Waka & Waewae Day 32: Kaitieke Monument to Whakahoro
The one where the wrist started to ache, massive walnuts and the dodgy-as bridge!
I stopped by the war memorial that gives Kaitieke Monument its name, noting Roger's relatives’ names on the side. Shit, war really costs people, eh? Just stop it.
My wrist hurt, but I was mentally ready for the 25km road walk to Whakahoro, so My massive pack and I trundled off down the still-sealed road. It loosely traces the Rētāruke River to its meeting point with the Whanganui River.
Roughly two kilometres in, I stopped. The food-laden pack was weighing heavily on me, my feet were hurting inside my new shoes, my wrist was complaining and I was hungry now, too! This is a common issue I face when adventuring; I wake up hungry, eat, then pack and get ready to leave, at which point I'm hungry again. Oh well, you can't go anywhere without food.
Back on my feet, I marched up a hill and found the road littered with the biggest walnuts I've ever seen. Gathering some up, I was gobsmacked by their size. If an average supermarket walnut was your big toe, these behemoths were your heel. They also tasted incredible: oily, just sweet enough and the right amount of soft. I think I walked about a kilometre before stopping to devour a bunch next to a paddock.
The road turned to gravel as I trotted on. My stomach was excited to try the offerings at Blue Duck Station café, which is at Whakahoro. However, the station itself is marked up the road, closer to where I was. This led to a short period of excitement that I might nearly be at the café. Alas, I wasn't, so I sat under a bush and nursed my disappointed stomach with a couple more walnuts.
A man on an e-bike passed me on a gentle incline. "Isn't it a great day?" he remarked.
The river had diverted away and returned to the road side. Although there was no access from high up above the gorge, the views were impressive! I stood on the grey, crushed limestone road, watching the rapids noisily directing the water to the same place I was headed.
Feeling tired and pained, I walked past the few houses of Maungaroa. Bustling it was not. Then came a small wooden bridge, propped-up precariously on a makeshift-looking stack of wood. Phew, I breathed a loud sigh of relief as it held the weight of my pack and I.
A sign and a cluster of wooden houses indicated I’d arrived in Whakahoro. A lady driver gave me a friendly wave as this stranger walked into town. I found the actual Blue Duck Café and snapped up a cold drink and obligatory bag of potato chips. As I sat down outside in the early evening sun, the two other patrons began chatting to me. Paul, I realised, was the man who'd cycled past me earlier. He said he was cycling Tour Aotearoa, a specific route down the length of the country. His mate Blair was his support driver, tailing him in a van and picking him up when required. They were both having a great time. And now a bottle wine.
I had a day to spare before departing on the river, so I booked in for dinner at the lodge on the next night, then crossed the road to the DOC site to make camp. I sure hoped my wrist would improve!
Kia ora, thank you for keeping up with this epic adventure! The Waka & Waewae Journey is raising money for the Mental Health Foundation, Cancer Society and UNICEF's Ukraine appeal. I'd love it if you're able to donate or simply share my Givealittle fundraiser with your pals. Ngā mihi nui!