Northbound was by turns savagely honest and frustratingly private, each chapter captivating as a section of Te Araroa coaxing me along the path (and keeping me up past hikers’ midnight).
If you’re reading Northbound to find out why people walk Te Araroa (or the PCT or AT), you’re barking up the wrong kauri. Asking ‘why the TA?’ should return the same answer as ‘Why do you drink so much wine on a Wednesday?’: ‘Fuck you for asking.’
Others’ complaining of Naomi’s frankness about her crush on ‘Stefan’ are prudish, immature and boring; welcome to the real world. Imagine the conversations she had with Doug both about the situation, and about publishing it, knowing he and their loved ones would sit with it. Regardless of their personal arrangements, she was honest that in this life, we often forge connections with people in unexpected, partly transgressive and still deeply human ways, and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make them go away.
But Naomi also clearly hid some details from us, too, to protect herself, or Doug, or both, or because we don’t actually have ownership of them. I think the beauty of us not knowing the full story is that despite the fact she wrote a book about her experience, we’re not entitled to the entirety of it; she documented the parts that are well-rendered publicly, and kept the rest of her nine months of bittersweet agony to herself. If you want to know the rest of the story, go and walk it yourself. But actually, do go and walk it for yourself.
The bit I was disappointed about was how invested she made me in her toes at the end, and we never found out if they’re ok?!
Nga mihi nui, Namoi.
Ka kite.