There’s nothing quite like the buzz of speaking with a big bunch of youth! After a mentally challenging morning at work, I wasn’t really in the head-space to present at lunchtime. But by the time I set up my computer and the classes filed in from the playground, I was ready. By the time I fielded dozens of questions (ranging from “Was there any point during the walk you nearly died?” to “How did you go to the toilet?”) and headed back to the office, I was fizzing.

Love it. Want to do more of it. I get inspired hearing all the adventures these young bundles of energy want to get stuck into. Thanks kids (and Liz) for being wonderful!

Who’s next? How many schools would like me to help with their 2012 ‘goals’ module?

That’s what happened with Geoff Chapple’s vision to create a walking trail that stretches the length of New Zealand. Funding issues, prolonged negotiations for land access, dealing with volunteers and councils and government departments… any of which could have easily been enough for Geoff to throw his hands up and cry “I quit!”

But he didn’t. And on Saturday his steadfast efforts were showcased at the official opening of Te Araroa – the long pathway.

I was excited to receive an invite to the historic event and shall never forget Geoff’s remark as he addressed the crowd: “Three thousand kilometres may seem a lot, but if you have the time you can walk anywhere.” I’d had time that morning to walk from Wellington Airport to Island Bay for the ceremony.

Having a laugh with the inspirational Geoff Chapple, creator of Te Araroa.

The Governor-General unveiled a rock the size of a crouching man, with a large brass plaque attached describing the significance of the spot and what Te Araroa represents. I’m sure anyone who arrives foot-sore and sweaty at Shorland Park will cherish completing their day by touching the stone and reading the words, before hopping down to the water to dip their tired toes.

There was one thing about the day that surprised me. It wasn’t catching up with Rebekah Wright, a fellow hiker I met on the trail a year ago at Kerikeri. It wasn’t being interviewed for TVOne News and appearing briefly in their 6pm segment. It wasn’t even how few Scouts decided to attend the once-in-a-lifetime function.

Rebekah (fellow trail-walker) and I being interviewed by TVOne News.

What surprised me was how inspired I felt as I listened to other long-distance hikers as they spoke of the Pacific Crest Trail (4,286km on the western seaboard of United States, stretching from Mexico to Canada) or the Trans Canada Trail, a proposed 18,078km stroll across the massive country, or even the relatively short 1,000km Bibbulmun Track in Western Australia.

Perhaps – one day – there will be another epic adventure of the walking variety?

No need for a TV with a show like this!

Twelve months ago today this view was my reward for a day of walking along Ninety Mile Beach: my first full day on Te Araroa.

Because the memory is so strong it seems like yesterday I was patching my blisters and getting used to the weight of my pack. Yet in other ways my adventure seems such a long time ago – so much has happened in the 12 months since I started the trek.

Next weekend is the official opening of Te Araroa by His Excellency, Lt Gen The Rt Hon Sir Jerry Mateparae, Governor General of New Zealand at Island Bay in Wellington. There will be live video links from Cape Reinga and Stirling Point.

I’m going to pop along to help celebrate.

The sun was shining; a beautiful ‘traditional’ Canterbury winter’s day. Barely a puff of wind. Barely anyone around. Lots of silence.

Some buildings appeared untouched. Others leant intoxicatedly, wobbly on unstable foundations. Smashed windows leered and broken water pipes spewed murky liquid. Bare sections marked the first-fallen structures.

The main doors leading in to the Christchurch Town Hall are boarded up and fenced off.

Roads are dotted with yawning pits.

Once four storied, these apartments are now three storied, having slipped off and squashed their carport foundation. Beneath the angled timber (bottom left) lays a flattened sedan. Windows are shattered and gaping, displaying a jumble of furniture and abandoned possessions.

Footpaths and roads undulated, pushing the sand and silt and goodness knows what else into zigzagging channels. Puddles were deceptively deep, a calm cap over sharp subsidence in the tarmac. Large carparks were transformed into lakes.

