Grinning Ear to Ear - finally back in my happy place and back running

I was only a couple of hours into my weeklong road trip in my sons Mazda Bongo - I had decided during Lockdown that I should head off to the Manawatu and visit my elderly uncles and aunties once things settled down in NZ. A few years ago I helped my son Jordan convert this old van into a self contained camper, and today was my chance to finally test it out. I felt like a hippy without the hair, and a surfer without a board, as I cruised along, loving the loose long gear stick and slight smell of petrol that reminded me of road trips in my teens.

After filling up the way to hungry tank with gas at Taumaranui I turned a corner on the road to National Park and that mighty mid-Island Maunga caught my eye. Its vivid white head and shoulders rising above the surrounding landscape of farmland and bush.

I felt the muscles across my face suddenly tighten from one ear to the other.  Yes, I was grinning ear to ear with the biggest smile I had had for a while.

I pulled over and jumped out to soak in the wonderful sight of Ruapehu, and off his shoulder the equally stunning Ngauruhoe.

It’s not like I hadn’t seen this all before, and this wasn’t some deeply spiritual moment in which I felt connected to the land - that will come when on run on it.  No, this was the pure joy of anticipation.

Running in the National Park has become my happy place. Running around and on Mount Ruapehu is like nowhere else on the Planet.  I have run in the Atlas Mountains and Sahara desert of Morocco, through the canyons of Petra, on snow filled trails in Alberta’s Rocky Mountains, along the banks of the Nile, Seine and Thames, through the lively streets of Rome at midnight, along top of the Great Wall of China’s ‘wild wall’, in the intense heat on the Equator of the Republic of Congo, amongst citadelles in the Pyrenees, and to the Ends of the Earth in Spain.  But nothing beats the Tongariro National Park’s crisp clean air that makes even the grey tones bright, vivid lime-green mosses and deep emerald-green ferns, carpets of white and purple flowers, cascading snow sourced waterfalls and rivers, ancient giant Rimu’s with their trunks that remind me of a Cadbury Flake, tall skinny alpine forests that sing a soft but loud tune in the wind as they sway in unison, lunar like landscapes make you feel very alone but also extremely present, and when the mountain mist clears, unbelievable views across the Island I call ‘home’.

It’s been 13 months since I last ran on the Mountain with a bunch of friends as my final adventure before leaving New Zealand for 5 months. It was also 8 months since I’d venture out on a real running mission as I had been rehabbing from a very swollen Achilles and a very worn out body from 3 full-on years of marathons and ultras. Today I would only be trotting around the ankles of Ruapehu, but it was enough to make me drunk with excitement.

I jumped back in Zartan, Jordan‘s name for the Bongo, and tried to keep my eyes on the road as I drove to Ohakune.  It’s difficult to resist those left-hand glances towards the mesmerising mountain.

Parking in the Marshall Road carpark, I laced up the trail shoes, threw on the pack back - loaded with jacket, phone, emergency blanket and fuel - and hit the Old Coach Road.

This amazing trail between Ohakune and Horopito was built pre-trains in the horse and cart days. Today, it’s a highway for recreational cyclists, day-hikers and the occasional crazy trail runner. From the Powder Horn in Ohakune, to Horopito return, is about 30km. But today, Marshall Road to the railway crossing return will be long enough at 20km, as this will be my longest run in 7 months due to a dodgy achilles I ignored and abused throughout 2019.

Along with the visual feast of chocolate coated Rimu’s and candy coloured mosses, a small detour straight ahead a few kilometres in was worthwhile adventure into a several hundred metre long dark tunnel whose ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, was just enough to guide me to its dead-end.  Running under a couple of huge old and modern viaducts was great, but a second detour to run across the restored Hapuawhenua Viaduct was awesome. Though the timber work underfoot and the hand railing either side is strong and secure, it still felt a little hesitant running along the edge at such a ridiculous height.

It was so good to at last be able to run in the wild of NZ, and to run long. To feel my heart beating and lungs heaving in protest was intoxicating.  Even my dodgy achilles complaining on the winding uphills, finally quietened down on the long gentle downs towards the trails end and my trusty steed

More road to travel, trails to run, friend and families to embrace, but a little adventure in the magical wilderness of New Zealand’s original National Park is the perfect start and  most memorable miles of any road-trip in my book. 

The following few days was a chance to run and write along the southern eastern coast of NZ, and I loved it. He’s a peak at some of the beautiful sites.