Slackpacking is section backpacking while sleeping in the same place each night
I’m a tourist right now, loosely “walking” the trail through Auckland on a bright sunny day. Back to the ferry building with the spectacular red lamps, popped into the DOC office to pick up my hut pass for the coming months, primarily in the south island.
I join a free walking tour and learn of a statue made in the 1960s to honor the Maori, and made by a woman – all sorts of impossible awarenesses converging. The sun burns, so I wear my hat and seek shade. At Queen and Customs, the signal stops all traffic and people casually pour into the street like a slow motion dance choreographed for some in choppy straight lines, others striding diagonally.
I am laying in a bed letting the body recover until all hours of the morning, make that the afternoon. Susie is the daughter of friends of my mother-in-law. You can’t imagine how nice it feels to hear her say, “Make yourself at home!”
And I am doing just that with her lovely family.