Silver’s Guide to Tmaj

•9 November 2019 • Leave a Comment

“Trail magic.” Nothing so stirs the heart of a thruhiker. Or the stomach. (What’s the difference?)

You stumble through the desert heat to get to the shade of an overpass, or you barrel down the mountainside to get to a little pass. You’re exhausted. You’re going to take off you pack and sit and lie down and possibly die and that’s entirely okay with you. But then you notice something. A cooler hidden in the bushes? A little box with a rock on top and a shopping bag half-full of candybar wrappers? A pile of gallon water-jugs but you haven’t had clean water in a hundred miles? A guy with a grill making grand slam breakfasts at ten thousand feet and how the hell did he get up there?

After a hard morning’s hike – or day’s – or week’s – there is nothing better. It might fill your stomach. It might save your life. It will make you feel wonderful – loved and respected – and it will put a hundred miles in your gastank.


Thruhikers love arguing over definitions. Are you a thruhiker if you skipped 20 miles out of 2650? Does it matter if you skipped because of natural reasons (wildfire) or your own necessity (broke your leg) or just because you didn’t want to hike those 20 thankyouverymuch? Trail magic is no different. I could go on and on. But I’m going to spare you – and delete the eight paragraphs I just wrote – and say: trail magic is when a non-hiker sets out to give things to hikers on the trail.

Non-hiker: anyone not currently on the trail where they’re doing magic. If you’re in the middle of a thru and you share your M&Ms with your tramily, you’re not doing trail magic. You’re a saint, or you’re crazy (and? and.), but you ain’t doin’ tmaj.

Sets out: I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve fallen into step with a day-hiker, and after a few miles, or a few minutes, they offer me something from their pack. It’s a wonderful thing. I may even have learned a thing or two about subtly encouraging it! But it isn’t trail magic. Magic is something one goes out specifically to do. Tmaj requires intent. (Yep, there’s the law school coming through.)

Hikers: Kind of the follow-up from the last one. If you’re just doing it for one specific hiker, that’s not trail magic. Part of the magic is that it’s granted to any hiker just because they’re a hiker. It’s a gift to the community. That’s why it’s so magical.

Things: Sometimes you’ll run across someone who’s out on the trail solely to offer services to thruhikers. A crunchy old DIYer offering to help repair gear, or an EMT who thru’d last year who’ll look at your bumps and blisters. They’re trail angels. Through and through. But angels perform services, whereas magic offers things.

On the trail: If you roll up to a hiker hostel and hand out the contents of a 30-rack, you’re buying yourself a lot of love and I strongly encourage this sort of purchase. But real trail magic happens on the trail. In the middle of your hike. In the middle of dang nowhere. It is a ray of sunshine cutting into the Green Tunnel, or a bit of shade along the Cheryl Strayed Highway. It is the intersection of the real world with our world. It’s a moment of civilization – and then you dive right back into the wild.



What I’m offering here is advice on how to do it better. But I want to make absolutely clear that the worst trail magic is still absolutely god damned magical and you should do it. You absolutely should.


It’s always great to get magic’d. But in certain places or contexts, it means so much more.

It’s nice to have a cup of cool water in the woods. In the middle of the Mojave, it’s better than a week in Valhalla. It’s nice to have a cup of coffee at dawn. At dusk, it might not be every hiker’s fancy. At a road where every hiker is going to hitch into town, they don’t need candy bars; they’re about to go smash townfood. Whereas 50 miles between towns, a candy bar is worth so much more… and to get real food, even hot food, is nothing short of a miracle.

Don’t let this deter you. It’s the sort of thing you learn. Listen to thruhikers. Just as we listen to the thru.


A thruhiker carries their whole world on their back. A non-hiker focuses on the “their whole world” part. A hiker focuses on the “carry” part. Self-sufficiency sure ain’t easy but being a human pack mule is hard, hard, hard. A thruhiker will go to great lengths – absurd lengths – self-mortifying lengths – not to carry heavy things. As such, if you magic them something light, it’s lovely; but if you magic them something heavy, may you live to be a thousand years old.

This rule expresses the hiker maxim “a Coke is worth more than coke on a thru.” And by ‘hiker maxim’ I mean ‘thing I said to Arc, Raz and Woodpecker once’ :-)


We don’t want steak tartare. We want hot dogs. We’d rather have two root beers than one glass of Chateauneuf. Sure I’ll eat six hamburgers but some days I’d rather have six squares of toilet paper. “Give me your trash!” are the four greatest words in the world.



-More people do trail magic on weekends and holidays, just because that’s when they’re free. Do tmaj on a Wednesday; be a legend.

-If the weather’s bad for you, it’s a bit worse for us. Do tmaj in the rain, or the snow, or desert heat; be a hero.

-There’s nothing worse than meeting a hiker going the other way who tells you there’s trail magic up ahead… and by the time you get there, they’re gone. It’s great to set up tmaj and stay there all day. It’s super, super great to do it until dark, regardless of when you get there. If you have to pull out early, maybe leave a little something behind for those who’ll come later.

-Every trail has a season. If you do tmaj on the AT in Georgia in April, you might see a hundred people a day. In Maine in April, you might not see a living soul. But on the other hand, doing tmaj in the off-season can be really incredible – you might only see one poor cold sobo, but you are going to give her the best thing that’s happened to her all day. If not all week!


-The farther away from town, the more appreciated the tmaj.

-If you’re doing tmaj near a town: match what the town has (i.e. offer real food, not trail food); OR offer something to prepare people for town (coffee and beer) (…coffee and beer). The latter works really well with trail angeling: just sit by the trailhead and offer rides to hikers… and here’s a Gatorade and a sandwich, too!

-The less expected, the more appreciated. There’s nothing cooler than coming across tmaj in the middle of the woods. Long trails are often intersected by roads in the strangest of places. Find out where the country roads are. Find out where the dirt roads are. Drag a keg to the top of the mountain and live in myth forever.

-If you live near a dry stretch of trail: hand out water, and be a hero.


-If you’re serving food, give hikers a way to clean their hands before eating. If you set up somewhere near a sink, great! If there’s any relatively clear water source nearby, bring some soap and paper towels. If nothing else: paper towels and hand sanitizer. Or a giant box of baby wipes.

-In fact, I recommend you insist. I’ve never seen a hiker respond to “hep! clean your hands first!” with anything other than a wry grin. Because we will not remember, and if we do, we will not be strong enough to force ourselves… but we know we should. (Hat tip to Fishtank and all the others who do this.)


-There’s no wrong answer. We’re thruhikers. If it eats, we gon eat it. If you give it to us, you are a saint.

-Food that can be eaten with the hands is generally your best bet. But if you have a bag of buns, honey, a thru-hiker can make anything into a sandwich. (Literally. Anything. DON’T ASK.)

-Vegan options are really appreciated by a lot of hikers. And not just vegans; all hikers are chronically lacking in the healthier food groups. (“What’s a vitamin?”) You’d be surprised how fast a bag of Clementines can disappear.

-Hot food is incredible. If you set up a gas grill, like Pigpen and Pollenmoon did on my thru, you’re going to be talked about for hundreds of miles. Pancakes? Scrambled eggs? Hot dogs? Hamburgers? There ain’t no wrong answer.

-The same with cold food. If you, somehow, can get us ice cream bars, you are the stuff of which dreams are made.

-Condiments can be a magical experience. Some days, the mustard was better to me than the hot dog. Sriracha will make you a lot of friends. So will plain old salt.

-In general, I would recommend not offering granola bars; oatmeal; or peanut butter. Because most hikers eat these foods most of the time and their novelty tends to wear mighty thin.

-We can eat a lot. The farther you are into a thruhike, the more you can eat. If you offer someone a hamburger, they will eat it. But they might be perfectly, and reasonably, ready to eat 4 or 5. At the very least, be prepared before you offer them this boon. (The same goes for offering people food to pack out.)

-Candy – and children’s food in general – is going to appeal to us. Probably to an extent that will shock you. Roll with it.

-We are burning sometimes 10,000 calories a day. We don’t need diet soda. We don’t need “healthy” food if “healthy” means low-calorie. In fact, we probably don’t even need healthy food at all. It’s a nice thought! If you have it, we’ll appreciate it to no end! But we’re going to drop two ramen bombs before the day is through, so, don’t worry about giving us peanut butter cups. We can handle it. We promise.


-Cold is good. But warm is still really really good.

-It’s never not right to have water.

-If you’re giving out alcohol, it’s a really really good idea to offer water too.

-Sports drinks are wonderful. There are times when I’ve gotten to town and immediately drank three Gatorades. This experience in the middle of the day, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a long water carry… priceless. Literally bloody priceless.

-Citrus juices don’t tend to go over very well. Fruit/veg juices, like V8 Splash, have a cult following. Drinks that are clearly made specifically for kids – like those little squeezy bottles full of Grape Drink – can be really wonderful in warm temperatures. Milk drinks, and protein drinks, are great if they’re cold. Coffee and tea drinks are great always forever.

-Single-serving is preferable. If you’re going to bring big bottles or jugs, you also need to bring cups for us. A lot of thruhikers do not carry clean cups. Hell, I did the PCT without a clean water bottle. 

-If you give out beer, you are as unto a God. Period.

-What kind of beer, you ask? That is actually an interesting question.

The short answer is that, LORD but there is no wrong answer. However, the general answer is: mostly light beer; variety is great; radlers are great.

-“Mostly light beer.” A lot of hikers start out as microbrew conoisseurs. They don’t tend to stay that way. When you’ve been sweating up a storm for a few straight days, and been chronically dehydrated for what seems like half of forever, you probably don’t want a double chocolate stout. You probably don’t want a hoppy DIPA. What you probably want is lawnmower beer. Cold. Clear. Smashable. AMURICA.

-“Variety is great.” Out in the bushland, being able to choose between Black Ale, and Slightly Darker Black Ale, is better than a trip to Cantillon. Throw a few variety packs in a cooler and it’s just such a treasure to browse through it, I can’t even begin to tell you, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.

-“Radlers are great.” By which I mean, fruit beers; beers with fruit in them; or really anything that sits at the intersection of sports drink and boozydrink. Hard lemonade? Yes. Twisted Tea? #hikertrash4life. When I’m in town I usually get a gose if it’s available. In Wellie I bought a mixed six of Belgian sours and it made Christie almost as happy as it made Bram the Belgian.

-There are worse things to offer than low-alcohol beers. Session ales are hiker-friendly as.

-It’s wonderful, simply wonderful, to offer wine as well.

-You know those little one-glass bottles of wine? Those things are such a luxury in the woods. Seriously appreciated. Something with some sweetness, or some bubbles, is like the elixir vitae. A can of sparkling moscato might be $1.49 at a gas station and purchasable only with a fake ID, but in a burn zone on a mountainside it is worth its weight in silver.

-I was going to say that I’d never gotten a canned pre-mixed cocktail as trail magic, but then I remembered the RTDs I got from The River-Bogans on the Whanganui. And. Um. Yep. Endorsed. Silver’s Seal Of Endorsement.


-It’s always lovely to give people food (or drink!) to go.

-This can mean giving them trail food (i.e. light, nonperishable, prepackaged, or ~), or just letting them pack out a second burger for later.

-If you are going to offer trail food, you want to either be A) far away from the next resupply; B) offering gourmet trail foods that most hikers can’t afford; or C) at a resupply point, and offering enough food to get the hikers to the next resupply point, thus to allow them to skip a town. (C is Advanced Magic, but can be quite wonderful.)

-“Trail food that hikers can’t afford” always includes jerkied meat, dried fruit, and chocolate. Beyond that: the more gourmet of bars; ramen that isn’t Top Ramen; single-serving bags of pretentious chips; just anything you can buy at Whole Foods, really.

-Most hikers will eat tortillas (or ~), with or as most meals, most of the time. If you offer any other sort of bread, it will be well appreciated. Small loaves work great. And really, any fresh baked goods, especially if you also bring little bags to put them in. (Hikers have a thing about iced cinnamon buns. #protip)

-Hikers love packing out fruit. In my experience they are more likely to pack out fruit than they are to eat it at a tmaj setup. Clementines are great. Apples so-so but they work. If you offer little packets of peanut butter or nutella, apples or bananas will fly. But I have to say, a ripe or near-ripe avocado is some of the best tmaj in the universe. Ten out of ten. Hiker take. Hiker happy. Hiker love you forever.

-I’ve even seen people handing out premade sandwiches, individually wrapped. And may the light of heaven shine upon thee!


-There’s two ways to do tmaj: either stay there and give out food, or just leave food for hikers to take. There’s no wrong answer.

-If you leave food, make sure you do it in a way that is visible. Put it in a bright-colored container. Put it right on the trail.

-But do it in a way that is only visible from the trail. If you stop at the edge of a road, walk your tmaj up the trail a hundred yards. This assures that only hikers will get to it.

-Put a sign on it saying “TRAIL MAGIC.” You might also put on “THRU HIKERS ONLY” – or “PCT HIKER ONLY” if you don’t want to be down on LASHers.

-I recommend putting a date on the container. Especially if you’ve got perishable things on it – you don’t want to come across a bag of home-baked cookies but not know how long they’ve been there. I mean, you’ll eat them anyway, but you’ll be worried about it!

-Worry about critters! In general, you want to put your foods in a big Igloo cooler with a large rock on top. If you’re at a camp site, you can put tmaj into a bear box – just make sure it’s clearly marked inside the box, and there are signs telling you to look inside! If there’s a shelter with a door, you can put tmaj inside… but practice mouse safety as necessary.

-Critter safety is doubly important if you’re intending to leave your benifience on trail overnight.

-Make sure you put out a trashbag too. If you’re tmaj will generate recyclables, put out two bags. Always two bags, because otherwise you will get trash mixed in to your cans.

-Don’t forget to pick up the containers! Leave No Trace rules apply to you too. And, um, we sure as hell ain’t gonna pack out anything as heavy as an Igloo.

-If you’re putting out a register for hikers to sign, make sure to put it in the container. Mice will eat it. Promise.


-In general: you want your trail magic to include some food or drink. But it can be really useful and wonderful for you to have other disposable items on offer. Such as:

-Toilet paper. The best thing to do is to get a big box of those little Kleenex packs and let people take one or two. If you’re feeling fancy, you can also offer those little 10-packs of baby wipes, hikers will snap those up like they’re golden geese. Otherwise just bring a few rolls of TP and let hikers rip off a bit for themselves. It’s very nice – and shows you know our lives.

-Buy a big thing of hand sanitizer, with a squirt top. Let hikers refil their little bottles of hand sanitizer. Pig and Pollen did this and I thought it was brilliant.

The same goes for toothpaste. Or, get a few dozen travel sizes of toothpaste (or hand san) and hand them out. They will be taken.

-Zip-loc bags. Little ones. Big ones. Will be taken.

-AA/AAA batteries. Will be taken.

-The ability to charge things. If you happen to have a few battery packs and cables kicking around, bring them and let hikers charge their stuff while they’re at your tmaj. (There are some gadgets that let you charge off your car battery, which might be a hell of an investment for you if you’re tmajicking out of your trunk.)

-Band-aids. Oh oh oh, one year my mother gave out glow-in-the-dark Band-aids on Halloween, instead of candy, and literally every kid thought it was the best thing ever. And hikers, in case you haven’t noticed, are LITTLE KIDS. So. Um. Recommended.

-Leukotape will be snapped up hard. Moleskin probably. Compeed definitely. Duct tape not a bad idea.

-Packets, as from fast food restaurants, will often be taken and packed out. Hot sauce packets. Soy sauce packets. Honey packets. Mayo packets – we call thems WHITE GOLD on the trail. I love those little packets of powdered lime to put in my ramen (#protip). Packets of sports drink or just single serving tubes of Crystal Light.

