Finding Home, Finding Me.

We stood in front of the backdrop you would expect to see in the country where Middle Earth came to life. Twenty three dirty, exhausted and inspired teenagers conquering the fourth summit of their coast to coast hike across New Zealand. There we were, at the peak of Arthur’s Pass, more than one thousand metres vertical, surrounded in three hundred and sixty degree views of snow-capped mountains, endless blue sky and people unseparated for thirty days.
Not even the smell of neglected showering could taint the sweet, pure air wafting over the coned peaks – beacons marking our journey. We ate (the proper way to celebrate the conquering of one of the tallest peaks in the South Island) treating ourselves to three day old salami and cheese on Vitaweets and the remainder of our closely guarded chocolate supplies. We ate like kings on the rocky throne of New Zealand.
All kings are eventually dethroned, as were we by the sallow midday sun and the promise of soft drink at a drop off a few kilometres journey away. So we walked as all great heroes do, wading through a mixture of boggy marshes that sucked our boots from our socks and shoulder length, maze-inducing grass. Breaking through the last of the fen we discovered every child’s dream: A depthless mud pit and no parents.
We unleashed our inner children and became as happy as “pigs in mud” (if you can pardon the pun). No inch of skin or clothing was safe from the thick slop of dirt and water that serenaded our hearts and rewound time, delivering us to a place of pure innocence and freedom. Mud had replaced snow as our weapon of choice in that battle and no warrior was left unwounded – with pride being the most broken. Once a human chain had dragged out those trapped in the grips of nature we set forth once more to our camp.
The promise of soft drink greeted us as did Lake Tennyson – the most unspoiled water body I had ever witnessed. The lake was a reflection of the sky with only fish tails shattering the surface, spoiling the unrivalled serenity only New Zealand can accomplish. A gem shining in the shadows of the mountain. It brought us the gift of cleanliness and food as its icy waters made for nature’s refrigerator. For many days our instant pudding mix had taunted us and finally Lake Tennyson gave us our chance to concoct the long awaited dessert. So there, in the heart of wilderness, we lay in the sun as we would on the beaches of home, drying our clothes and waiting for our pudding to thicken.