Milford Track 25 - 28 December 2011

Day 1

Lying on bunk 15 in the Clinton Hut with the comforting yet slightly stale smell of 2 minute noodles and un-aired sleeping bag. We share the hut with 18 other weary foreigners. Americans, many Germans, and (ghastly) Australians who insist on talking at the tops of their voice 24/7. Thankfully they are in the other bunk room! Today was really lovely, we started out early in the a.m. packing up and leaving Comfort Inn

Explorer Motel after a quick trampoline fest. We drove to Te Anau Downs and got a boat to the start of the Milford Track. Sandflies began their assault precisely two seconds after didymo washing our shoes. We started along the track and after a few false starts where packs were adjusted and repellent sprayed we set a steady pace. Taking in the stunning sphagnum and beech, the wide prairies, wetlands, and mountains peaking to the very centre of the sky from every direction. It was rather overwhelming. I often think spectacular like here seems painted on like an enormous movie set. After about an hour and 15 minutes we reached Clinton Hut, the first 5 kilometres of the track successfully overcome. Highlights and detours include a Giant Red Beech with leaves

and bark which looked remarkably like every other red beech in the area.. Many a lovely songbird (mostly tui), a suspension
bridge over the clearest water you've ever seen, and a wee walk out onto the wetlands with great views of far off snow-cloaked ranges, and swamp trees that were a mixture between Middle Earth and African foliage. Upon hut arrival and a post-lunch lunchtime of the loveliest dry pitas and cheese available to the humble tramper (then a wee nap) we headed back down the track to the swimming hole for a lovely dip in the icy waters. Drying and steaming on a rock we headed back to camp and had a great Christmas antipasto dinner!!

Its now getting dark at 10pm(ish) and we are trotting off to see the glow worms before a (hopefully) good nights sleep in anticipation of tomorrow, the first real and big day. 16km? Easy. Merry Christmas and sleep well.

They wink awake as the valley falls asleep

Blinking their soft glow, pearly seeds of dew

Touching your breath yet a billion years away

Fragile simple life, mirrored in a million stars

                                                                          25/12/2011

Day 2

Sitting in Mintaro Hut waiting for the 7.30 hut talk to begin, hips burning inside and out. Warm and sleepy after a long, long day and scrummy warm dinner of Back Country Cuisine Chana Masala! Today was long as I have said and tough mentally. We started out well and early with fabulous pancakes made courtesy of yours truly. We set out along the track spending the first hour searching for and old red telephone box behind  a tree, which was 60 metres past the broken tree, over the bridge for a mile and 30 km of track. Then you have to skip on one foot while whistling twinkle twinkle backwards... Eventually the box was located after an encounter with a giant Doc worker and his pet dead ferret. We continued  up the valley for many miles in beautiful canopy and violent sunlight. Along the way we saw gorgeous wee New Zealand Robins who stood strangely upright. Snack time on the glade where a lovely compliant rock took our picture in front of the Mackinnon Pass. Slog and slog... Our next break gave lovely views of trout swimming and cruising gracefully in the clearest water you have probably ever seen. The distant call of a lone Kea soaring above alerted us to its majestic presence. After lunch at the 'bus stop' (pita and cheese) we continued on, the track becoming steeper and more rocky with every step. Annabel's poor wee feet got rather a bashing and we all stomped along, certain we had done the 16.5 km already, becoming steadily more delirious in the heat, sweat, and stunning vistas. Finally Mintaro Hut bobbed into view much to the glee of all. Bunks upstairs through a slightly stinky hallway to the darkest bunkroom on the track. We sleep in beds 17-20 and try to avoid hitting our heads on the low sloping ceiling (poor mum). A 5°C swim for Annabel (more of a swift dunk) and paddle for all, easing hot swollen feet while Weka gazing. Just had the hut talk with Catie who was hilarious and sold us all on the tomorrow we inevitably are to attempt. Scenery, weather, flora and fauna all sound très exciting and she rather made me want to be a Doc ranger! Our boots hang outside in the drought heated air out of reach of the too keen Kea.

I hope to see one up close tomorrow and possibly (hopefully) a Kiwi or Morepork tonight. The hut feels homely and almost like a second skin (albeit one not ridden with nasty sandfly bites). I hope for a good sleep, a fine day for the pass and then buckets of Fiordland rain to wash the creek beds and wonder us with falls. Its getting dimmer although it will not be dark for several hours yet. I think bed, unpolluted night sky views and night birds a plenty, but who knows if I will stay awake that long. So I shall leave you with a quote, 

One side of the Pass the deep-sunk verdant Clinton Canyon, on the other the smiling Arthur Valley, and all around mighty peaks dressed in eternal snow dazzling in the brilliant sunshine.
Otago Daily Times - 8 February 1912