-Bottles of Advil/Tylenol will get used at the tmaj. The same goes for Pepto-Bismol, and multivitamins, and – if I’m there – caffeine pills. If you buy blister packs of these pills, cut them up into individual pills and people will indeed pack them out. (Shout out to the Burney Guest Ranch for selling individual pills at cost. People listen to us! I truly can’t convey how wonderful this was.)

-Hikers love things that present the vague illusion of health. If you put out a box of Airborne packets, those things will goddam disappear.

-It’s not a bad idea to have a dozen little matchbooks or boxes of matches, just in case there’s a hiker who needs it. They probably won’t, but an unexpected lighter death can be real trouble – and an unexpected ten-cent book of matches could make you a hero.


-Not my area of specialty. But let me just say that hikers are not generally averse to such things. And that includes packing out some for later.


-Some trail magic will require you to perform some task in order to get access to it. Silent Pete made us rake a bag of leaves at the cemetery where he set up. Some hikers don’t like this. I, personally, love it.

-The same is true of making hikers help in meal prep. But I would generally caution against this, only because… hygeine. :-(


-It’s a nice thing to have hikers sign in at tmaj. This whether or not you’re there. It lets us express our gratitude, which feels good! But also, lots of registers increases community safety. I recommend it.

-Logbooks are generally a middle-schooler’s spiral-bound notebook. Put in a sample entry of DATE – NAME – COMMENTS and hikers will do the rest.

-Make sure to include a few writing utensils. If it’s going to get below freezing, use mechanical pencils, or #2s and include a little sharpener.

-Make sure to keep the logbook protected. A zip-loc usually suffices.


-I’ve seen magic that brought a big pup tent for hikers to gather under. On a hot sunny day, that’s pretty special.

-Magic ofen brings a few little folding chairs for hikers to sit on. Oh, God, this can make you feel like the damn Monopoly Man.

-The tmaj at Scissors Crossing put down some mats and gave out massage balls and a few foam rollers. That was so cool. Tons of fun.

-Just a little radio playing quiet music can be lovely.

-I mean, if you just happen to have a hula hoop… :-)


-You can totally put out a koha box. That’s fine. Most people don’t, but it’s not uncommon.

-Asking for donations is frowned upon. This is a gift, not a sale. And when you’ve been stumbling through the woods for days, coming upon the sudden promise of tmaj, and it’s someone taking advantage of that situation to sell you something… that is not how we say cricket. Do not want.

-If you’re a religious person – or organization – please be gentle about it. Putting out some literature or Bibles is fine. That lets us choose if we want to engage, and many do. But active evangalizing is frowned upon.


-Some hikers just want to grab and go. Don’t force them to stay and talk. You’re a hero for not breaking their flow.

-Some hikers will want to stay and talk. You might well do more by chatting with them a bit than even by feeding or supplying them.

-Some hikers will get vortexed in. Especially if you have chairs set up. You can discourage this or not – but you can do worse than setting an alarm for every hour, just to let them know how long they’ve been there :-)

-Make sure you use hand sanitizer yourself. Wash your hands with soap and water when you get home.

-Don’t spend more on us than you can afford. This does happen. We ain’t worth it! We appreciate you beyond what we can convey, but don’t hurt yourselves to help us. Unless your name is Terrie Anderson you fucking QUEEN.

-Thank you for even considering doing trail magic. It’s a wonderful, wonderful thing to be the recipient of it. It’s special in a way that’s hard to convey. Thank you.

-…I mentioned the beer, right?



davekov dot com


•14 October 2019 • Leave a Comment

I have thruhiked the Cheryl Strayed Highway – from Mexico to Canada – three states – five national monuments, six national parks, five state parks, seven BLM field offices, twenty-five national forests, forty-eight federal wilderness areas – 4270km – hikertrash for life.

Eighteen days of rain in the desert. Thirty in the PNW. Snowstorms in the Mojave. And the Sierras. And the Cascades. Ice storms. Thunderstorms. Windstorms. Wildfires. Water crossings. Water carries. Single-digit cold. Triple-digit heat. Postholing. Hitchhiking. Weeks of mosquitoes. Weeks of isolation. Weeks of hiking with the best people in the world.

Thank you Archimedes. Thank you Woodpecker. Thank you Raspberry. You are the smartest and the strongest and the kindest and it was just a joy to hike with you. I love you, and I miss you, a lot.

Thank you Tortilla, Big Momma, Yay, Jaws, Shewee, Flick. Thank you Watercolor, Doodles, Kez, Hoops, Pigeon. Thank you Hikerbox, Pigeon, Battleplan. Thank you Tuna and Calypso. Thank you Baguette. See e.g. Henry V, Act IV, Scene III.

Thank you Gigs, Spiderlegs, Lubos and Terezia, Lubos and Terezia, Columbia, Cheesegrater, Posh David, Shellac, The Three Sisters, Dixie, Second Chance, Hot Ham, Jellyfish, Small Furry Animal, Cheeks, Cheeks, GinGin and EdBeard, Cotton and Chicadee, Joe Dirt, Itamar, G-Wag, Joelle, Skypilot, Redfeather, Alpaca, Melon, Poppins, Randy, Versace, Scav and Merchant, Mantra, Bluebird, Jackson, Famke, Coach and 12-Pack, Lady Bling, Roxie and Perrie, Viking, Elfo, Dish, Caveman, Merlin, everyone who recognized me from the Fight For Together videos, everyone who remembered me from the AT or saw my name in an intentions-book on the TA, and the dozens of people that I know that I’m forgetting, and the people who I met for just a day or an hour or a moment’s gam by the trailside.

Thank you to everyone who gave me a place to crash: Christie, Lynn and Malie, Terrie Anderson, Donna & Jeff Saufley, Jan, Nancy, Kim, Arielle, Tatiana, Evan, Ethery, Niterider Dave, Margaret, Stephen, Dana and Rob. Thank you everyone who gave this tramper a hitch or a hot meal or a helping hand. So long and thanks for all the water caches.

Thank you to my family. Thank you to my friends who have entirely stopped asking when I’m going to stop hiking. Thank you to my friends from other trails who kept reaching out to me. I really hope I get to hike with you again. Or, failing that, zero on your couch :-)

Thank you PCT. Thank you for the cacti in bloom, for the orange sea of poppies, for the josh trees, for the wildflowers, for the beargrass, for the burn zones, for the bristlecones under the ancient pines. Thank you for the birdsongs at dawn and the silence at dusk. Thank you for the thunderstorms that merged over Castle Crags like something out of Brütal Legend. Thank you for the milkshakes in Seiad Valley before we climbed 2000m in 40C heat… and thank you for the radler we packed out for the summit. Thank you for the Altra footprints on the snow that let me keep to the trail when my phone died halfway through a 24-hour challenge. Thank you for the eighteen hikerboxes at MTR that left me exiting the Sierras with something like two days of food left. Thank you for those two times where I was absolutely shattered and just needed a real bed to sleep in and the only rooms available had 4 beds… and both times Hikerbox, Battleplan, and Pigeon showed up and crashed with me.  Thank you for the pizza delivery to the public bathrooms outside the ranger station. Thank you for the Red Bull And Vodka DEATH MARCH on the Hat Creek Rim – the 90s danceparty, the breaks to stargaze, the two hours we spent debating Medicare For All and the twenty minutes we spent lost in the scrub looking for the trail, and how we laughed so hard we peed ourselves so many times that we hiked the last few miles pantsless, it was one of the best nights of my entire life. Thank you for the time I hiked all day and all night to catch my friends, and when I caught them at dawn it was shining and wonderful… and then they wanted to keep hiking, so my first 24-hour turned into a 36. Thank you to that time I hiked in nighthiking but boxer shorts for… oh… 1400KM. Thank you for the moscato-fueled 10AM yoga practice in Hawaiian shirts behind Casa de Luna. Thank you for the helihitch down King’s Canyon and the ATV ride down Sierra Buttes.  Thank you for the club on Hollywood and Vine, the cocktails by the Tahoe shore, steppin out on the Vegas Strip while casino security eyed my iceaxe most skeptically. Thank you for the howling windstorm when I cowboyed at the edge of a cliff over Coachella. Thank you for the big fluffy snowflakes on the run to the northern border. Thank you for that afternoon where the sun went behind the mountains and left me cold in darkness, but after hours of climbing I was suddenly above the mountains, and the sun was shining again, and it kept me warm as I climbed to the summit and watched the sun set over the Sierras.

Good luck to the class of 2020 and beyond. Keep choochin. Keep smoochin. Kia kaha cuz the trail won’t hike itself.

And when all is said and done, on this we can all agree:

Mayor Max for President.




PCT class of 2019

…dolla dolla billz yall


Nüümü Poyo

•6 October 2019 • Leave a Comment

The mountains are calling, but the rangers are checking permits.

The mountains are calling, and if it turns out that there’s an autoroad to the top I am going to friggin’ scream.

The mountains are calling, but this is the AT, so, “mountains.”

The mountains are calling, and since this is Te Araroa, climbing them is probably really culturally insensitive.

The mountains are calling, and this is the AT so I can’t wait to get near, but not at, their summit.

The mountains are calling to tell me they are super impressed by my baseweight.

The mountains are calling, and I’m sure someone on Backpacker Radio will tell me about that.

The mountains are calling, and they’re saying “John Muir was a raaaaaacist”

The mountains are calling, and this is the Florida Trail so they’re definitely calling long distance.

The mountains are calling, but it’s the PCT so we’ll go around them

The mountains are calling, but a sobo said they were too hard and I should skip them.

The mountains are calling, but I don’t have service.

The mountains are calling, but town is also calling.

The mountains are calling, and they better be friggin’ switchbacked.

The mountains are calling, but first lemmee Gutlook.

The mountains are calling, but I can’t hear them because I am just *smashing* podcasts right now.

The mountains are calling, and I have to get over them before I can resupply.

The mountains are calling, and they’re telling you to follow @indigenouswomenhike on Instagram.



davekov dot com

The PCT and the TA Compared

•2 October 2019 • 1 Comment

Six month ago, I posted a comparison of Te Araroa and the Appalachian Trail. Then I went off to Campo. Now here’s my comparison of Te Araroa and the Pacific Crest Trail. I hope it’s of use to future trampers and thru-hikers.


(IG: @daxelkurtz if you want the gag reel)


The Pacific Crest Trail (“the PCT”) is a 2,650-mile hiking trail in the United States. It is over half a century old. It is an uninterrupted walking path through desert and forest and high mountain. It is also referred to as the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail, That Trail From Wild, and The Cheryl Strayed Highway. #reesewitherspoon

Te Araroa (“the TA”) is an 1,865-mile trail in New Zealand. The name means “The Long Pathway” in Maori. It is less than a decade old. It is a semi-contiguous tramping track which is mostly walked, but there are sections of recommended or optional canoeing, bicycling, packrafting, and even hitchhiking. It goes through tropical rainforest, native and introduced woodlands, tussock and meadow, sheepfold and farmer’s fields, private land, Maori land, boulderfield, scree, alpine garden, high mountain pass, sprawling suburbs, highway shoulders, dry riverbed, occasionally dry riverbed, rarely dry riverbed, and a few times you just straight up walk in a river.

One who hikes either trail, from one end to the other, is a thru-hiker. Though in NZ you might also be called a thru-walker, a thru-tramper, or just plain tramper.


Comparable. The PCT is 2,650 miles (4,300km); the TA is a bit shorter at 1,865 miles (3,000km).

It’s worth noting that most trampers will spend a couple hundred miles of their thru on canoes, bicycles, and/or packrafts, and many trampers will skip between thirty and three hundred miles of roadwalking – all without considering that they are compromosing their thru. Likewise, most trampers will add at least as many miles of additional hiking – either on roads to resupply, or on sidequests to see even more of New Zealand.


The PCT goes from very low (140 feet at CLocks) to very high (13,200 feet on Forester Pass in the Sierras – or, more commonly, 14,500 feet on Tumanguya). But it is rather gently graded – it is famous for its switchbacks. From tip to tail, a thruhiker will climb and lose around 464,000 feet of elevation.

The TA goes from sea level (several times), to a maximum altitude of 6,315′ (Stag’s Saddle, near Tekapo, Canterbury). According to Guthook (as calculated by Ondi), the TA’s total elevation change is 274,000 feet.

However, trampers will often go higher on mountains like Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe, Taranaki, or any of a number in the Southern Alps. Trampers will often go lower, too, by renting scuba gear in the Bay of Islands… or by falling off their canoes on the Whanganui.


The PCT is a very well-defined trail. You’re either on-trail or you’re off it.

At times there are intersecting trails. Most of these intersections are labeled with physical signposts. Most common side trails connect right back to the PCT.

Te Araroa is different. Oftentimes it is not a trail at all, but a route – there’s a marker or stile or object in the distance, and you are to cross to it however you want or can. Sometimes you get lost. Sometimes you try an approach, find it doesn’t work, and have to double back. Sometimes you get where you’re going in a way the trail might not have even considered.

On Te Araroa, side hikes are pretty much the rule. This includes connector trails – shortcuts, longcuts, and just plain alternate routes. It’s not uncommon for people to hike tens of kilometers extra, or even hitch or bus, to get to a side hike like the Milford or Kepler (or make their own connector, like Mt. Aspiring into the Roteburn). On the Deception Track, I strongly advise trampers NOT to follow the trail markers. I once hiked on the wrong side of a river for two straight days – and it was lovely.


The AT has official maps (USFS); unofficial maps (Halfmile); unoffical apps (Halfmile, Guthooks); and semi-official resources (PCT Water Report, Postholer, SanJacJohn, the PCTA itself). However, most thruhikers use Guthook – either primarily, or solely.

Te Araroa has no official guide. The official route is set by “trailnotes,” which seem to average about a page for every 10km. Sometimes they are annoyingly short. Often they are powerfully long. In many places they are basically unusable without Guthook. In most places you cannot rely on Guthook alone.


The PCT changes a little bit from year to year. Some of these changes are intentional (reroutes to improve the hike or prevent erosion), some are not (fire reroutes) (…fire reroutes).

In 2019, people who went through the Sierras during the meltout would often go miles out of their way to find a safer place to ford Evolution Creek. In 2018, some people walked five hundred miles of road in order to avoid being smoked out or burned alive.

The same is true on Te Araroa. Two northland forests were closed this year to prevent the spread of Kauri Dieback. Another was closed south of Auckland, resulting in a roadwalk of something like 80km. Likewise, several people were shut out of the Richmonds due to forest fires. And don’t even get me started on lambing.

But changes are far more common on Te Araroa just because it is a new trail. It can be frustrating to walk on all that road or find yourself staring down an unposted obstacle or reroute. But I found it pretty exciting to be part of, not just the hiking of the TA, but the making of it. I actually thought it was pretty fucking special indeed.


To be a PCT thruhiker, you have to hike every inch of the trail. Emphasis on Every Inch. Emphasis on Hike.

On Te Araroa, things are different.

First of all, there’s all that road. Some stretches are over 50 miles long. Some of it is highway. You are walking on the narrow shoulders of a road where cars go 70 miles an hour – at least. Some stretches have no camping the length of them, so you *have* to do a marathon or more. And most of it is, shall we say, not memorable hiking.

Some people bike the roads. Some people hitch them. Some even hire shuttles or take a bus.

These people are still seen as thru hikers on Te Araroa.

Some questions are ripe for pond’rin. Is biking a section less pure than hiking it? More pure than hitching? Is hitching more pure than a bus? How about kayaking instead of canoeing? How about taking a bridge rather than fording a river?

On the PCT, the answers would be obvious. In New Zealand, every tramper has to answer these questions for themselves.


On the PCT, you will backcountry camp almost every night.

