🗓️ October 28, 2025

🏁 Kilometers : 178

The wake up this morning is warm, despite a night with a violent thunderstorm and strong winds. We had anticipated this, checking the weather forecast daily (or at least as often as possible).

The day before, once we left the forest, we had two choices: pitch our tent at a campsite near Raetea or continue walking 6 kilometers along a road to reach a small dairy shop behind which camping is permitted. I had read in the notes and various comments that in case of bad weather, it might be possible to sleep under shelter in an adjacent building. I mentioned this to my hiking companions, who all agreed that it was better to try to reach the dairy and take our chances. We knew, however, that the chances of success were slim, as it was a public holiday in New Zealand. If we failed, we also planned to ask the neighbors for possible accommodation options. We really wanted to avoid sleeping outside in case of a storm.So we walked the 6 kilometers in a pouring rain and reached the dairy. Unfortunately, our predictions were correct; the shop was closed due to the holiday. Dragging our feet, our spirits low at already being soaked and knowing we would also have to spend a damp night in a potential storm, we headed towards the back of the annex. And there, to our surprise, we saw Isabelle waving to us through a glass door! As a reminder, I had met Isabelle and her partner Fred at Twilight Camp on the first night! We had crossed paths here and there, but it had been a few days since I had heard from them. They had bypassed the road sections by hitchhiking and had therefore logically preceded us through the forest. Isabelle informed us that the dairy was indeed open today but had closed early due to the public holiday. They had arrived in time, and the owner had given them access. What a relief to know we wouldn't be spending the night in the storm! Happy dance!Georges was also in the building, as well as Hal, a 65-year-old New Zealander whom we were meeting for the first time. So, there were seven of us sleeping dry that previous night.

The plan for today is to reach Blackbridge Camp, located 17 kilometers away. A short walking day ahead. However, the following day, much like the Raetea crossing, promised to be another challenge on our route: a 20-kilometer hike through the heart of the Puketī forest, across steep gorges and a river crossing without a bridge. All the informations we are gathering here and there from the official trail notes or on shared WhatsApp groups are causing some apprehension. Moreover, the heavy rains of the previous day aren’t encouraging. Steffie, Ben, and Georges announced that morning that they would avoid the forest and take a 30-kilometer detour. I decided to go and see the river level for myself before making a decision. Hal agreed and confirmed my choice. He's from the area; he knows the rivers. I am glad to have him by my side; his experience would certainly be useful. Isabelle and Fred informed me that they too would go as far as the entrance to the gorge and make a decision accordingly. Isabelle is a petite woman, but you can see the determination in her eyes! We hike the 17 kilometers in incessant downpours that continued all day. To protect themselves, Fred and Isa wear electric blue ponchos that cover them and their packs. We've nicknamed them the Smurfs. They make me laugh, in a good-natured way, of course. A few kilometers before reaching the campsite, those who want to take the detour through the forest leave us and take another path, while we plunge deeper into the woods. We soon come across a ford that allows cars to cross the river. The notes warn that if the water is flowing over it, it is strongly advised against venturing into the gorge. The water level is below the ford, a first encouraging sign. To see if the water level changes during the night, I decide to take some photos. Hal, for his part, ingeniously plants a stick in the riverbank; this seems much more precise than my method when we go to check tomorrow. His experience is reassuring.There are four of us at the campsite, then we are joined by the two Americans, Ashley and Greg. They spent last night in the tent during the storm and yet don't seem too bothered. A little later, six other hikers I'd also occasionally met settled into camp. There are quite a few of us tonight. The downpours have stopped, and we can pitch our tent in the dry.

I'm writing this tonight without knowing if we'll attempt the gorge crossing tomorrow morning.