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Where is Zero? An account of a painful day out on the Queen Charlotte Walkway
unning, or rather ‘shuffling’ along somewhere between Kenepuru Saddle and the Portage, a thought kept niggling at my troubled mind — “just where is zero?” You see, after 25km of scenic and relatively pain-free progress our calculations had determined that the distance remaining on our day out along the Queen Charlotte Walkway was around 35km — perhaps just humanely do-able. And then this ominous little signpost appeared on the side of the track. It had on it an arrow and the inscription “46km”. What, we wondered, did it mean? 46KM TO WHERE? Where would the marker be, which measured Okm? Well, we shuffled on. Stupendous views across Kenepuru Sound to the snow-covered Richmond Ranges beyond spurred on stiffening legs. As we passed the 44, 43 and 42km marks the niggling thoughts loomed larger — could Harriette have somehow got it wrong? Could we really be faced with a whole forty-two km left to run when we thought is should be thirty-two? Was the cup of tea really still that far away? A little further on a shelter appeared and a muchneeded water supply. A recent visitor, according to the logbook was Scott Watson, presumably just killing time. I was now feeling distinctly stuffed and Andrew muttered something about possibly not making it. Stuart seemed OK though and Harriette positively jumpy. Heading up the next hill, ahead of the other three of us, she called out, “Would you like to go ahead? — I’m not going very fast.” “No, no, it’s just right,” answered Stuart. Had Harriette turned around she would have caught us all out, happily walking behind her, relieved that it was uphill, therefore we could get away without running. More stunning views, this time towards Picton (an encouraging sight) were now becoming a bit of a blur as pain began to overtake enjoyment in the “How’s it going” stakes. At the 30km-to-go mark, I congratulated myself on having just completed a marathon, taking another slurp from my Camelbak to mark the occasion. Any more extravagant celebration would have been premature as a painful half marathon plus a bit still lay ahead. Just around the next corner, Harriette thought she would check on the level of enthusiasm of her party. “Isn’t this great — we are
Phil Kendon still enjoying this, aren’t we?” A stony silence ensued — personally I was unable to muster even a groan. Stuart now seemed to be showing signs of seizing up too, though at least when he set off he still vaguely looked like he was running. Andrew and I had long since been reduced to a mode of self-propulsion known as the waddle. Suddenly, after the Portage Road, the signposts stopped. Had they stuffed up after all? We had reached the 24km mark and then nothing. So the mystery of the location of that zero marker was not to be resolved. At around 5pm, with the four of us quite spaced apart, three trampers appeared coming the other way. They gave me an appalled sort of a look. I must have looked exactly as I felt. A few eyebrows were raised too when I mentioned that we had set off from Ship’s Cove at 7.30 that morning. The good news was that they had taken just 2 hours to reach this point from Anakiwa — that is, 2 hours of sensible, leisurely walking. There was daylight at the end of the tunnel, and my cup of tea was steaming away, beckoning a final surge. As it turned out, only half an hour of travel by torchlight was involved, the darkness penetrated by banks covered in glow worms. Finally the welcome lights of Anakiwa drew our jolly 11-hour jaunt to a close. (Well, 10 hours for Harriette and Stuart.) It was now time for the sensible part of the trip — the gourmet meal. An honourable mention must be made here of Ann. Despite not being with us, due to her possessing more brain cells than Andrew, Stuart and I, and possibly something to do with a touch of flu, Ann had cooked up a huge dish of lasagne which was now more than a little threatened with instant demolition. Once we had managed to crawl from the minibus into our bach in Picton, the demolition job I was soon under way. So thanks Ann — good one! An excellent night’s sleep followed for all except Andrew. The other three of us put this down to the likelihood of his unease at having been caught looking tired at the end of the trip. In summary — here follows a brief tramper’s guide to completing the Queen Charlotte Walkway in a day: Take a bike!
Trip members: Harriette Carr (leader), Stuart Palmer,
Andrew McLellan, Phil Kendon.