Sometimes you will be at a designated campsite, accessible by car and equipped with a water-pump and privy. Sometimes (Oregon) you’ll be at an actual campground by a lovely lake. Sometimes you will be at a pretty developed campsite where hikers of another trail (cough the JMT) have made their afternoon camp. There are plenty of hostels (CA) and cheap motels (everywhere but SoCal). A few times there are even backcountry huts – a few of which even have nonmetal roofs so you can be inside them when there’s lightning! And… well, I guess there used to be Hiker Heaven, and Casa de Luna, and Scout & Frodo’s. Good Lord. End of an era. So long and thanks for all the tmaj.

But most nights you’ll make your camp on a random patch of ground near the trail. Sometimes a cleared little spot where others have camped before. Sometimes even a spot marked in Guthook. Sometimes – if you’re me – just a bit of bare rock or leaves to cowboy on, found after dark and left before dawn.

Te Araroa is far less regular. There are almost no shelters anywhere. There are designated campsites, paid campsites both public and private, seaside campgrounds, mid-city holiday parks, hostels, resorts, homestays both official and random, and huts.

There are over 1500 backcountry huts across New Zealand. Near a hundred are on or near the trail.

The average hut is basically a small house: four walls, windows and a door, bunks with mattresses, often a fireplace, sometimes an indoor faucet leading to the raintank. First come, first served – most sleep 6-8, a few less, a few more.

Some were built mainly for TA walkers. Some, like Greenstone, were built for those on an intersecting path. Some were built for hunters, or foresters, or shepherds, or gold-miners. Some were built *by* those people and were later taken over by the Department Of Conservation (DOC). And some are still private; put some cash in the koha box, and you can stay.

Some are ancient. Some are pretty terrible. Most are totally great. A few are AWESOME.

I think I slept in my tent a total of five times on the South Island – and three of those times were before the Richmonds. In total I think I spent 60 nights in huts. Many of which involved the building of a roaring fire.

It changes your plans. Some days I definitely hiked less than my all because I wanted to stop at a hut. A few times I’ve pushed on because a hut was full but the next one might have room.

Hut zeroes are free and awesome. Hut neros are great in snow or rain. And remember, any hut that isn’t on the TA is likely to be empty most of the time. I know a hiker who spent 5 days alone in a beautiful wooden hut on a mountaintop and it didn’t cost her a dime.


As Heinlein reminds us: “Climate is what we expect; weather is what we get.” Discuss any thruhike as a whole and the climate will be mostly good most of the time. But you don’t thruhike the average. You thruhike the ups and downs. When you’re out in the open, all day, every day… all night, every night… you remember every thunderstorm. Every snowstorm. Every windstorm. Every heatwave. Every cold snap. And relatedly: every fire, flood, mudslide, and record !@#$% mosquito hatch.

The climate on the PCT is generally “hot and dry.” Most years, most thruhikers will start (nobo) in the high desert. Daytime temperatures might average in the triple digits. Sun will be constant and unrelenting. Once they hit the Sierras things will be a bit cooler, and there might be afternoon thunderstorms. NorCal is back to full-blown desert. Oregon will give you shade, but also, humidity. Washington will be cooler but might be rainy. Early hikers might encounter snow on the ground in the Sierras; late hikers, powder in the Cascades. Not ideal hiking, but still hiking – not route-finding, not climbing, certainly not mountaineering.

That is the climate. The weather that I experienced was A BIT DIFFERENT. 

2019 on the PCT  was an unusual year. When a year on a thru was “unusual,” this means the weather was unusual. Which usually means that the weather was unusually bad. Time will tell, but the general consensus seems to be that 2019 on the PCT was legendarily bad. 

In the SoCal desert, I experienced eighteen days of rain. Eighteen. So, seventeen more than some hikers get on the entire PCT. I also had four days of snow. In the SoCal desert. I crunched ice under my feet in the MOJAVE. I also got multiple windstorms that were tent-destroyers. You know the LA Aquaduct? I wore my puffy. At noon. Until it started raining.

In the Sierras, the snow was so high that early nobos were crossing in snowshoes. That was actually easier than later on, when hikers had to posthole through feet of soft wet snow – for 500 or 600 miles. Earlybirds also tended to be able to cross rivers on snow bridges, whereas later nobos had to ford. Which, in 2019, often meant “swim.” Fucking swim across hundred-foot-wide rivers with high snow on either bank.

I postholed for twenty miles… flipped up, and went sobo.

In Washington, I was rained on 20 days out of 21. It was mcmiserable. In northern Oregon it was rainy and cold but nothing like WA. In southern Oregon it got hot, fast, and the mosquitoes came out at what we were told were historically high numbers. I am from Maine, where we often joke that the mosquito is our state bird, and still I had never seen anything like Oregon. I wore a bug shirt. I wore long pants and a long-sleeved shirt with the hood up. I used permethrin. I put DEET on my skin and on my clothing. I still basically couldn’t stop hiking by day, and had to stop hiking as soon as it was dusk. IT SUCKED.

But then, at last, I got my reward. From the OR-CA border all the way back to Lone Pine, it was sunny and beautiful. Not too hot in NorCal. Not too cold in the Sierras – and all that snow had been replaced by wildflowers. Lovely. Absolutely lovely. 10/10. Actually would hike again.

The TA’s climate is generally this: warm wet springs in Northland, leading to hot dry summers and cool dry autumns. Cold wet springs on the South Island (which sobos will likely miss), leading to warm but very dry summers, and cold coming quickly in autumn to spur you on to Bluff. Basically, generally… pretty good.

The weather that I experienced on my sobo was on the pleasant end of even this. Dry and mild in Northland, only a few rainy days in Waitomo, dry on the river, then almost no rain the entire South Island – and no snow the entire hike. No floods. No fires. No earthquakes. chefskiss.jpg


On the PCT, you need a Long Distance Permit.

For nobos, these are issued by lottery. There are two draws (fall and winter of the preceding year). Fifty permits are issued for each calendar day. Everyone I spoke to got close to the starting date they wanted.

Starting in 2020, sobos will also need to lottery for permits. Fifteen will be issued per day – which should spread out the bubble a little, but I’m guessing will not make it difficult to get on or near one’s ideal start date.

On Te Araroa, you do not need a thru-hiker permit. You just show up, and start trampin’.

You’ll need to pay a few quid to hike the Queen Charlotte. That’s the only time you’ll need to pay to tramp.

You will need a Backcountry Hut Pass to stay in the huts. It costs about $40 USD for 6 months of unlimited use. For me that came to under a buck a night. I, ah, recommend it.

There are some huts near the TA – and even a few campgrounds – that require advanced registration and payment. You never need to stay at one of these places. On a side quest, you might want to – or you can just walk a little ways away from them and stealth camp, legally, for free.


On the PCT, food carries are short, and resupply is easy.

In the early desert, you can resupply pretty much every day. You can basically live off of hikerboxes and trailmagic. After that you will resupply every 3-5 days for the rest of the trail. Logistics are a little more complicated in the Sierras, and then again in northern Washington – but like, not very complicated. If you’ve got trail legs and you ever find yourself carrying more than 5 days of food, you are doing it wrong.

On Te Araroa, there is no average. On the North Island you can often go from dairy to dairy (like Waysides in the Shennies). Town food is basically the norm. Then for the Richmonds you are suggested to carry 11 days of food – 7 for the hike, 4 in case of bad weather and/or flooded rivers. Then you have to mail food parcels ahead to cover over two straight weeks of hiking. (Except it turns out you really don’t have to.) (Don’t get me started.)

And what about resupply? On the PCT, I never had to walk into town. I never had a lick of trouble getting a hitch – even for a length of road that I could have walked – even for a town that I did not strictly need to visit.

In New Zealand, I walked 3-5 miles offtrail, several times, in order to get to town. Or to a spot where I could hitch to town… 40 miles away.

On the PCT, every trail town has at least a basic resupply. Most are fabulous. They know where their bread is buttered. Also, the PCT has many other little resupply points located right on trail. (I’m looking at you, Oregon.)

NZ is, again, varied. On the North Island there are several towns that the trail just cuts right through. Most towns have food (hot and packaged) and many have small outdoors stores. On the South Island some trail towns are just as good, and some are outdoorsy and have truly world-class outfitters. Whereas some don’t even have a gas station, and hiker supplies – even canister fuel – might mean a hitch of a hundred miles.

More than anything, Te Araroa requires logistical planning. You can’t just look at Guthook, think “100 miles to Fish Lake, so 3 dinners 4 lunches.” You have to look at the DOC estimates of how long each upcoming section will take to hike. You have to consult the weather. You really should look at the elevation map. You definitely need to examine the river crossings. Anc you have to know your abilities, your needs, your will. And how sick you are of OSM bars.

…I’m not going to talk about water carries. On the TA you don’t really have any. On the PCT I didn’t really have any either – but that was very much a 2019 thing, and is so unusual that it’s probably nonhelpful to even talk about it.


On the PCT, they’re pretty common. In SoCal they’re everywhere. The resupply points on trail in the Sierras tend to be pretty well stocked, and the nearby towns have excellent outfitters (or three). Every little trailtown in NorCal has at least a place to get canister fuel and fresh DarnToughs, and most have more. The on-trail resupply points in the PNW all sell casual hiking gear, and more and more they’re selling what thruhikers need.

Also… and I can’t stress this enough… Amazon Prime. Which is fast making outfitting – and even resupply – a triviality on an American thruhike.

On Te Araroa, outfitters can be scarce. Many outdoor stores in NZ are 20 years behind (say) REI. Lost a titanium tent stake? You’re replacing it with aluminum. Ripped one of your DCF overcompensation devices? You’re patching it with ducktape. Also, there is no Amazon service in NZ, and online ordering generally involves a long phone call and an even longer wait for delivery.


The PCT offers a wonderful variety. There’s low desert, high desert, the Inland Island that is San Jacinto, the otherworldly variety of the High Sierras, dirtbag heaven around the TRT, the burn zones of the Trinity Alps, the FUCK YOU of the Hat Creek Rim, the Disney-like perfection of the Marble Mountains, the Green Tunnel of Oregon interrupted by Crater Lake and the Sisters and Mt. Hood, the lushness of Indian Heaven, magnificent Goat Rocks, and the profound sense of distance and majesty of the North Cascades. Generally the changes between zones are gradual, giving you a few days to experience each in full.

Te Araroa has even more diversity – and it comes to fast your heads will spinBeach and bush. Forest snd tussock. Scree and slate. Trail and field. Paddock and highway. City and village. Streams and rivers, lakes, oceans. Giant swingbridges. Tiny little ropewalks. Desert and rainforest. Rift valley. Volcanic waste. Truly preposterous waterfalls. And what’s crazy is, you might see three or four of these things in a day.


From footstep to footstep, the PCT is easy. Straight up.

The PCT is graded for a three-legged musk ox floating along on pool noodles. There’s no scramble. There’s no bushwhack. There’s no route-finding. Unless you hit a high snow year – and decide to push through – you’ll probably never cross snow. The river crossings too will be trivial – chances are you’ll never even get your feet wet. And, yes, every single climb is switchbacked.

The big difficulties on the PCT are weather and distance. Weather because it’s usually really really hot (with associated long water carries), or else really really cold (with long snow traverses). Distance because – not only is the fucking thing 2,650 miles long, but the window of completion is pretty short. Even in a good year, it’s hard to start a nobo before April (or get to the Sierras before June, which, ~). It can be very hard to be in the Cascades after mid-September. And not only can bad weather shorten that window, it can also slow you down for large chunks of the trail. It may not be a technical challenge from step to step, but it will become a race, day in, day out, for weeks and even months on end.

The trail might be easy, but it’s still difficult to make the Big Miles necessary to complete it. If the trail were more difficult, it would not really be possible. The PCT isn’t mountaineering. It might not even be fair to call it hiking. It is a trail run. A multi-month trail run. With a full backpack. And lots of elevation change. If that sounds easy – get your ears checked.

Te Araroa is shorter, and the weather is generally less extreme. However, the terrain from step to step is much more challenging. You will rock-hop. You will scramble. You will jump locked fences. You will fight across roaring rivers. You will slide down scree slopes – including when you’re trying to go up them. You will run from bulls in their paddock. You will shoot rapids in wide canoes. You will walk on pavement and gravel and mud for miles on end. 

The logistics is also a bit more cumbersome. You will go from hut to hut. You will tent in the middle of a busy town. You will look for lodging in the middle of a big city. You might hitch a hundred miles in an afternoon. You will plan your resupply for weeks at a time.

Any given section of the PCT is pretty easy. A full thru-hike is a sum’bitch. Most sections of Te Araroa are difficult. A full thru-hike presents additional difficulties – but also periods of rest and recovery that make it possible.


The PCT has bears, diamondbacks, scorpions, brown recluses, mountain lions, earthquakes, meth heads, temperatures hot enough to denature protein, and in some years, avalanches, horrific river crossings, and forty-mile water carries in the desert sun.

Te Araroa has… kiwis. ^.^


About 5000 people were issued a thru-hiker permit in 2019. The completion rate is generally about 25% – this year, it is commonly expected to be a lot less.

In the desert, you will see fifty people per day. It’s a bit crazy! But they spread out quickly. You might camp with a dozen people. Or half a dozen. Or alone. You might meet some wonderful people while you’re hiking. You still might go hours and hours without seeing another hiker.

I was a sobo for most of my PCT hiker. I didn’t hike with anyone for about 600 miles. I barely *saw* anyone for 600 miles. I then didn’t hike with anyone but my tram (shoutout Arc, Woodpecker, Raspberry. Je t’adore guys. Je t’adore.) for all of NorCal, and was alone for most of the Sierras. But there was a two-week period where I ran into a bajillion nobos that I knew from the desert. Whether it was a casual fistbump, or sitting on the trail and talking with Baguette for like 5 hours, it was always wonderful – really, a very special part of being a flipflopper.

In 2018-2019, over a thousand people started a thruhike of Te Araroa. I’m guessing that completion rates are over 50%. This is in large part due to the higher competence (including, but neither limited to nor necessarily derived from, previous thruhiking experience) of TA hikers. I expect it’s also due to the fact that most TA hikers traveled a long, and very expensive way, to undertake the hike. It’s harder to bail out when you’re on the other side of the world.

I found the core of a great tramily at Pirongia (Christie, Ondi, Bram, Baptiste, Helga, Sabina, magical G-String). This only grew on the Whanganui (Chloe, Veera, Justin, Michaelangelo), in the Tararuas (Matt, Steph, Bin, Amy, Dom), and in the Richmonds (Leo, Sundown, Babyshark, Tati, The Priest) – and even from there just kept growing. For the South Island I was with, or at least in a general bubble of, about twenty people who were all excellent and really bloody lovely. It… did not suck. Not at all.


On the PCT, there were times where I saw almost no day hikers. I once saw only one person in 96 hours (nice ta meet ya, Dixie). Whereas around Mt Hood, Sisters, the TRT, and especially the JMT, I saw dozens of day- and section-hikers every day.

Most TA trails are primarily or exclusively for us alone. I rarely saw more than half a dozen thru hikers in camp at night, and it was uncommon to meet more than a couple non-thrubies all day long. There were exceptions – I’ve seen fewer people on 5th Avenue at rush hour than I saw on the Tongariro Crossing. And it was always fun to have a hunter roll into a hut and be shocked to find anyone else there, let alone half a dozen trampers from all around the world. But in general, the TA is mostly for thru-hikers.


On the PCT, a thru-hiker is someone hiking every durn foot of the trail within a year (contiguous or calendar). Anyone doing less is treated differently by the vaaast majority of thrubies.

On the TA, a significant percentage of walkers will only walk the South Island – a distance of only about 40% of the total trail. Yet these people are generally considered thru-hikers. And generally they’re treated just the same.


On the PCT you are strongly encouraged to Stay On The Trail when hiking, lest you cause erosion. There are signs on some slopes telling you not to cut the switchbacks. (And some days, boy howdy will you wanna.)

