A volcano! Peanut butter and jelly! (Sound familiar?) The famed Emerald Pools glimmering in all their sulphuric glory! And whassat? A foreign camera tucked suddenly between our ears!
YeahNOPE.
Tongariro Crossing, you suck.
I do not accept your prestigious status as being among the top 10 day hikes in the world. You’re a pretty little thing, sure, I’ll grant you that, and you happen to possess an otherworldly beauty, I’ll agree. But your soul! Ack, your soul is battered, abused, and you attract the worst kind of self indulged savages that are only interested in you for your looks. And you! You do nothing to defend yourself! Their only intent is to parade you around in front of their friends, their cocky smiles proof that they’ve done you. And they may have touched you. Mounted you. But they haven’t FELT your curves, haven’t OBSERVED you in your natural state. I’ll bet those strings of admirers don’t even know what your breath smells like in the morning, or how you really act when no one’s looking. You’re meaningless to them, merely a memory and a photo that they’ll pull out at the bar when they want to impress their next conquest. And you let them walk all over you! Le sigh.
But alas, I let them walk all over me too when I didn’t smack back the motherfucker’s hand when he stuck his Sony Powershot all up in my grill. Furthermore, I let the opportunity float away to yell HELL NO at the ass clown that asked me to move outta his way so he could take a selfie. Sure, want me to hop down this cliff face here, as you and your 6 pals are blocking the only exit? Should, coulda, woulda. Damn that Minnesotan passive aggression, that fighting spirit beneath that’s only allowed release in the pages of my journal. Eric and I had crawled out onto an out-of-the-way ledge once we reached the main event in order to eat our celebratory sandwiches in peace, when this all went down. We were allowed to eat for 5 minutes before our location was seized upon by eager passersby with selfie sticks (mentioned above) asking us to move so they could stand in our spot for a photo. (I realize the drama is a bit unclear, getting lost in the rage and metaphors. OH to the WELL.)
Closing notes on the Tongariro Crossing:
I kept getting irritated with Eric on the hike before I realized he wasn’t intentionally releasing toxic plumes of suffocating gas. He wasn’t at all, in fact. But if you did opt for the Indian last night, the sulphur would be the perfectly sour scapegoat.
Another pro tip: a breakfast before you begin of hard boiled eggs is ill advised. I had to try very hard to suppress the contents of my stomach to keep them from crawling up, out, and all over the track.
We are opting for less popular hikes from now on. The more tourists we find, the less fun we tend to have. It’s also dirtier, louder, and a hubbub of overexcited activity centered around selfies. Pass.
-K
^ Sunrise! If you’re not starting a hike with a flashlight, you’re not doing it right.
^ View from the bottom (ish) to the top (ish.) The little hut to the right while adorable, is currently unusable. A chunk of volcano fell on it 4 years ago. Crashed through the roof. And there’s still glass and debris scattered about in the bedroom, while the eruption and crater are being studied. Yikes, eh?
^”DEAR!”
“What, does the light look good on me?”
*Sheepish grin + a nod + a snap*
^ Pretty.
