It is time for us to go our respective ways and be on our lonesomes again. As we chat, I look out for the trail and finally spot a stile hidden behind her car. Good natured, she offers me a biscuit, which I politely decline. She is from Cornwall and her husband is somewhere up-river looking for a desirable fishing spot. Cleaning up after breakfast, I repack my gear and am soon on my way.Īpproaching Daltons Bridge, I search for a path forward when a middle-aged woman jumps out of her car parked close by. Detouring northwest instead of south, it turns out that this is all part of the trail as it twists and turns. Waiting for the billy to boil, I use this time to read my guidebook as I am not convinced that the loop of side roads I’m on makes any sense. Once the rain stops, I settle in beside the road for a much-anticipated breakfast. Last night’s fish and chips sustenance has clearly worn off and my stomach begins to rumble. While my progress is literally dampened, this also provides some relief to the heat of the day. Two kilometres later I deviate to the right, down roads off the main highway, just as it begins to rain. I wonder if the people in the vehicles are heading somewhere important and what I am missing out on. That’s what I’m going to do.’’īack in the moment, it is now my turn to experience trucks and cars whizz by as I walk alongside the Havelock Highway, although I have no intention of hitchhiking today. While I struggled for advice to give her, I eventually said, ‘‘Go find yourself a decent trail. Eventually we settled into an understanding of acceptance to swap our respective tales. Clearly the horse had already bolted and maybe I should just let it go where it wanted to go. While my initial reaction was to stop and drop her off, frankly I was uncertain of how she would react. If that did not work out, she had a backup supply of gas canisters in her bag, which she opened to show me!Īghast, I wondered what I had let myself in for, as perspiration accumulated on my forehead. Quite the businesswoman, not only was she able to allocate time for core activities, she had also collected some drugs earlier in the day. If still unclear, it became startlingly obvious when she showed me the fifty-dollar note she had earned from her previous ride. After settling into the car, I then realised exactly what she was saying. When I asked her what she did, she said, ‘‘I am a working girl’’, to which I replied, ‘‘That's great, I am a working guy’’. Driving north through Waikouaiti, I picked up a hitchhiker standing by the road. My mind wanders as I start walking today, to a recent memory from when I dropped off food parcels in Arthurs Pass and Westport in preparation for this adventure. Author Bryan Scott snaps a selfie on Mt Rintoul.