28/n: This must be the place
day 116/7: Colac Bay / Ōraka K2927 to Bluff K3005
- 78+km
- trail, road
experience points
- all night long +1
- through hiker +1
A new morning in Colac Bay. It rained all night. It is windy and cold. I woke up at 6am, forced myself to stay in bed in until 7am and then started into this cold, rainy, windy and gray day.
I am still undecided. At the moment a cosy day off sounds very attractive. But — I have nothing to eat for a cosy-day-off breakfast, or a cosy-day-off lunch, or cosy-day-off dinner, or multiple cosy-day-off snacks. In general Colac Bay is a dying village with not much to offer for a cosy-day-off. So at 10am I decide — Today is the last day of the trail — Today I will walk to Bluff.
I pack my things and leave. There is a strong, cold wind blowing from northwest. It sends rain front after rain front my way.
I feel great though. A very strong urge, that moves me closer and closer to the end of this trail has taken possession of my whole body.
I know, that it will be about 80km. I know, that it will take me until the next morning. But I’m also positive that it is the only way to do this.
First stop Riverton
The walk to Riverton is cold, windy, wet and sometimes a bit frustrating. So many times the track leads around private farmland — pointless up and downs pressures me along the coastline — Sometimes it would be easier and more enjoyable to just have a trail, that is designed by conviction and not by compromise.
I arrive in Riverton with one idea in my head — getting a hot coffee, or two. On my way in I meet a man walking his dog. “Are you TA? I’m TA! When I was 61. Ten years ago. I will do it again. Come with me, we have coffee.” We go up to his house nearby. “I brought another German TA hiker!” I meet his wife, his dog and his cat. He brings coffee. His wife brings some crackers with cheese and tomato and delicious cookies. “You can stay here tonight. You’re not getting to Bluff today. Everything is closed. The flooding, The heavy rain.”
My shoes and socks already hang by the fireplace to dry. A set of dry warm cloth lies in front of me.
I tell them about my plan, my urge and that I’m also hoping that James’n Jordan are catching up to me.
“They can sleep here as well. Here is your bed. Here is the shower and towels. Here is the pantry and the fridge. Here is the WiFi password. We have to go now, you can come with us, or stay.”
I try to grasp what is happening. I tell them, that I have to think about it and that I will stay and try to deal with the new situation. And then I’m alone. Me and a dog and a cat. In a house of two incredible helpful and nice people.
The urge to move on pervades my whole body. I can’t be stuck, I can’t give up, I have to try, there must be a way.
Down on the street I see a a hiker walking by southbound. He is also TA. He looks TA. It is later in the day. So he hasn’t started in Riverton. Probably further down. In Invercargill. He made it up here — I can make it too.
I leave a note. I feel like I betray their trust. I want them to know how thankful I am. I try to explain why I had to go. I hope they understand. I take my socks and shoes and backpack and leave the house.
Second stop Otatara
A set of hiker shoe prints in the sand leading south confirm my assumptions about my fellow SoBo hiker. A few kilometers later I meet the next one. The rivers are crossable. The flooding has only affected the streets.
It is a long, cold and windy walk down the beach. I try to recollect what I’ve experienced on 90 Mile Beach. A flash of realization — That’s it. I made it. This are the last kilometers of the trail — and then it is long, cold and windy again.
It’s getting late. I’m looking for places to get something warm to eat in Otatara and maybe kill some hours. If I just walk on I will be in Bluff way before sunrise. It will be very cold. It would be too cold and I would be too tired to wait somewhere for the sun to rise, to wait for the town to wake up.
I find a nice bistro. It is 9:40 pm already. A long black for the energy. A pizza for the morale. A coke with ice to secretly cool down my already sore feet.
People ask me what I do. They don’t understand. They offer me a place to stay. I explain. They are confused. They offer me a ride to Bluff. I try to explain “the urge” thing. They don’t understand, but they see, that it is important to me and so they accept it.
I leave Otatara at 11pm.
No stop till Bluff
I’ve downloaded some new music in the bistro to give me more options. Right know I play “Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast Recording” and “Aladdin (Original Broadway Cast Recording” in rotation.
It is dark and it is even colder. I wear all my clothes and a head torch. There is only road until Invercargill — Then a walkway — And then again a 20km long stretch alongside the highway down to Bluff. From now on I will need nothing but tenacity. Tenacity and snacks to give me a little boost. And some musicals in rotation to relativize time. But most of all tenacity.
Tiredness, frustration and coldness whisper into my ear. I can already see the city lights of Bluff. At least I think it is Bluff. I can also see the lights of the many milk trucks eventually rushing past me several minutes before. It is hard to guess the distance I still have to go. I don’t want to look it up on my phone. I’m afraid, that I won’t like what it tells me. “Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast Recording” “Aladdin(Original Broadway Cast Recording” are my measuring devices now. One run through each and I’ll be in Bluff.
It will take longer than that. My feet are sore. The residue of sand in my shoes from the stretch on the beach has rubbed through my socks. I can feel the holes. I’m cold and very tired. The sunrise has begun. It is not a beautiful one. Too many clouds, too much light pollution, too exhausted.
A few random songs from my playlist later I arrive in Bluff. It is 6:30am. The dairy is open. Workers with their orange safety vests get a pie before they drive off to work, probably out of town. Bluff also is a dying city. Here I can buy a hot cup of coffee — a silver lining. But the coffee machine is broken. Also they don’t accept credit cards. I don’t have any cash on me. So no motivational nourishment for me. I trudge onwards. Uncaffeinated, cold, exhausted and tired.
Stirling point I’m coming.
Last stop Stirling point
So this is it? This is the end of the trail? A signpost like the one in Bluff and a simple and plain plaque for the TA at the end of a dead-end road.
This can’t be it. This doesn’t feel like it. There must be something else.
The coffee places are open now. I will get coffee and breakfast and immediately after that I will organize a bed to sleep in. And then I will carry on.
