I knew once I’d spent a little more time on the land, sleeping under canvas, observing the twinkle of the Milky Way, listening to the wind whistle in the trees, the morepork and kiwi calling, even the possums squabbling, the name would present itself.

In Tibetan Buddhist traditions Shambhala is a spiritual kingdom that is believed to exist somewhere between the Himalayan Mountains and the Gobi Desert. 

Hidden deep in a valley, the land is inhabited by a mystical brotherhood whose members labour for the good of humanity. 

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.

I could hear the waterfall’s roar long before I could see it, hardly surprising given the weather conditions. The heavy rain had soaked me to the skin and waterfalls, too many to count, leapt impatiently off the mountain face. I’d made my way safely past many but ahead was the highest and largest, the formidable Earland Falls.

I braced myself for the next gust, feet wide, knees bent, crouching over my hiking poles. I could see the track snaking along the ridge line with steep drop-offs on either side. We were well and truly above the tree line, if I went over, it was going to be a long way before I stopped falling.

There’d already been two hikers knocked off their feet by the wind, fortunately they’d not gone over the edge. Someone else’s pack cover took flight, a bright red sail disappearing into the grey fog.

Milford Track has been thrilling hikers for over 150 years with its indescribably beautiful scenery, verdant rainforests, countless waterfalls, pristine rivers, the McKinnon Alpine Pass and sheer valleys carved out by ancient glaciers.

It is the most famous of New Zealand’s ten Great Walks and understandably on many hikers bucket lists.

He took not the slightest notice of me as he continued on briskly down the path, completely intent on his own exploration of our surrounds. I noticed his big feet and short legs, seemingly out of proportion to his body, his whiskers and his small dark eyes peering shortsightedly into the ferns on either side of the trail. He was obviously looking for something and kept tap tap tapping from side to side.

We tore down to the beach, our new inflatable flutter boards bouncing cheerfully behind us. We had enough experience not to swim in the first part as the sand was mixed with small rocks and if you were rolled by the huge waves, you’d end up with gravel rash.

Onwards a little further and the sand was pristine with the waves rolling in predictable sets of seven. We ditched our towels above the tideline and raced each other into the surf, excited to be trying out our new boards.

Walking Te Araroa is the dream of many outdoor enthusiasts and since its inception in 2011, many thousands of people, including me, have achieved that dream.

The Freewheeling Kiwi Te Araroa A to Z Guide is written for hikers who dare to dream big and welcome the unknown. It is the most comprehensive Guide you’ll ever need containing a wealth of information, much of which you’ll not even have considered but all of which is vital for a successful Te Araroa walk. 

In this article I share with you the gear that we took when hiking the 3000km Te Araroa Trail along with the reasoning and context behind our decision making to better help you when making your own decisions while planning your walk of Te Araroa.

The article finishes with my reflections on what gear didn’t last the full distance, what was sent home, the substitutions and additions along the trail and what I’d change next time.