The Pants of Perspective: One Woman's 3,000 Kilometre Running Adventure Through the Wilds of New Zealand by Anna McNuff

Author:Anna McNuff [McNuff, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781999765804
Google: huNcswEACAAJ
Amazon: B072N9H3LN
Publisher: Rocket 88
Published: 2017-01-14T11:00:00+00:00

I marched into the Rustic Cafe in Hanmer Springs and picked up the menu. Mouth dribbling, I ordered French toast, a date and orange scone, a square of rocky road, a berry smoothie, an omelette and a flat white. The waitress looked at me, aghast.

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime,’ I announced.

I’d run 10 km that morning before drawing a line in the sand at the side of the road, and hitching the 30 km to town to resupply. It was now 11 a.m. and I was ravenous. I returned to the table out the front of the cafe and sat down next to Finny and Fi. We’d managed to arrive in town just 10 minutes apart. I hadn’t seen them in the two days since leaving them after our reunion at Hurunui Hut. I’d run an extra 10 km up the road to Boyle Village to make sure I maintained an unbroken line for the continued journey and they’d hitched a ride as soon as they’d made the main road. Finny thanked me for the sweets I’d left for them along various sections of trail (mostly on signposts or tree stumps), and explained how he’d developed an unhealthy obsession with dead animals on the trail. He was a photographer by trade, and was fascinated by how neatly (or not) the dead animals seemed to be preserved.

We three chatted about Coach Ron. According to the logbook in Hope Hut, Ron had now left the trail. His three-month Canadian visa had run out, and he would return in the summer of 2016 to continue where he left off. I felt sad that I’d not managed to catch him up, but all at once I knew I’d see him again one day. His final note had read: ‘Well, my time’s up. I’ll leave the trail at Lake Sumner and return home to Canada to care for my parents. Finny, Fi, Andrew and Peter, it’s been a real pleasure. Anna, I wish you’d listen to more of my advice, and here’s some more. Take it steady and remember to not let speed ‘de-feet’ me. Go well. So long!’

Sitting out the front of Rustic Cafe we suddenly became a magnet for all Te Araroa trampers within a 100-km radius. This cafe was the bee’s knees, and the trampers swarmed like flies. Other trampers would walk past, do a double take at our large packs and smelly appearance and stop to ask, ‘Are you guys doing the TA?’ If this were the Appalachian Trail, or the Pacific Crest Trail, this probably wouldn’t have been such an event, but for the relatively small number of people who were on the trail to have eight of them in one place was a special treat. We were like Power Rangers. Avengers. Assembled from all walks of life, heading in different directions, united by a common cause.

Come 11.30 a.m. there were eight of us crammed around a small picnic table outside the cafe: Gabriel and Mel, whom

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