Student Bloggers

We had a plan. A loose plan, but a plan nonetheless. We knew which train to catch, which bus to take and how far to walk to the park entrance. But that’s the thing with plans- sometimes they become obsolete within an hour of departure.

The 10:05 a.m. train did take us to Upper Hutt and the 112 bus did drop us off at the Te Marua Store at Plateau Road, but it was not a brief, very doable one kilometer walk to the park entrance. Instead it was a six kilometer walk to the start of a two-hour trail that would lead us to the park entrance.

Our mission was quickly aborted. Our plan of leisurely strolling around Kaitoke Park, picnicking for lunch and having fun photoshoots was presumed dead.

Instead, some fantastically nice strangers pointed us in the direction of Tunnel Gully, promising us pleasant trails and a much more enjoyable time than trekking to Kaitoke. Without much to go on, we departed for the park, a place we did not know existed until moments before setting out in search of it.

The trail we began our hike with was just steep enough that normally, one could pass by with ease, but posed heaps of trouble for us as the week of rain turned the clay earth track slippery and slick. We maneuvered carefully, often times jumping for side to side to the fallen brush on the edges of the trail in a desperate attempt to avoid skidding down the trail.

When our hunger prevented us from going any further, we stopped along some sort of road and ate sandwiches, trail mix and chocolate, some opting to sit on a small gravel pile, some on the ground, both options resulting in wet leggings and shorts.

But we were gratified. The spot provided a gorgeous backdrop for photos and we all took turns having mini-photo shoots, laughing the joking the whole time. After days and days of nothing but overcast and dreary skies, we were simply content to have a reason to wear sunscreen again.

Eventually, we decided we should continue on and we set out on another trail, beginning our descent back into civilization. Rather than slick clay, however, we were greeted with a lovely grass trail but quickly realized the problem: every bend in the trail revealed enormous, impassable stretches of water stretching the entire width of the trail. After two or three failed attempts at sneaking by unscathed, we gave up trying to keep our shoes dry and simply plowed through the mud. Over and over that pattern continued until the trail switched back to slippery clay for the remainder of the descent. Finally, it gave way to a flat, well-groomed stretch that lead us through a 350-meter long tunnel before taking us the edge of the park where we wandered down the road in the wrong direction and had to walk another mile to the bus stop to get back to Wellington.

A day chock full of misadventures, to say the least.

But, in the end, I’m not sure it actually mattered.

The day concluded with mud-soaked shoes and sweaty, messy hair as well as unforgettable memories, great laughs and, not to mention, stunning photographs. It was an expected adventure and we choose to make the most of it.

As much as we want to, we can’t plan nearly as much of life as we aspire to. More times than not, even the mostly strategically plotted tactic needs to be discarded due to events beyond our control. For some, this unpredictability is detrimental; it ruins day trips or weekend getaways or vacations. For some, it ruins the joy of living within the realm of capriciousness and the pure bliss of discovering everything life has to offer by way of unexpected adventures.

But not for me. And thankfully, not for my friends, either.

(Also, sorry about muddy shoes, mates.)