Our Milford Track adventure started early. We awoke at 5:00AM so Troy could get some shots of Milford Sound during sunrise. It was dark and raining, but for some reason he decided to get up and try for some photographs anyhow. I slept in the car for two hours, thinking I was missing only clouds and rain, but apparently Troy was able to get some good shots.
Our bus left at 9:30AM from Milford, and even though we woke up 4 hours earlier, the three of us still ended up running in a mad dash to the bus terminal in order to catch it in time. And then, after going just ten minutes down the road, the bus broke down. Well, shit. We waited around for awhile, but after about an hour we decided that the only way to be sure to catch our boat to the beginning of the Milford Track was to try to hitch a ride.
Fortunately, we were able to convince a nice American guy in a large campervan to give us a ride to Te Anau Downs, where our boat departed. And fortunately, this nice American guy was a professional photographer.
Todd and I sat in the back while Troy and Rich excitedly exchanged tips and stories about photography in a language I didn’t understand. They both enjoyed each other’s company, and we had a nice leisurely ride out of Milford Sound, stopping occasionally to take photos.
We made the 2:00PM boat with time to spare. The ride across Lake Te Anau was scenic, and everyone aboard was excited to begin the Milford Track. The hikers were a mix of about 40 independent trekkers and 50 guided walkers (who use the same route, but have nicer accommodation along the way and don’t have to carry their own food or bedding). Of the 40 independent hikers we’d be walking with, about 25 were part of a school group…from the beginning, I could tell that the serenity of the trek might be compromised by this large group of fifteen-year-olds.
This is the problem with the Milford Track. It is exceedingly gorgeous, and because of this, exceedingly popular. For the past decade or so, the NZ Department of Conservation has controlled demand for the Track with a booking system, requiring hikers to register well in advance. In fact, when I booked my hike on the Milford Track in July, I wasn’t even sure I’d be coming to New Zealand…but I knew that if I was, I’d want to be on the track…in essence, the next four days were the only plans I had since arriving in this country over two months ago.
Some people abhor the Milford Track because of its rigid structure. You are forced to stay at the DoC huts along the way (no camping) and you can only stay at each one for a single night. So, regardless of the weather, you must complete the Track in four days, and in a single direction.
As far as weather goes, the Milford Track (and all of Fiordland, for that matter) is notorious for rain. Certain areas get as much as nine meters per year (that’s about 30 feet), and at times the trail itself is a swiftly flowing current of water that can reach as high as your chest. This, combined with the limitations posed by the booking system, means that you are completely at the mercy of nature for the entire four day trek.
We were fortunate to have cloudy but clear weather as we crossed Lake Te Anau. When we reached the northern shore, the independent hikers sprung from the boat on to the trail, and the first 200 meters felt more like the start of a road race than a leisurely hike in the woods. It was strange.
But before long, the crowds thinned out and the ranting of the teenagers was muffled by the beech trees, and Todd and Troy and I were alone on the track. And a beautiful track it was. My guide book mentions that the start of the track is wide and pristine, “without a rock overturned or a blade of grass out of place”, and it couldn’t be described any better. At times, the grass on the edges of the trail was actually mowed…no kidding. It felt more like we were walking through a golf course than a national park, but it was gorgeous.
After only an hour, we reached the first hut and the destination for the night. DoC huts are found in most of the wild areas of New Zealand, and they are a great way to experience the backcountry without having to carry a tent. Most have numerous bunk beds and many have kitchen and toilet facilities. On the Milford, they were almost like mountain hostels….each with clean bunk rooms, large kitchens, and running water. Being able to flush a toilet in the backcountry is a luxury, and while some people complain that it violates a rule of bush camping, I was happy to avoid digging a hole and squatting over it.
The next morning we awoke early and were on the track by 7:00AM, ahead of many of the others. Our pace was relaxed, and Troy stopped for photos many times along the way. The track was very well maintained, and it wound upstream along the beautiful, trout-filled Clinton River. The further we went, the taller and narrower the canyon walls were around us, and by the time we stopped for lunch, we had already passed a few avalanche zones and debris fields from rockslides.
