When your last name matches that of one of New Zealand’s most iconic hikes, you don’t really have a choice – you gotta do it.
Hiking Roy’s Peak Trail had been on my bucket list since the moment I started planning my trip to New Zealand. But as epic as this hike was, I was a little nervous. This would be my first big solo hike – 10 miles/16 kilometers round trip, 4,000+ feet of elevation gain, and roughly four hours up and down the mountain. I didn’t have a lot of experience solo hiking, so this felt like a big unknown first.
I planned my itinerary around a sunset hike. This way, I had the advantage of hiking up in daylight, watching the sunset, and hiking back down a now-familiar trail in the dark.
When the time came, I laced up my hiking boots and stepped foot onto the trail. Just me, the mountain, and an occasional sheep sighting (or so I hoped).
My Experience Hiking Roy’s Peak
I started early on a cloudy late-February morning. February in New Zealand is technically fall, but the weather still felt as warm as a summer day.
It wasn’t long into the climb when I started to feel the sweat drops gather. This is the moment I became SO grateful for the cloud coverage that day.
As I made my way ever so slowly up the hill (always on the lookout for the grazing sheep and cows that roamed the area), my mind started to wander.
The Climb
There’s something about hiking 10 miles alone that gives you a lot of time to think.
You ponder how life brought you to where you are today. You look at the nature all around you and realize just how small we are in comparison to it. You think about how other people halfway around the world are living lives completely separate from the one you’re experiencing.
I had many insights on the way up the trail that day, but there is one that sticks out the most to me. Anyone who’s hiked a mountain trail with switchbacks will likely understand what I’m about to describe.
When you start a mountain hike, you’re at the bottom of the trail looking up at the peak above. From a straight shot perspective, the distance doesn’t seem that far.
But then, as you make your way up, the trail takes a sharp turn. Now, instead of heading toward the peak, you’re heading in the completely opposite direction – the summit behind you. This pattern repeats itself over and over again, winding away before it can take you where you’re meant to go.
At the time I hiked this trail, this metaphor was an accurate representation of how life was feeling for me. I thought I was headed in one direction. I saw a clear path laid out for me. But then life took a sharp turn. I couldn’t see where I was going anymore, so I just had to trust that I was still on the right path.
At some point on that trail hiking up Roy’s Peak, I stopped worrying so much about the endpoint and just started focusing on the trail ahead of me – one tired step at a time. And every time I turned another corner and paused to catch my breath, I looked around and realized there’s beauty on all sides of the trail – not just at the top.
The Summit
Finally, I reached the top, but, unlike the hike up, I wasn’t alone. There was a small group of hikers who had climbed the trail ahead of me. They were taking turns snapping photos of each other at the viewpoint (and let me tell you – that panoramic view was pretty amazing).
I sat for a few minutes, catching my breath and listening to the conversations happening around me, then I joined the line for the photo op (after all, I didn’t come this way not to document the moment, right?).
After we had all taken photos of each other, we decided to hike to the “actual top” – the tip of the peak that officially completed the climb, but that was less traveled, as the main view was what most people came for.
We climbed together, and I got to know the other hikers in the group. I met a newlywed couple from the UK who were on their honeymoon, a doctor from Spain who now lived in San Francisco, and a German traveler on holiday.
Each of us was on our own adventure, but for a few fleeting moments, we were experiencing one together.
After watching the sun go down, we hiked back down in the dark as a group (I was glad for the company), headlamps bobbing and conversations flowing.
I reached the bottom of the trail feeling accomplished. Not only had I hiked my longest trail ever (to date – the next big adventure was just around the corner), but I also discovered that even on a solo journey, you don’t have to be alone. I got to share in the experience with some really cool people and feel part of something bigger, so I guess those switchbacks really had taken me exactly where I needed to go – even if I couldn’t see it from the bottom.
the hiking crew
If you made it this far, thank you. It means a lot that you took the time to read my story about hiking Roy’s Peak.
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