The Tongariro Alpine Crossing

by Rebecca Brunning (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find New Zealand

As we stepped off the bus the sun was shining brightly. There was a single whispery cloud hugging the peak of Mount Ngauruhoe. “Beautiful day for it” exclaimed our coach driver in his thick New Zealand accent, “no problems with the weather for you guys today!” We gathered our belongings and the coach pulled away leaving the three of us behind. James, George and I made our way across the track that weaved its way through the bushland at the base of Mount Ngauruhoe. We admired the ever-changing sky above us. We began our uphill climb. The track was steep and loose rocks made it unsteady under our feet. I could feel the heat rising beneath my layers of clothing. I tied my long blonde hair back behind my ears. Layer by layer I stripped down to my shorts and t-shirt revealing the bare tanned skin of my arms and legs. My heart was beating fast. Blood rushed to my face and I could feel the veins throbbing under my skin. The hike upwards was tough but I was determined to continue. George had continued onwards and by this point, he was much further ahead of us. James and I did not attempt to catch him but rather took each step at our own pace. The air temperature around us began to drop; I could feel the cold breeze on my bare skin. Concentrating on our footing, we failed to notice the thick black cloud that hung above us until everything began to seem dark and bleak. Raindrops began to fall, slow at first and then all at once. I reached around my backpack for my raincoat and slipped it on. Goose pimples stood up on my legs as we climbed higher and higher up the mountainside, hoping the icy rain would eventually cease. It did not. The wind became increasingly harsh as it swirled around us. George, still ahead of us, but now in sight, had stopped. “What should we do?” he asked as we grew closer, “turn back?” I looked around us. Visibility had dropped significantly and I could now only see roughly five meters ahead of me. We were cocooned from the outside world on the side of this mountain. Despite this, we continued. A gust of wind almost knocked us off our feet, “We need to get down!” James shouted through the noise. We all ducked down onto our hands and knees, grabbing the biggest rocks we could find to pull ourselves along. The wind was so powerful it had the potential to blow us over the edge. The rain continued to beat down on us, stinging our faces with its icy cold droplets. We sought shelter behind a large boulder and took a moment to catch our breath. We stayed here for a while, unsure whether to laugh or cry. We checked our phones for signal but all three had turned themselves off in the cold temperatures. We left the boulder behind and kept low, hugging rocks and holding on to each other. Before long, the track started to descend. Visibility was still poor, but the mountain, now behind us, acted as a shelter. The rain and wind had stopped however, by this point, we were soaked through. With every step, our soggy feet squelched in our boots and our clothes rubbed against our skin. The track opened out into a big open rocky plain. Although we could not see before us we felt as though we were walking across the moon. The track began to climb again for a short while and as we emerged over the ridge we were greeted by a beautiful clear view of the valley beneath us and blue skies in the distance. I felt the warm sun on my cold and wet skin. I laughed as we trudged along in our soggy boots, “Was it all a dream?” I thought to myself, “How could the weather change so much in a matter of moments?” All that I did know is that we now had another wild, yet exciting, story to tell.