As I sit down to write this section up I'm struggling to think of anything to say other than we woke up, packed, loaded and walked until we found a flat area of earth and put our tent up.
Has it come to this? Our trail adventure is just another job?
"How was your day on the trail dear?"
"Oh it was alright. I had to dig a hole to poop in after morning tea...but I'm getting used to that now. What's for dinner?"
We were happy...it's just that some of the magic had gone.
Our aim was to walk nearly 30 kilometres to the campground where the Harper River flows into Lake Coleridge.
We walked up through the village's arboretum - a great piece of town planning by an electrical engineer - and followed the trail up and beside the loooong pipes that turn Lake Coleridge's natural height above the Rakaia River valley into usable energy.
The weather was good but we could see the expected gloom reaching out to us from the wet west coast.
The trail joins the lake on a track that goes through farmland. There are important looking signs dotted along it telling walkers to stick to the marked trail even though the marked trail travels only metres from a four wheel drive track. At one stage it makes its way through a bog.
An exasperated walker has scribbled a "WTF?" on the officious looking sign that demands a knee deep wade through quagmire and a day of wet boots as a result.
A couple of days earlier a puzzled TeA walker told us she had imagined a crazed farmer sitting at home watching naughty hikers breaking his rules on his CCTV system...waiting to catch us all out.
We ducked and dived from track to track in the hope we didn't get caught by our imaginary grumpy farmer.
We made it to the road and a long, hot and dusty walk. The trail doesn't have much to do with the beautiful looking Lake Coleridge and instead chooses to go around behind a mountain before passing several smaller lakes.
Walkers share this part of the country with camper vans, farmers, electricity workers and recreational fishers.
As we approached the last small lake, Lake Selfe, the weather looked like it was going to pack in. Heavy rain clouds sat over the campground we were aiming for and the wind was picking up.
It was threatening to be a wet end to the day...but an exciting end to the day.
Something to write home about.
But we opted for the less interesting but almost luxurious option of pitching our tent at the base of Lake Selfe in the shelter of some willow trees.
In the end we'd only walked 24 kilometres.
We finished the day sitting in the sun, eating from our freshly filled food bags.
It was alright. No. It was good.
I think my negative feelings at the beginning of the day were a response to the new land we were walking through.
We'd left the intense heat and stunning landscape of Mid Canterbury and were moving into a new area. Greenness threatened. Clouds threatened.
It was clearly going to take a bit to get used to the idea.
But in reality we were looking forward to reaching beech forest again tomorrow.
Perhaps the novelty of forest would be enough to lift our spirits.