I hiked ten miles and all I got is this weird blister...

I haven't done much lately, which is why I haven't blogged in a few days. I didn't think most people (besides my mom) would be interested in my thoughts on what I had for lunch or the strange mix of American and British reality-shows that is New Zealand television.



Yesterday I did something that was actually borderline productive: I hiked to Haruru Falls. It's a miniature horseshoe waterfall about 15k away from Paihia. I really need to get this whole metric conversion thing down so I know what I'm getting myself into ahead of time. The hike took me about five hours in total. My groin started hurting as soon as I reached the beginning of the trail. I thought maybe it just needed to be stretched out a little more. "Nothing a good hike can't fix!"

My hopes were dashed as soon as I reached the 1k marker and realized that it'd taken me 30 minutes to get that far. I felt like I'd already invested quite a good amount of time and energy, so I was going to see that damn waterfall even if it meant not being able to walk the next day. I increased my speed and hauled a considerable amount of ass to make it to the waterfall, took enough pictures to prove that I actually made it there, and then hauled ass back home.




I did a lot of thinking on the trail. Hiking a trail can be a metaphor for any sort of journey. At the beginning you're optimistic, hopeful. Towards the middle you're in pain and wondering if this was such a good idea, playing with the idea of turning back. Then when you finally reach your destination, you feel accomplished and proud, only to have to turn back and make the whole journey again.
Yeah, I can be deep sometimes.

I did feel accomplished and proud of myself, until it started pouring down rain. Then all I really wanted to do was stick out my thumb and catch a ride back to my motel. Don't worry, I didn't, but if I had a tazer I might have.

My wish-list for this week:

-tabasco sauce
-tazer
-corn tortillas
-my green chuck taylors