Some Stairs – and then some More Stairs (10 Feb)
Waking up in Wellington, I was surprised that the dreaded jetlag seemed to have no effect on me. I was just a groggy as I usually am after waking up slightly too early. Fortunately, there was no time for my usual slow start, as there were buses to be caught and breakfasts to be had: we were on our way to Ohakune, one of the possible HQs for the dreaded Tongariro Crossing!
Ohakune itself is … rather quaint, but ultimately harmless, it seems. We traipsed around the center for a while, only to discover that this was essentially a ski resort and that there was not much going on in summer. In winter, it has got to be a blast, though!! Restaurants pretentiously called „Matterhorn“, chairs made out of skis, and even a true apres-ski scene (currently dead): everything was there, only closed. What we DID find were an excellent lunch room, a possible starting point for a later expedition (more on that later), and of course the largest (fake) carrot in the world! Ohakune: carrot capital of New Zealand! According to the few touristy signs in town, they had the Chinese settlers to thank for that, but there really was nothing to celebrate these Oriental immigrants: no street names, no monument, not even a Chinese restaurant – although the Carrot Carnival is celebrated in their honour. Weird. Then again, seeing as this did not seem like the kind of town that attracted visitors who would actually read signs like these, I doubt anyone noticed. At least not the Chinese population, as they had all left.
But enough about this village, that ultimately had no purpose other than providing us with a place to sleep before attempting the Tongariro Crossing, and a place to recuperate afterwards (but more on that in a later update!). So there we went, early in the AM again, in a bus to the official start of the Crossing.
I have to say, I was a bit nervous about the whole endeavour. I had tried my best to work up some kind of endurance before leaving, but still – it had been a long time since my feet had seen any kind of proper mileage, especially any involving inclines, slopes and altitude. On top of all that, I was underdressed to the point of embarassment: there I was, in my old jeans, Ikea backpack and a dainty cap I had bought the day before, surrounded by people with all kinds of professional pants, shoes, and – *shudder* – nordic walking sticks. Anne, being the fanatical hiker that she is, was no exception of course. A slight unease crept in: should I have prepared, like, properly?
But no, of course we are talking about the idiot who walked the Inca trail on a pair of worn-out Vans, so clearly this 19 km walk would not be a challenge, would it? This time, at least I had proper shoes!!
As it turned out, the Tongariro Crossing was not only doable – give or take a few steep climbs – but also, simply, beautiful. From the aptly named Devil’s Staircase, where we lost most of the wholly unprepared crowd, to the long, long, looooong descent to Ketetahi Hut, where we had lunch, and from the first view of Ngauruhoe, AKA Mount Doom (we elected not to climb it, seeing as it is essentially a mountain of sand and grit) to the ensemble of the Emerald Lakes and the Blue Lake, the Tongariro Crossing is breathtaking in all possible senses of the word. And boy were we lucky with the weather!
I could go on for hours about all the impressions I had while walking, but I think the pictures I took may tell their own story – and for the rest you just have to go see for yourself I guess! What I can say is that the sense of accomplishment I felt upon finishing the trail (and putting my feet in an idyllic cold stream by way of reward) may well have been worth the experience in itself. Another mountain conquered, and I actually lived to tell the tale! This update is living proof.
Come to think of it, the hamburgers we promised ourselves when we got back in Ohakune turned out to be more of an ordeal than the Crossing itself. Made me miss Berlin… but only slightly! I’m having way too much fun here!
PS: Yes, I kept the Lord of the Rings-references to the barest of minimums. Once you’re on the slopes, you forget the movies in favour of the actual experience…