Tramping the Routeburn Track in the Southern Alps was one of them. Skydiving over Lake Taupo is another, as is swimming in Lake Tekapo. And even though I grew up on the East Coast of New Zealand, I’d always wanted to venture to the remote East Cape and see the first sunrise of the world grace the beaches there.
Now I can cross Routeburn off the list. Even though it’s only day two, the trip has been absolutely amazing. Yesterday went perfectly and everyone woke up happy and not too sore. My thighs burn in some places, mainly my hamstrings, but that’s always a good thing; it means you’re pushing yourself. And I need to be pushed.
This morning we’ve almost made it to the top of Harris Saddle. It’s a side trip off the main track, but since we made good time yesterday I don’t want to miss an opportunity. Luckily everyone was game, even Amber, who is the least athletic out of all of us.
Still, she can’t help but whine. “Are we there yet?”
I turn around to look at her. She’s nearly falling backward into Josh, with Nick at the very back. The last bit of the hike is always the hardest but I know if we keep pressing on, we’ll get to the summit.
“Just a bit farther,” I tell her, as I have been again and again.
Finally I can see the top of the A-frame shelter poking its head out among the rocky outcrops and endless waves of tussock grass and I nearly yelp with delight.
It’s so fucking stunning, I can barely believe my eyes.
The tiny, windowless A-frame shelter looks so small against the valley and mountains that it looks as if it could blow off into the abyss at any moment. All around us the wind crackles around our limbs like lightning; the hum of the land can barely be contained.
We are so, so, insignificant here and the mountains go on forever and ever, the distance so vast and great between us and the peaks. I’m almost getting dizzy and I lean back for a second. A small hand goes around my arm and I know Amber is keeping me upright.
None of us says anything, we just suck in the air, suck in the view, suck in the life around us. I feel like the wind rushing up from the far-off lands below is feeding us. It’s feeding me, deep inside, giving me strength.
We have a quick lunch of protein bars and water, sitting among the dry tussock and trying to get our small brains to believe the world around us. Then we head back down the track, passing other exhausted trampers on the way and encouraging them to keep going, that the pain is worth it for the beauty.
Back on the main track heading to the Mackenzie Lake campsite, the out-of-body experience doesn’t end. It amplifies as we walk along exposed ridges, the brown and green grass and subalpine plants rolling off on either side of us until they end, dropping off, and then there’s nothing but space between us and the Hollyford and Ailsa Mountains.
I’m watching my step on the trodden rock path but I wish I had eyes on the back of my head. Not only to keep taking in the views but to watch Josh. Out of all of us, he seems to be just as affected as I am. He’s thirsty for the experience and his passion is revving my heart. I’m already awake and alive and he’s adding to it, making me want him more than I ever have.
I don’t even have the decency to chide myself. The feeling is freeing and freedom is all I need.
Though it’s a breathtaking hike, it’s a long one. When we finally reach the campsite, down a steep descent to the rich, blue-green waters of Lake Mackenzie, we’ve been walking for six hours. It’s almost dinnertime and the rumble in my stomach, my body screaming for protein, forces me to set up the tent in record time. I bring out the food from my pack—freeze-dried organic chili and a roll of gluten-free bread—and Amber cooks it over the portable stove that Josh pulls out of his backpack.
It’s cold up here, and though summer has swamped the rest of the country, it’s still spring in the mountains. We’re all wrapped in our sweaters and jackets, ample amounts of mosquito spray covering our faces. The bottle of whiskey gets passed around the fire and soon the sun sinks behind molten clouds and the stars start to pop out in the sky.
Nick heads to our tent early. Soon after, Amber goes to hers.
I’m alone with Josh and I don’t want to think. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to stop being free. I want to get up and strip naked and run into the lake. I want to dance under the stars and the sliver of moon poking its head in the distance, rising from the hidden sea.
I think he can feel it in me, this wildness. I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist and the rest of my life doesn’t exist and the only thing that’s certain is here and now.
I want him to kiss me. I want to kiss him.