The Wireless asked local writers and bloggers to explore the idea of “free” as it relates to a part of their lives. In the second of the series, Bill Nelson, writer for outdoors blog UpCountry.co.nz, writes about meeting a free spirit out tramping.
He came at us deep in the Tararua ranges. His pack was ramshackle, one of those old canvas ones with an aluminium frame. Pots and pans hung from the side, a flowery towel tied to the side swung around as he lumbered forward. He was wearing dirty blue jeans, a canvas duffel coat and steel-capped work boots far too big for him.
Usually when encountering someone on the trail, people will give a quick hello then train their eyes back to the rocks and roots underfoot. They are often deep in thought or deep in conversation with their friends. Occasionally, someone will stop briefly to ask how long to the next hut. You can usually see this coming – that extra bit of eye contact and the stopping, hands on hips.
That's the way it was with this guy. He was on his own but immediately a huge grin crossed his face, he almost picked up pace when he saw us. I sometimes imagine he threw his hands in the air like he had found a long lost sibling. I was aware that he wanted to talk.
"Hey." I said.
'Hey brother!" he shouted, grabbing my hand, twisting our fingers around so we were clasped in a kind of gangster handshake. From this position he pulled me in for a chest bump. His pots clanged and the weight from my pack almost toppled us over sideways.
Eventually, after stumbling about and then righting ourselves in a slow awkward motion, the guy let me go. He didn't ask any questions or want to talk about anything in particular. He just grinned, slapped me on shoulder saying 'catch you fullas later' and shambled off down the trail. Leaving as quickly as he had appeared.
Share your “free” story with us by emailing submissions@thewireless.co.nz.
*Cover image by Pseudopanax.
This content was brought to you with funding assistance from New Zealand On Air.
