I stood forlornly on the trail as my body trembled with the intensity of my shivering and my teeth chattered uncontrollably.

Tears created by the sub zero temperatures mixed freely with the sleet and snot smeared across my face. I could hardly see through my glasses not that there was anything to see other than the horizontal rain swirling manically about us.

Andrew handed me an OSM bar, with his frozen fingers he couldn’t open the wrapping and thought somehow that I’d be able to. While I fumbled with the wrapping, we attempted to communicate above the howling wind.

Finally getting the bar opened I offered him the larger half, we were clearly living the Te Araroa dream!

Below me the swollen river raged down the valley, dirty grey water rushing, crashing and tumbling, rolling boulders, tugging trees from flooded banks, swirling and churning every which way. 

Above, sky the same colour as the water closed in, the tops of the mountains remaining hidden in the murk. I knew what it was like up there, near horizontal rain driven by a malicious wind intent on tossing me off the narrow ridge. Behind, the perilous trail from where I’d descended was more a cascade than a track.