Day 3

8.45 pm, bed 19, Dumpling Hut, 27 December 2011. Goodness gracious what a mixed day of delights and

despair. (No, we all survived. Well just.) Today being the third day of the trip began as well as could be expected for such an early, dark rise. Our foursome of beds shrouded in a blanket of darkness made our attempts of quiet packing particularly comical. A hurried breakfast of nice porridge and tepid Up & Go allowed us to leave early enough to conquer the pass before the weather changed for the worse. Setting out it was hot and beautiful. We meandered up the valley to the basin of the Clinton area. Then we came to the zigzags, and with much confusion within the party we were unsure if there were 11 zigzags, or 11 zigs and 11 zags! Or indeed if there was even an end to to the zagzigs and zigzags

at all! However as we ascended and lapped up the spectacular views of the Clinton Valley. Lush with native bush and birds, and the silt filled basin it made me wonder if I was not the luckiest soul in the whole wide world. The sun rose higher and we reached the pass summit with considerably more ease than expected. Mightily cold we hurriedly posed next to Quintin's Memorial buffeted by the chilly alpine air as our bottoms turned blue. So we scurried along the pass ridge to the hut situated just past the 1154 metre highest point. Warm inside and with a bit of encouragement from mum and some tomato soup, we all warmed up and (after feeling sick/dehydrated/vertigoed) felt much better and ready to bumble on. And bumble we did. Down the slippy, thin, and surprisingly treacherous side of the mountain. The descent felt long and took its toll on everyone, with sore as buggery legs, ankles, feet, shoulders, and backs. Not surprising really as our path to Dumpling Hut took us 1000 metres down. Sadly the best view we got of the highly anticipated Kea was of their magnificent flight over the horizon. We did see lovely tame Weka up close and a sweet wee Tomtit

played a merry tune. Eventually after many a swear and sweat we came upon Quintin Shelter, our official 5 star lunch stop. Make that 5 bottles of dimp. The presence of sandflies was palpable in the air, unnerving to say the least. One need only open ones mouth and bite down to be rewarded with a delicious protein filled snack! Our usual lunch and we left wee Annabel to hobble her blister crippled self the last hour to the hut, while Dad, Mum, and I headed down the side track to the stunning Sutherland Falls! After a tad walking we arrived at the 580 metre tall falls (tallest in New Zealand). Set against a stunning backdrop the falls are beyond impressive, you're quite lucky if you can fit them in one picture. Dad and I, being the foolish adventurers we are, wrapped up in our untried, untested rain

jackets to walk behind the thundering falls. Soaked in seconds from side spray, the view was wondrous. There's certainly something magical about standing only a few metres behind a huge roaring wall of water. If you managed to keep your eyes open long enough you see tons of water cascading in huge white fingers. And as an added and surprising bonus the water was fairly warm and we dried very quickly. One hour to the next hut, arriving in agony (bloody joints) it was time for dinner. Our six hour walk had turned into a more than ten hour expedition! Content in knowing that the hardest part was now behind us, we dined pleasurably on pasta vegeteriano (lamb fettuccine for some) and jelly. Yum. A nice hut talk with Ian the Ranger following his walk in from Sandfly end. He warned us rain was on its way for tomorrow as payback for so many gorgeous day previous. Frankly I hope he's right a) because it will make the waterfalls tomorrow much more impressive, and b) I don't think I've really truly experienced the Milford without at least a wee bit of rain (and it gives me an excuse to fondle my new waterproof gadgets). And now dear reader it is time for bed. The light in the bunk room is now so dim that I'm not even sure I'm still writing in English. Pig-early start tomorrow, 6 am to leave I am told. Lawks. Still better than missing the boat tomorrow huh. Everyone do a rain dance!

Day 4

I write this to you dear reader on the next day. Here I sit in the sunny Te Anau morning with a good sleep under my belt. Yesterday morning I awoke with rather a different feeling...

5.15am and dark as buggery. My swollen legs and feet itched and throbbed in the sandfly fetid ari. Earliest breakfast yet with head torches and porridge. Dimped up we set off along the first stretch of the six hour final leg. We set out so early in order to get he two o'clock boat back to Milford, extra time required for the cripples in the group (everyone). It had finally started to rain! So our rain dance must've worked. It was only light though so raincoats weren't ness. The forest and birds seemed to relish in the rain and breathe a sigh of relief after the eleven day drought. Lush and greener

than ever, birdsong out in full force. The first 90 min to the boatshed went well with sweetie pie views of up and down the Arthur River. Mackay Falls and Bell Rock, the next point of interest, were really rather exciting. Next to the towering falls we scrambled through a two foot hole to stand up in the impressive and aptly named Bell Rock, its inside water carved to a two metre high curve (filled with a few lurking weta and spiders!). We passed the halfway point at Poseidon Creek (yay) and were all beginning to feel pretty darn knackered. After a few false starts locating the rock cutting we finally found it sidling up alongside Lake Ada, complete with 1898 graffiti by the cutters themselves. Next on to Giant Gate Waterfall where the damn sandflies were waiting for us en masse. Collapsing with near exhaustion, dehydration, and bleeding stumps Annabel did a marvelous deed by telling us the entire Lord of the Rings story, only slightly abridged and highly motivating! We had all nearly reached the ends of our teathers and then some as we loped the final few km. Suddenly swinging round the corner past the 53.1km marker we stumbled upon the

welcome sight of Sandfly Point. Never has a place been so aptly named. Our last tramping lunch of pitas and cheese inside the enclosed (thank god) shelter. Eventually the wee chuggy boat came to ferry us over to Milford giving us a lovely brief tour of the sounds. Before we left we took final triumphant photos in front of the end sign of the Milford Track. What a fabulous feeling of overcoming and conquering and what wonderful memories of mountains, beautiful forest, card games, sanity-leeching sandflies, blisters, waterfalls, and a balance of life only found in the wilderness. xx

 

P.s. After a days rest I am certain I want to do the Milford again. Hopefully in the rainy season. Definitely not

for a few years.

P.p.s. We eventually made it back to Te Anau for some well deserved respite after losing and finding Annabel, drinking hot chocolate, failing to catch the earlier bus, stumbling on the tarmac, farewelling fellow trampers, and a hair raising near death roller-coaster of a van ride back to Te Anau downs. But, honestly, having survived the Milford I reckon I could survive almost anything!