Te Araroa


         Despite 102 days of hiking I have not got better at not falling over, but I do believe I have become better at taking advantage of the rarity that is a conveniently comfortable position I haphazardly fall into. Like just being like "Fuck it, where's my cheese?" whilst strewn across the trail.

          This particular occasion I realised I was matching the sodden moss I was splattered upon and used this comfortable splattering as I use most occasions: as an excuse for a photo shoot (and also to eat cheese).

Start of South Island


            After day 12 of the Te Araroa I was just 1 kilometre shy of cracking 300, which was coincidentally the same amount of days it took me to traverse the same amount of km of a trail in England, called the Coast to Coast walk; 300 km of hills, sheep, and pubs. I remember while lying in my tent at the end of day 12 thinking if I took one more step it would be the longest bit of trail I've ever covered in consecutive days, and for that I was glad, and for that I promptly fell asleep at 9PM for the 12th time due to exhaustion.

             Then I remember realising I had nine more 300 km stretches ahead of me, nine Coast to Coasts, nine times the amount of hills, sheep, and pubs to look forward to, and promptly sat up wide-eyed from my probably awful sleep and ate what was left of my emergency sweets to deal with my emotions. And now its DAY 104 and I am on that final and tenth stretch, have decided that New Zealand terrain is just The UK on acid (I mean look this photo, there may as well be Greggs just off to the side), and have realised there aren't that many pubs along the way and I have therefore eaten enough trail mix to claim that I am in fact right now one gigantic peanut.

          I can't believe I'm still walking, like all those people who scroll through social media seeing my photos posted since December think (it's April as I write this...). Me and my peanut self are almost done, like 4 days off, and I have heard there is a pub at the end, where I assume there is a meat pie big enough for me to hide inside of, sleep for a week, and then eat my way out of.