Simon's Te Araroa Hike: Day 65: Flying Fox Campsite to Hipango Park Campsite (34km, 5.5 hours)

The owners of the Flying Fox, Kelly and Jane, had warned us about the rooster. He certainly took his job seriously: the crowing started at 4am on the dot, and carried on for the next three hours. The chickens were only a few metres away from my tent, so I got it at full volume.

We took our time packing up and moving our barrels back down to the river, and were off at a very leisurely 9am. It was easy-going paddling today - the river was mostly calm, no scary rapids, and beautiful clear skies. There were no other canoes on the river - the "great walk" canoes all tend to finish shortly after the 50/50 rapid yesterday, and it is really only TA hikers who continue further for the last 2-3 days to Whanganui.

I've learnt my lesson about taking breaks, so we stopped several times - for morning tea with Chris and Lynne, and then later just Jonnie and myself under a shady tree, along with a few goats.

Mid morning break with Jonnie, Chris and Lynne

View upriver

Once again the headwind grew in the afternoon, and it started to become scorching hot. So we were rather glad when we arrived mid-afternoon at our final campsite, Hipango Park. The river is tidal from this point onwards - steamers used to come upriver to Hipango, and we tied up at the abandoned wharf.

Chris and Lynne were already here, but I noticed they hadn't unpacked their canoe. Apparently they had decided to push on this afternoon, and catch the outgoing tide for the last 4 hours to Whanganui. All of a sudden I was saying goodbye, probably for the last time. They'd been my travelling companions off and on since I met them in Taumarunui almost two weeks earlier, and I really didn't want them to go. I waved them off with misty eyes and a lump in my throat, and watched them for the next 5 minutes as they paddled around a bend in the river and out of sight. Goodbye Jones and Jonesy, it's been a pleasure sharing the TA with you.

Final farewells

Goodbye, Jones and Jonesy!

Watching until they disappeared around the bend. Goodbyes can be hard...

The hill was the longest yet, up a steep quadbike track. The campsite was a large grassy area with a shelter, and we took shelter there from the searing sun. Jonnie and I were the only ones there, so we were expecting a very quiet night. Or so we thought.

We had heard snippets of music being played somewhere in the distance, and the sound of a quad bike. But our quiet afternoon was interrupted when the quad bike raced up the hill to the campsite. The driver, a local guy called Muz, wanted some help with his digger - it had apparently snapped its track some days before, and he needed someone to guide him while he tried to fix it. We agreed - we had nothing else to do! - and he said he'd be back in an hour when it was cooler, and roared off.

Two hours later, he was back. Jonnie and I piled on to the back of the quad bike and he raced back down the hill, along another trail, past the abandoned digger, and uphill to his home. It seems he wanted to chat probably more than he wanted to fix the digger! He proceeded to bring out a never-ending supply of Heineken, and then for the next 3 hours we listened to his stories.

It's actually hard to describe the experience of that evening, but the closest word I can think of is "surreal". Muz was a real character, and while his stories seemed farfetched at times I'm inclined to think they were probably all true. Here are some snippets from the evening:

- He had built the house himself from what he had found on the land and down the river (it seems that while he also has a place in Whanganui, this land was left to him and he spends most of his time here)

- He is a self-taught carver who apparently carves in a semi-trance in the dark. He has large maori-inspired carvings all around the property, and they are in demand by many of the iwi up and down the river. His driftwood taniwha were genuinely amazing!

- He has a lovely dog called Trixie, and a beautiful horse called Princess, who he rides bareback along the hilltops

- He proudly showed off the 3-metre wind turbine he had just build (out of an old fridge motor and some pieces of plastic drainpipe) - clearly an enterprising guy!

- He keeps sheep, and bees

- He has an outdoor bath set up under the stars, fed with spring water, which he invited us to use (we declined!)

- He regaled us with stories of the many jetboats he has sunk and the many brushes with drowning he has had on the river

- He regaled us with more stories of rich visitors who have stayed with him and he has won money from - who he had beaten at pool, or raced up the hill. He didn't seem to be boasting in any way - I got a sense that Muz probably has all the money he needs, it's just not important to him.

- He insisted on cooking us sausages and steak (which I ate most of - Jonnie doesn't eat much meat)

- All the while, his music was cranked up. He even started dancing - strangely gracefully for a big guy, with some definite maori-inspired movements.

- When he heard I was a teacher, he seemed genuinely respectful - I was the first teacher who he had met on the river apparently. He wanted to play Pink Floyd's "We Don't Need No Education" in my honour, but couldn't find it on his playlist.

- Muz's eyes lit up when he heard that Jonnie worked on wind turbines in the USA. He seemed to treat this as kismet - he had just built a functioning wind turbine, and her presence was destiny telling him he now needed to build an even bigger one. Our mission for the evening then became to advise him which of the several motors around the property he should use, and how big his new wind turbine should be.

- I don't think he registered our names - but he immediately christened us "Windmill" and "Teacher"

Muz talked non-stop for the entire evening - I think he was eager for some company. It was almost 8pm, the light was fading, and it was time to extricate ourselves and head back to camp. Muz still insisted on showing us the windmill motors, and fixing his digger. In a rather unsafe decision, Jonnie and I climbed on the back of his quad bike, and clung on for dear life while Muz raced back downhill - first to show us contenders for his new planned windmill motor (we told him to use the biggest one - which vindicated what he wanted to do), and then to help with his digger. He was trying to use the digger's bucket to lift up the broken tread, but needed someone to guide him - I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing, but he seemed pleased with the result.

Finally, we were deposited back at the campsite. As Muz departed back down the hill, Jonnie and I looked at each other, and burst out laughing. What a totally surreal evening!

I think what was most amazing about the whole evening was Muz's positivity. I have never met such a continually upbeat person. He was full of life, and plans - "if you believe in yourself you can do anything; don't wait, do it now!" And he was so generous, and genuinely appreciative to meet us. Muz, you were inspirational - thank you for an unexpected evening, it was one of the highlights of my hike.

As I was falling asleep in my tent, I heard the music crank up in the distance. It was The Wall album by Pink Floyd, played at high volume so that it reached us clearly all the way from his house to the campsite. I like to think that it was a final gift from Muz, in honour of Windmill and Teacher.