As I’ve said, there often is no trail in NZ. You have to make your own way. Erosion isn’t even a consideration – not in a place where rock-slips and mudslides are happening left and right.


On the PCT there is trail magic. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes, even, too damn much.

Trail Magic is when someone gives a gift to a thruhiker. This usually = food. A folding table with snack cakes. An open car trunk with cold drinks inside. An unattended box of beer hidden under a picnic table. A guy cooking hot dogs on top of a mountain.

For the first few hundred miles of the PCT, there is so much tmaj. I once got it four times IN A DAY. It’s preposterous. In the Sierras the hikerboxes at MTR and Red’s Meadow were basically tmaj – I did full and delicious resupplies out of both, including whiskey and tequila respectively. It happened several times in NorCal and Oregon. An American trail can be a wonderful thing to hike.

On Te Araroa this basically never happens. There is no culture for it. The trail is too new, has too few alumni. Also, most thruhikers are nonlocal – from a different hemisphere, like as not. So nobody’s around to cook hamburgers.

I will say, however, that I cannot overstate the kindness and generosity of kiwis. They might not do trailmagic per se, but that’s little loss when they’re inviting you into their homes for supper, or letting you sleep on their spare mattress or in their caravan, or taking you fishing, or boating, or offroading in their utes, or taking you on a magical woodworking adventure (it’s a long and AMAZING story), or just giving you advice about the trail ahead – because it seems every other kiwi has hiked at least twice as much as you ever will. Because this is EnZed, and that’s how kiwis roll.


There aren’t really dogs on the PCT. The desert is usually too hot. The Sierras, this year at least, were too cold. The whole trail is often too dry – carrying water for yourself is bad enough! But most of all, dogs just can’t do the Big Miles needed to complete the PCT within the window. To complete in 5 months (mid-April to mid-September) you’d have to average eighteen miles per day, which is more than a lot of dogs can do… and that’s every single day, without zero or nero. It’s just not feasible.

On Te Araroa, much of the trail goes through conservation land. This usually = native bird habitat, which usually = kiwis. Apparently a dog will just chow right down on a kiwi. As such, thrupuppers are mostly not allowed.


I really, really liked the PCT. I liked being able to stretch my legs on the flatter sections. I liked fighting the climb and the elevation in the Sierras. I liked the variety of such a preposterously long trail. I count myself very lucky to have been in the desert in superbloom and the Sierras when they were covered with wildflowers. I’d hike the JMT again. One day I would very much like to hike both the Sierra High Route and the Wonderland, and to complete the Timberline and the TRT.

I really, really liked Te Araroa. It was more compact, and more obstructed, but also more challenging, more varied, and presented entirely different sorts of beauty. I’d rehike several parts of it, and I’d love to explore more in the Richmonds and Otago (as well as Fiordland and the Coromandel).

The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I recommend both. Probably the PCT first – but there’s no wrong answer. Hike either. Hike both.

After all – trail won’t hike itself.



AT – TA – PCT – ???

Thru Music

•28 September 2019 • Leave a Comment

A lot of people have asked me what I’m (always) listening to while I’m hiking.

Here are some favorites:



Behind the Bastards (Robert Evans)

History of Rome (Mike Duncan)

Revolutions (also Mike Duncan)

Hardcore History (Dan Carlin)

Slow Burn (Leon Neyfakh)

More Perfect (Jad Abumrad)

All The President’s Lawyers (Josh Barro and Ken White)

Crimetown (Marc Smerling and Zac Stuart-Pontier)

Sawbones (Dr. Sydnee McElroy and Hoops)

Serial (Sarah Koenig and Neesha)

Make No Law (m4popehat)



I find that vigorous hiking rarely allows for substantive textual engagement. So mostly I listen to candy – Brandon Sanderson, Dan Simmons, Neal Stephenson, &c.





Art Tatum – The Complete Capitol Recordings

Dave Brubeck – Time Out

Nat Adderley – Work Song

John Abercrombie – The Third Quartet

JS Bach – Pao Casals doin dem Cellosuites

…sometimes the Fallout III soundtrack. Never not delightful.



5’nizza – ты кидал

Allman Brothers – Eat A Peach – One Way Out

Bela Fleck and the Flecktones – Tales from the Acoustic Planet (Vol II) – Valley of the Rogue

Brown Bird – Salt for Salt – Shiloh

Broken Social Scene – You Forgot It In People – Almost Crimes

Built To Spill – Perfect From Now On – Hurt A Fly

Caribou – Andrra – Melody Day

Caribou – Andorra – After Hours

Caribou – The Milk Of Human Kindness – Yeti

Caribou – Swim – Odessa

Cave Story – Running Hell (Curly Brace’s theme)

The Coral – Self-Titled – Spanish Main

The Damned – Damned, Damned, Damned – I Feel Alright [by Iggy Pop]

Daphni – Jiaolong – Yes I Know

Daphni – Jiaolong – Ye Ye

Daphni – Jiaolong – Jiao (Daniel Snaith 3:16, apparently)

DJ Shadow – Endtroducing… – The Number Song

DJ Shadow – Endtroducing… – Mutual Slump

DJ Shadow – Endtroducing… – Organ Donor

Dungen – Ta Det Lungt – Panda

Elliott Smith – Figure 8 – Junk Bond Trader

Elliott Smith – Figure 8 – Can’t Make A Sound

Emerson, Lake, & Palmer – Tarkus

Ethiopiques – 7 (Mahmed Ahmed) – Atawrulegn Lela

Fever Ray – self-titled – If I Had A Heart

Florence & The Machine – Lungs – Kiss With A Fist

Frank Zapp & Captain Beefheart – Hot Rats! – Willie The Pimp

Fuck Buttons – Tarot Sport – Street Horrsing -> Rough Steez

Fugazi – End Hits – Break

Fugazi – Instrument Soundtrack – Turkish Disco

Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five – The Message

Gogol Bordello – Voi-la Intruder – Sex Spider

Guided By Voices – Bee Thousand [album]

Hawkwind – Space Ritual – Orgone Accumulator

Jethro Tull – Aqualung – Hymn 43

John Fahey – The Dance Of Death and Other Plantation Favorites – Variations on the Cuckoo

Kanye – The College Dropout – Jesus Walks -> Never Let Me Down

Kanye – The College Dropout – School Spirit

Kanye – Late Registration – Gold Digger

Kanye – Late Registration – Touch The Sky

Led Zeppelin – I – Baby I’m Gonna Leave You

Led Zeppelin – IV – Rock And Roll

Liturgy – Aesthetica – High Gold

Luke Abbott – Holkham Drones – More Room

Mahishtanu Orchestra – The Inner Mounting Flame – The Noonward Race

Manu Chao – Proxima Estacion Esperanza – La Primavera -> Me Gustas Tu

Marnie Stern – This Is It And I Am It And You Are It And It Is That And He Is It And She Is It And It Is It And That Is That – Prime

Metric – Live It Out – Monster Hospital

Mountain – Climbing – Theme For An Imaginary Western (a lot)

My Bloody Valentine – Loveless – When You Sleep

Nas – Illmatic – NY State Of Mind

Nathan Fake – Drowning in a Sea of Love – The Sky Was Pink

Neutral Milk Hotel – In The Aeroplane Over The Sea – King of Carrot Flowers 1 (and 2) (and 3)

Neutral Milk Hotel – In The Aeroplane Over The Sea – Holland 1945

New York Dolls – self-titled – Personality Crisis

Nirvana – Bleach – Floyd the Barber

Ol’ Dirty Bastard – Nigga Please – Got Yo Money

Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? – Cato as a Pun

Omar Souleyman – Wenu Wenu – Warni Warni

Parov Stelar – Catgroove (probably on repeat)

Parquet Courts – Light Up Gold [whole album]

Pavement – Slanted & Enchanted – Conduit for Sale!

Pixies – Surfer Rosa – Break My Body

Quicksilver Messenger Service – Shady Grove – Edward, the Mad Shirt Grinder

Radiohead – My Iron Lung – The Trickster

Robbie Basho – Bashovia – The Falconer’s Arm (10/10)

Scott Joplin – played by E. Powers Biggs – Maple Leaf Rag

Scott Joplin – played by E. Powers Biggs – Peacharine Rag

Shellac – At Action Park – My Black Ass

Sidney Bechet – Jungle Drums – Sous Les Palmiers

Sonic Youth – Daydream Nation – Silver Rocket

Sonic Youth – EVOL – Death To Our Friends

Sonic Youth – Sister – Hot Wire My Heart

Sugarloaf – [self-titled] – Green Eyed Lady

Sugarman 3 & Co. – Pure Cane Sugar – Funky So-And-So

Tobacco – Fucked Up Friends – Street Trash

Townes van Zandt – Big Country BluesTownes van Zandt – Big Country Blues

The Velvet Underground – The Velvet Underground & Nico – All Tomorrow’s Parties

Wire – Pink Flag [album]

Wirrwahr – Ante Portas – Douce Dame Jolie

Wolves in the Throne Room – Diadem of 12 Stars – Face in a Nighttime Mirror (Part One)

Wu Tang Clan – Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers) – 7th Chamber Part II (proteck ya nekk)

Wu Tang Clan – Iron Flag – Uzi (Pinky Ring)

Zola Jesus – Stridulum EP – Night

Zomby – Where Were U in ’92? – We Got The Sound




sometimes – particularly late at night, or in the middle of very bad storms – I like to put on what is basically a playlist for a shoggoth’s bar mitzvah.


Black Ox Orkestar – Az Vey Dem Tatn

Built To Spill – Perfect From Now On – I Would Hurt A Fly

Caribou – Swim – Bowls

DJ Shadow – Endtroducing… – Stem/Long Stem

DJ Shadow – Endtroducing… – Midnight In A Perfect World

Electric Moon – Inferno – Mental Record

Ethiopiques – 4 (Mulatu Astatke) – Yekermo So (A Man Of Experience And Wisdom)

Forest Swords – Daggerpaths [album]

Fugazi – Instrument Soundtrack – Swingset

James Blake – CMYK EP – CMYK

Kavinsky – Nightcall

Kanye – Late Registration – Heard ‘Em Say (or Drive Slow)

Laura Marling – Alas I Cannot Swim – Night Terror

New London Consort – Sinners & Saints – Dum Pater Familias

Nirvana – MTV Unplugged in New York – Where Did You Sleep Last Night

Radiohead – Kid A – Everything In Its Right Place

Sleep – Dopesmoker – Dopesmoker

Sonic Youth – Daydream Nation – Trilogy

The Velvet Underground – The Velvet Underground & Nico – Venus In Furs



Look, sometimes you just need some Lin-Manuel


Silver’s Guide to Te Araroa

•3 July 2019 • 3 Comments

Te Araroa is New Zealand’s long trail. It is 3000km (1860mi) long. It can be thru-hiked. I thru-hiked it. It was fucking wonderful.

Te Araroa is a new trail. There isn’t the wealth of information available about it that there is for (say) the AT, the PCT, the Camino, or an E-path or GR. Most of the information is either very broad (Wikipedia, the TA Trust), or very detailed (Trailnotes, Guthook comments). A lot of the info is heavily referential to other trails. There’s not much info in the middle, which makes it hard to plan a thru.

This here is my quick guide to Te Araroa. It’s designed to be detailed enough for your to form a general plan, but simple enough that you won’t get lost in the tussock.

This is based on my thru-hike in 2018-19, and informed my by also having thru-hiked the AT and (in progress) the PCT.

I hope it helps. Kia kaha, hikertrash.


davekov dot com



1 – Brief Overview

2 – Length

3 – Timing

4 – Culture

5 – Things You Need

6 – Gear

7 – What you’re probably here for: A Step By Step Overview Of The Trail




Te Araroa is a long trail entirely in the country of New Zealand.

New Zealand is predominately on two islands, the aptly named North Island and South Island. Te Araroa runs the length of both, from Cape Reinga in the north to Bluff in the south. The total distance is 3000km (~1800mi).

The hike offers an incredible diversity, both of the lands you see and how you move across them. You will do a little bit of everything: hiking, trailrunning, river crossing, bushwhacking, orienteering, urban walking, suburban crossing, bicycling, canoeing, maybe even rafting. Some days you’ll feel like a mountain-climber, some days a champion athlete. Some days you’ll feel like a minor character in an early Mark Twain novel (or Hunt for the Wilderpeople). New Zealanders refer to this, not as hiking, but as tramping.

Te Araroa is a hell of a thru-tramp. I recommend it – with all my heart.



Each island takes between 50 and 80 days to hike. As the TA says, 50 days is fairly fast (but not crazy), and 80 days is pretty slow (but hardly unheard of). These time estimates include a reasonable number of days off (for rest, for side hikes, for side trips that aren’t hiking, or to avoid bad weather or the like).

Some people only hike the South Island, cutting the trip in half. Some people skip certain sections – especially some of the roadwalks – and this reduces the length of the trip, especially on the north island. And some people add side quests, which makes things longer. Te Araroa is the true king of Hike Your Own Hike.



Te Araroa *can* be thru-hiked at any time of the year, in the same way the AT or PCT *can*. But you probably want to hike it between mid-spring and late fall.

This is mostly due to weather. Winter in New Zealand is no joke, especially in the Southern Alps (which is the majority of the trail on the South Island). If you hike in winter, you will need *serious* cold-weather gear, snow/ice/mountaineering equipment, and the skills to use them. You’ll also be going a lot slower. You’ll also need to disregard most of the experiences of other hikers, including mine – so I won’t dwell on this option.

Remember that this is the southern hemisphere. The seasons are reversed. New Zealand’s climate is varied (and complicated) (and basically insane), but speaking VERY BROADLY, spring is Oct-Nov, summer Dec-Mar, fall Apr-May.

Most people who are hiking both islands do so southbound. They start between early October and early December. I started November 7th; I could have started weeks earlier or later, without trouble.

If you’re going southbound, you’ll want to aim to finish by mid-April at the latest. Most people who I started with (and who finished), finished sometime in March.

If you’re only doing the South Island, you can go northbound or southbound. I think nobo would be a bit easier, but there’s no wrong answer. Either way you’ll probably want to start in mid December at the earliest, mid February at the latest.

If you’re going northbound… well, I honestly don’t know if anyone has ever done both islands nobo. But the climate of the north island is a lot more temperate, especially the north half of the north island. Except for the Tararuas and Tongariro, I’m guessing you could thru-hike the North Island in the winter. It might be cold and rainy, but not any more than you might experience in summer in the South Island.



New Zealand is really, really awesome. Straight up.

Kiwis tend to be well-educated, worldly, and compassionate, while also being earthy, outdoorsy, and practical. Any random Kiwi has a good chance of having been to more countries than you. And also having hiked more than you. And being able to drink more than you. Tip top country all around.

English is the lingua franca of New Zealand.

Maori is an official and common language for all New Zealanders. Learning a few phrases of Maori is both useful and really respectful.

You will run into a lot of people who speak a lot of other languages both on and off the Trail. It’s hard to overemphasize how multiethnic NZ has become. Half the population of Frankfurt seems to live in Queenstown and Dunedin is basically a suburb of Amsterdam.

Most of NZ is also really, really tolerant of people who don’t speak much English. I know a guy who thru-tramped the TA with hardly a word of English, and nobody in his group spoke his language. It wasn’t easy for him. But he crushed it. Gratulujeme, Tomáš!

If you need gear, there are several outfitters in NZ. The big chains are Macpac, Bivouac, and Torpedo7, and there are lots of small outfitters here and there throughout the country. Some have incredible gear (Trek N Travel in Hamilton), some won’t even have stove fuel (anywhere in Hamner Springs!) If you need any big purchases, like a backpack or whatnot, you’ll want to go to an outfitter in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, or Queenstown.

