About two weeks before the world was locked down back in 2021, a good mate of mine Chantel and I packed up for a couple of weeks of hiking in glorious NZ. We had no idea at the time just how lucky we were to sneak this trip in. Before we get to the heart of the adventure though, can I please take a moment to acknowledge the fabulous woman at Sydney International Airport who keenly handed over her 750mL pump bottle of hand wash at security and then looked on in shock as it was confiscated. The staff explained to her that liquids need to be under 100mL, to which she apologised profusely and declared at the top of her voice that she thought it had to be OVER 100mL.
Yep. I wish her well on her future travels.
Anyway, back to our own travels – starting with the Kepler Track on the glorious South Island. In my head NZ is like this trekkers paradise, free from any form of wildlife likely to increase your heart rate.
Incorrect.
Night one we avoided what would have been a catastrophe. It turns out every tent, except ours, was invaded by mice. Like I’m talking legit, ate their way in, and woke up the occupants when they crawled across their faces. The chick who later told us this story also calmly relayed how she tried to catch it in a cup, before gracefully guiding it back out the hole it chewed into her tent.
I just need to speak to this for a moment. Because let me tell you, this would have gone VERY differently if said mouse was in my tent. We were camping on a beach. Tent pegs are only so strong. If I had woken up to a MOUSE, ON MY FACE, there would have been so much flapping around that the tent would have been ripped out of the ground and sent rolling down the sand into the glacial lake. Goodbye mouse. And Eva.
Anyway, the next morning we packed up camp at 4am to try and avoid the 110km/hr winds forecast for the afternoon. They would have closed the ridge line , and as it turned out this was an awesome decision. We made it to a hut in time to wait out some atrocious weather that would have obscured every possible view and made our longest day on the track pretty uncomfortable. Still, we were totally broken by the time we pulled into camp. I didn’t even have the energy to laugh when these randoms rocked up and pitched their tent basically on top of Chantel’s. She was so pissed off she pulled her fully pitched tent clean out of the ground and stomped over to my campsite with it in her arms. I wish I got it on camera.
We sat down to make dinner and this super happy ranger came over (I assured myself he most definitely had not just walked the track we walked, and that my current state of being absolutely shattered was entirely justified) and beamingly told us about the Kea and how they will eat their way into every tent they find.
Chantel and I stopped in our tracks.
He was like “oh you’ll totally be fine, but just make sure you don’t leave anything that has any form of scent in your tents, and don’t leave your tent unaccompanied. And if you hear them eating their way in then don’t just shuffle them on cause they’ll move on to the next tent. You have to get out of the tent and shoo them away properly until they fly off”.
I just stared at him in disbelief. How has this not been a thing in all the #keplertrack picture perfect images I’ve seen? Who are these man-eating birds? Why the fuck are they eating into our tents? Where the fuck am I?!
As it turns out, I miraculously woke up to the Kea attack, and managed to move it on rather successfully, with only a small hole in my tent. Said hole is still in my tent, and I have not actually pitched it since this incredible trip, much to my own disappointment. But that has nothing to do with not wanting to, and everything to do with life setting other priorities for a while. The call of adventure never leaves me, however. That hole will be patched up very soon, ready for this weekend warrior to immerse in another incredible cup-filling adventure.

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