Te Araroa Day 1:
Bluff to Invercargill

16th November, 2025.

It’s Day One on my Te Araroa journey.

I couldn’t sleep very well, partly because of adjusting to the jetlag and partly because of all the excitement. It was almost 7:15 AM when I left my aunt’s house to catch my flight from Auckland to Invercargill. Ten minutes into the drive, I got her call. I had forgotten my watch.
Of course! How else does a trip truly begin if I haven’t forgotten something? Isn’t that the unofficial ritual of having little chaos that signals the start of it all? Anyways, we drove back and got it.

It was going to be a hectic first day. I landed in Invercargill at 11:40 AM, quickly dropped my bags at Tuatara Lodge – the go to place for TA hikers in the city and caught the 12:00 PM shuttle to Stirling point, Bluff, the southermost point of the Te Araroa trail. From there I was meant to begin a 37 km (~ 9 hrs) walk and return back to Invercargill the same day. There was no time to spare but least I didn’t have to carry my backpack just yet.

I reached Bluff and as soon as I got the mandatory starting picture clicked and began walking, I felt like I was missing something. I realized I had left my hiking poles in the shuttle since I was not quite used to carrying them yet. Luckily, it had been only a couple of minutes and I managed to call and get them back. The ritual of forgetting reiterated itself just before taking the first steps on the trail.

It was a beautiful, clear, sunny day and the views of the ocean were breathtaking. I felt like stopping every five minutes to just let it sink in, but I was already a late starter and had to keep moving. A stretch through native bush suddenly opened up into a sprawling view. An hour in, I met a couple who were equally shocked and surprised to see an Indian girl attempting the trail solo and that too going northbound instead of the usual southbound route. Sometimes, when you meet people who visited India long ago and still carry those old images in their minds, you realise you have to gently convince them that the country has changed. No, I am not a runaway. And yes, my parents fully support me taking on this journey.

Today it was about acclimatization and familiarization for me, some climbing up and down for the first 8 km but then mostly flat walking on a shared walking/cycling track. I was learning to navigate with the Trail App and on ground markers. It was my first time doing something like this and so it was about learning as I went. At one point, I walked through some slushy farmland, thinking, thank goodness I’m wearing high-ankle boots, atleast my feet aren’t getting wet and dirty. Little did I know that this slush would soon feel like extremely well-formed, solid ground… and that wet, muddy feet would become my norm for days to come.

Despite the excitement and jaw dropping beauty around me, my mind kept drifting back to work every now and then. I had left a little bit of unfinished business just before starting my sabbatical, and the temptation to check in just once, if everything worked, kept nagging. My mind was experiencing bursts of anxiety about what would happen when I return back to work. Certain conversations kept echoing in my mind. When it all became a bit too much, I found a boulder to sit on for a couple of minutes, took a small break, and tried to center myself. I reminded myself that I had earned this chance, after weeks of planning and knocking on as many doors, as many times as I could, and I wanted to make the most of it. I needed that moment of disconnect. A pause to snap out of everything else I had been carrying with me, the mental calculations and anticipation of what would most likely be waiting for me after this. I needed to be present on this journey.

That break felt significant beacause when I stood up, I felt much clearer in my head, less guilty and less anxious.
I believe in that moment – a couple of days after leaving work, a couple of hours after physically starting the trail, a couple of minutes after reasoning with myself – I truly began my Te Araroa journey with my mind and heart finally aligned.

Just as I was ready to start, I saw a woman walking towards me, she was out on a day walk. An experienced tramper herself, and her daughter having recently completed the TA, we got chatting. She spoke about river crossings, reading the unpredictibility of the New Zealand weather and gave me the much needed words of encouragement. It is these interactions that stay with you, especially when you are jittery on your first day and 1300km of trail with all its uncertainities lies ahead.

It was 4:00 PM by the time we reached the road. I still had 29kms to go, almost completely flat but a really long way nonetheless. She offered me a ride, but I declined it. I wanted to walk. I wanted to get my legs moving properly and test them before the harder days ahead. But it was going to be a long slog, walking on tar along a highway is not exactly fun. I had read that most people found this stretch more tiring than some of the mountain sections. It is visually very monotonous, so mentally it feels much more longer and then the surface itself tires you out, especially with heavy hiking boots like mine.

I was also out of water and there was nothing in sight. Luckily, about a kilometre down the road, there was a trail angel farm where I could refill my bottle and start again. A few minutes later a van stopped and offered me a ride, I declined again. There were moments especially when around 20 km were still left and it was 6:00 PM when I questioned that decision multiple times. Maybe I should have taken one of those rides. Maybe I could have reached early and rested as the next day was also going to be a big one too. But interestingly, when those thoughts grew louder, no one stopped. Cars passed by honking and waving in encouragement, I even hesitantly stuck my thumb up to ask for a ride once, but no one stopped. When the option was there, I chose to walk. And when I might have given in, the choice wasn’t offered. And I am so glad that happened that way.

As I reflected on the day, I realised it wasn’t the distance that was getting to me, it was the pressure of time. Physically, I felt absolutely fine and capable of walking the distance. But back home in India, I’m used to hitting the panic button in my head around 6:00 PM on deserted trails, because that’s when it starts getting dark, the same instinct kicked in. I had to consciously remind myself that daylight stretches until almost 10:00 PM in New Zealand. There was more than enough time for me to reach the outskirts of the city, and from there, getting to my stay would be straightforward even in the dark. Even though I knew this logically, it was fascinating to see how deeply conditioning runs. There are so many things you have to teach your mind to adapt to. I reached the Invercargill city at around 9:30 PM amidst the beautiful blue hour and reached my stay by 10:00 PM, hungry and exhausted. I had walked almost non-stop for 9.5 hrs.

By this time, I was feeling it in my legs. I checked into my room and went straight to the kitchen because I knew that if I sat down first, I wouldn’t be able to get back up. After dinner, when I tried to stand, I could feel every muscle in my legs tighten. I barely managed to walk back to my room before crashing onto the bed. The next day was going to be another long 30 km stretch along the Oreti Beach. Tide timings had to be taken into consideration and since high tide was at noon, it meant it was fine to leave later in the morning and aim to reach the river crossings around mid-low tide. But before even starting, I had to sort out packing my rucksack, hire a PLB (Personal Locator Beacon), and buy a gas canister in the morning. But for the moment, I was just really happy to make a strong start.

Follow along for the next sections of my journey!