🗓️ October 24, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 102

First rains during the night. I'm not very happy with my tent; its unique, very lightweight design means it only has one wall. And when it's humid, it drips onto my sleeping bag, it even drips slightly onto my face… some purists aren't too bothered by this, but I prefer my comfort, even if it means a slightly heavier tent (we're talking about a 400g difference, not an brick). So I ordered a new tent with two walls from the same supplier, sent an email asking if they would give me a refund, without really expecting it… and they replied favorably! I should be getting my new tent in about a week. Once again, I'm the first in the group to start walking, tackling the last 31 kilometers on the famous 90 Mile Beach. This morning the air is windy, light raindrops sting my face, and the sea to my right is raging. I'm in heaven. It's alive, it's invigorating, it's exhilarating, it's pure, it's energizing! I feel lucky to be here. I let out cries of joy that only the wind will hear. I wouldn't have missed this for the world.

I'm both happy to finish this section, which is a big stretch, and a little nostalgic because it feels like it went by so fast. So I try to take it all in, to soak it all in. I usually walk with my eyes glued to the ground, so I push myself to focus my gaze on the distance and watch the waves crashing onto the beach. I want to keep this image vivid in my mind. The kilometers fly by, and I punctuate my walk with breaks just like yesterday to manage my effort. My companions from the first day tend to move quickly with little rest. It's tempting to try to catch up with one of them when I have their silhouette in my sights... but what for? Except to satisfy a meaningless ego. So I prefer to prioritize my body. It carries me, and I reward it with well-deserved rest. I promise to take good care of it; it's my essential tool for taking me far.The last 10 kilometers are coming into view. The beach curves gently to the right. I can see the small village of my destination in the distance, but once again, the optical illusion works its magic; we're moving forward without feeling like we're moving. Only 5 kilometers remain. I feel pride rising. I feel joy. I feel like celebrating, doing happy dances, so I grab my headphones and put on some Taylor Swift. It's so good to be alone, no one in front, no one behind, I can sing my heart out! I can sing as loud as I want, I'm really belting it out. Three kilometers to go, I spot Ben ahead of me who looks like he's suffering. His feet are killing him, he looks exhausted. On the other hand, I feel great. A little tired, sure, who wouldn't be after 30km? But I feel an intoxicating energy within me.

There it is, I can see the end of the beach. Before leaving the sand, I jot down a little message with one of my hiking poles: "we did it." The beach ends in a small coastal village of 1200 inhabitants called Ahipara. I head to the campsite where I meet up with Steffie and Ben. Steve and Georges joined us a little later. They were all exhausted. They are all having blisters, some just small ones, others huge ones. Ben breaks all records, with two large blisters under his heels, plus one on the balls of his feet, plus one on his hands (from the walking poles). I feel bad for him when I see him walking. They all are yelling at the beach, swearing they'd never set foot there again. And me, I am wondering when I'd go back again! I keep a low profile because they all are in agony, and I thought it would be inappropriate of me to brag about feeling in great shape. I really feel that my three-week training in the Vosges mountains in France this summer had been excellent preparation.

I finished Ninety Miles Beach. I am ecstatic!