Fail

Sorry this is so long, but there's a story we have to get off our chests. And you'll probably enjoy it.

I've got some time off between Christmas and the New Year. Idea! Why not go on a little trip and see this country we now live in? Perfect. We haven't had too many opportunities to explore beyond Wellington.

The only problem is, neither of us are really into it for some reason. Getting old perhaps. I don't know. It's odd that we feel this way, but we recognize the window of opportunity, force ourselves to put together some outline itinerary and hope that inspiration will come as we go along. This is half successful. We've got a plan, but still limited enthusiasm. Oh well. First stop, a couple nights backpacking in Tongariro National Park. This should be fun. Nature rarely disappoints. Then continue on with a multi-day road trip loop of the North Island.

Let us count the ways this trip was doomed.

1. We're going to Mt. Doom.
2. Wech has a bum ankle from frisbee (which I got by actually trying not to hurt myself by staying up instead of going to the concrete-hard ground for a disc). This delayed our departure for a couple days, hoping to heal it up enough for hiking shape.
3. Ready. Set. Wait. There's a big ass storm coming tomorrow. 120 - 160 km/hr winds and up to 200mm of rain in < 24 hours. Even with their inflated metric numbers, that's some significant weather.
4. Start hiking. All good. Trail is....washed out and terrible. No bigs. We're scrappy. Smiles. Fun. OH GOD MY ANKLE!!!
5. Hobble hobble.
6. 3 hours into our scheduled 8 hour hike in. Lunch break...Rest. Hydration. MOLDY BAGELS?!?! What the #$#%? We just bought this yesterday!
7. Limping on, Wech starts feeling light headed, dizzy and anomalously weak. Go ahead. I'm throwing you a softball. Many many hours later, we reach our campsite. Defeated. Drained. Ankle is pissed!
8. Dinner. A couple meals in a bag. Usually my favorite part of the day. 1 of the 2 we got, terrible. It didn't really cook properly. Everything was al-dente and gross. Yeah I'm whining here, but it's been that kind of day (see 1-7).
9. Fall asleep with the sun still up. I think Barbs stayed up playing cards by herself. In the middle of the night, I start shivering. No bigs, cover up. Done. Still shivering. Ok, get some little spoon action. Done. Still shivering, getting more violent. OK. Put on more clothes. Done. At this point I am in my thermal underwear top and bottoms, pants, thick socks, down jacket, and down sleeping bag getting spooned by Barbs but and STILL shivering like the death coming. It's so violent it's starting to upset my stomach. For reference, Barbs isn't even in thermal underwear. It isn't cold.
10. Wake up after our long night with two days of hiking in front of us. My ankle can't take any more, I feel like crap, and Barbs is done with this hiking thing. We decide to pull the plug and make it out while we're close. We're 1.5 hours walk from a parking lot on this side of the park where we can grab a shuttle to our car on the other side.
11. 3 hours later, we reach the parking lot with 2 bad ankles. Barbie pulled up lame about a half mile before the finish line. Now where's that shuttle? Wait. Do you have any money? No, do you? No. Crap. That's OK, we'll just head to the road and hitchhike.
12. One sunburned hour later, we've seen about 7 cars. No luck. We did get a lot of thumbs up back at us though. Um, thanks? Who does that? Or maybe it was our technique. Perhaps the thumb isn't the way to do it in Kiwiland?
13. Back to the parking lot. We waited around for a few hours. Wech has the chills and body aches. Finally a shuttle came by that was heading our desired direction. The driver was suspicious, but some fast talking convinced him that we did have money and would pay when we got there. Phew.
14. 4:00 and we're back at the car, paid for the shuttle. All is good. Let's go get some food and decide if we want to salvage the rest of the trip or not.
15. Yay. Restaurant. Recovery. Eating. Talking. Laughing at the early 90's music videos on the TV. AND WECH SPRINTS* FOR THE BATHROOM!!!!
    *not exactly given my ankle and the added fight and strain my glutes were under. And picture me stepping on Barbs' bad ankle in the process.
    (Side note: Kiwi milkshakes are not like US milkshakes. No thick icecreamy goodness. Still good if you know what you're getting into, but disappointing otherwise) 
16. 20 minutes later. A shaken shell of his former self emerges. OK. Trip-time is over. All the signs are there. Let's cut our losses.
17. Gimping back to the car. OH GOD. Back to the restaurant. "Don't mind me. I just forgot my...." AND WECH SPRINTS* FOR THE BATHROOM!!!!
18. OK. Even more hallowed. Back to the car. Let's get the *$#@ out of here. We've got a projected 4 to 4.5 hours back to Wellington. But this number doesn't account for 3 additional stops at public restrooms. Can we please just get home?
19. Final stretch. But wait! There's a cop in the road wearing a yellow vest making some casual arm motion to us. What does that mean? Stop? No. That's not what he's saying. Slow down and go through? That seems more appropriate given the vague gesture. Maybe we're supposed to give a thumbs up back at him? OK. Slow down and pass through. Cut to 30 seconds later. Lights. Sirens. Barbie being breathalized. I'm in the passenger seat with my fever producing a fierce don't-ask-me-about-the-herion level of inhuman sweat pouring down my face. Apparently that wishy-washy dance move meant stop. No harm. No foul.
20. Home. I spent the next 24+ hours which included New Year's Eve with a fever and an uphill gastrointestinal battle.

That pretty much sums it up. It's surprising that we can laugh about it already. Back to the drawing board. Where did we go wrong?