The floorboards of the 1997 Toyota Hiace rumble with a comforting, familiar hum right
beneath my paws. My humans call this machine “The Bus”, but to me, Dexter, it is a giant,
rolling treat dispenser and the gateway to the ultimate sniff-safari. We started our journey
in Dunedin, where the air smells of salty sea kelp and frosty morning grass, packing my
favourite worn-out tennis balls and a mountain of kibble into the back. Mum made sure we were completely official before setting of, filling out paperwork weeks in advance to secure a special dog permit from the Department of Conservation (DOC) so I was allowed to explore these pristine native trails.
As we hit the road heading north toward the Marlborough Sounds, my head is pinned firmly out the passenger window. The world at 87km an hour is an absolute symphony of scents. There is the crisp, sharp breeze of the Canterbury Plains, followed by the rich, earthy perfume of North Canterbury’s vineyards. Every time the Hiace slows down around a sharp bend, its brakes give a little squeak that tells me a new destination is near. I love the rhythm of the road: the steady thrum of the old engine, the occasional scratch behind my ears of the front seat, and the shifting patches of sunlight as I sandwich between my parents in the front row where I curl up to snooze.
A few hours go by, and we make a stop to visit my pal, Loki at the Arctic Sammy HQ in Christchurch. This is where I was given the task of putting some gear to rigorous test over the next few weeks on the road. My humans strapped me into my brand-new, bright orange Arctic Sammy harness. It fits like a glove and makes me feel like a professional athlete. Eventually, the straight roads give way to winding, sun-dappled tracks lined with towering green walls. We have arrived in the Sounds, and the air here is diBerent, thick with the sweet scent of native bush and the tantalising promise of adventure.
Our first big mission is Pororangi aka Mount Stokes. The highest point of the Sounds sitting
at a whopping 1203m. Mount Stokes was named after Captain John Stokes, who charted
the entire New Zealand coastline between 1848 and 1851. My humans lace up their heavy
boots, which is my cue to spin in ecstatic circles. On this steep climb, my orange harness is
a total game changer. Whenever I need a little help scrambling up a massive, slippery tree
root, my human uses the sturdy top handle to give me a gentle lift. The trail is a glorious
vertical playground of moss-covered roots and damp loam. I lead the pack, nose to the
ground, decoding the secret messages left behind by wild pigs and possums. As we climb
higher, the trees shrink, and suddenly we break through the canopy into the open sky. Up
on the sub-alpine summit, the wind whips through my fur. Dad reaches into his matching
Arctic Sammy treat pouch. A magical pocket that eBortlessly keeps my high value snacks
dry and ready; and rewards me with a piece of dried venison.
Next on our itinerary is the Nydia Track, a journey deeper into the green heart of the valleys. This 27km trail is pure magic. We squelch through glorious mud bays, skim past giant tree ferns, and cross rushing freshwater streams where I stop to lap up the cold, clean water. The orange of my harness pops brilliantly against the deep green ferns, making me the most stylish explorer in the Marlborough region. Halfway through the track, we treated ourselves to a luxury stay at the ‘On the Track Lodge’, where we were warmly greeted by Spud, the owner. We got into our wooden cabin where I was able to get naked and hang up my harness and leash. We had a relaxing night filled with swimming and cosying up next to the wood burning fire.
When the old Hiace finally rolled into view at the track’s end, its familiar engine hummed a welcome tune. The back door swung wide open, perfectly framing the glowing sun as it dipped behind the mountain peaks. Just in time for me to snuggle deep between my humans on the foam mattress, my harness unclipped for the night, my muscles ache with the satisfying tiredness of a dog who has truly conquered the wild. I let out a deep, contented sigh, head hitting the pillow, dreaming of the next winding road.
- Dexter Xo.
