After finishing the 1700-kilometer trek on New Zealand’s North Island, I gave myself some time to rest and recover before tackling the next, higher and more challenging 1300-kilometer South Island route.
So I stopped in Wellington for a bit, did a road trip with university friends, and spent some time in Christchurch.
But that stop turned into three weeks. All the TA hikers I’d met on the North Island had already moved on down the trail and disappeared. I couldn’t hide my anxiety about when I’d see them again. Watching them share photos of the stunning scenery ahead made my feet itch to go. My shoulders still ached from carrying that heavy pack, and every slow step brought pain to my feet, yet I found myself already yearning for the moment when I could shoulder my pack again and return to the trail.
I never thought I’d feel this way. The me who set out just months before didn’t anticipate it, and the me from a year ago still in Taiwan never could have imagined it—I missed who I was when hiking so much.
Mountain is calling—so that’s what it feels like.
(Reviewing 2017/3/5 journal entry)
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