Without a Hitch:  Getting to New Zealand's Rob Roy Track

By Bradlee Arendt, Freelance Writer

May 2007

Let me introduce you to an age-old traveling technique. I must warn you, however, because it has bittersweet potential. On one hand it can save you a lot of money. On the other, every time you do it, you are putting your life in danger.

Face oncoming traffic, extend the arm closest to the passing vehicles and point your thumb skyward. You are now hitchhiking.

The gods of travel introduced this technique to me long before I was in New Zealand. I would hear fatal news reports about it, drive past shady-looking characters trying it and I even did it a few times back in my small and safe town of Collegeville, Minnesota.

But now in an unfamiliar country, with no cheap mode of transportation other than our hiking-boot-clad feet, my traveling companion Nicole and I were about to give free travel a go and face danger head-on.

The town of Wanaka rests in the only flat area around Lake Wanaka. The lake, the fourth largest on the South Island of New Zealand, rests on a north-south axis and is approximately 26 miles long and 6 miles across at its widest point.

High peaks rising to over 6,560 feet above sea level line its western shore with lower peaks hugging its east.

It was first a summer settlement for the early Otago Maori, who used the lake for the summer fishing and fowling.

Now it’s a popular resort, greatly visited in the summer for boating, swimming and fishing. Wanaka’s neighboring mountains and fast-flowing rivers provide for adventure all year round, with skiing and jetboating facilities nearby.

The Purple Cow hostel welcomed us with open arms. It was $25 NZD a night but the room included a kitchen and bath. No more community showers or waiting to cook our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, thank God.

Nicole and I asked a man in the lounge what there was to do around these parts. His name was Stewart and he had the grizzled traveler’s look, the look that says, “I’ haven’t shaved in a week because I’ve been too busy making desk-job junkies jealous.” Let’s just say it wasn’t by coincidence that we chose him in our inquiry.

He said if we were interested in hiking, the place to go was the Rob Roy track.

“Yeah it’s about 36 K up the road and I’ve heard it’s amazing,” Stewart said in his precious New Zealand accent.

We informed him that we didn’t have a car to get there so 36 kilometers might be a bit of a stretch.

“Hitch,” Stewart replied blankly while looking straight past us. “Yeah, I’ve been doing it all over New Zealand.”

Hitch, you say? As in hitchhike? Intriguing.

I would have signed on right away if it could guarantee me the all-inclusive outdoorsy look with the facial hair, but I had my partner to consider, and she wouldn’t look good with facial hair.

The talk of the Rob Roy track wet our appetite and the hike was in order. Now getting there was the only problem.

We checked out our options. A taxi was a big no-no because we didn’t have much money.          

Why not rent a car? You’re not listening, We didn’t have much money.

In town we asked a nice lady who sold jewelry about hitchhiking.

“Everyone does it. Oh yeah, I’ve picked up a hitchhiker myself.”

It was all the confirmation we needed. Tomorrow we were going the 36 km to the Rob Roy track, and we were hitching to get there.

When morning came we grabbed our packed lunches, loaded them into a backpack, along with other necessary items for a four-hour hike, and headed for Mount Aspiring Road.

Going into the experience, we thought that we would be picked up within a few cars. We were informed that if you look presentable, you get picked up no problem.

The first car that passed wasn’t a major slam to the ego. Neither was the second. But by the 30th car we were wondering what was wrong with us. We weren’t covered in blood or wildly brandishing machetes. We were just two average looking hikers.   About 37.5 cars (one was really tiny) after the first thumb thrust, a couple in an SUV pulled over to give us a ride.

They were both from New Zealand in their mid-thirties. When we congratulated them on being our first ride we’d ever hitched they talked of how they weren’t buying into the culture of fear that was spreading around the world. They made their kids walk to school, didn’t lock their doors and often gave rides to hitchhikers. As many people are installing security systems and purchasing personal firearms to keep them “safe,” it was encouraging to hear their personal creed. But on the other hand I do live America, where fear pours out of every media outlet in the nation.

They dropped us off about three miles down the road. Thanking them, we continued now with the natural buzz that comes only from taking a risk and succeeding.

We rounded a bend and saw a group of sheep entering the road from the left. Their shepherd was herding them towards another field about a half-a-mile away. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four. The sheep kept pouring out of the gate until there were around 1000 wooly beasts scampering across the road, up the ditch and then back. If one made a move, the masses would sweep in behind. It was quite comical to watch this sea of panic-ridden animals fall all over themselves to move down the road.

“There’s a van,” Nicole said pointing at a camper van that had stopped to wait for the sheep.

So what, I thought, not impressed. We have those in America too, you know.

“Ask them if we could hitch a ride from them,” Nicole suggested.

Oh. I asked and after receiving a hesitant yes, we climbed aboard. Suddenly we were slowly plowing our way through a crowd of sheep with a couple from Holland. The two were traveling to avoid getting a job back home, a storyline that was becoming quite common with the young travelers we met.

They were heading to Diamond Lake to do some hiking, but our conversation was suddenly cut short when they realized they missed their turn. They dropped us off and we were on foot again.

Our next impromptu traveling companions were a husband and wife from Ireland. They were driving meticulously slow, afraid their rental car was going to shatter like fine china on the next pothole. Progress was painful. I glanced out the window and saw two people that looked a lot like Nicole and me. Where did they come from? And they were beating us, walking slightly faster than the tortoise-like car. Turns out it was my over-active imagination. I glanced at the speedometer to see it hovering right around 5 km/hr. I looked back out the window again to see Nicole and I on wide-eyed sheep scampering past the car. Something had to give.

Luckily, after about two miles the couple decided to turn back. We thanked them and stepped out of the car, careful not to slam the doors too hard. Free at last, we hiked up the road and waited for the next car to pass.

The hot sun started beating us into the gravel without a car in sight. We started second guessing our decision to hitch as we trudged on, weaving across the road from one shade patch to another.

After walking quite a distance with no cars coming from either way, a white station wagon came barreling around the corner. A quick thumb thrust got him to slow and we jumped in.

The driver was a builder from Wanaka who had his dad, visiting from Wellington, in the passenger seat. They were going to do a little hiking on none other than the Rob Roy track.

We had struck it rich. We now had a ride the rest of the way to the track. We cruised down the road with no fear of potholes. Upon encountering some streams that where casually crossing the road, the driver slowed a touch and plowed through them.

We saw the parking lot from a distance and knew we had made it. Exiting the car, we thanked our fellow travelers. Our minds were at peace with the realization that our first hitchhiking adventure had gone off without too many bumps in the road.

We looked toward the track. All there was left to do now was hike.

Oh, and find a way back.

**All photos by Bradlee Arendt

©2004-2006 Live Life Travel. All rights reserved.
Terms of Use | Privacy Statement | Articles Listed by Country
design by: EPOIA Interactive Studios, LLC