Te Araroa: where the Tasman and Pacific meet

Send us a textThe Blissful Hiker flies to New Zealand, drives to the Meeting Place of the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean at Cape Reinga and within 36 hours, she begins to walk the Te Araroa towards Bluff. In this episode:The Blissful Hiker has her first encounter with authentic Kiwi "trail angel" hospitality.She's taken up the winding, roller-coaster roads of Northland to Cape Reinga.She learns security is just an illusion and we have to take risks to truly live.  She immediately begins hiking and just as immediately takes a wrong turn. Rain, hail, hot sun, tides and the constant sound of waves are her companions for the first 100 kilometers. MUSIC: The Horizon from Owhiro Bay by Gareth Farr (used by permission)The Pee Rag by Stacia BennettThe Show: I found out what a pee rag is right around the same time I met Irene on Facebook. She’s a Kiwi from Hamilton, planning to walk the TA in sections. She planned to start from Cape Reinga on October 29, my start date. I fly over puffy clouds above crystalline bays abutting sandy beaches fed by winding streams and estuaries. Hilly bright green pastures and dark bush see rain falling in the distance, and the ocean beyond that to infinity. If all goes as planned, to walk back to Auckland, will take me a month.  I’m out of my comfort zone, having reckoned with what really matters in my life and putting to the test risking security for something intangible. Helen Keller wrote “Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” Security is an illusion. You have to risk a bit of adventure to really live.This part of the country is called Northland or the far, far, north. The sky clears above a wide track through flax and yucca, azure waves in long rows crashing beneath us as we rise up on high cliffs. We spot our first trail sign, a plastic orange triangle nailed onto a wooden post. It leads us away from the beach up onto a sandy bluff dotted with bright yellow lupine. “I sure hope we’re not lost,” Irene says, just as I realize, we most surely are. Irene and I were never really lost, just misguided. Oyster Catchers peep at us as we pass, their eyes looking askance. Sponges, jellyfish and small piles of broken shells fan out at the water’s edge. It all seems a bit unreal, the route taking us under the curve of a rainbow towards another squall line and tonight’s destination.Support the show

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