WEDNESDAY 12TH JANUARY - DAMN ESTUARIES
A day catching up with emails, website and other pressing chores and I was set for another stretch. Before this day off I had set a new walk record of four days walking in a row, strolling past my previous best of three days grappling with 90 mile beach. Although the urge to kick back and have a period off has been present in my psyche I have resisted it and have been glad I have. Walking life has its downfalls but many of these can simply bee overcome by carrying on walking. The urge to stuck out your thumb and get a ride to the nearest comfy hostel is long forgotten when rounding the next corner to find a beautiful deserted beach. Similarly, losing your way and the frustrations of walking miles in the wrong direction instantly evaporate when the right path is rejoined.

I had stayed in a lively family campsite in Nguguru and had had a pitch right on the water from which to watch the lovely sunsets shimmer off the still estuary waters. It was a new moon the night before and I had kept dashing out of the campsite kitchen, where I was cooking a curry, to bask in the stunning spectacle. The whole moon was illuminated by the paper slither catching the suns rays and it was framed by the embers of the dying sunset. My entire being was effervescent with exited anticipation. A new cycle had begun and what better way to celebrate it than devouring a curry under the panalopy of stars.

I had befriended one of the teenagers on the site who had very kindly offered to give me a lift over the estuary on a kayak. Taran took one with my pack strapped onto the back and I led the way in a smaller one that he intended to tow back. I had packed my stuff carefully in case it decided to take a dip but it was a smooth crossing and I waved Taran off from the grassy bank. I was a little nervous about the days unmarked stretch which crossed several estuaries and didn't follow marked tracks. I took a compass reading and set out in the rough direction. After trying a few dead end tracks I found myself on the road towards Whangera. Not able to cross the river I decided to hitch around to a point on the other side where it looked as if I could get back to the beach. My last lift was with a surfer who pointed out a track to the beach that avoided the 'agro' farmers land. It was through the mangroves and I was soon upto my ankles wading through the muddy water. The tide was still high but I continued, thinking it would cut through to the coast. The path followed the river and when I got almost to my waist I turned back defeated. Waiting for the tide to drop was like watching paint dry so feeling pumped I took the road 5km to the next estuary at Pataua.

From my earlier hitches I had found out there was a walking bridge across the river at Pataua so when I pulled up I sat and had a relaxed lunch leaning on a tree overlooking the sandy channel. Kids were jumping off the bridge and I watched them cascade into the water while munching my sweaty cheese. It really felt like summer now with everyone getting into the holiday flow of things, kids and parents enjoying the sun. I crossed the bridge for another road stretch with another river to cross. I was getting tired of road walking and hot and bothered I got very close to ringing a friend in Whangerai and hitching in for a night in a pub. I held off but said to myslef that if I couldn't cross the river and had to walk the 8km road around I would hitch to Whangerai for the night.

There were no tracks to the river bu it was very close so I walked down someones drive to ask permission to cross their land. No one was in so I just nipped over their fields to the river. It was a tidal mangrove and the low tide had left a tiny trickle of water surrounded by deep squelchy mud. I tried once to cross but just sank into the stinking clutches of the sticky bog and had to retreat to solid ground. Changing tact I found a long log and dropped it over the channel. It worked a treat and I balanced my way across and carefully stepped my way to the green field on the opposite side. A few electric fences later and I was at the road right next to my turning leading back to the coast. I has sucseeded and the though of the pub was banished far away. All I could think about now was diving into the Pacific and 5kms later it was realised.

It was another heavenly swim at another idyllic beach. There was also a perfect campsite from where I would get a great view of the sunrise over the ocean. It was more than worth forging on and I found it hard to even imagine being frustrated. All negative emotions were alien to me now.

THURSDAY 13TH JANUARY - REFINED
At last, since starting this stretch, I saw the sun rise, watching it from the warmth of my sleeping bag through my tents dew dripping folds. Energised I struck out along the sand towards Ocean Beach. It was at Ocean Beach where about a month before dolphine had saved a group of budding lifeguards from sharks by swimming circles around them. It was world news at the time as everyone loved to marvel over what gentle intelligent creatures dolphins are. I had yet to see any dolphine so far but longer for an encounter although preferable not one similar to the lifeguards.

I had a huge estuary that I needed to hitch a lift on a boat to get across. Once I got to the road I hitched back up the estuary in search of a willing sea farer to ferry me accross. I had been picked up by tow friends, Mandy a kiwi woman and an Englishman called David who was over visiting. Mandy ran a B&B in Mcleods Bay, where I was heading, and after stopping to ask a few launching boatmen she invited me back for a smoked fish breakfast. We sat out on Mandy's balcony mopping up our creamy fish with chunks of french bread. Could my morning get any better I mused and as if in response Mandy spotted her neighbours boat returning to the shore and runs out to enlish his seaman services.

I got dropped on the beach next to a sprawling oil refinery on the headland and had to walk back along its fence to emerge on the beach on the other side. It was the first real eyesore I has seen on this coast although funnily it didn't encroach on the beauty of the adjacent beach. I was happy to be walking away from it though and on running into a dead washed up penguin I placed the blame, rightly or wrongly, firmy on the refineries doopstep.

After a shady lunch and diary stop I waded through a river that intersected the beach. There was a cool sea breeze so the heat of the day was kept at bay. It was definately the hottest day so far and as soon as I got into the shelter of the dunes at the behind the beach the sweat began flowing. The next river wasn't wadeable so I was cutting across a campsite to get to the road. On discovering it was highway 1 I sat in the shade of the DOC caravan awning and assessed my plans. My mind was made up when the woman running the site said I could stay for free because of my walk. It was too hot to continue so I set up camp and hitched to Waipu for some dinner. I spent the evening chatting to a big group of campers who were mainly from Auckland. Aucklanders and known as JAFAs, an acronym for Just Another Fu**ing Aucklander, and I was informed of another name for Brits other than Poms, soap dodgers! Don't ask me why but the dirt had obviously stuck in some Kiwi's minds.

Tent sunrise, Kauri Mountain Beach		Kauri Mountain Beach
Oha and Me		Mandy. Rollie and Peter on boat crossing

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