Hiker Chic

Sooooo, I had it all figured out. A great hike over Breast Hill and into Lake Hāwea, set up camp at the holiday park, a shower and then a big hamburger at the cafe. My New Year’s Eve was going to be perfect. Just one problem with that plan – I didn’t have cell service to book anything and there wasn’t a hostel, hotel, VRBO, AirBnb or campground of any kind for miles around with room for me. I hiked into town and researched everything I could think of on my phone and couldn’t find a thing. I ate dinner at the cafe and then decided that I would just ask someone in town to camp in their yard or find a stealth site somewhere under a bridge. It was looking grim.

I checked the TA App and there were no mentions of any trail angels in the area and I couldn’t find any legal camp spots listed. I made a desperate call to the YHA hostel in the next town over (Wānaka) and they just had one cancellation and would let me have the dorm bed for the highway robbery special of $130 NZD. It was NYE after all and there was big music festival in town that weekend. Perfect – sounded so quiet and relaxing but I took it anyway, changed into my clean hitchhiker outfit and headed out to the main road. I have a whole look for hitching. It takes a few minutes to pull together but it works. I change into clean shorts and a merino hoodie, clean the mud off of my legs, change into my flip flops and the secret sauce – my round black tortoiseshell glasses. Bad people just don’t choose these frames. I stand close to the road with erect and confident posture wearing a big smile. A real smile with my eyes and all. It works on every demographic. Old ladies, hunters, fancy men and single young women. They all love it. Or maybe Kiwis are just all awesome. Either way, I haven’t waited more than twenty minutes for a hitch. One chance to make a first impression.

All decked out and standing in front of the gas station, I wasn’t out there for more than five minutes when a shiny brand new Range Rover pulled over and asked me if Wanaka did me any good. Yes, indeed! He was such a friendly man about my age and his wife had hiked the TA last year so he loved to help out hikers. I was in town in no time and checked into the hostel. The reception host apologized profusely in advance for how loud it was going to be tonight. The place was crawling with a very young and robust crowd and everyone was carting around six packs and bottles of booze. There were bottles piled all over the tables and floor of the common area and every room had a smart speaker booming with hip hop and house music. Graciously, they paired me in a dorm room with just two other people – a sweet couple in their late 40s from Switzerland who demurely asked me if it was okay if we went to bed early and woke up at five. We instantly bonded and agreed to have a quiet evening and out early to start hiking. The roving packs of teens all went to the music festival and we didn’t hear another peep from any of them except for one guy that was screaming nonsense outside of our window all night. My earplugs just made it sound like a barking dog so I actually a great nights sleep anyway.

The next three days of hiking were really special. The majority of the Motatapu Track that connects Wanaka and Arrowtown was donated by Shania Twain to the Department of Conservation and I think it is my favorite section of the TA. Most of the track is above the tree line and there are steep but fun climbs and descents. The rivers are so clean and there are three beautiful new huts perfectly placed along the way. I took my time in this section and lingered for long breaks and lunches on the summits, chatted with NOBOs for way too long and took a million pictures of the wide open valleys. It was bliss.

On my last night at Roses Hut, I was flossing my teeth when I heard a terrible cracking sound. I do every single damn thing right for my teeth. I floss twice daily, get a professional cleaning every three months and fuss over them with an electric toothbrush more times a day than I can count. I just can’t get ahead of the terrible teeth genes that I inherited and I’m getting to the age where they are just cracking and falling out. I spit out a big chunk of tooth from an upper molar and waiting for the pain. Fortunately, apart from the terrible feeling of having a tooth missing, I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t sleep much that night and got up at 5 AM to hike to Arrowtown to find a dentist.

It was a dream of a morning. The sun was coming over the mountains into a perfectly still and cloudless valley. At the top of the first climb, I was stopped dead in my tracks – thin wispy clouds were sneaking eerily over the top of the pass. What a lucky place and time to be. I pushed the worry about my tooth aside and hiked strong and hard but always aware of where I was for the fifteen miles into Arrowtown. I called the first dentist I could find as soon as I had cell service and they had a last minute cancellation for 4 PM. I was ecstatic but I still needed to find a place to shower, set up my tent and then make it to the twelve miles to the dentist office. I ran into the same problem that I had in Lake Hawea – no where to stay. I decided to hike to nearest holiday park that was fully booked and the sweet woman at reception told me that she wouldn’t turn me away. If I could find a patch of grass then I could stay. I found one between the dumpster and the kitchen and made it my home. I did laundry, showered, shaved and then rented a mountain bike and made it to the dentist in Frankton just in time.

The dentist was incredibly professional and kind. They greeting me right on time, rebuilt my broken tooth in about thirty minutes and charged me a very reasonable sum for the whole experience. I was so relieved. And a little proud. That was a lot to figure out in and I didn’t even miss a day of hiking. I stayed calm, made good choices and acted decisively. I have all of my teeth again and I know where I am sleeping tonight. Not too shabby Mr. Low Branch.