The Breaking of the Fellowship

Come now, you surely didn't expect me to do a tour of New Zealand without using at least one nerdtastic Lord of the Rings title, did you? Count yourselves lucky I'm not writing this in Sindarin or from the point of view of a Hobbit.

With Melissa back in Nelson, that's the end of the original Magic Bus crew I've been knocking around with since Auckland. Some fell by the wayside in Taupo, others in Wellington (and one just vanished on the ferry crossing to Picton, hope she didn't fall over the side), and now Melissa is returning the tent and sleeping bag she borrowed from a hypnotised backpacker at the Paradiso hostel.

I'm now in Takaka, where I'm spending three nights instead of the originally intended one. The reason for the change is that on day 3 of the tramp, my previously trusty boots decided now would be a fine time to rebel, and to this end caused an almighty blister to form on my abnormally large small toe (the result of a drunken nighttime encounter with a radiator pipe, the swelling never subsided). This would've caused all kinds of day 4 shenanigans were it not for a kindly gent who had a pair of blue and yellow monstrosities called aqua shoes which didn't fit him. He donated them to the cause of getting me to the next campsite and thus the day was saved, but my feet resemble La Motta's face after his beating from Sugar Ray in Raging Bull, hence the prolonged stopover.

But enough tedious rambling about my foot-related woes! I know what you're all here for, you mucky pups - statistics!

The Official New Zealand Story Abel Tasman Roundup - In Numbers

Kilometres walked: 51
Kilometres walked in aqua shoe abominations: 9
Inches between tip of nose and ridiculously low tent ceiling: 1.7
Percentage of readers likely to crack a joke in the comments about my generously proportioned nose after reading that last stat: 94%
Sandflies: too many to count.
Old guys at Waiharakeke campsite that said "I'm not racially prejudiced but...": 1
Old guys at Waiharakeke campsite that proceeded to slate a breathtakingly wide selection of races in the course of one speech: 1
Old guys at Waiharakeke campsite that escaped a Guardian-reading liberal glare of disapproval because they'd just given said liberal a free pair of shoes (I'm not proud): 1

And go on then, one for the fans:

Number of times Melissa said or did something that caused me to trip, choke, hit my head on a branch or otherwise come a cropper through inattention: see Sandflies.

So it's examples you're after, is it?

• What amounted to nothing less than a compulsion to change into shorts or a bikini top in the middle of the trail, often waving cheerfully to passing hikers as she did so.
• Revealing that she worked as a skimpy at a bar in Australia (click the link, all will become clear)
• Saying things like "That guy at the last campsite gave me some pills, we can have some fun tonight".

I swear that last one tipped me up so much I didn't realise I'd drifted off the track and into the sea until the fish started nibbling my ears. Turned out she was talking about water purification tablets. If I ever knew true disappointment it was then. But she was right - the water was fantastic.