Milford Track
/Milford Track, 2014
24th December, 2104 (Tony)
Seasons Greetings and very best wishes for a Happy New Year to all! We do not usually compile a newsletter at this time of year but I thought it poignant to chronicle our recent trip to NZ (if only for our own records). It was a memorable return to places and to see people that significantly touched our lives. Forty years ago seemed like yesterday. Thanks to Myra and El and Jim for their hospitality. And a special thanks to Robert Gesink who has compiled a superb album of photographs. These can be found on:http://robertgesink.zenfolio.com/p189510552 (Password: grandad). Milford Track is unquestionably one of the “Finest Walks in the World”. If you are fit and healthy and it’s not already on your ‘bucket list’ it should be. In this SW corner of the South Island, where it rains more than 300 days a year and averages 12m (365 inches) per year at Milford Sound, we enjoyed five consecutive days of glorious sunshine and warm summer weather, something virtually unprecedented.
DAY 1: We set off from Queenstown by bus, Friday 12th December, 2014. Group 42 (the 42nd group for the season) comprised 30 Australians; 6 Americans; 4 Japanese; 2 Singaporeans; 2 Germans; 2 Kiwis and 4 wonderful guides. A total of 50 trampers. Our ‘lot’ — there at my invitation to walk the Milford Track in celebration of my 70th birthday — numbered 22. Sadly, Sally, due to her knee reconstruction two years ago, wisely opted not to walk as did Suellen and Grandchildren No’s 3,4,5,6,7. After a lunch stop at Te Anau we boarded a boat at Te Anau Downs and cruised to the head of Lake Te Anau, marvelling at the beautiful scenery — snow-capped mountains, rich beech forest and placid Mediterranean-blue water. A short walk later we all arrived at Glade House, our overnight accommodation lodge where we were all welcomed by the friendly hostee and allocated our bunk rooms. The Pritchett clan raced to the banks of the Clinton River, so clear there is nowhere for the trout to hide but they’ve no fear of being caught. Plenty have tried but failed to land one. We gathered near the swing bridge for a team photo and then the guides assembled the entire mob for a group photo before leading everyone up the hill into the forest for a nature study walk. I suspect this was more a surveillance survey on their part to identify anyone who may not be fit enough to undertake the main trek. We rested at the top of the walk near a beautiful stream canyoning down the mountainside. It took little enticement for the teenagers to take the plunge into the icy water and before long parents too were bravely demonstrating how to recover one’s breath after a momentary immersion. At age 69.362 years I elected to risk a ‘natural’ heart attack rather than attempting to induce one and remained firmly anchored to a boulder, in the sunshine. Back to Glade House for a cleansing hot shower, a cooling ale or two and a delicious three-course dinner.
DAY 2: Glade House to Pompolona Lodge is an easy amble of about 16km along a sell-defined path — you could push your walking-frame up most of it — through ancient Beech forest, the trees dripping with lichen. Along the way picture-postcard vistas of the river lure you to the bank to gaze in awe into the deep pools. The water is unbelievably clear, 100% pure. A detour into the Wetlands area leads over a timber walkway above tiny delicate plants of myriad hues and textures fighting for their place in the earth and resembling a coral reef abandoned by the sea. We all took a spell at Clinton Hut, built since our first traverse in 1984, the first overnight stop for ‘freedom’ walkers, before continuing to Hirere Falls Lunch Hut for a hearty lunch and well-earned break. After this point the track opens up into direct sunlight. Once again the teenagers led the way into the swimming hole at Prairie Lake, soon followed by many adults. Stumbling over a massive rockfall I missed my footing, overbalanced and was pivoted backwards over my pack. Apart from my wounded pride I only suffered a graze and bruising to my arm and broken sunglasses. Lucky. We reached the quiet comfort of Pompolona Lodge by mid-afternoon and refreshed after hot showers and change of clothes looked on, bemused, as the youth generation discovered that prior to the invention of washing machines clothes were washed by hand and then squeezed through a mangle, rinsed and then mangled again. They eagerly jostled to have a turn at operating the mangle! And removed from access to internet and mobile phone networks they delightfully indulged in jig-saw puzzles, card games, magic tricks and charades. A competitive lot our family. A mischievous bunch of Keas kept everyone entertained with their raucous antics on the verandah balustrade and roof. The bar took a windfall from drinks sales and after another delicious dinner (beef, chicken, or vegetarian) we retired, replete, to bed. At 12:30am I looked out to an ink-black sky studded with millions more stars than normal, yet all the familiar constellations remained clearly identifiable, brighter than I’d ever seen.
