🗓️ November 11, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 443

Today we'll start with a boat trip from the Whangarei Peninsula to Marsden Point. We'll then hike along part of the long beach, which stretches for 25 kilometers, passing by the towns of Ruakaka and Waipu. Our campsite for the night is at the far end of the beach, but it's not possible to reach it by staying on the shore due to rivers and an estuary blocking the path; part of the route will therefore have to follow roads.

I start hiking with Pablo. We have breakfast halfway through, and then he leaves the trail to meet a French woman he met the previous week. I don't know if we'll have another chance to hike together, but it was nice to be in his company for a few days. Now on my own, I listen to music as I hike, taking off my shoes for a few kilometers to enjoy the feeling of the cold seawater on my feet.

After walking along the side of the road for 15 minutes, a car coming from the opposite direction turns on its warning lights and pulls up beside me. The driver rolls down the window, asks if I an hiking Te Araroa, what I am confirming, and hands me a can of cold lemonade. “It’s to encourage you, you must be hot!” he said. He waves and drives off. I am amazed by the kindness of the Kiwis! They show us all such enthusiastic support! I continue on my way with lemonade in my stomach and love in my heart! Arriving at the evening campsite, I pitch my tent in a quiet corner. Gordon, another hiker, comes to introduce himself. He is from New Zealand, is 75 years old, and is fulfilling his dream of hiking Te Araroa. He explains that he had planned to do it five years earlier, but two weeks before his departure, he was diagnosed with an illness that prevented him from going. So it is with a burning desire in his eyes that he takes his revenge on life by embarking on this adventure.

I eat dinner and go to bed. I'm still reading a bit when I repeatedly hear someone nearby speaking very loudly, in short, incoherent sentences. The same voice then gives an intimidating warning (I'm starting to get worried) and starts again a moment later, making threats about a knife… (something's definitely not right here). I put my Opinel knife in my pocket, grab my headlamp, and leave my tent. It's pitch black. My companions, also concerned by the use of the word "knife," come out as well, and we try to figure out who's making it, but we don't see anyone. After looking around, we realize the voice is coming from another tent about fifteen meters away. We ask this person to come out, and a man in his fifties, with a vacant stare and a strange little smile approaches us. We question him about his behavior and his use of the word "knife," but he goes back to his tent, telling us he prefers not to explain anything… we are wary and frankly worried. Some of us are staying nearby to keep an eye on him, while others go to call campsite security, who tell us an officer would be there shortly. After 10 minutes, an elderly woman arrives and approaches the tent to question the man. She asks him to come out, declaring, "I've been in charge of security at this campsite for decades, and I don't mind kicking ass if necessary!" Quite a temper! She talks with him but couldn't find a satisfactory solution; we don’t want to call the police. This man has not attacked us; he is just talking incoherently. He could simply be ill, but we feel we have to take precautions. We ask if it would be possible to sleep in a place that could be locked, which is approved. It is late, and we still have to take down our tents and move. Our rest is cut short, but at least we sleep safely. I think we showed great teamwork and handled the situation effectively !

🗓️ November 12, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 472

My companions for the day: the New Zealand downpours! I have 31 kilometers to cover across varied terrain, including roads, paths, trails, meadows, cliffs, beaches, and towns, all accompanied by bouts of rain. I'm making very slow progress today; the rain isn't motivating me, and I'm feeling tired from the previous night (spoiler alert! the following one will also be restless).

Indeed, due to the incessant rain of the day, the campsite for the evening offers me the option of sleeping in the communal area, which includes a kitchen, a lounge with sofas, and an adjoining room with pool tables and foosball. Gordon has already been there for a few hours; he took a shortcut to cut 10 kilometers. We go to bed around 8 p.m., but at 9 p.m., two drunk guys burst into the room with their boots and beers. They are the opposite of the definition of "discretion" and ask me if they woke me up without apologizing. They are acting excited and their conversation is rambling… it seems like a série of two nights of bad luck. I try to figure out how to get out of this situation without provoking them further. I get up and go to speak to them in a whisper, mentioning that there is a 75-year-old grandfather sleeping in the room and that it would be respectful not to wake him. In truth, I know that Gordon has taken out his hearing aids and that there could be a fire-breathing dragon in the room, he wouldn't notice; which makes me feel even more responsible for him, as these guys could steal from him with disconcerting ease. They continue playing pool, but I hear them talking and finally come to their senses and leave. I wait for them to leave and then double-lock all the doors.

I sleep poorly for the rest of the night; not feeling safe awakens an instinct that makes you sleep with one ear open.