The skyline was unfamiliar. From where Metro Cafe once stood, the BNZ Building is now visible down Colombo Street, the Cathedral’s spire no longer impeding the view. The entire side of Les Mills is now exposed, unhindered by the CTV building. How does the slanting Grand Chancellor continue to defy gravity?

It was a shock to see the main Town Hall entranceway boarded up. The Convention Centre’s door was shattered and the Crowne Plaza (where I used to work years ago when it was a shiny new Park Royal) stood forlornly, a hollow shell.

Yet despite the destruction and in the face of years of renewal, today’s city centre was peaceful. Calm. Quiet. Beautiful.

I wondered what the centre would look like if the demolished buildings were all ‘replaced’ with open spaces, grass, trees and plants – enhancing further our Garden City history.

I wondered what the centre would sound like if cars were kept at bay, with only pedestrians and cyclists and electric buses/delivery vehicles allowed inside the ‘four aves’.

I wondered what the centre would feel like if more people lived there, walked and worked and shopped and ate and learnt and partied and relaxed and played…

Bring it on. Calmly.

I had a fantastic time trekking solo for 2300km along the length of New Zealand this summer. I also hated parts of it. From sunshine and beaches to snow and blisters, I guarantee you’ll laugh at least once as I share tales from the trail.

So gather your audience: school class, community group, sports group, school assembly, coffee group, workplace team, neighbourhood council, volunteer association, youth group… and be prepared to ‘escape’ the wobbles for a while.

Bold print details:

• 26 first-in-first-served one-hour presentations with no speaker fee attached (though a koha is a delightful suruprise!).
• Cosmopolitan Christchurch gets first dibs, and transport to your venue is appreciated (I don’t have a car at present).
• There’s no minimum/maximum audience size. Surprise me!
• Let’s share: one presentation per organisation please.
• Daytime or evening or weekend engagements are up for grabs.

Got a question or want to book your presentation? Simply email me: smiles@stuartfleming.com

The biggest quake I felt on Te Araroa was when I was cooking dinner, sheltered under the entrance-way of the public toilet at Lake Coleridge, out of the rain. Wobble, wobble…

Obviously, today I was much closer to the epicentre. They were sudden, violent and lingering shakes. Thankfully, being on the western side of the city the house I am staying in suffered no damage. Power stayed on, no liquefaction, no breakages.

It disrupts your day. The work I had hoped to complete grinds to a halt as internet connections drop and cellphones don’t work. Your distracted mind wanders to friends in other parts of town and wonder how they have fared. You imagine the central city covered in dust again as fragile buildings succumb to the further shakes. Your heart goes out to the demolition crews who would have been amongst the barrage…

It’s a similar feeling to when I was miles away from home in February: helpless.

Why do I stay? Because it’s home.

I’m fortunate that I haven’t lost a home or lost loved ones or had to shovel silt. I’ve started to work remotely – not dependent on my location – so I could easily move my stuff to another part of the country. Yet I have friends here. I have (ageing) family here. I ‘know’ the city – I love being able to drive around, confident in my route.

The vision I have in my mind is a future Christchurch vibrant with creative energy, a technological gem, a melting pot of learning and playing and arts and family and nature. A city positioned as a must-visit destination for every traveller. A city spotlighted for its ‘can do’ (and ‘did!’) attitude. A city leading the world in urban design and people-friendly living.

I just hope these continuing earthquakes don’t scare off the people who can help make this happen…

It won’t simply be a re-hash of the blog posts I’ve put up. It will be a warts-and-all-and-blisters-too account of the 88 days I spent walking 2,300km from Cape Reinga to (almost!) Bluff.

It won’t be: Day 1, walked. Day 2, walked some more. Day 3, blister forming and did some walking.

Plus, I’m hatching an idea for a very special add-on item which you won’t want to miss.

