🗓️ November 13, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 498

I barely slept, my alarm going off at 3:45 a.m. for this new day of hiking. I pack my things, have breakfast, and set off. I have an hour's walk along a road before reaching the beach ; I’ll probably be there for sunrise. It is in the darkness under a starry sky that I made my way along the road, praying there aren’t any dogs. At the end of the road, I pass a few dunes and arrive at the beach. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the dawn is taking on a golden hue that reflects on the waves crashing on the shore; it is breathtaking. I understand that this is my reward for getting up so early. I try to soak it all in, but I also keep in mind that I have to stick to my schedule. I have three to three and a half hours to cover 15 kilometers in order to cross the river described in the official notes at low tide.

I'm soaking up as much of the surrounding sensations as I can ; it's so invigorating and wild. All my senses are engaged: sight for these incredible landscapes, hearing with the roaring sea and the sounds of the birds, smell for the salty scent of the sea, touch with my footsteps in the sand and the gentle sea breeze caressing my skin… only taste remains untapped. Perhaps I could try eating a seashell or licking some sand? All beaches combined since the start of the trek, I will have walked 120 kilometers of sand; I thought a kind of monotony would set in, but on the contrary, I'm still enjoying it immensely. I spend my time humming, even singing at the top of my lungs! There's no one around, the beach is mine. I probably sing off-key, but the seagulls don't seem to mind. Small streams block my path and the only option is to cross them on foot. I'm no longer bothered by it; my feet have been wet almost every day since the start of the trek. The smell of damp shoes isn't the most pleasant in the world, but frankly, I was expecting worse.

I love how walking sets my imagination in motion, and all sorts of thoughts cross my mind. This morning, watching the sunrise and seeing that ball of fire gradually rise, I imagine myself weightless, free in the atmosphere, observing the earth slowly rotating on its axis hundreds of kilometers above in deafening silence. It's so vast that it reminds me how insignificant we are on this earth.

Philosophy aside, I reach the end of the beach and find myself facing that infamous stream that must be crossed no later than 90 minutes after low tide. I don't understand the warnings mentioned in the official notes ; it's so easy to cross this river, the water barely reaches my ankles. I take a well-deserved break, having covered 20 kilometers in one go. I have 6 kilometers left to reach my accommodation for the night. I walk along a gravel road before it turns into a track through meadows with a steep incline and plenty of mud ; the climb is short but tough! At the top of the hill, I leave the marked trail for 200 meters to reach my host's house. She had described it as having "a room"; in reality, it's a large, bright cabin separated from the main house by a terrace, with a small kitchen and a bathroom. My host even offers to do my laundry! And the highlight? A wonderful jacuzzi overlooking a pine forest. I hand my clothes over to be washed, take a quick shower, and go to soak in the hot tub. The hillsides are shrouded in mist, the fir trees bathed in a halo of grey light; exactly the kind of setting that makes you want to relax in a hot tub.

I spend the afternoon chatting with my host, who is one of the "trail angels" (these are volunteers helping hikers on the Te Araroa trail). She usually rents her cabin for around €100 on Airbnb; however, she only charges €20 for us hikers. I spend a blissful afternoon! As late afternoon approaches and Gordon still hasn’t arrived, I call him to see how he is doing. It turns out he'd missed our host's house and walked two kilometers too far. He is hesitant to sleep in the forest, but I convince him to turn back by offering him the only bed; at 75, he's incredibly energetic on this trek, he has my utmost respect and deserves the best possible rest! I will sleep very well on the sofa.

Tomorrow is forecast to be rainy, like the previous five days and we have two challenging obstacles to overcome: the forest of Mount Tamahunga followed by the Waiwhiu forest. Two hikers from the group who crossed the forest yesterday slipped and injured themselves, fortunately without serious injury. But this sets the tone for tomorrow: mud mud mud.

🗓️ November 14, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 530

For the past week, the sky has been clear in the early morning, but the weather deteriorates as midday approaches… today will be no exception. I start my hike with sunshine, plenty of morning dew and fresh air. I slept very well last night, I feel great and I'm ready to enthusiastically cross the forest. However, another kind of motivation is driving me: a hiker has been getting on my nerves for the past few days (I'm avoiding mentioning her name so as not to offend her; we'll just call her Josiane). I find her intrusive and prefer to keep my distance; I'm determined today to walk every kilometer necessary to leave her far behind!

I leave the accommodation and from the very first steps, mud is everywhere. I first cross damp meadows and then enter the forest. The trail is in bad shape, roots are everywhere and it's hard to avoid the mud, so I decide to go for it and only avoid areas where my feet would sink into the mud below my ankles. I feel an energy within me that gives me wings; I avoid each obstacle with a good dose of dexterity and push myself as hard as I can, the weight of my backpack seemingly vanishing. It seems that fleeing from someone gives me the motivation to leap over every obstacle and soar above the forest: streams to cross, fallen trees to skirt, mud and roots to avoid, rocks to climb, slippery slopes to maneuver, inclines to ascend… the forest gives me little respite, especially that it rains every hours. I take very little rest, but I still feel good. After many long hours, I reach the final section, the last 2 kilometers, which climb steeply and are littered with roots. I summon my last reserves of strength and finally reach the Dome Café, a formerly closed establishment located on a mountain pass along the main road connecting the north of the island to the capital. It has taken me 7 hours, while the average time is 9-10 hours!

The most astonishing turn of events is that upon arriving at the café, I bumped into Greg and Ashley. I have been fleeing someone I found annoying, only to find myself running into the most adorable couple I'd met since the start of the trek (proving that karma must exist). We cover the remaining 12 kilometers at a leisurely pace, delighted by our encounter. We spend the evening at Roma and Graham, a vibrant couple of Trail Angels. They welcome us with exceptional warmth and are housing us in a small renovated house, offering us as well the opportunity to pick vegetables from their garden. I play the role of a French chef preparing a sort of stir-fry. It's not Paul Bocuse, but it's edible!