Tongariro Alpine Crossing - Part 1

 It starts something like this.

Early morning. Substantial breakfast. Coffee. Sportswear (yes, I do own some of that stuff - no hiking boots though, don't push it!). A backpack containing three litres of water and nutritious snacks. A fucking heavy camera. High expectations - by this point, you've met so many German backpackers raving about it that you think, Scheiße, this has to be good.

So you're all set and ready for this 19,4 km hike through an active volcanic zone.

That sounds like more exercise than what you've done in total over the past 8 years. Probably because it is. But everybody you've spoken to managed to make it to the end (alive, might I add), so why shouldn't you?

The drive into the Tongariro National Park is stunning, in itself. The beautifully calm, lush green New Zealand countryside suddenly changes - rough, wild, almost hostile.

You take a silly picture at the signpost at the start of the track and you're ready to go.

The first couple of kilometres are more or less flat and you think you can handle it.

The landscape becomes more and more arid.

Then you hit the Devil's Stairway. This is just the beginning of it. Soon enough, your knees start to scream and the camera goes into your backpack. You wish you'd been to a spinning class or two, like your friend whose knees seem fine.

You make it to the top, feeling pretty good about yourself, and take in the view. Stunning doesn't even begin to do it justice.

But that's when you notice those tiny little dots, up there. They're moving. No, can't be. Shit, it is. That's people moving up there. That must be the track.

And then it hits you - shit, you're going to have to get up there yourself.

The climb that followed - well, that was an ordeal, I'm not going to lie. I'm not good with heights and this bit was steep. Very steep, in fact. Brittle, loose, sandy rocks. And, all of a sudden, windy too. Fuck.

Ever heard of the expression "no way out but through"? I'm pretty sure it was penned by someone who found him or herself, somehow, at this particular spot on this particular trail. Turning back's not an option. In fact, looking down (or anywhere but straight ahead) is not an option. Deep breaths, small steps.

It's a short stretch, this steep part - it felt like it went on forever.

But hell was it worth it: you reach the top and you've landed on another planet. Photos of that next time.