To everyone who has already placed their order, an enormous THANKS! If you’d like to grab one of the remaining two dozen, simply click the ‘donate’ button at the right of this page and flick me $50. Too easy.

FYI: I’m working to a pre-Christmas production deadline, so it should be ready for under-the-tree…

For 88 days this was my morning routine. Simple, huh?

Sure there were other things to think about, like the weather and the route and my aching body and my gear and the cashflow and the list goes on…

Yet this over-riding simplicity of ‘walking’ is something I now miss.

For suddenly I have a multitude of things to focus on:

• I’ve started an exciting new role with Total Media Magic.
• I have a manuscript to complete.
• I have a speaking career to develop and promote.
• I’m back in full swing with Scout executive board and training team commitments.

It’s proving a challenge to not feel overwhelmed by the growing ‘to-do’ list. I’m doing my best to think of it as a ‘ta-da’ list

It’s strange being back in a world dictated by the clock, having to be places at specific times instead of letting the hours of daylight be my marker.

It’s weird to know I have boxes of possessions waiting for me once I decide where to live (and can afford to do so) yet continue to manage with the bare basics.

It’s scary seeing how complicated life is for some people.

I’m going to aim for ‘simple’.

It’s been a fascinating (which is a euphemism for: emotional, crappy, euphoric, tumultuous, frustrating) process of recuperation. Being on the sidelines waiting for my shin to recover has messed with my mind and created some dark days and some sunny days.

I refuse to wait with my life on standby any longer.

• I want to give my leg time to heal fully with no pressure to recommence a physically demanding trek by a certain date, especially with the weather now rather unfavourable.

• I want to dedicate effort to writing the book without the shadow of “But how will it end?” looming overhead.

• I want to get stuck into another couple of opportunities (I might even call them ‘adventures’ in their own right) that have presented themselves.

• I want to get back to a financially healthy position.

Will I end up completing the remaining 700-ish kilometres to Bluff? Only time will tell, as that is another decision for another day.

Some of you will applaud my choice. Some will frown. Only a couple of people (long-distance walkers themselves) will fully understand.

Either way, I truly appreciate your support and encouragement. Thank you.

It’s certainly been an adventure ‘plus’…

Dr Mel is quietly happy with my progress. She gave me some big words to describe my shin: tibialis anterior tendinitis. That means ‘irritated tendon’.

Turns out Dr Mel’s colleague – who ranked my injury as “one of the most severe” cases she’s seen – was none other than Dr Deb, who is team doctor for the All Blacks. She was surprised I could walk at all, but when she said it might take up to four weeks to come right, I don’t think I registered the timeline.

Yet four weeks (if not longer) is now a distinct possibility. If I decide to be pig-headed and carry on regardless, I run the risk of doing permanent injury. That would mean my next forty years of hiking, dancing and tennis would be toast, which is unacceptable. Consequently, I’m following Dr Mel’s instructions.

A number of potential actions are swirling around my brain:

• I hang up my shoes and call the adventure over. I always said this trek was to “see if I can walk Cape Reinga to Bluff” and whilst I’ve walked a very, very long way, it would seem that I might not be able to go the distance. [As much as it feels like “I’m almost there” – and I greatly appreciate the supportive comments which reflect that – please remember I still have 600-700km to go. That’s a big walk in its own right, let alone in winter.]

• I press ‘pause’ and resume where I left off once warmer (and safer) weather conditions return in the spring/summer, sticking to the Te Araroa route. My intuition tells me this isn’t a good idea.

• I rest up for 2-3 weeks more and then modify the intended route, sticking primarily to roadsides (instead of going back-country) and make a bee-line for Bluff. I would need a support person in a campervan or an arranged sequence of hosts who could pickup/dropoff since I don’t see carrying a full, heavy pack to be a wise idea.

I’m curious – what would you do? Your goal is threatened. Your physical health is not 100%. Your bank balance is less than zero. The season is against you. What would you do?