us up by boat. The crossing only takes three minutes, and we could swim across if it weren't for our backpacks. Upon disembarking, we're surprised to discover a truly beautiful campsite. James has tastefully and meticulously transformed the back of his garden to welcome hikers and other tourists. He clearly enjoys playing tour guide, showing us around the camp and explaining his various construction techniques. We begin our tour with the common area, which includes a basic kitchen, a large table, sofas, and a darts corner. Next, we visit the different cabins with beds that he built himself. Everything is made from reclaimed wood, from old houses or even an old, dilapidated school; you can still see the hooks where the students used to hang their bags. The showers are enormous, with a wooden deck and corrugated iron walls that stop at face level, revealing all the surrounding vegetation beyond; a divine open-air shower! A small hut with two composting toilets has also been set up.

The camp is so beautiful that I immediately decide to spend my second day of rest here, which Pablo also approves of, as the weather forecast for tomorrow is bad anyway. We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening relaxing and playing darts. Score: 4-0 for Guatemala!

🗓️ November 08, 2025 (day off trail)

This morning, James is bringing us some milk and a few vegetables to supplement our meals. Having decided to take a rest day (which we call a "zero day" on the trek), we need to return to the small supermarket to buy more supplies. Our host suggests we go... by kayak! He kindly provides them free of charge and take great pleasure in showing us a map of the estuary that he had painted himself, highlighting all the hidden spots to explore. The weather forecast, which had been poor the day before, turned into a beautiful day! We paddle up the estuary towards the mouth. The tide is still coming in, so we are slightly against the current. After doing our shopping, we head back down towards the camp, passing through the mangrove that James had recommended we explore. At high tide, the trunks of the Manawa trees (also called grey mangroves) are half-submerged, giving the impression of sailing through a flooded forest. We have fun weaving our way through the trees, our navigational skills being rather limited, and we bump into a few plants. This New Zealand mangrove is the southernmost in the world and ends at the 38th parallel south, which crosses the North Island; on both sides of the island, no other mangrove grows beyond this point, due to the cold ocean.

Back at camp, we spend the rest of the day reading and strolling on the beach at low tide. The international darts tournament has now ended with a score of seven to zero… a crushing defeat!

🗓️ November 09, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 383

The day begins with a ray of sunshine, even though the weather forecast predicts heavy rain. Of the 26 kilometers planned for today, only four will be on trails ; the rest along roads. I set off with half-hearted enthusiasm, a little music in my ears helping me find a better pace. I walk with my head down, letting myself be carried away by the melody, losing track of time… until I cross paths with a group of fellow hikers coming from the opposite direction… “???”! Surprised by this strange sight, I ask them if they've taken the wrong path, but they inform me that I missed the fork that was supposed to lead me onto the trail. Fortunately, I only have to walk back about a hundred meters to find the right way, which now winds through the forest and crosses a stream. The predicted rain begins to fall, first as a light drizzle, then as a downpour, finally turning into a real shower when we return to the road. We still have 14 kilometers to go, and the downpour doesn't seem to be letting up. I'm soaked! I thought kayaking a few days ago had left me thoroughly wet, but I hadn't counted on this torrent. I can feel the water running right down to my underwear! My shoes are like sponges, and my t-shirt is sticking to my skin, I'm so dripping ! A few sayings come to mind, like "it's raining cats and dogs!" "Morning rain doesn't stop the pilgrim." "What's wet doesn't fear the rain." There are three of us walking along the road, including Pablo and an Australian guy from Eastern Europe ...

When we arrive in Pataua, our final destination, we find about ten hikers in front of a campsite. They all hitchhiked; we were the only crazy daredevils in the group. Some decided to pitch their tents despite the downpour, but six other hikers and I opted to rent a small house to stay dry. The prospect of being crowded together in such a small space didn't appeal to me, but sleeping in a tent in the rain, already soaked, was even less enticing. But it turned out the overall atmosphere was surprisingly good.

We are going to bed early; we have to wake up early the next morning for another challenge: crossing the Taiharuru estuary at low tide.