Trail Tales & Tableaus

High in the mountains on the Waiau section lies Blue Lake. Known scientifically for its extraordinary clarity, it is considered the purest natural body of water in the world. It also holds spiritual significance for the Māori people. Respect the lake. No drinking from it, no swimming, no touching - simply observe the carousel of colours from violet to aqua to indigo. So grateful to have witnessed it.

From stillness to effort. Around 1800 metres elevation over unstable scree slopes. Every breath is earned and my world becomes a repetition of breath, step, balance. Every now and again a small alpine flower is seen eking out an existence in its harsh environment. Suddenly, I look up, the reward of effort dissolving into awe.

The climb tests my lungs. They are working fine. The descent tests my knees. A touch sensitive due to a trail injury. The ache is soon forgotten with total focus demanded as I negotiate with gravity and a hiking pole that wants to disappear into an abyss. When we reached the valley we were ready to rest.

We camp by a stream that evening in our little tent. The rain comes and we are dry, cosy, warm and comfortable as a stream babbles close by, the mountains guarding us in our isolation, far from everything.

The Waiau valley lay before us with endless tussock grass rippling with the breeze. A valley with no sign of life as far as the eye can see ..... and that is when he appeared.

It didn't make sense, it was if he was conjured from the landscape. He was a beautiful brindle and white dog. Surprisingly calm but cautious as he approached. Then he stayed. He seems happy to be around humans again.

We made camp for the night by another stream. He curled up close by. For the next 30 kms he was our companion, crossing rivers, scrambling up root covered trails, never straying far. Out here in the middle of nowhere some connection found us as if he had chosen us to be his humans, at least for a short time.

We named him Stinky, because he was....Stinky. Generally dogs are delighted when they roll in something disgusting and Stinky was no different.  He had dug up and rolled in some human poop ..... neither of us will own up to who made this particular deposit. We played the 'blame game' for a short wile but Stinky didn't care, he still wanted to be petted and loved, regardless of his white patches now having a hue of brownish red. The river crossings helped his odour issue a little. When we arrrived at Boyle River hut there were many hikers keen to give him a scratch, digging their fingers deep into the thick fur around his neck. We could only look on in horror at what unearthly particles these unsuspecting animal lovers may find under their fingers nails.

Following my heart, I joined my partner for a month in Vietnam. Billy had bought a motorbike to spend some time in the country, and I could only stay for a month with the intention of returning to join him.

Landing in Hanoi, I was immediately drawn back to my time living in Indonesia. A wall of heat enveloped me as I left the confines of the airport air conditioning. Bliss.

Billy met me with open arms and excitement as we found his bike amidst the chaos of motorbike parking. After loading and securing my backpack, I tried to secure an oversized helmet that Billy had bought for me. We were off into the city. The chaos of traffic seemed to flow seamlessly to our hotel. We had a romantic meal and a walk, and then we planned our next stop. The next morning, our adventure began. But first to the helmet shop to try and get a smaller helmet. No luck so I had to pad it out with a scarf. What was Billy thinking? That maybe I had a thick head!

We made our way to the coastal towns and soon realising that this was not what we wanted, we turned and headed for the mountains.

Winding our way through the most picturesque scenery from reflections falling across crystal clear lakes, jagged rock faces and endless hues of green to feast on, we climbed high into the mountains only to come to a grinding halt. Quite literally, as the clutch lever on the bike fell off. The ingenuity of a local man fashioned a lever from a spare part and with some gentle persuasion to make it fit and we were able to make our way down the wet, slippery, winding roads, hoping that the brake lever did not meet the same destiny as the clutch lever.

We were making our way to Ha Giang to ride the infamous Ha Giang Loop. We were so happy to be taking in this beautiful part of Vietnam. The valleys with the chequer board of rice farms and mountains proudly standing as they have done for centuries.