“There really are no rules. Smile in a big cheesy way. If they shrug it means no room in the car. Carry a sock full of stones. I’ve never had a bad hitch though.”
Sweet as. Let’s do this.
Whakapapa Village is about a four or five hour walk away from where I live/work. It has lots of hikes and is at the base of Mt. Ruapehu, the large volcano. I don’t have my own car, so getting there is a bit difficult unless I hitch.
I figured it was high time we gave it a try.
Rachel, my English coworker, joined me as we set out for the junction that would put us in the right direction.
“We’ll give it 20 minutes before we head back. It isn’t the best time of day.”
Five minutes later, a Frenchman with long hair and California tan pulled his car onto the gravel shoulder.
I mean he also ended up taking us too far, but all good. We were a bit amused by the fact that we were on a stretch of road less likely than before to have people who would pick us up and was frequently without traffic.
I put the Disney playlist on shuffle.
“LIFE IS A HIGHWAYYYYYY. IM GONNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LOOOOONG.”
Eventually another sweet Frenchman picked us up. He was also headed to Whakapapa Village and we were able to begin our actual hike to Taranaki Falls.
It’s a lovely waterfall. If you ever head this way, be sure to take a look. I was able to scramble along behind it and you have beautiful alpine views for the whole way back.
“I’d like to be back by six so I can go climbing with a couple of the firefighters. But that depends on whether or not we can get a ride huh?”
We stood on the edge of the street watching the empty lane stretch up the mountain.
So what we were learning from this at that point is the nicer cars are less likely to pick us up, camper vans have converted seats, and obviously don’t bother with the shuttles unless it’s Tracy, our lodge’s shuttle provider. We figured she’d probably stop for us.
“Someone will stop eventually. We aren’t stuck here.”
“Unless there is no one to stop.”
Before too long, a Polish couple pulled up. They were ultimately headed the other direction, but we got to the crossroads, saving ourselves at least 7km of walking.
“It should be pretty easy to get a ride from here.”
15 minutes later: “YOU HAD THREE SEATS IN YOUR CAR, ARE LITERALLY GOING DIRECTLY TO OUR HOME, AND ARE CLEARLY A BACKPACKER. We’re two females for crying out loud. We can’t do anything to you culturally speaking! I swear to God I’m picking up hitchhikers whenever I can.”
Then a nice Canadian couple, who were headed to accommodation down the street from Howard’s Mountain Lodge, slowed for two ladies with their thumbs up and somewhat desperate smiles.
“Thank you so so so much!”
We swapped stories about the North Island, passed on advice about the Tongariro Crossing, and expressed deep gratitude for their willingness to give us a lift.
I made it to climbing by 6:30.
Not bad for our first hitch, ey?