On Tramping, Throwing Rocks Off Mountains and Living in The Now

Last Friday I made a last minute decision to go tramping. It was 5:20 pm, I was meant to be ready in ten minutes and I sat on the floor of my room, stranded in the middle of a storm of both clothes and thoughts. Chucking thermals and packets of chocolate chip cookies, kettle korn and mushrooms into my pack, pulling on thick woolen socks and pushing my feet into cold stiff boots, I managed to get myself outside and into the lovely full car waiting outside my door.

It had been a crazy week and I had no clue why in the world I was about to drive halfway up the country and proceed to climb to the stars. I think it was something to do with the need to breathe in some fresh mountain air.

And so myself and four others drove off into the night, stopping only when our belly rumbles drowned out the radio music. The roast lamb burger and fries were an epic Friday feast.

Arriving at the road-end, in the middle of somewhere I had never been before, the good-ole tramping experience began. Squished next to two others in the backseat of the car, I slept the night away, while another snored.

Morning arrived with the rain. It was pretty miserable...

Yet really everything can be changed with perspective. So as I plodded through the misty paddocks and up into the dripping forest, I looked for what was beautiful around me...

The rolling green hills, the dark green dense bush shrouded in mist, the smiling faces next to me, the thought of a whole bar of dark almond chocolate to be eaten at a stop.

Up and up we went. My pack felt as heavy as my heart. As I put one foot in front of the other I pictured myself dropping off the sad thoughts, letting them absorb into the ground. As we passed Sunrise Hut (i.e. No View Hut), I imagined that the tears falling from the sky echoed my own. They were cleansing tears washing out the cracks of my heart. With just smooth ruts left, I decided to pack them tight with dirt and seeds and love. I sowed hope to see flowers blooming soon.

Out on the tops, the wind was icy. It bit at my cheeks. I wished a warm hand was there to hold mine and anchor me to the the ground. Marshmellow mists floated out in the slips and crevasses on either side of the ridge. A soft cover to hide the deadly fall below.

Despite how cold it was, despite the thoughts of a wish to be back home in the warmth, it was still a wonderful walk. Nothing makes you feel alive like a storm around you reflecting that in your heart.

Our second night was spent in a glowing orange historic forestry hut, tucked away in the folds of the Ruahines. We arrived wet and soaking. Despite it being freezing, the shelter still meant we could dry out. I became a human sleeping bag - layered up in everything I had packed. Cuddle buddies were greatly appreciated that night! 

Morning arrived and we woke up in Antarctica...well that's what it felt like. I pulled on my still-wet-pants from the day before and steamed up the hut. My boots were ice blocks. But boy oh boy oh boy was it a beautiful day. The rain clouds had cleared and the ground sparkled with white frost touched by sunlight. I thought of a list of everything I was grateful for in that moment.

Back we went, up on to the backbone of the North Island. Finally, there were some views. Mountains, peeking their heads above clouded scarfs. This was a trip of just walking places, with no general direction, no set plan. We just decided to breathe, trust, let go and see what would happen. Up and down, hugged by mist, kissed by sunlight, shrugged off by trees, stroked by tussocks. 

In these moments, there was only myself and my boots plus the four others chatting amicably around me amid the nonjudgmental nature. It pulled you into the now. The wind whispered...be present. The past is past. We learn and grow from it. The future is not yet set in stone, we cannot predict it - we can only help create it through fostering positive thoughts and hopes about the possibilities. 

We reached a misty top. I threw some rocks down what was once a mountain face, yet now a massive slip. A slate wiped clean. I may or may not have shouted out into the void, letting a few built up thoughts echo away, swallowed up by the valley. Pressure inside released.

That night was spent in the Sahara...Sunrise Hut was fully booked, keen kids spread out over the tables chatting and playing cards. A roaring fire, chestnuts roasting, risotto cooking. So grateful to be warm again.

A friendly face woke me up and pulled me outside to witness the reason behind the hut's name. Unlike our first visit to this hut, where there was only the path ahead and a grey, grey sky, this morning was a light blue canvas. A painter had already blotted the sky with full white clouds. Steadily, the sun dripped upon the sky too, spreading like water colour, infusing the blues and whites with warm orange and yellow hues. The frost began to shimmer. A place blessed by magic.

My bare feet were saved by some soft socks. I sat there for a long time.

I was just there, right there.

Just me and the sunrise. Something pretty special.

Like a butterfly, a single thought fluttered by, I wish you were here, next to me, sharing in this special moment. It flew on, hopefully taking to you this moment, hopefully delivering a sunrise kiss to your cheek.

I lingered for a while longer, letting the sunlight fill me up. Fuel me up, to be the warm sunshine glow, pouring over everyone I love.

Porridge and green tea called me inside.

And so the best day begun. Four of us steeled back into the mountains, pushed up further into the hills, charged by the glorious, glorious views. We laughed at the little things. Puffing up the ridge, the conversation was mostly "woah," "so beautiful" "wowohwow." How lucky we are to live here in New Zealand. How lucky I am for my feet allowing me to explore. The mountains spread out across the horizon. There in that moment, a piece of peace was found.

It was amazing. Walking back down the mountain, a pool of mist filled one side of the ridge, rainbows grew. The other side of the ridge was clear and sharp. Keep your mind clear but your heart full.

Trees eventually crowded over the view and down and down we walked. A leisurely stroll back to the car. Oh a car. How nice it is to be driven places after days of walking...it's the little things in life haha.

Wedges. a spinachy chicken wrap and a lime milkshake completed this journey. Yum. 

To say it simply - the moral of this story is that sometimes all you need is some fresh cool air to blow away the fear, to remind you of who you are and that you are enough.

Nature is healing. The mountains remind you that you can do anything. The sun reminds you to love and love and love and shine and shine and shine and glow and glow and glow, despite everything. The trees remind you to grow, to reach your hands to the sky, to let your finger roots curl around those you love and not let go. The stars remind you to wish and dream, to hope and believe. The wind reminds you that fear can easily be blown away. 

For after a storm, the rain clears and there comes a time when tears no longer fall. You only have to conquer that mountain, to conquer yourself, to see what you find on the other side. It's about being grateful for the now. Because every moment is a new chance to try. If you believe something is worth it, then give it everything you have. The mountains tell you to be brave.