Maunganui Bluff.

I woke up to the sound of Peter's dogs murdering a possum. Peering out from my tent, down the sandy path towards Peter's place I saw his Jack Russell emerge from flax, jaws wrapped around a possum that looked bigger than the little terrier but considerably smaller than the pit bull terrier that  followed along.

I packed up and went to call on Peter who had said I could have a hot shower if I wanted. As I approached the Jack Russell was in some long grass tearing at possum intestines. Anyway, we had a cuppa and I spread my gear out to decide what to discard. I gave Peter nearly half of my food, a multi tool and a survival kit. I was very happy to shed the weight and he was happy to help lighten the load.

After a shower, I lanced some blisters and put some disinfectant on them courtesy of Peter. I got my boots back on and got a tour of the property. It was the type of place many people dream about having: isolated and secluded but with all you need to get by. Peter lived up there as penance for the transgressions of his past he said; while also explaining his maps of the area to me.

Peter came for a walk with me towards "The Bluff" to look for a wild foal that he had seen lost the day before. We found loads of tracks but no foal. We parted with about 10 more km to go to Maunganui Bluff.

I struggled on down the beach on sore feet and the Bluff, which I could see, seemed to get no closer. Buses and cars whizzed by up and down the beach, skimming through the odd stream here and there making my progress seem even more snail like. I finally arrived around 4PM and made camp. I stayed at the Bluff the next day as well to let my feet get right, cooking on an open fire and watching fishos coming and going.