There are no predators in NZ. There are no poisonous animals. There are a few small animals who might try to break into your food bag, but that’s it. You don’t need to hang a bear bag or use a bear can, you don’t need to worry about wildlife basically at all. Coming from America, it’s DELIGHTFUL.

Some random protips:

The drinking age is 18. It is enforced sporadically.

Marijuana is illegal, but also, very common.

While opiates are rare, the country has some struggles with meth. The Maori term for meth is “P.” Please don’t fuck with it ever, it’s bad for you and bad for NZ.

The Maori letter combination “wh” is pronounced like the English “ph.” So Whanganui is pronounced “Fanganui.” (Enjoy saying Whakahoro to your mom.)

“Dairy” is the local word for… a convenience store, a small market, a deli, or anywhere in between. They almost always have hot food, beer, and enough food to do some sort of resupply. A brand-name pie from a dairy hot case is probably better than any food from any American convenience store. And a real NZ pie is, well, paradise.

NZ uses the metric system. I recommend you set Guthook to KM, and start thinking in KM generally. It took my American ass a while, but I got it eventually. (Rough conversions: 3km = 2mi, 300m climb = 1000′ climb, 1kg=2lbs, 100kph=highway speed, 1 pint = a good start)

NZ is not a tipping country.

When you go to a restaurant, you go up to the register when you want to pay.

Almost every hotel or motel room will have a full kitchen, with cookware and dinnerware. A lot of them will also have multiple beds – like 3 or 4, whether you want ’em or not. They will also have single-serve instant coffee packets… which are great to pack out. Nudge. Wink.

They drive on the left there. Since you’re going to be roadwalking a lot, you NEED to remember this.

Hitchhiking is really common in NZ. Really, really common. For hikers. For everybody. Stick out that thumb.

You can also hitchhike on boats. Or helicopters. (Я кланяюсь Татьяне).

Most people will not know what Te Araroa is, and if you explain it, will think you’re absolutely mad.

…but they’ll give you a hitch anyway, because that’s how Kiwis roll.



-You need permission to be in New Zealand. If you’re doing the entire trail – both islands – you’ll want permission to stay for 6 months.

-You need a backcountry hut pass. These can be purchased online from the Department of Conservation (DOC, pronounced “Dock.”)

-You can get your hut pass through YHA (Youth Hostels Association, I think). This also gives you a YHA membership. I recommend this. I ordered mine ahead and had it shipped to a hotel in Auckland where I spent my first night. This works. Alternatively, have it sent to the YHA in Kaitaia, where you’ll almost inevitably end up spending at least one (if not two nonconsecutive) nights.

-You’ll need money. If you can, I recommend 2000 New Zealand Dollars per month, and budget for a 6 month trip. I know people who did it for less than a thousand NZD per month, and had to finish in 4 months – but it made it difficult. This is in large part because food in NZ is expensive, gear is super expensive, and as on any thru hike, stuff happens. And also because NZ presents some incredible opportunities to spend money on other things.

-Plus you’ll need enough money to get there and get back. And remember, New Zealand is one of the most geographically remote places on Earth. If you live in Australia or some Pacific Islands, you can get there pretty cheaply. If you live literally anywhere else, it’s gonna cost you.

(From Boston, Massachusetts, USA, to Auckland, cost me about $1300 USD each way. Oy vey.)

-Remember: if you end in Bluff, or in Wellie, you’ll probably have to get back to Auckland before you can fly home. Fortunately, long-distance buses in New Zealand tend to be real cheap… and flights within NZ can sometimes be cheaper than the buses! Just make sure you budget a couple hundred extra, just in case.

-I strongly recommend you get traveler’s insurance, unless your country allows you free access to New Zealand’s health care. So for my fellow Americans… traveler’s insurance :-)

-I strongly recommend a Personal Locator Beacon (PLB). I did not hike the trail with one, and I regret it. (I actually spent like one THOUSAND miles trying to buy or rent one, but everywhere was always sold out. And Christie almost MURDERED me because of it. GET A PLB.)

-I strongly recommend a local SIM card. Unlock your phone before you go. Otherwise, buy a local phone with a local plan, or use your own plan’s international option… but getting a local SIM is almost assuredly cheaper.

-Get a headlamp. But, be warned: the vast majority of the TA is NOT CONDUCIVE TO NIGHT HIKING. I did ZERO night hiking the entire thru – and I love me some night-hiking. But you’ll want one around camp and around huts. Because you won’t be night-hiking, a big battery isn’t a big deal; rechargeable is probably great. Make sure it has a red light.  Make VERY sure it’s waterproof.

-You’ll need general thru-hiking gear, which I’ll discuss below.



-The most important thing is to carry a smart phone. This especially because of Guthook, the standard map app for Te Araroa. It would be hard bordering on impossible to thru-hike the TA without Guthook. So, you need a smartphone.

-If at all possible, GET A WATERPROOF SMART PHONE. New Zealand can be MAD RAINY, there are SO MANY WATER CROSSINGS, and there’s a multiday section where you’re ON A CANOE. Seriously. For the love of God. GET A WATERPROOF SMARTPHONE.

If that’s too expensive, keep your phone in a dry bag – or even two.

-You need a backpack. Of course.

Standard thru-hiking advice applies. Watch some YouTube videos. Buy what Dixie tells y’all to buy :-)

DCF’s waterproofness comes in really useful in NZ. If you do use a DCF pack, I recommend using thick material (like the Hyperlite Porter 5400 which I used), because NZ terrain – especially thorn bushes – are NOT kind to cuben.

There’s a reason that Kiwis refer to cuben gear as “that American ultralight nonsense” :-)

There’s a Kiwi backpack manufacturer called Aarn Packs. They’re weird but awesome. Check ’em out.

-You need a sleeping bag.

What temperature rating you want depends on the time of your hike, the type (direction/length) of your hike, and your personal preference.

For a sobo starting around November, you probably want a bag with a comfort rating of 0C/32F, because you will likely experience near-freezing or freezing temps on both the North Island (around Ruapehu and in the Tararuas, and whenever NZ just suddenly decides to get cold for a night), and literally anywhere at any time of year on the South Island.

You probably don’t want a bag that is too much warmer, because you can also get crazy hot tropical nights (especially on the North Island – but again, not exclusively).

I recommend a quilt. This way you can wrap yourself fully when it’s cold, or open it up when it’s hot, giving you maximum versatility. Also you can open it up like a blanket when you’re sleeping on bunks in huts. Also, they’re lighter than mummy bags. But that’s just me.

I used a down bag, and most people do. But because NZ can be so durn wet, a synthetic bag is a pretty good option too.

-You probably want a sleeping pad. Same as any other thru hike.

-You need a tent. Same advice about cuben fiber as above.

I strongly recommend a double-walled, because NZ can be more humid than seems physically possible. I strongly recommend that it be good in the wind, because NZ can give these sudden gusts that can blow over a tent – or worse, rip out the gussets and damage it. Above all, make sure it is BUG PROOF, because the South Island has SAND FLIES, and they are the DEVIL, and >:|

-I strongly recommend hiking poles. I recommend aluminum, not carbon fiber, because the terrain in NZ is very rough on poles. I went through three pairs of heavy aluminum poles. If I’d used carbon, I’d have gone through… more.

-For clothing, I strongly recommend merino. You are going to get some very hot and some very cold days, and a lot of rain, and a lot of water crossings. Merino is the more versatile insulator. Also there are some long stretches, and synthetic is going to STANK by the end of them.

Fortunately, NZ is the world capitol of merino. Icebreaker outlets… need I say more?

-You will need to carry cold weather gear. Anywhere in New Zealand, you can get sudden and dramatic changes in weather and temperature – a 90F day and a 20F night, a 20F day and 60F night, rain -> windstorms -> snow -> bright sun, anything. I used my puffy jacket often, from Northland to Southland and everywhere in between. I recommend a merino mid layer, warm gloves (possum is the best, and local to NZ!), and dedicated sleep socks or booties. For jacket, most people carry a down puffy; if I was to do it again I’d use a synth puffy, or maybe a Merino outer layer like the Icebreaker Descender so I’d be less worried about getting wet.

-I’d also recommend you carry town clothes, or else that you buy hiking clothing that is semi-presentable. New Zealand is a very informal country, and like literally half the people there are tourists who are just there to hike, so wearing hiker clothing at all times is super okay. But you’re also going to be passing through a lot of towns, and sticking out your thumb for a lot of hitches, and maybe getting asked by a lot of people if you want to come over for dinner or a bed. Looking presentable is more useful than on (say) an American long trail.

Rain clothes. Bring them. Do not skimp. I recommend a rain jacket with hood and pit zips, and rain pants. You *can* use a rain skirt (I did) – but the underbrush will be so high that it won’t really do much to protect you.

-Make sure you have a long-sleeved shirt and a full-legged pant that you can hike in. This is for long stretches in the sun. I ended up wearing my heavy base layer on 90 Mile Beach. If it had been ten degrees warmer, it would have been… horrible.

-Shoes. Most people hike the TA in trailrunners. But plenty wear hiking boots – more than on an American trail. HYOH.

I do not recommend waterproof shoes. They will get wet. They will stay wet. Don’t do it.

As any thru-hiker knows, trailrunners have a lifespan. On Te Araroa that lifespan tends to be on the short side – I got about 500 miles out of my Altra Lone Peak 4.0s, 700 miles out of 3.5s. Hiking shoes tend to be real real expensive in NZ – in the case of Altras, almost $300NZD per pair. You might consider bringing multiple pairs and putting them in a bounce box.

-Trekking poles are the other thing which I consider basically disposable. They are insanely expensive in NZ – some outfitters charge nearly a hundred bucks per pole. You might consider putting them in a bounce box, too.

-You’re going to want a power bank. The size you want depends on the size of your phone’s battery, and how efficient its draw. In general you’ll want enough charge for 5 full days of phone use. For the Whanganui and the Richmonds you’ll probably want more. I carried a 5000mAh phone and a 21000mAh battery pack, and it was overkill – but not unpleasantly so.

-You’re going to need a wall charger that works in NZ. You can get these at the Auckland airport (or basically anywhere, because half the people in NZ at any given time are from other places).

-A water filter. You’ll definitely need it a lot. I strongly recommend using it at all times. Giardia sux. Filter your damn water.

-Because you’ll probably spend a lot of nights in huts, cooking on Te Araroa is easier and more comfortable than on a lot of other long trails. Stove it up! I do not recommend going stoveless. Then again, I never recommend going stoveless, ya filthy coldsoaker.

-Carry a sun umbrella. Highly suggested.

-Carry a bathing suit. Trust me.

-Carry camp shoes. Trust me.

-Carry sunglasses. Period.

-On the South Island: BUG SPRAY. I carried a can that weighed almost as much as my TENT. I USED IT.

-On both islands: SUNSCREEN. Fun fact: NZ has the worst sun radiation in the world! It’s basically impossible to get less than SPF50 there, which is good. You’re going to use a lot of it. You should use more. Skin cancer is bad; sunscreen up.

Hi Viz. Consider whether you’re brightly-colored or reflective enough for you to safely hike on the side of a road. Especially because you might be there in bad weather or dawn/dusk. Some people buy those bright orange roadworker vests, and honestly it’s not the worst idea.

I wore all black with a black backpack. In retrospect: DO NOT DO THIS. FOR REALSIES.

Money. Credit cards are accepted most places in NZ, but not in some small or out-of-the-way places (like the blessed pie shop in Rangiriri). Carry folding money.





You’ll probably fly into Auckland.

You can hang out there, but it’s pretty expensive. Also, you’re going to be passing through as a hiker in a few weeks. And you’ll be there for days, because Auckland sprawls and you’re gonna hike through all of it. So I personally recommend not hanging around at the beginning.

If you’re going nobo, you’ll probably take a series of planes to Invercargill, then walk or hitch to Bluff. Not all that complicated.

If you’re going sobo, you’ll need to get to Cape Reinga.

The easiest way to get to Cape R is to take a bus from Auckland to Kaitaia, then book a spot on one of the local charters to the Cape.

OR, it’s a pretty easy hitch to Cape R. That’s what I did. Took me 3 cars, but only about 2 hours. I also know people who hitched from Auckland to Kaitaia, but that’s more challenging.

The road from Auckland to Kaitaia is pretty bendy. Also the road from Kaitaia to Cape R. I recommend motion-sickness meds. Also for any other time you’re going to be in a car for a while in NZ.

If you want to hang out for a day or three before you start the trail, the easiest options are Kerikeri and Kaitaia. Kerikeri is bigger, generally fancier and easier, but more expensive. Kaitaia is not a bad town. By NZ standards it is a little rough – Northland and Southland are the two poorest parts of the country. I really liked being hikertrash there. There’s cheap food, a Pak n Save supermarket, an awesome library/community center with free wifi. The Kauri Arms is also the diviest dive bar in all of friggin’ NZ.

I recommend the YHA right downtown. Otherwise, any of the local motels. (The hostel across from the YHA is the worst hostel I have ever stayed at, across 3 long trails and plenty of international travel. It’s probably a meth den; if it’s not I’m even more confused. There’s a reason it’s not listed on Guthook. Stay at the dang YHA.)

There is a hunting/fishing store in Kaitaia where you can get a lot of the small necessities like stove fuel.

Remember that the TA goes through Kaitaia and Kerikeri. So you’ll be back.


As this is the first piece of the trail, this is a great opportunity for you to download and read the TRAIL NOTES for this section. DO IT.

Here’s my overview:

Cape Reinga is really lovely. There’s a bathroom, and a water fountain. Camel up.

The first few miles are some of my favorite on trail. Really enjoy them.

This stretch is kind of like a sampler of the TA. Quick terrain changes, small water crossings, even a little route-finding. It’s a real good intro to the trail.

It’s only a few miles to the first campsite. But at high tide it can be difficult, or even impassable. Download a tide chart. Don’t be afraid to hang out and wait for the tides to change – this, too, is good prep for the rest of the trail.

A few miles in there’s a tiny stream you have to cross. You will get your feet wet. Your feet will not be dry again until Bluff :-D

At the first campsite, you will find a lot of possums. Most people sleep with their food in their tent, and over the course of the TA will never have a problem. I kept my food in a dry bag, and kept the dry bag inside my dry-bag-esque DCF pack, and left the pack outside my tent (because it wouldn’t fit inside!) – and never had a problem.

Eventually you hit The Jump Off. You see true 90 Mile Beach sprawling before you. You’ll be on that beach for the next 90 km (60mi). Plenty of time to love it and hate it too.

You will almost assuredly go from campsite to campsite. General thru-hiking advice applies here: don’t push big miles at the beginning! Even if you can, it’s bad for your body, and will catch up with you. Your tendons will probably hate the beach enough as it is.

People have very different reactions to 90 Mile Beach. For me, walking on the sand was really hard. Even though I started the TA with trail legs from the Appalachian Trail, I’d never done a 30km walk on sand – let alone three in a row. It took me all day just to go from campsite to campsite.

Some people found it easier to walk on the dry sand up by the bluffs. Some people, like myself, preferred the wet sand nearer the ocean. You might enjoy sitting out high tide, then walking on the wet-but-drying sand as the water recedes. You also might find it helpful to walk in the car tracks.

Yes, car tracks. 90 Mile Beach is an official NZ road. Cars go up it all the time. Tour buses, too. The good news is, there’s usually plenty of room for them to ride around you. But if you happen to be hiking in a group, be careful you don’t hog the whole “road.”

One of my favorite memories of this section is watching the same cars go by on the 2nd and then the 3rd day, and thinking how funny it must be for them to see me slowwwwly progressing down the beach. Especially since I was wearing my PJs to hide from the sun, and was bent into the wind, and basically looked like a pilgrim from Dark Souls 3.

If you do need to bail out, you can probably hitch off with one of these cars or trucks.

