March 18 - 20. The Routeburn Track links Te Anau (Fiordland National Park) with Queenstown (Mt. Aspiring National Park). Absolutely amazing.

With the Nissan packed to the brim and our packs equally full, five girls set off to see what this Kiwi 'tramping' was all about. Here's what I know - First, it's amazing how many different landscapes one encounters in this country. Around each corner awaits something entirely different yet equally breathtaking. One minute you'd think you were in Colorado, tramping alongside looming pine trees and snow capped peaks (minus the altitude). Soon after you might find yourself in a plush South American jungle, exotic green mosses and ferns abound. A quick jaunt soon becomes interrupted by your arrival in Peru with clouds looming among steep green mountains. A few cascading waterfalls later, its the French Alps or Middle Earth itself. And lets not forget Africa...at one point we awoke to what seemed to be the Kilimanjaro base camp, complete with sweeping golden prairies. And that my friends is the Routeburn track and NZ in general. 7 continents. 12 months. 4 seasons and 32 flavors all in one single day.

In all we walked/hiked/tramped/traversed 36 K...of course not without some hilarious stories, good food and a few nicknames. For starters, meet my pal "Cheese & Herbs" (i.e. Aine). This character was in charge of purchasing the Pitas for our two lunches of PB & J. It didn't take long to realize that they were in fact Cheese & Herb flabored -- a fine focaccia flavor I might add, but not ideal for PB & J. It sufficed in the rainy weather and was worth a good laugh or three. Moving on, meet Fern Dive (i.e. Taylor) This already gimped-out lady (tore her ACL 2 months ago) took a dive to the ferns the first day- nearly sparining her ankle. Luckily there was no carrying involved and thanks to Dr. Kirsten - she managed.

My nickname? Marge. I'm the genius, or savvy thrift shopper, who purchased discount gaiters all for one trade-off - one medium and one large gaiter. While these red water-proof, mud-mucking, leg-warmers-for-the-tramper are oh so stylish, I must admit I preferred the medium. ha. but hey for all the river crossings (about 8), it was worth the nickname and the mismatching.

As for the tramp itself, we unfortunately had low visibility and heaps of rain when we hit the Saddle and supposedly stellar views on Saturday. But Sunday's weather made up for it. The valley we camped in opened up to the likes of Kilimanjaro and the bluest of skies. Our hike out was a mere 2 1/2 hours so we tacked on a day hike up the valley...incredible. After meandering in knee high, crystal clear rivers, we chilled in a bowl of mountains. Nice way to spend a Sunday.

We finished off our trip solo-hiking - how liberating it was! And to realize how far your own feet can take you. I've really come to better understand all of those soul-searching, mount-climbing, hitch-hiking dream-chasers out there (though I'm still not down for hitching!).

But the company of friends was excellent just as well. We screamed off high peaks, sang as we skipped through valleys, stopped to take way too many pictures, and cooked some dang good meals. It's amazing, too, the people you meet out on the trails - a Brit who sold his dairy farm to travel, an attorney from D.C. who needed to get away, a pair of youngens from Canada without rain gear but full of an appetite for spontaneity. Everyone has a story.

I should say a note about the NZ tramping system. For backpacking, it's rather posh. The campsites have running water....and don't even get me started on the huts (we opted for tenting it -but these huts are mini chalets right there in the backcountry). But it's not all luxury - NZ hosts some devious sandflies - little buggers that appear as harmless as a gnat but bite much worse than mosquitoes.

That's about it for the Routeburn- one of NZ's great walks. I read a quote, "Landscapes are a collection of stories." If that be the case, NZ has countless chapters waiting to be read - be it ice climbing, river running, bungy jumping, vineyard touring, mountain biking or parading through Old cities. There is a sense of clarity that emanates from this country. It is vast in its opportunities, holding so much potential for the mind, body and soul alike. Yet it is small and familiar, an old friend with landscapes you'd surely seen hundreds of times over.

And that's what the Routeburn was - I washed my face in freshly fallen water, skipped over boulders and around tree roots. I hugged giant trees that towered in such a way that even Big Foot would feel small. I felt moss run through my finger tips and felt the squishing my wet smartwools between my toes. I jumped intentionally in puddles of mud and rinsed them too in the clearest of streams. I saw a half moon rising and the setting sun. I saw clouds roll in and roll out again. I reflected. And laughed - so hard my stomach hurt. I shouted at the top of my lungs and whispered "wow" all the same.

And for all of this, I am different. I most certainly have a better appreciation for quality outdoor gear and a greater respect for the soloists of this world who seek understanding in the woods. I have closer friendships, stronger legs and 35 sandfly bites. I have a clearer vision of my own capabilities to survive and thrive on my own. I realize how precious solitude is but how dearly I wish to share my discoveries with those back home. I have walked 20 miles into the great outdoors, exiting with a thirst only to return. And that is a wonderful thought to have dancing in my head.