Translation to English

The entertainment on our hike came from the five New Zealand hikers we met at the Mangetepopo hut our first night, Paul the Carpenter, Jono the Electrician, Kimbo, Aron and Andrew. They showed us how to cook up a excellent pudding and taught us to speak the way New Zealanders do.

By the time we reached the hut that first day, John and I were zonked. The sun was just starting to redden into the clouds. When we finally settled into cooking dinner, I looked out the kitchen window at the sky. She was going to be an awesome sunset.

"What do you want for dinner?" John called to me. I was sitting at the wooden table with my feet up being a bit of a bum. "It's all the same to me," I called back. "I could sure go for a beer."

John whipped up a delicacy fit for tired muscles, dehydrated noodles, dehydrated peas and the zucchini we'd bought at the corner store. We squeezed at the table along with the group of Australian girls and enjoyed our meal. It was good grub. For desert we had tons of cookies and cocoa. They were the best.

Just as John was finishing the dishes, the New Zealand's walked into the hut. We all got to talking. The five of them were up in the mountains for a three days hike. They must have really hoofed it, they'd gone twice the distance we had that day. Our conversation circled the gambit of topics, from the New Zealand drivers who seem to get pissed with our yellow heap that can't go more than 90 (at least we won't get tagged by the speed cameras) to a prize winning commercial where a New Zealand driver is blowing doors booking down the road with the laundry in his four-wheeler.

After a while the hut grew dark and we lit the candles, and we lit the candles, and we lit the candles again. The door was half open from the Australian girls who kept going in and out so that the wind kept putting them out.

Our conversation with the guys continued. We talked about our jobs and where we lived. John and I of course were leading the easy life with no fixed abode. The five of them were from Auckland. By 9:30 pm I was too zonked to keep talking so John and I said goodnight and crawled into our tent out back. In the morning we had to climb a steep incline and we needed our rest.

"You'll be ship shape in the morning," John assured me and indeed when I woke up, I felt on top of the world. We set out at 8:30 after a breakfast of bread, oatmeal and a mug of hot tea. We hadn't been on the trail more than half an hour when the five New Zealand guys dressed in their Swandry coats caught up to us. A quick "good day" and "how do" and they were off. The steep hill ahead must have seemed like a piece of cake to them. It took us a bit longer but eventually we made it up the saddle and into the South crater. It was time for a break.

We made it to the Ketetahi hut by 3:30 pm, seven hours after we had set out on the trail. One of the New Zealanders was just ahead of me as we descended the last few kilometers to the hut. I tried to catch up to him but my muscles were screaming. I was whipped. I couldn't come within ten feet of him if I tried. His friends joined him at the hut an hour later. They had set out to bag Ngauruhoe. They didn't make it though, They'd been beaten by the rain.

"Do you want a hot cup of tea?" John asked me. "Good idea!" I said. "Don't worry, you'll be ship shape by morning," he reassured me. After my first cup, he offered another. "The night's young," he said. "No thanks," I replied. "I need to catch some zs."

By 9 pm it was a stop at the biffy, a good night to the New Zealanders and I crawled into my sleeping bag. "Don't bother waking me up in the morning," I told John and I was out like a light.

Looking back, I'd say that my first hike was a great one. It was great to be in the mountains in the middle of nowhere. The views were fab and the company at the huts was choice.