SLATHER YOURSELF IN SUNSCREEN. Even if you’re smart and have a long-sleeved shirt with a hood & long-legged pants. I got a tan underneath my hiking shirt. But noted ginger Matt Mataira did the beach; you can too.

Bring ear pods. Bring music. Bring podcasts. It’s a long beach, baby. I recommend “Dopesmoker” by Sleep, or the audiobook of Dune :P

Another favorite memory is meeting a hiker with slightly longer legs than mine (Tony The Pony!), who hiked maybe 2/10ths of a mile faster than I did… and watching him slowly move ahead of me all day… and then all day the next day too. 90 Mile Beach is crazy.

I hope you see some crazy dead fish on the beach. I saw a whale, and a hammerhead shark, and woah.

Eventually you’ll get to Utea Park. It’s a great place to spend the night – running water, showers, cabins if you want a bunk, and Miss Tanya will make you a fruit smoothie. PROTIP: If this smoothie is your first time having raw local fruits, your stomach might take a day to… adjust. SECOND PROTIP: Tanya refers to herself in the third person. This is not a Maori thing. It is a Tanya thing. THIRD PROTIP: Ask her, or her husband, about the meth bust. It’s… it’s a good story. FOURTH PROTIP: This is the last time you’ll be on the west coast of NZ for the next, oh, 1200km. Enjoy the sunset :-)

Finally you get to Ahipara. The beach is over. You done did it. You’re on your way. Ahipara has a YHA, a small dairy with great fish-n-chips, and NO MORE BEACH. Hang out and rest, or walk (or hitch) to Kaitaia.


There are three forests in Northland. The Trail was originally designed for you to hit the first forest (Herekino) straight out of Ahipara; go right into the second (Raetea); then cruise into the third (Puketi) before the lovely trail into Kerikeri.

As of 2018-19, Herekino and Puketi are both closed to help control the spread of Kauri dieback. I’m not sure if Raetea is open – it might be closed to dieback, it might be closed because it’s so tough. But this is my guide based on 2018-19, so I’ll discuss it as if it’s open, and the other two are still closed.

From Ahipara, you roadwalk back to Kerikeri. This is your first real opportunity to decide if you’re going to be a purist and hike the roads, or only hike the trails and hitch the road sections. I recommend 1) that you at least try hiking a road, 2) and consider hiking all of them, 3) or at least, most of them. I’ll get more granular about individual roads as the guide goes on.

Resupply in Kaitaia. Pak n Save! Hooray!

From Kaitaia you walk to Raetea. Guthook says it’s a super dangerous roadwalk. It’s not. All roadwalks are dangerous. This one is basically average for NZ.

You then enter Raetea. It’s often considered the hardest part of the entire TA. It has the highest elevation you’ll hit until Tongariro, the worst mud you’ll hit until Pirongia, and the longest time you’ll go without a water source on the entire TA.

You might be able to get through Raetea to the dairy in one day, but plan for it to take two. That means carrying two days of food, and more importantly, two days of water. How much you need depends on your water needs, how hot it is, and whether you plan on cooking with water. I’d carry food that doesn’t need water to cook, just in case.

I hit Raetea when it hadn’t rained in several days. It was still the worst mud I’d ever experienced in my life. Even with trail legs, mind, it took me eight hours to get through the 18km forest. This is fast enough that I’m actually proud of it. The average is more like twelve hours. And plenty of people make camp and hike out the second day.

The best camp spot, I’m told, is on top of the mountain.

Lots of people trigger their PLBs here. Try not to be one of them. Don’t worry if you are.

Use Guthooks. Often. It’s easy to get off trail here. Apparently one hiker got so far off trail that she fell down a 60′ waterfall and could easily have died. (And it’s a mark of how hard this section was that every thru-tramper’s reaction to this story is, WAIT, WHERE DID SHE FIND WATER IN RAETEA?)


Stumble out to the dairy. Treat yourself to a bevvy and some Tip Top ice cream and a pie or three. Then it’s a roadwalk around Puketi. Guthook does not list water sources along this road, but there are several. Then it’s a lovely trail walking into Kerikeri, which is a real cute town. And a lovely trail walking out.

You do a bit of road walking, then a bit of walking on a forested logging road. Whenever you road walk, keep no more than one ear bud in, so you can hear cars coming. This is true on logging and quarry roads too, however rustic or lightly-trafficked they appear. (It’s also true on bike paths, which this is one).

You will walk past the Waitangi Treaty Grounds. Go in. You might not appreciate the importance of the Treaty now. You will by the end of the hike. I’m real sad I didn’t go in.

Your next town is Paihia. It’s a real nice beach/tourist town, with lots of hostels – several are YHA affiliates, several restaurants, and a Foursquare supermarket with full resupply. It’s also, according to Adrien “Frenchy Longlegs” Falwee, got some of the best diving in, like, the world. And he should know, because he’s French, and they are required by law to all be world-class divers, I think.

The coastal route from Paihia to Opua is delightful. Again, be careful of tides.

From Opua, rent a kayak and paddle to Waikare. They will not rent kayaks to solo trampers. Either hang around at the (really nice) dairy on the docks, and wait for another tramper to ruck up. Or, if time is a factor (or the weather really sucks), take the car ferry across the bay, and roadwalk from Okiato to Waikare. (I will tell you that this roadwalk is long and often has blind curves – I eventually hitched, and I’m real glad I did, it was dangerous.)

At Waikare, go up a long country road. You’ll see some weird nonsense on this road – cars with windows shot out, the remains of cows and deer that got butchered. Don’t worry, it’s totally safe, just a little Stephen King looking. There’s also a trail angel or hostel somewhere around here, if memory serves; I didn’t stay. Again, read the Trailnotes!

From there you walk up a river. Not a trail that runs alongside a river. The trail *is* the river. This is not the only time this will happen on the TA, but it’s the most relaxed riverwalking of the whole trail. Also, it can be done at night, and there can be glow-worms.

You hike through Russell Forest, which is a real NZ jungle, and the Morepork Track, which is like better cleaner and MUCH smaller Raetea but will still make you work for it. Most people camp behind the public toilets at Helena Bay. For $10 (tenting) or $25 (an old camper van), you can go to the Oakura Bay Fish-Dive-Cruise and crash in this awesome dude’s front yard. There’s a dairy in Oakura too, and a really great beach. He’d never heard of the TA when I showed up. He’s one of the dudes that I sent one of my “I finished the TA, thank you!” postcards – because I feel that, as the trail develops, he might end up being a wonderful magical little part of it. Remember, the Trail is new, and you are helping develop it. Be a good ambassador. Always be thinking about ways to make it better. It’s your responsibility. And it’s also a REALLY, REALLY SPECIAL OPPORTUNITY.

There’s a great campsite in Whananaki. It’s a “Holiday Park,” which is an NZ term that doesn’t quite have a US equivalent. It encompasses “trailer park” and “KOA” and “hostel” all in one. Like most holiday parks, this one will charge you a tiny bit to tent, OR you can get a bunk in a communal dorm, OR you can get a cabin to yourself. I stayed in maybe 20 holiday parks throughout NZ; all of them were awesome. Every one.

Cross “the longest footbridge in the southern hemisphere” and then do a bit of beach walking. Go through some beautiful timber forests. Head back into the bush.

Eventually you get to James’s Place; you need to call him to pick you up and get you across the river. Or just sit there and wait for some other hikers to pile up. Know that James can be busy, you might sit there a while. James’s Place is really awesome; I LOVED staying in his cabins, with the wood panels and ladders and bug netting like from an old movie. James is a little nuts, but very sweet – he will take 2 hours to explain how to cross the rivers, when he could explain it in 30 seconds, but, well, c’est la randonneur.

In essence: you hike out when James says to hike out; ford the first river (water to mid thigh but clear and slow, very easy); hike to the second river; wander up the muddy banks for a few miles (keep your shoes tied tight, so the sand doesn’t suck ’em down!); then cross (long, but shallow and easy). Otherwise it’s mostly road walking. Then back to the bush again!

On the far side is the crazy trailer that the 18-year-old owns, in the middle of a field that’s in the middle of the woods, that has a donation box and you can just come in and stay there if you want, it’s so New Zealand, God I love it.

Eventually you’ll end up on the Bream Track at Whangarei Heads. It’s a great hike, a bit tough but really beautiful. Or so I’m told; I did it in a blinding rainstorm :-) Afterwards I stayed at the Green Bus, which was delightful. Then you can hitch (or walk I suppose) into Whangarei, or hire/hitch a water taxi across the bay. I went into Whangarei, which has a full resupply, lots to do, and a ridiculous awesome clock museum that Steph “Sugarbush” Booth knows was my favorite thing ever.


South of Whangarei things start getting more built up. The forests are a bit more groomed – the big forest here has a damn CAFE on the top – and pretty soon you find that you’re in suburbs. Full disclosure: I started to hate this section, and skipped from outside Whangaparoa to Pukeno. My thought was, I could always fill them in later if I wanted to. I did want to, but by the time I hit Bluff I had bad stress fractures and couldn’t fill it in. Sadness. But yeah, if I had to skip any section, I’m real glad it was this one.

From south of Auckland to Mercer you go through a forest, which is now closed, I think also to the dieback. So it’s all road walking. It goes on forever. Marco and Bojan did this 80-odd-kilometer section in a day-long death march, just to get it over with. Enjoy walking along the highway, walking right up to a highway rest stop (like the Cajon Pass McDonalds on the PCT, except you don’t approach it perpendicular, but friggin’ parallel!).

You cut through a lot of farm country. Some is just on roads. Some you literally cut through farm after farm. Some protips:

-Many electric fences have gates where you can safely unhook them and go through.

-There’s this one kind of electric fence that looks kind of like white rope. You can safely step on this type of fence, and just walk over it, jesus CHRIST but do I wish I’d learned this 1500km sooner.

-Look before you sit. Lotsa cow poop around here.

-Be careful of barbed wire. Especially if your backpack is waterproof.

-Stay away from cows, they’re not always the nicest. Especially bulls. And not all NZ bulls have horns, so, just always assume there’s a bull nearby.

-If there are bulls fighting each other in the paddock… go around.

You make it to Rangiriri. Go to the pie shop. Best. Pies. In. New. Zealand. Also you can camp there. Also there’s a pub just up the road. Huntly is a lot like Kaitaia, but has full resupply and lots of food. Hakarimata is a fantastic hike, real NZ bush, but to get up and down to ridgeline the trail has steps installed – go slow, it’s murder on the knees. At Ngaruawahia there’s a motel that will let you camp in the courtyard for a little money, there’s an RSA nearby (Returned Serviceperson’s Association, their version of the American VFW) that has a killer buffet. The walk into Hamilton is a long flat lovely stroll. Crush it.

Hamilton is a cool little city. It has a bit of everything, and a great outfitter, but not a lot to do. Leaving the city you get to Whatawhata (remember what I said about pronouncing Maori names?). There’s a pub-and-grill there that will often let you camp in the backyard. Then up into high sheepfold, some really beautiful country and a bit of route-finding and then forest. Then you get to Pirongia, which is the devil.

Mt. Pirongia is only 900m high. For me it was the muddiest part of the trail – worse even than Raetea. It took me forever to get up, and a good slice forever to get down. Most people camp at the DOC hut on top. This is probably your first DOC hut. They’re not all this big or this nice, but, God they are a blessing, every one. There’s water, a foot-washing station (NECESSARY), and many bunks. I met a lot of wonderful people here. It’s a treasured spot, an oasis amidst muddy death horror bits. Enjoy.

On the far side is a long country roadwalk. Then you head into Waitomo which is a big tourist town, known for glow-worm caves. There are several hostels here, good pubs and a great cafe for brekkie. Then you cross a bunch of cattle fields, rolling hills, lovely land. You end up in the nice little town of Te Kuiti, which has supermarkets and motels.

The bit of trail out of Te Kuiti is very, very bad. I have begged the TA Trust to pull it from the Trail. Others have as well. It starts off fine, then the trail disappears and we got very lost, then you’re on this very shallow cut halfway up a very high, very steep, VERY muddy riverbank. The trail kept giving way beneath us. I got dumped about 15′ down the mountainside and had to self-arrest before falling very, very far. Christie and I had to do some preposterous acrobatics to cross some sections. It was really, really sketchy. If you do this section, be very, very careful.

You come out into a pleasant new growth forest, and can camp in a little shed in a cow pasture. Then you make your way along a road to the Timber Trail, which is a well-groomed trail – mostly for biking – that is probably the closest to America-style thru-hiking trails on the entire TA. It’s a good place to open up the throttle; if you can do back to back marathons, it’s a two-day hike with a lovely campground in the middle. Above the campground is a lodge, it’s very expensive and requires advanced booking. However, you can walk in and buy a beer or mixed drink. You know: roughing it!

The Timber Trail also has the most lovely suspension bridges. Something like 14 of them, the longest of which is hundreds of feet long. In the middle is a mountain that takes about half an hour to climb. You can then go down the trail on the other side of the mountain and return to the Timber Trail; however, as a sign says, the trail down the far side of the mountain is not maintained. However… by now you’re a TA hiker. You’ll have done much, much worse. No worries.


You get to Tamaranui, another small NZ city with everything. Go to the I-Site and they’ll arrange your trip down the Whanganui River. The more people you have, the better, in my opinion. Feel free to hang out at the I-Site for a while and see if other hikers ruck up. Or even, camp out behind Tamaranui Canoe Hire for a day or two and see who else shows up – they even have tents set up for you to use, and will shuttle you into and out of town while you’re there!

There are several different ways to do this section. Mainly because, if you go from the top of the Whanganui to the bottom, you miss Tongariro, and you don’t want to miss Tongaririo. I really recommend you do the whole Whanganui River trip, then double back to do Tongariro (and Ruapehu!) as a side quest. Otherwise you miss the first 2 days of the Whanganui River, which is the most rocky and fun part of the paddle.

So I recommend:

-Hire the canoes for 7 days.

-Buy 7 days worth of food… and beer.

-….make it 10 days worth of beer. Look, it’s a long trip.

-Paddle from Tamaranui all the way to Whanganui.

-Hitch or bus up to National Park.

-Do the ENTIRE Round The Mountain circuit (around Ruapehu), which is not on the TA but a lot of TA people do it.

-Do the ENTIRE Northern Circuit, which includes the Tongariro crossing.

-Hitch or bus back down to Whanganui and hike on.

Advice on the Whanganui:

-It’s delightful.

-The days won’t be super long, or super tiring on your body. That’s just the nature of the way the shelters/campsites are spaced out. So bring books, or cards, or bottles of Chartreuse (salut Baptiste!).

-Just because you’re trying not to flip over, doesn’t mean you can’t also jump in and swim.

-Book campsites, not huts. If it’s raining and there’s a hut there, you can ask the caretaker to sleep inside, and just pay the difference in price.

-There is food at the Blue Duck, and (some) at the canoe-hire place in Pipiriki. There are drinks at the Bridge To Nowhere Lodge. I think the Flying Fox has both; it was closed when I was there.

-Talk to the people that you meet along the river. It’s, ah, worth it.

-If you run into Wattie, in Pipiriki or elsewhere, tell him Silver sends his absolute bloody best.


Either hitch up from Whanganui to National Park, or hike from Pipiriki (I think) up the 42 Track to the beginning of the Crossing.

The Tongariro Crossing is the most popular day hike in New Zealand. You might well see a few thousand people on the Crossing. It’s mind-blowing.

The trail is a Great Walk. This means that it is groomed to Great Walk standards, all except a few hundred meters at the very top of Tongariro. Great Walk standards = incredibly easy. Like, there are stairs, and boardwalks, for a lot of it.

Everyone hikes the Crossing going nobo. Except us, who hike it sobo. This is a lot like trying to swim upstream. Or crowdsurf in zero gravity. Have a sense of humor about it – it’s either real funny, or real, real annoying.


strongly recommend that you also hike the off-TA sidequests called the Round The Mountain Circuit and the Northern Circuit.