DAY 3: An early start; a big breakfast. The leaders were away by 7:30 striding up the rising track to Mintaro Hut (next stop for the independent walkers) past tranquil Lake Mintaro and the serious uphill climb began. Zigzagging up the steep incline one couldn’t help but notice the subtle yet significant changes in the flora — from dense beech forest to mountain bush to alpine heaths and scrub, then tussock. The beautiful Mt Cook Lily shone in full bloom clearly making its presence known. By 10:30am virtually the entire group was atop the Mackinnon Pass, 1,154m above sea level, basking in glorious sunshine and revelling in the spectacular views — south down the Clinton Canyon; north across the Arthur Valley and the mountains beyond; east and west to the close proximity of the snow-capped peaks either side of the divide. Photos, hundreds of photo opportunities, for days like this on top of the pass are rare. Again, the hardy few couldn’t resist a dip in the barely-thawed mountain tarn. Respect, not to mention admiration, was paid to Quintin Mackinnon at his memorial cairn. Lunch was taken among the tussocks outside the shelter hut. Boys will be boys and as soon as they had scoffed their lunch the teens set off to climb up to a permanent snow drift in the shade of Mt Balloon soaring a further 700m above them. They achieved their goal, barely visible to us below, dismayed to find that a snowball fight was out of the question — it was frozen solid! And so to the descent… straightforward enough for the first kilometre or so but the deviation down the emergency track (obligatory due to avalanche risk on the main track) was a nightmare. Big drops down big boulders, down hazardous inclines was hell on knees. Someone, not one of ours, turned an ankle. Willem our lead guide, 19yrs old, bound his ankle and took his pack. I will be forever grateful that I took the guides’ advice and hired a pair of poles, something I have never felt the need of before. As it was I suffered but without them I may not have made it to the end. A series of timber staircases and walkways has been built alongside Roaring Burn. Looking down over this cascading stream and into the crystal clear deep pools was too much of a temptation for anyone who thinks water is for bathing, regardless of temperature. There was much gasping and clutching of body parts and swift exit by those who dove in. No one said they didn’t enjoy it but they wouldn’t admit to being idiots either so who knows where the truth lies. The luxury of Quintin Lodge was reached with great relief. Most of the party discarded their packs and headed up the track to view the Sutherland Falls, fifth highest in the world at 580m. A triple leap, the fall would be highest were it a single drop. In the Lodge’s lounge the air conditioning couldn’t counter the ferocity of the sun’s rays until it eventually slid behind a mountain top about 6:30pm, still 4 hours before sunset. Some fine NZ wines and a superb pepper-steak wrapped up a magnificent day’s exercise.
DAY 4: A belly-filling breakfast, too much for someone I won’t name, overcame any thoughts about the daunting walk ahead — 21 km on wobbly knees. Guide Willem did a fine job taping up my right knee and I steadfastly set off with everyone else at 7:30am. Although it is the longest day’s walk on the Track the gradient is gentle and the track well formed. Rainfall is prolific this side of the divide and there is more diversity to the flora with ferns and mosses in abundance. We spotted huge trout and eels in the river and the path winds around a cliff overlooking pretty Lake Ada. Morning tea at Boatshed and lunch beside the river at Giants Gate Falls afforded ample rest times. The foolhardy still couldn’t recall how cold the water was (it must numb the brain) and were leaping into the river in gay abandon. Judging by the look on their faces they would have leapt out again just as quick but the boulders from which they leapt were not amenable to such aerial acrobatics. The final trudge to Sandfly Point left one feeling both triumphant but also a little sad that the end was nigh. We all clambered aboard “Anita Bay” to be ferried across Milford Sound, cameras readied. And it didn’t disappoint: Mitre Peak loomed high in all its glory while astern, a dolphin frolicked in the wake of the boat. Our accommodation in Milford Lodge was luxurious and following more excellent NZ wines and dinner (French Lamb roast; or grilled cod) we gathered in the Lounge to receive our Certificates of Achievement and thank our beguiling guides. More, much more, NZ wine induced a night’s deep sleep.
DAY 5: The dawn of another perfect day revealed Mitre Peak perfectly mirrored in the quiet waters of Milford Sound with a blue sky devoid of any cloud. A one and a half hour cruise on Milford Sound took us out to the entrance almost into the Tasman Sea, past stunning mountain scenes, waterfalls and seal colonies. All too soon we were on the bus, back to Queenstown through Homer Tunnel and more spectacular Fiordland landscapes. We reunited with friends and loved ones who had sojourned in Queenstown while we tramped the Track and at 7:30pm sat down to a sumptuous banquet at “Botswana Butchery” a highly recommended restaurant on the lakefront. It matters little that we were there for my 70th birthday. The fact that everyone had enjoyed such a fabulous time together; and stood up and said so made me feel very proud and happy indeed. Thank you, all twenty-nine of you! I hope you all go back and do it again… perhaps 2024?