Like other volcanic islands, the North Island slopes sharply upward from the sea. When in Auckland, therefore, it is very easy to locate the harbor – head downhill. We spent only two nights and a day there, but I think we climbed that hill a dozen times. The street, quite a wide one, must have been at a 6% grade at least. Good training for the coming hike.
From here we bussed to Wellington, as the scenic railway train was sold out. It was a nice trip through sporadic rain showers. As our reward for arriving early, we got the front seats and had a fine view. The scenery ranged from bucolic farmland to desert to green but very steep and rugged hills. Once arrived in Wellington, we were chauffeured by the newlyweds-to-be, G. & J., to the suburb of Johnsonville, where the wedding would take place.
Wellington, we discovered, is very hiker-friendly. There are several well-known (although not so well sign-posted) Walkways. The day after our arrival, being at the northern end of the urban area, we thought to tackle the Northern Walkway.
We started out, following the instructions in our Rough guide, taking the train one stop toward the city. And we did indeed find the signs pointing to the walkway. But the signs seemed to be steering us back toward the way we had come, toward Johnsonville. We walked a long way that way without seeing any signs at all.
What to do? After considerable dithering and retracing of routes and consulting of maps, we decided we could proceed on city streets until we overlapped the Walkway. So we set off down Burma Street. At Khandallah, we detoured to the local library, where a kind librarian gave us some rudimentary maps and directions. With only one more unproductive detour, we did indeed find the Walkway. We walked through Trelissick Park and down into the Ngaio Gorge. The track was absolutely lovely – abundant foliage, gorgeous trees and flowers, and some steep ups and downs. And I without my camera, an oversight I did not repeat on the rest of our trip.
From the rim of the gorge, the yellow arrows led us up hill. And up hill. And up hill yet again, on city streets. And finally, up a really steep, narrow road. Marching blithely along, high above the city, we encountered a gent walking his two dogs. We were, he told us, on the wrong track (might have been the Tongariru?). He very kindly directed us to a steep downward trail that would take us, he vowed, to the Botanical Gardens. By now it was afternoon, and I was tired and cranky. Why did I ever want to do this?
We descended the steep track, slipping and sliding at times. We did indeed emerge at the botanical gardens, and they were spectacular. The rose garden was surely worth the lingering we did there, especially the Aloha and Typhoon blooms.
To finish out the day (the Northern Walkway is clocked at 13.5 miles, and no one knows how many miles we put into unintended detours), we stumped up the steep hill to the tram station, rode the tram down the hill, and hoofed it to the train station. I was ready for a rest on the ½ hour ride to Johnsonville.
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