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An old Jeep-like car stops about five meters away from me, the door flings open, a tall man, probably in his sixties, jumps out of the car. “Hurry up” he says, "I am following that ambulance “I can give you a lift. Hop on.” I do so, slightly perplexed yet incredibly grateful. “Take a banana!” he is demanding, pointing underneath my seat. Indeed, there´s a whole box of bananas. I am chewing away happily. It's dry. I'm comfy. I am moving. My mood lightens up. The guy seems to be good company, too. I dare not to ask who's in that ambulance. I can sense him being slightly on the edge. A soft, irritating and humble being-on-the-edge. The consequences of life confronting you with unpredictable situations, forcing you to deal with it. He tells me that he spent most of his life living on remote land, that he would still live there with his wife if they could. It turns out it's her in the ambulance. In return, I tell him about my adventures on Te Araroa. “The Long Pathway”, which is a thru-hike starting at the very top of New Zealand finding its way down to the very bottom, covering roughly 3000km, mostly by foot. The trail crosses long, very remote stretches through the Alps and Bushlands. Especially here on the South Island where I am right now. I had been on the trail several weeks when a long period of rain had made some paths impassable. It seemed unclear when this weather was gonna stop and there was no accommodation available in the few towns which scarcely crossed the trail. He had picked me up high in the mountains. Needless to say that our drive down is stunning. Like most Kiwis he possesses a deep awareness and an excitement for the landscapes. When we turn around a windy corner he suddenly yells out in excitement “Pohutukawa!” pointing wildly at a bunch of trees with red flowers. “They are typical for this time of the year. Look, how beautiful they are!” my new friend shouts while he is fiddling with his phone trying to take a photo and navigating us around the mountain roads at the same time. I feel a deep empathy for this man who probably just realises that soon he may not be able to share these moments with his wife anymore. “So,” he turns his head, “tell me about this trail! Once my wife is gone I want to hike it.” I fill him in about the ups and downs, the tough parts, the moments of pure joy. Starry nights. The power of solitude and the melancholy of loneliness. Our conversations go back and forth without a straight direction just like the road we are on. In-between the lines i discover his story and learn more about the illness of his wife. Parkinson. While battling weeks without company I started listening to audio books. I recommend one to him. The author covers a lot of research on the brain, especially of Parkinson patients. For a little moment we talk about the book, then sway back to descriptions about NZ, about how lucky we are to be able to walk on this land. Suddenly he stops talking as if he remembers something. “Why did you choose to listen to that book in particular?” I had kept it a secret. Most people thought I was just wandering through bush and mountains because that´s the kind of thing I do. “My dad” I reply carefully, testing what the words will sound like, “he has had a brain tumor. He is going to die. After I finish Te Araroa I will return back home to be with him.” For a long second we just sit in the car while the mountains, trees, the sky rush past us. We are floating in this connection we have suddenly become aware of. There is something magical in this moment, something deeply reassuring, somehow motionless yet older than society itself. The ambulance is still in sight. The flowers still bloom, the clouds have given way to some blue spots. Te Araroa. The Long Pathway. For most of us the long pathway home.