" Wading across the Ashley River. " 

New Zealand 8

Walking north of Prebbelton I managed to avoid Christchurch, the south islands main city. However, I had to weave my path through built-up suburbs and at one stage I walked several kilometres on glorious trails and through a forest. Eventually, I pitched my tent on a scrubland near Kaiapoi Lake having covered a tough 37 kilometres that day.

Next day, I walked a simar distance to Waipara but it was not without incident. I was walking across a bridge on the Ashley river when a cop pulled up and told me to get into his patrol car. The bridge was about 350 metres long and I only had about 150 left. Traffic was pretty heavy and he said that I needed to get off the bridge as I was holding up the traffic coming from behind. So what, I thought and when I asked him if I could run the remaining short distance in front of his patrol car he shouted out.

"Get in the car now or I will lock you up!"

So, I did but I also asked to be taken back to the other side from where I had come from as I wanted to wade across the river. 

Luckily the river level was low and after walking around a few areas of shallow water all I needed to do was to walk across one area, about four metres wide which was barely above my ankles. I left my boots on as I was concerned about slipping while wearing my seven-kilo backpack. I guess one of the reasons the water level was low is because many people have informed me that New Zealand is in a drought which has lasted three years. A few kilometres further on I came to another bridge and was thanking my lucky stars that it wasn't that one that the cop had pulled me off as it was a pretty deep river. Had that happened I would have thumbed a lift back, pitched my tent and walked across at about three in the morning when the highway was pretty much deserted. I walked long and late and walked past farms that sold pony poo and even worm tea. As much as I like my tea I'm not that brave! I guess it has some medicinal benefit. I was also stopped by a lovely Australian couple who were holidaying with their two children. Apparently, they heard a radio interview I gave in Sydney and have been following me on my website ever since, and I had no idea. When they booked this holiday they knew I was on the south island and were even hoping to meet me! The reason I walked late that day was that I had a minor concern about another bridge near Waipara. I also wanted to put as much distance between myself and the cop I had the problem with earlier. In the end, I crossed that bridge and only met one car just as I exited it and skipped my way onto the hard shoulder. 

 Many of my days are slow as I stop for frequent rests as I become weary of lugging my heavy backpack. I know some people may consider the weight I am carrying to be insignificant. Not me, my body is pretty much beaten up with almost seventy thousand combined kilometres from my world run and now this world walk. Every night when I take my boots off my right foot feels as if it's broken. I struggle to stand up and eventually manage to crawl and prise myself up by shifting my weight onto my weak left knee. I wonder if my slow departure onto the road each morning is subconscious, almost as though my body needs to delay my start for an hour or two, a kind of a warm-up as I move around wasting time and vital early daylight. 

That night when I arrived in Waipara I walked down the main street which ran parallel to the highway. I zoomed into Maps.me, my offline map and noticed a parking area further on into the village. 

At that time the village was lifeless so I just pitched my tent in some rough grass. In the morning I spotted what looked like a cafe and when I went over a woman called Susan came out to open up the Torlesse Wines tasting shop. It turned out that she was originally from Mullinavat in County Kilkenny, Ireland and came over here 32 years ago. Tourists were starting to steam in and I spoke to a couple from Canada and a Japanese woman. I would have liked to have chatted with Susan and Maggie the manager but they were so busy. So after a coffee, hot water in my thermos mug for my lunchtime noodles and a complimentary bottle of Torlesse red wine, I headed off down another backroad called Church road where I completed my breakfast by eating my fill from a wild cherry-plum tree. 

By this stage, it was almost one o'clock and I found my 21 kilometres to Greta Valley to be pretty demanding for it was a hot and humid day, about 24C. On humid days I usually have chaffing problems with my underpants, a tube of Vaseline would be a smart idea! On the way, I stopped at a farmhouse for water. Soon, Lynn, had me sitting down to a welcome coffee and by the time I had left he told me that I had motivated him to row across an ocean in a rowing boat

  The following day was New Year's Eve and it was a further 35 kilometres to Cheviot. So when I saw a sign etched out in the mountain that refreshments were just four kilometres away, it made sense to stop early in Greta Valley that night. Inside the Greta Valley Tavern, I got a nice welcome from the owner, a friendly man called "Bones." Though the kitchen was closed I was grateful when the cook fired up the chip pan and also gave me a generous portion of fish for I was ravenous. I got talking to an English traveller who seemed to be driving around the world by either renting or buying vehicles. Needless to say, he was getting a bit concerned about how expensive his adventures were costing him! So I planted a world cycle seed in his head which he seemed to be considering! He had also checked into the local campsite and even though this one was cheap by New Zealand standards, to my mind it was a waste of twelve dollars as I would rather have a good feed of fish n chips to a patch of grass. I'm never in a hurry into a campground, I prefer to see what turned up, and for me so much does! 

And just as I was finishing up my meal Bones aka Mike Evans came over and first offered to allow me to camp at the back of his tavern, and then changed his mind and suggested that I with deep with the children trampoline for it was going to be a starry night and it would surely make a comfortable mattress.

 Just then a local called Gabe invited me to stay at his hippy-type den. A couple of years before he had bought an old truck stop business in a disused barn and then through ingenuity added a series of insulated lean-to sheds. Spacious and artistically decorated and with as much recycling and composting as possible for I was told that even my shaved off hair from the haircut he gave me would be thrown into this composter! Gabe called this: haircut 2,000 kilometres for that's roughly the distance u have walked since my last haircut. The word is hit to any future hosts of mine that I begrudge paying 20-30 dollars for a haircut. If you got the skills I'm 'heading' your way, lol

19,133 kilometres walked for 520 road days.