It remains one of the best weeks of my entire life.

RTM takes you through real backcountry – there’s often not a lot of trail, but there are markers, so it’s a good gentle introduction to route-finding. It takes you through a myriad of volcanic landscapes. White sand. Black sand. Yellow sand. Forest. Desert. Crushed basalt. Giant canyons like something out of Mordor. Water crossings. Epic waterfalls. All with mighty Mt Ruapehu always looming over you. I’d do it again.

The Northern Circuit is much easier, with a clearly marked trail. But it’s incredibly, wonderfully beautiful. The Tongariro Crossing is… well, there’s a reason it’s so popular. It’s worth it. Holy crap. It’s absolutely worth it.

I’d go back here and hike it all again in a heartbeat.

Technical details:

(Follow along at home!)

RTM starts at Whakapapa Village (or a trailhead a 6km roadwalk from the town of National Park). It goes around Mt. Ruapehu to the south, then turns sharply at Waihohonu Hut and goes back to Whakapapa. The Northern Circuit takes the same route from Whakapapa to Waihohonu Hut, goes up and around Mt. Ngauruhoe and over the Tongariro Crossing. All roads lead to Whakapapa.

As such, you can either do both circuits, with a rest in Whakapapa in the middle, and just rehike the 14km between Whakapapa and Waihohonu… or you can skip that 14km entirely and do both circuits as one big loop. That’s what I did.

The huts on the RTM track are first-come, first-served DOC backcountry huts. With a Hut Pass, they are free. They have fireplaces, pre-cut firewood (that for most of them is helicoptered in!), rainwater tanks, and bunks with mattresses. Consider this a glimpse of what the South Island will offer – almost every night.

The huts on the Northern Circuit are Great Walk huts, which means you have to book them online. Alternatively, Waihohonu Hut has a campsite nearby. Alternatively, you *can* freedom-camp here, just as long as you’re (I think) 500m away from a trail. Alternatively you can just ruck up to Waihohonu and see if there are empty bunks; this, um, worked out real well for me and some friendos.

Waihohonu also has a HIKER BOX!

Going RTM, I recommend hiking two huts a day; that’ll give you about 10 hours of fairly intense hiking and route-finding per day. You might pack an extra day’s worth of food if you want the option of zeroing out bad weather. The Northern Circuit is a Great Walk, and is graded appropriately; from Waihohonu up and around to Whakapapa took me a mere 7 hours, with a full pack and plenty of photo ops.

The I-Sites in Whakapapa and National Park have brochures about the walks (or you can download them from the DOC website). There is no Guthook map for this [at time of writing].

You can also climb Mt. Ruapehu – I didn’t, it was too snowy and technical for me at the time. You can also climb Mt. Doom, but there are cultural issues that you need to research and consider first. A lot of people do it. A lot of people think it’s more respectful to Maori history to leave it be.

But the stargazing from the edge of Mt. Doom… yeah, that, that I recommend.


It’s 100km of road walking. Good sweet Christ.

The bit from Whanganui to the beach isn’t terrible. The beach is black sand – volcanic ash washed downriver from Ruapehu’s many eruptions – and is really cool, a wonderful memory of 90 Mile Beach en inversée . Just in front of Bulls you come to Mayhem’s Roost which is one of the best trail angel spots I’ve encountered across 3 long trails, bar none. From Bulls to Palmerston North the roads are terrible, really dangerous, and I recommend hitching.

Alternatively: rent a bike in Whanganui. Bike to the beach. Bike to Palmy – stopping overnight at Mayhem’s is recommended. Lots of people do this. I’ve asked the TA Trust to add the option to Trailnotes all official. Seriously. If you die while hiking, that’s tough but epic; if you die while roadwalking TO PALMERSTON NORTH, that is not epic, that is just lame.

Palmy isn’t a bad town. It’s like Hamilton or Invercargill or most any of the other small NZ cities. There’s not a lot to do – locals make terrible fun of how boring Palmy is. But it’s got cheap hostels, cheap motels, great outfitters, supermarkets, tons of affordable food (the pho place on the edge of the park is to die for), and if you happen to be there on New Years, they do a hell of a firework show.


You hike into the foothills of the Tararuas. The approach to the Makahika Outdoor Pursuits Centre (“the OPC”) is a long tough bush section, reminiscent of the Northland forests. The OPC is absolutely awesome, free camping, showers, rides to town, baller as baller can be. The people who run it will also give you a rundown on how to do the Tararuas safely, depending on the upcoming weather report. LISTEN TO THEM.

The Tararuas have the worst weather in New Zealand. That. Is saying. A lot. I crossed in midsummer, during a “clear weather” window, and I still had gale-force winds on exposed mountain ridges and nights that got near freezing. Bad summer weather is hurricane-force winds that last for days. Bad winter weather is, I assume, Ragnarok with a side of bacon.

Generally it takes three days to get from the OPC over Mt Crawford and down to Otaki Forks. I did it in two, because there were only two days of clear weather. The second day I hiked over 16 hours straight, which included a lot of elevation change and some fairly fancy footwork (think the White Mountains if someone sprayed them with Miracle-Gro). The people in my group who didn’t do the long day, ended up getting stuck for two additional days at Nichols Hut. There were 12 people there. It is a 6 person hut. So. Yeah. Listen to the people at the OPC about weather windows.

On a clear day, from Mt Crawford, you can see the South Island.

From Otaki Forks it’s a much easier hike to Otaki. Otherwise, it’s a fairly easy hitch out (but a tough hitch back). Otaki is a cool little town with a weirdly large number of outlet stores, including for Icebreaker. Otaki Beach is basically Ahipara if you want to spend a day offtrail in sun and sand and surf. After this you’re pretty much back to civilization. Paekakariki has a great holiday park, and an awesome cafe with Cuban coffee right by the railroad. The Escarpment is a cool walk above the ocean. There are several dairies and food places along the way.

Finally you go up and over bald Mt. Kaukau, and suddenly from the top there’s WELLINGTON, and the END OF THE NORTH ISLAND, and HOLY CRAP, and ~~~HOORAY~~~!!!


is a great town. Enjoy.

Go to Te Papa. I especially recommend the exhibit on the history of NZ. There’s this triptych of maps that show the whole country A) before humans, B) after the Maori arrived, and C) after the Europeans arrived. Mostly it shows how much fucking deforestation each group accomplished. But the biggest lesson is that the third map, which is NZ currently, shows how few forests remain… and how basically the TA through the North Island goes through all of them. It suddenly made sense why the TA goes where it goes… because there’s nowhere else for it to go. Fucking fascinating.

I also recommend the Wellington City Museum, especially the attic; the Weta Caves; and Cuba Street, from brunch to dinner to last call.

To get to the South Island, one generally takes the giant high-speed ferry. It’s relatively cheap and very easy. Take your motion sickness meds. Everybody. The Cook Straight gets huge swells, and the ferry will not turn around until they’re over 10 meters tall. That’s… that’s a lot of motion to get sickness on. Take your damn Dramamine.

It’s a beautiful crossing, especially the South Island approach. It’s honestly worth delaying a day or two to wait for good weather, if you have to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~YOU’RE NOW ON THE SOUTH ISLAND YA LEGE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The South Island is pretty durn different from the North Island. There’s almost no “native bush” jungle, but rather, deep forest and alpine meadow; there’s a lot more mountains, and a lot more rock and scree; there are tons of backcountry huts, almost every night; fewer towns, and the towns are much smaller; almost no roadwalking; and a lifetime’s supply of beauty.

This is also where the concept of “DOC times” comes into play.

The Department of Conservation publishes estimates of how long it will take you to hike each section of the TA on the South Island. These estimates are usually pretty good. I beat most of them. A few I beat by a lot. A couple I came really, really close to missing, but I never did. They’re good guidelines.

The reason you should look at DOC times, and not km, to plan your trip (food supply etc), is because the terrain on the South Island varies wildly. Sometimes, but rarely, it will be good clear hiking like the PCT. Sometimes it will be tough but fair hiking like the AT. A lot of time it will be… more of a challenge.

For example, the DOC time for hiking from Old Man Hut to Little Rintoul Hut is 5 hours… to cover 2.7 miles. It took me 4 hours 57 minutes and I am PROUD, dammit. So. Y’know. It’s Different Down Here(tm).



You resupply in Picton. It’s basically Paihia – a cute beach town with everything you need. I recommend the Fresh Choice for resupply.

The TA Trust recommends that you send yourself food packages to cover about the next MONTH of hiking – all the way from Picton to Methven. This is not a bad idea – I did it – but not necessary.

The TA Trust says to send yourself food packages to Pelorus Bridge; to St. Arnaud; to Boyle River Outdoor Center; and to Arthur’s Pass – the latter to give you enough food to get to Methven. That’s a recommended 11 days, 6 days, 5 days, and 6 days, respectively, totalling 28 days. Add the food to buy to get you to Pelorus Bridge, and that’s about a 33 day resupply. GOOD. LORD.

My two cents:

From Picton to Havelock took me, I think, 4 days – and the first day was a nero because of the ferry. At Havelock you can buy food to get you to Pelorus. And there’s a bomb cafe at Pelorus with excellent wild venison pies.

From Pelorus to St Arnaud – the Richmond Range – took me 5 1/2 days. Each day was full, and good tough hiking, but I never hiked more than 12 hours, never left early, never rucked up late, never failed to take a good long lunch at a hut with Father Damon, Sundown, Babyshark, Matt & Steph. But, I had great weather. If the weather turns sour, some of those mountains and ridges can be very dangerous. Moreover, the rivers can rise rapidly, and become very, very dangerous to cross. So when the TA says to pack 11 days of food, they are telling you to pack for zeroes. And they mean it.

I packed 11 days of food. In 5 1/2 days, I ate it all. Yeah, it’s tough hard hiking. Bring peanut butter :-D

St. Arnaud has an acceptable resupply. It’s not great – it’s like resupplying at a nicer dairy/convenience store. It definitely can be done.

From St Arnaud to Boyle River took me 5 days. It was a bit easier than the Richies.

Boyle River sells drinks, snacks, they make you awesome artisanal pizzas, OR you can hitch to Hamner Springs and do a proper resupply in a real nice town. I hitched to Hamner anyway because I needed a dangol break. It’s a tough hitch – probably the toughest on the trail – but everyone I know who tried, got one eventually. Also I think the Center now has a daily shuttle service, so, :P

From Boyle River to Arthur’s Pass took me 4 days. It was not too hard, except the Deception Track, which was RUFF

Arthur’s Pass is probably the toughest resupply. It has a small dairy/cafe. BUT, and this is real important, the DOC office there has a store, that sells backcountry meals and Canterbury Biltong and fuel and other things. Between the two it’s totally doable to reup here.

Remember that you *might* be going to Lake Coleridge and then shuttling to Methven, which is a decent sized down with a full resupply. But you also might want to push on across the Scaryrivers, through Babylon Station, all the way to Geraldine. So size out your food-carry accordingly.

In conclusion:

Send food ahead to all, some, or none of these places – you’ll be fine.

Anyway, the Queen Charlotte:

The Queen Charlotte is a Great Walk. You need to buy a special permit, but they aren’t limited. You also need to arrange transportation to the beginning. Take the mail boat. It’s a little longer. It’s worth it.

Like all Great Walks, the QC is easy. It’s a perfect soft path, the highest point is like 400m, you can really just trailrun it. There’s at least one opportunity to walk a few tenths off trail to a restaurant and pub.

The biggest natural obstacle are the Weka, aka The Dreaded Larcenychicken. These looks like kiwis – fat flightless birds – but they are faster, smarter, diurnal, and larcenous. They like stealing. They like stealing food to eat it, sure. But they also like stealing anything not nailed down. Do not let them near literally any piece of gear you have. They will try to run off with trekking poles. Just to be dicks. They are dickbirds. Post sentries. BE AWARE!

Pretty soon you end at Havelock, where there’s a holiday park, a pub with cheap lodging upstairs (protip: this is common in NZ, always ask at bars!), a great cafe and bakery, and a small market. You can do your Richmond resupply here, but it’s very expensive. You can also get to Havelock, then hitch back to Picton to do your resupply and hitch right back. Leonhard “Beyonce” Oberzaucher did this, and it worked quite well for him, and also he’s the best.

L) THE RICHIES (Pelorus Bridge to St Arnaud)

The Richmonds are my favorite part of the TA. I will go back. I swear it. I swear to God that I will hike the Richies again.

From Pelorus Bridge you follow a farm road up into the forest. You then begin to ascend. After Captain’s Creek you are in the damn mountains. You’ll be there until St. Arnaud. You’ll really be in the Southern Alps pretty much until Te Anau. Welcome to the South Island… now bend over :-)

The hiking is mostly tough but fair. At times it is straight up not fair. It is dangerous. People get heli-evac’d out of here all the time. Go slow. Take your time. Other synonyms. Do not die.

The traverse between Rintoul and Little Rintoul is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life. The scree-glissade down Rintoul is also high on that list. The river-crossings were all extremely low for me; if they weren’t, they would have been real sketch. And in a few places the trail just does not exist at all. Have fun!

I saw baby goats playing at Rintoul Hut. ^.^

M) NELSON LAKES (St Arnaud to Boyle River)

You come out at St. Arnaud (pronounced Sin-Arrnud), a tiny stop in a high mountain pass. There’s a hostel, a hotel, a great dairy, and the hotel has a great gastropub… that has an all-you-can-eat buffet on, I think, Sunday nights. It was EPIC.

From St. Arnaud south the trail is more developed than in the Richies. You follow a beautiful mountain lake. You follow a river through a long field. You keep following that river for like 30km straight up into the mountains. Until its source. Which is Blue Lake. Which has the clearest waters in the entire world.

You go over two mountain passes here – I think it’s Traverse Saddle and then Waiou Pass. Traverse is a good solid climb but very good trail – reminded me of Tuckerman’s Ravine up Mount Washington. Waiou Pass is a 600m scree slope. The far side is so steep and scrambly that I think it took me longer going down than it did going up the scree! Good Lord, it was a tough day. Majestical. Savage as.

From there you get onto the Saint John’s Walkway, which is similar to a lot of the South Island – following long, relatively flat riverbeds, with mountains towering to either side. This section is predominately beautiful trail, really trailrunnable. Anne Hut is outstandingly gorgeous. Enjoy.

N) DECEPTION (Boyle to Arthur’s Pass)

Boyle River Outdoor Center is basically the OPC. They sell some food and snacks you can eat there, and sometimes a little resupply. They sometimes sell bunks, and/or showers. They also accept packages. There’s also cell reception and camping at a site just outside.

They do not have a hiker box. If you leave anything behind – like, extras from a resupply box you sent yourself, or the like – they will take it, put a price on it, and sell it to the next hikers. I think this is a little off, but ah well, they’re a huge help to us, I ain’t gonna begrudge them a little capitalism.

The hitch to Hamner Springs is tough, but totally doable. I only know one person who couldn’t get a hitch, and he was a crazy douche who kinda radiates crazy douchiness, so, um, karma.jpg. The rest of us got hitches fine.

Hamner is a cool town, full resupply, cool bars, and I hear the hot springs are pretty great as well.

The hitch back from Hamner is tough. I gave up after half an hour, ended up roadwalking the entire 8km out of town to the main road, where I stood with my thumb out for an hour before a police officer took pity on me. But like, POLICE CAR HITCH. Epic. Ain’t complainin’ at all :-)

From Boyle River to the Deception Track is pretty easy. You’re just following a river valley for days. It’s a bit boring actually. After the first day – after Kiwi Hut – I put my Guthook away and just orienteered myself. It probably made it a lot harder on myself. But I was in the mood for a challenge. It stopped being boring in a hurry that way!

The Deception Track is not boring. It is a challenge.

