“Did you go on the walk today?” A group of three men stared up at us from a table in the communal kitchen of a lodge in National Park, New Zealand.  I had begun the process of building some hearty peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches for the next days hike. My partner, Lyle, divvied up trail mix and cookies into our respective bags. 

The Approach

“Tomorrow,” I replied. “How about you?”

Each of their expressions suggested that yes, they had in fact walked the 20 kilometer Tongariro Alpine Crossing trail. One grimaces, another sheepishly grins, while another is wearing a huge, toothy smile.  

This trail is why most of us have traveled to the center of the north island. The internet touts it as one of the “top 10 single day treks in the world” and “New Zealand’s most beautiful day hike.”  

“I liked it!” exclaimed one of the men. 

“It was brutal,” said another, less enthusiastically. 

A day before, I told our plans to our taxi driver. I explained how a friend had suggested the trek and the internet’s strong accolades were quite persuasive. He aptly replied, “One thing about New Zealand is that we’re very good at marketing.” 

The Journey

The following morning, our transport from the hotel to the trailhead arrived right on time at 5:45 AM. We’d checked the weather frequently over the last week. Neither of us were surprised to wake up to a world shrouded in clouds and a slight drizzle. 

“You’ve packed your rain gear haven’t you?” asked our driver, eyeing our small packs.

“Of course,” Lyle replied.

Our driver had guided this trail long before there was an established track. His take: it’s too commercialized these days.

After donning our rain jackets, we struck off on the trail. I watched hopefully as one tiny blue spot of sky started growing between the low hanging clouds. 

The well-beaten track meandered through a beautiful expanse of grassland as we began our journey to the saddle. The drizzle strengthened to steady rain as we approached the Soda Springs waterfall. It was time to step into our rain pants. This is where the climb really began to steepen. Despite a lack of views due to the fog, I was delighted by the colorful terrain. The minerals in the volcanic rocks tinted them orange and deep black lava rock was scattered throughout. The higher we hiked, the stronger the wind and rain became, though. Navigating the rocky path and bracing against the wind, I noticed a gorgeous Celmisias flower thriving in the harsh environment. My legs were trembling and the wind threatened to blow me over. I thought, “If a flower can survive this, then so can I.”

The Summit

Upon reaching the summit, I couldn’t help but wish I could see Mordor from Lord of the Rings. Instead, our view was limited to the rocky terrain surrounding us and the fog thickened. Peering down towards the path ahead of us, I could barely see an emerald hue beneath the fog. At the top, we briefly considered eating our sandwiches, however quickly abandoned that plan as the wind howled. Down the scree slope we continued.

As we approached the emerald lakes I’d seen in photos, I tested the water with my fingertips. I remembered my fantasy of hiking this trail. My dream of taking a dip in one of these lakes on a bluebird day. Today was not that day. In the distance, we could see steam streaming from a fumarole along a ridge. My thoughts lingered on the tale of an eruption in 2012. I imagined the group of young students who had been on the trail and escaped unharmed. I envisioned rocks flying overhead and the earth rumbling beneath our feet. Luckily, today was not that day, either.

From here, the track traverses the saddle and we walked across the Central Crater. The surrounding peaks sheltered us from the wind and the flat landscape provided some relief to my aching thighs. The clouds, however, persisted. At the ninth mile Lyle asked how I was feeling. I started this hike in brand new shoes (rookie mistake) and was feeling discouraged by the weather. “I could be done now,” I replied. We still had four miles to go. Being the eternal optimist on the trail, Lyle encouraged me to keep going. He pointed out how good it felt to confront the weather’s challenges.

The Culmination

I spent the last four miles marveling at the flora flourishing between the rocks. There were yellow flowers and grasses swaying in the breeze. Creeks trickled across rock beds and water droplets clung to star-shaped plants along the trail. Finally, we were in a forest of Mamaku and Kātote, gorgeous fern trees towering over our heads. The transition from stark volcanic landscape to tropical rainforest was a pleasant surprise as we neared the end.

Despite its austerity on this particular day, I understand why people refer to the Tongariro Alpine Crossing as “top 10.” I still appreciate the beauty despite our lack of sweeping views. If asked if this hike was “worth it,” the answer will always be a resounding yes. We conquered something that at times felt insurmountable (summiting in the forceful wind). Accomplishing such a distance under our own power will always be fulfilling to me.

The question of worth on any outdoor adventure has always puzzled me as a Green Tortoise guide. Whether you’re lacing up your shoes for a short walk to a waterfall or embarking on a longer journey to hike to the top of Angel’s Landing, I will always tell you it is worth it. The time of day may not warrant the perfect Instagram-worthy lighting or distant peaks may be shrouded in clouds. Taking the time to appreciate nature will never be in vain.

Ultimately, the grimace, the grin, and the wide-toothed smile of our friends at the hotel are the perfect reflection of this day hike. It was brutal. It was remarkable. It was a journey I won’t soon forget and would certainly do again.