DRESS REHEARSAL FOR DEATH

“Canadian Expat disappears on little used New Zealand bush track - details p.5”

“… the body of Shannon McMurchy, Canadian citizen and resident of California, was found this morning by German tourists on the Rocky’s Mine Track, her body ravaged by possums, & not wearing clean underwear. She carried no identification, but had an inordinate number of photographs of roots on her iPhone. Local officials are attempting to contact kin…”

These are some of the thoughts that ricocheted mercilessly inside my head during my day’s Adventure. The day started simply enough, very early, with laundry and inquiry into “a short day hike that I might do for my last day (prophetic words) in Thames”. I was told to walk 4 km north of town, find the Dickson’s Holiday Park, where I could collect a map for the Rocky’s Mine/ Tin Gully Track. Promises of a glorious view all the way to Auckland and chances to swim in one of several swimming holes were all I needed to hear, and off I set, all perky and pumped. Walked and walked and found the holiday park, where I was told “oh, there IS no map…should be, I don't know why there isn’t, but there isn’t…” ok, thought I, must be straightforward enough that there’s no need for it. Up I went, and within 20 minutes, I met an older gentleman who asked “do you know this track?” …(Red Flag #1: he was coming back, having gotten confused, and having lost all confidence that he would make it out alive). I continued on, and more importantly UP, through an interesting terrain far more alpine than that of previous hikes - lots of huge pines, whose roots provided the only kind of purchase on the ascending trail. Up, up, up, gorgeous day, not another soul for miles, it seemed, views, etc etc. Eventually I passed another couple (need i say it, Germans) who seemed utterly confused - we exchanged sympathetic glances, and I kept going…UP. and then down and then up, etc etc… the vegetation returned to the more common tropical bush, but increasingly overgrown and annoyingly cobwebby, as if none had passed this way for… a long time, let’s say. Also,the trail seemed less well-marked than it had been. Perhaps it was around this time that I realized my fatal mistake - I had not asked anyone if the trail were a loop or if I would have to come back the way I had come -  a prospect that did NOT please me in any way, shape, or form. This question buzzed like a mosquito for a while, then began to burn a whole in my entire outlook, and I began to worry. I got to the “summit”, marked by a small wooden bench that was chained in place (like someone would hike all the way up there to steal it???), and an opening in the foliage that allowed for, yes, a lovely view. Ate my bread and cheese, saved my apple, and headed off… now DOWN… I was committed, having decided that I would eventually get somewhere that would clarify things and ease what was fast becoming a real stress, to the extent that I was no longer apprehending beauty, stopping to gaze in wonder at this spiral of life or that, just trying to get the hell OUTTA THERE! The trail got wilder and denser, more false starts and less clear marking, crossed a small, probably beautiful, creek a hundred times, got spindly and so treacherous at times that really, a goat would think twice, but as there was no way in hell I was going to go BACK (“there are worse places to die, Shannon…”). I kept going… ok you already know I made it, but here’s the kicker - the trail did eventually end, and it spit me out, rather gracelessly, onto a one lane,UNMARKED, gravel road, the kind you know only 2 cars ever use on any given day, and… IN A VALLEY… i.e. no horizon, the sun almost directly over head so no sense of orientation whatsoever!!! “Fucked again” thought I… but wait, is that a river I hear? this is where I get MAJOR girl scout points (or badges?)…rivers flow toward the sea (except in a few rare cases), thought I (“…although water goes down the drain in the opposite direction here in the Southern hemisphere… could it be that … no, stop it!”). So, sweaty, sticky, grimy and cobwebby, and just barely choosing to laugh rather than cry, I walked down that dusty road in what I really hoped and prayed would be the right direction. A truck did eventually drive up and I flagged it down, for what became the final insanity of the day:
Me: Hello! Thanks for stopping. Could you tell me which way Thames is?
Guy: Thames? (as if he’s never heard of Thames before)
Me: Yes, Thames - I was on a long hike and the trail just kind of dumped me onto this road and I’m not sure which way to go
Guy: Where are you from?
Me: (Does it fucking matter???) I’m from the States but I am staying in Thames and would like to know if I’m headed in the right direction?
Guy: Thames…in the Coromandel?
Me: (NO, the River Thames, in England, you fucking prick) Yes , that’s right.
…Guy then relents, or gets it, or his reasonable human being meds kick in or I don’t know what, but tells me I’m close now to the coastal road, upon which I should turn left and walk 4 kms south. Well, thank you SO much.

Anyway, haven't dealt with photos, but they’ll come (yes, more spirals, roots, vines…). I think I shall sleep well tonight - the german hell twins have checked out, and I may be lucky enough to have the room to myself. ciao.

PS I think I don't want to walk anywhere for a very long time
PPS of course the adventure was mostly in my mind, i just can't resist the opportunity to exaggerate! anyway, it was a good lesson in surrender and faith :)