There’s no trail. There’s just the river. You’re in the river, going back and forth across it, boulder-hopping – and it can be deep and very swift. When I did it, a storm came up while I was halfway up. The rocks were slippery, the river was roaring, the river started rising… if it wasn’t for Deception Hut I could actually have been in some real, real trouble. As it was, Deception Hut – with a roaring fire, and the best of company – remains perhaps the best night of my life.

All the nobos I met said that from Deception Hut to Goat Pass Hut was super hard. It was way easier than the path up to Deception. Fuckin nobos! :-)

From Goat Pass down to Arthur’s Pass is easy trail. We couldn’t get a hitch into Arthur’s Pass, so, yay 5km roadwalk!

O) SCARYRIVERS (Arthur’s Pass to Lake Coleridge to Geraldine)

Arthur’s Pass is about the size of St. Arnaud. It has the DOC office (which again, sells fuel and meals and resupply), a dairy and cafe, a restaurant and bar, a hostel, a campground, and several (very small) hotels. Be careful of the campground, because, kea.

The Kea are a species of alpine parrot. They are very large, and really gorgeous. They are very smart. They are also MAD LARCENOUS. They are like if the world ran on Pokemon rules and the Wekas evolved. The Kea will steal food off your plate if you let them. And they FLY. Be. Aware.

From Arthur’s Pass, you follow a braided river for the better part of half a day, crossing sluices from time to time. There’s a roadwalk – passing a hotel with a cafe – and then you bop up into the mountains again. It’s real hiking, but good trails and fair grade. Plenty of huts. Great views. Lovely.

From Hamilton Hut to the Harper Campsite is all in a lonely river valley. Incredibly beautiful. A bit rote by this point.

Here, you have to make a decision about the Scaryrivers.

After Lake Coleridge is the Rakaia River. If it’s relatively dry, the river is very crossable. If it’s been raining – or worse, suddenly starts raining – it can get real dicey real fast. The same is true of the Rangitata River a few days beyond. Your call.

If you’re going to cross them, you need enough food to cover that time. There’s no resupply of any sort in Lake Coleridge. The only thing there is the inn – which does have a small bar(!) and wifi (!!!), but meals are only cooked for guests, and it’s rather pricey to stay there.

Otherwise, you’ll need to get around the river. The way you do this is to go down to Methven – which is a nice town with full resupply – and then go back up. You can try to hitch down to Methven – it’s not the worst hitch ever. But going back up the other side of the river is essentially impossible, you’ll need a shuttle.

You can also arrange a shuttle from Lake Coleridge to Methven. The problem is, it shows up at something like noon. And the nearest campsite is Harper which is 28km away. You have to do 28km before noon. Have fun, hiker!

I got up at 5AM, left at 515, and showed up at 11:30 without trouble. Honestly, because it’s very rural road-walking, it’s one of the few places on all of the TA where it’s pretty safe to night hike. I recommend it. Night-hiking in that valley, amidst those extinct volcanic cindercones, was awesome.

Also, Lake Coleridge is maddeningly, heartbreakingly, beautiful.

Whatever you decide to do about the Scaryrivers, the section between them is really great. The triangular hut right after the Rakaia was so awesome that a bunch of us got there at noon and just never left. So. Fab. 10/10 huttitry.

After (or before) the Rangitata, you will go down to Geraldine. Right before the Rangitata it’s about 8km roadwalk to Mt. Sunday, which was the filming location of Edoras (Rohan) in Lord Of The Rings. Number one, it’s an insane view for such a small mountain, 100% worth the side trip. Number two… it’s a popular location for Nerd Pilgrimage Activities, so, very easy hitch to/from :-)

P) ALPS AND ALPS TO CLIMB (Geraldine to Wanaka)

Geraldine is a nice little farmtown, full resupply and services.

This stretch is constantly going up and down into a rough river bed, climbing high into alpine meadows and mountain ridges, seeing mountain goats staring down at you going WTF is he even doing?, and, occasionally, kea. It’s tough. It slows you down. It’s awesome. It’s the heart of South Island hiking.

This eventually brings you to Stag Saddle, the TA high point. There’s a sign saying TA high point. Right next to this is a clear path that goes… higher. Which, like, Te Araroa as :-)

Unless the weather’s real bad, I strongly recommend that you take this side path up; climb the peak there, and break 2000m; and then follow the ridge down. I won’t spoil it for you, but the view is, um, good. Trust me. Ridge walk. DO IT.

At the bottom is Tekapo. It’s a busy little tourist town, but has several hostels and hotels and a full resupply. It was Chinese New Year when I was there, and I couldn’t even get a camp spot. I ended up stealthing in an abandoned rock quarry up the road! Hooray!

From Tekapo to Twizel is 54km. There’s no camping the whole way. Zero. Zilch. The TA recommends that you rent bicycles and bike to Twizel. I second this. Also, again: TA as.

Twizel has lots of motels, a trail angel (look up “hobbit hole” in the trailnotes), and a full resupply too.

From TwiVegas to Lake Ohau is a bike path, very cruisy hiking. Lake Ohau is outstandingly beautiful, but there’s no goods or services there. Afterwards you bop up a mountain and it’s pretty route-find-y. You’re in some high lonely valleys and on some exposed ridge. It’s beautiful, it’s rugged but not technical. Crush it.

You get to a river valley – I think it’s called the Ahuiri Track. It’s real real tough. Scramble, rough canyon-side tracks – it’s super tough! It doesn’t end until the (very steep) bop up to Stody’s Hut. You then go up to Breast Hill summit, which is not hard.

Going down Breast Hill is hard. It’s extremely steep, very close to scrambling, and basically the longest knife’s-edge hike I’ve ever even heard of. It can also be very windy. But man is the view of Lake Hawea gorgeous, every single centimeter of the way.

At the base of Breast Hill is less than a km walk to a beach. You can jump right into Lake Hawea. Awesome.

Lake Hawea has a dairy, some pubs, and a hotel that lets you camp behind it (showers and laundry too!). Then it’s a very cruisy bike path into Wanaka.

Q) OPTIONS (Wanaka to Queenstown)

Wanaka is a beautiful town. It’s like Vancouver shrunk down to pocket-sized. It has everything, from world-class food to little clubs, there’s even a locally-made kind of vegetarian backpacker’s meal that is to die for. It is, also, pretty dang expensive. Fairly warned.

If you’ve a mind, drop by the Anglican Church. Father Damon is a thru-tramper, and the nicest and funniest guy I know.

From Wanaka to Queenstown there are two options. One, follow the TA route over the Mototapu Track – lots of up and down, but really beautiful, good honest hiking. Two, do a 50km-in-a-day roadwalk, and then go over the Mount Aspiring glacier into the Roteburn Track – which unless you can get (and want to pay for) a room in one of the Great Walk huts, you’ll have to do start-to-finish in a day. You’ll have to do your own research here, but several of my friends did it – and all that did said it was perhaps the best hike of the entire trip. So. Um. Really look into it.

If you take the regular TA route, you end up in Queenstown. It’s a hell of a city. It’s like really insane that a city can be this beautiful. It’s surrounded by hiking, climbing, sailing, gliding, helicopter rides, all sorts of skiing and winter sports. But it’s also the tourism capital of NZ – which again, really saying something – and it’s expensive, and kind of has no personality, and is just full of 19-year-olds on Working Holiday visa who smell like lager and who can’t wait to hump your leg. Plenty of hostels, each louder and more expensive than the last. Plenty of outfitters, but a lot of them sell lifestyle rather than thrubie gear. I spent one afternoon there and that was enough. But I’m an old stick-in-the-mud, and, :P

R) SOUTHLAND (Queenstown to Colac Bay)

From Queenstown you need to get around Lake Wakatipu. I don’t know if there are water-crossing services. Most people hitch or take a shuttle right to the Greenstone/Caples Trailhead. If you take the Mount Aspiring track, you end up in Glenorchy, which also has shuttles (and much easier hitches) to Greenstone/Caples.

Greenstone is not a Great Walk but it is as easy as any Great Walk. The huts are huge, and modern, but also tend to be very crowded. Then you peel off onto the TA, and the trail is rough and empty again. Ahh. Did ya miss it? I sure did.

The trail goes into yet more river valley. There’s not even a trail a lot of the time, you really just have to make your own way – pretty fun. If you have a fishing rod, this is the place to use it. If you don’t, maybe a local at one of the huts will let you borrow theirs. Eventually you make your way to Te Anau, which has a full resupply and a lot of side quests, but is also very expensive – this town is built up around adventure tourism, and so is kind of like St. Arnaud on steroids.

The Manapouri Track is surprisingly rigorous, but short. There’s some tussock you have to make your way through. This is where I got real bad stress fractures, so, be careful of tussock! This whole area is charming and desolate and beautiful.

You get to Mt. Linton Station. You have to cross the whole station in a single day, but it only took me 7 hours, and I got lost several times, and I had stress fractures and was actually limping, so, not a lot of challenge. If it’s raining, it becomes a very cold rough spot. There’s surprisingly little water for the second half, so camel up accordingly.

At the end there’s a shearer’s hut that rents bunks. Guthook says they sell beer, but they were out. After that there’s a cool forest, a muddy annoying forest (Lockwood), a well-groomed little day trail, and then, can you damn well believe it… the sea, the sea.

S) THE HUNDRED MILE WILDABEEST (Colac Bay to Invercargill)

You’re almost at the end.

Full confession: here’s where my stressfractures really started to get the better of me, and I basically hitched to the end. But from Colac Bay to Invercargill is just another beach walk, and from Invercargill to Bluff is just a roadwalk. So. :P

Colac Bay has food and camping. So does Riverton. InverVegas is yet another Small City That Has Everything. Including a comical number of opshops (thrift stores), if you want to spend some money right at the end. I bought a DrizaBone. Because apparently I’m 13!


From Invy to Bluff is mostly just a long roadwalk. But like, do it. Crush it. And stop at the liquor store for Scrumpy along the way.

Bluff to The Signpost is about 2km. It’s surreal. I mean… jesus christ.

The Signpost has a bar right next to it. For $15 they sell you giant medals you can wear around your neck. This is also the price of a pint of beer. The food is way, way more. But the view ain’t bad. Neither is the triumph.

Go back to Bluff. There’s a little Chinese takeout place, a small bar that has great burgers and seafood (Bluff Oysters… really are that good), a pub or two, and, yeah, basically it’s Kaitaia. The trail is weirdly circular in many ways. I kind of like it. It’s not border-to-border like an American trail; it truly is end-to-end. And every end, yep, is also a beginning.

There’s also a hostel. Stay there. Chill out.

From here you can go to Stewart Island and hike more. Many people did. I didn’t, mostly because limpy. You can go trailrun a greatwalk or three. Go climb Mount Cook, or at least Taranaki. Go to Dunedin or Chch. Go get a hot bath in Rotorua. Or take a cheap flight to Bali and spend two weeks getting two-dollar massages in temples. You know, because you’ve got stress fractures. I’m just sayin’.



Te Araroa is a more complicated, more difficult, more varied, and more beautiful trail, than most other thru-hikes, yeah I said it.

It’s very special how it’s so new. You can really have a hand in shaping it. If you’re good and kind to locals, your kindness will reverberate for years to come. If you have a suggestion, write to the TA Trust and they may very well make it happen. And please, please, send thank-you postcards to the people you met along the way. Remember, this random person who’s never heard of the TA (or even of thru-hiking) before, and lets you sleep in their backyard… ten years from now they might be a trailangel with a hundred comments in Guthook. This is how these things develop. Be a part of it. Give koha, get koha, indeed.

It’s not easy. It’s not cheap. It can be pretty dangerous. It is wonderful. And the struggles that you will face – arm in arm with other trampers – will form the deepest sorts of friendships.

If you’re curious, here’s my I Finished post. If that don’t make you want to hike the TA – what will? :-)

And here’s my instagram. Right now it’s PCT pics. Scroll back a little, and there’s the TA.

Honestly, I’d consider hiking it again. I’d never re-hike the vast majority of the AT or PCT. I’d re-hike vast amounts of the North Island, and literally every inch of the South Island. And then I’d add side quests galore. So, yeah, I recommend it.

It’s just worth it.


Kia ora:


(David Axel Kurtz)

….dolla dolla billz yall

Backpacking versus Thruhiking as seen through Gear

•2 April 2019 • Leave a Comment

For the last two weeks, I have been a backpacker.

Now I’ve been living out of a backpack for the better part of a year. But I’ve been a hiker, and the two are – I’m seeing – quite different.

A hiker is one who gets from point A to B under their own steam. Not so a backpacker, who will move from place to place by dint of bus and thumb. Their rule is daytrips, not multiday sojourns through the woods. And they will live primarily in towns – in real dwellings! – not in the places between places like a thrubie.

The result is a stark difference in needs of gear.

A thruhiker is a study in minimalism. Weight is the enemy. Volume is the lurking foe. You have to keep room for many days worth of food and long carries of water. But on the other hand, your needs are mininal too. You forsake comforts. Most of the time you can dress like a ragged hobo. On most thruhikes you can do so even in towns. On most thruhikes, it’s not just possible – it’s expected.

Whereas a backpacker has to look generally presentable; be able to take care of their appearance and civilized needs; and carry enough in the way of creature comforts that they can enjoy sleeping in a 20 person bunkroom and not have to spring for the private bed.

Towards that end, I’ve dreamed up my ideal gear list for backpacking, as opposed to thruhiking. Here it is.

PACK: 70+ liters. Bells and/or whistles… not really a big prioriry. My Hyperlite 5400 is decidedly overkill – but it’s a Big Backpack, and so, is fine.

TENT: None, probably. (Pardon me for a moment of cackling. No tent!)

SLEEPING BAG: Enough to keep you warm in a drafty hostel. Probably a 0C quilt and a liner would cover you for every eventuality. But you could also just… not. Which. Again. Cackling.

WATER FILTRATION: Only if you’re going where the tap water is not potable. Otherwise, just bring a bottle.

COMPUTRONICS: A phone and Bluetooth keyboard would probably sate me. But you could just carry a laptop. My chromebook is a delightful machine with 17+ hours of battery life. Not bad.

POWER: Why skimp? Bring a ginormous power bank for days worth of security. I’d also bring a universal plug adapter. Those things are basically a passport gone practical.

CLOTHING: You need to look presentable. For me: A pair of jeans, a pair of khaki shorts, a pair of black boardshorts; two merino polos (khaki, black) and one merino longsleeve. Trailrunners, maybe jandals, a even a pair of leather loafers. Cold weather gear can be heavy, not down – or even skip a puffy for a merino sweater.

FOUL WEATHER GEAR: An umbrella. :-)

TOILETRIES: Brush, paste, floss. Deodorant. A nice bottle of Dr Bronner’s. Small DE razor, travel shave brush, bit of shave soap. I might even bring my little buzzcutters – or I’d go to the barber every 10 days for a trim, which, honestly, i rather do enjoy. Especially when traveling.

COOKING: You won’t need your own heat source. You might not even need cooking gear at all. I’d bring my new 3-in-1 coffee mug, grinder, pourover filter. I’d pack out real coffee, likewise loose tea and a ball. I’d also keep with me a pepper grinder, hot sauce or sambal oelek, and some snacks – but no more than half as day’s worth. (*cackling*)

SPACE: A thru-hiker doesn’t need to pack much of this. A backpacker does. To buy things – luxuries, presents for home. To be flexible. Mutable. To live, not orthogonal to real life, but somewhat more paralell to it.

I don’t know if I enjoy the backpacker’s life. It got boring fast – but I’m still very new at it. Maybe I could make it work. Maybe if I could be a digital nomad. Maybe if I could hike, or do something else Ambitious at each place – or even place-to-place, blurring the lines between backpacker and thruhiker.

But for the moment, I think I’ll stick to hiking. More laurels… more camaraderie… better calves :)


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