We reached Mintaro Hut, our destination for the night, by mid-afternoon, and we decided that because it wasn’t raining, we should stash our backpacks and continue up the trail for another hour and a half to try to get some views from MacKinnon Pass, the highest point on the track. It was a tough climb up a switchbacked hill, and eventually we crossed the treeline into the alpine zone where we continued to climb until finally reaching the top. The clouds hung low, so we couldn’t see any of the surrounding peaks, but the views to the Clinton Valley (from whence we came) to the Arthur Valley (which we would be crossing into the next day) were astounding.
These valleys carry the typical U-shape of a glacially-formed valley, but they are more compacted and dynamic than any I’ve seen in the world. The closest I’ve seen was the Gimmelwald Valley in Switzerland, and at times the views reminded me of that area.
We played around on the summit for awhile, and then decided to go back down to the huts to make dinner. Before starting, I was a little concerned about keeping myself fully nourished on the trip. I had to carry all of my food with me, so I didn’t have the luxury of refrigeration. In addition, I was traveling with two vegans, so meat and dairy weren’t an option for any group meals. As it turned out, this was no problem at all. We made rice and beans, and flavored them with Indian spices and curries, and the meals were delicious, filling, and energizing.
That night, we also made plans to wake up the next day at the ungodly hour of 3:00AM to try to catch the sunrise from MacKinnon Pass. We were informed that our group was exceedingly lucky as the weather forecast was “Extremely Fine” for the next day…it was only the fifth time this season that a group was blessed with such a forecast. We went to bed early in the hopes of catching a rare treat the next day.
I stumbled out of bed at 3:15, strapped on my headlamp, and set out onto the track with Todd and Troy in complete darkness. From what we could tell, low clouds hung over the entire valley…we could only hope that they sat lower than MacKinnon Pass…possibly even giving us an inversion for the sunrise (when you are above the clouds as the sun comes up).
Eventually, we were completely within the clouds, and as we neared the pass again, the sky began to brighten a bit. But it wasn’t the fog clearing, it was just the predawn light. Walking through the wildflowers and tussock grass of the high alpine region in a thick fog at 5:00AM was an experience I will never forget. We soon realized that we wouldn’t get amazing views…we wouldn’t get any views at all…but it didn’t matter to me. It was an extraordinary sight. But it was windy and cold, and even with my full winter gear on, I struggled to stay warm.
Once we reached the summit, the conditions worsened. We were in a full gale wind and the visibility was nonexistent. We decided to push on to the Pass Hut, an emergency shelter where we could try to wait out the storm for a few hours to see if the predicted fine weather would ever come. The last fifteen minutes to the hut were extreme…the wind picked up even more and the tussock grass sat in frozen clumps, as the clouds deposited moisture and the wind quickly froze it. I desperately wanted my beard to have little icicles in it.
We stumbled into the shelter around 6:00AM, and I pretended we had just struggled to make base camp on an Everest expedition…and that wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Todd, who didn’t want to dig out his jacket in the high winds, looked miserably cold. We all got out our sleeping bags and hid out in the shelter, periodically checking out the window to see if it cleared.
Eventually, other trampers started pouring into the shelter, we asked each group if they were able to see anything, but no one had seen anything other than fast-whipping clouds. I shared some tea with a Dutch couple, and around 10:00AM, we decided to give up on seeing anything from the pass and to continue on the trek.
After going only ten more minutes down the trail, we noticed a quick break in the clouds and saw sun and blue sky. It was quickly engulfed by clouds again. But then it returned, only to disappear again. Todd decided that he wanted to go back to the hut and wait for another hour or so to see if it cleared up, and we decided to follow.
This ended up being a great decision. We walked from the hut back towards the pass, and waited there for an hour as the conditions steadily improved. Eventually, all of the clouds cleared and we were rewarded with spectacular mountain and valley views. In every direction, there was something spectacular to absorb. We also witnessed a large avalanche on a nearby peak.
I walked back to the hut to sit in the sunshine and eat my lunch when I noticed another small building off to the side. This was the Pass Hut Toilet, and it had perhaps the finest view of any outhouse I’ve ever seen. In fact, the view is so good, that the DoC decided to carve out a big window on the door so you can look out onto the Clinton Valley as you do your business. Now that, my friends, is awesome.
After spending a total of eight hours on the Pass, we decided that it was time to continue the trek, and we began descending. The hour immediately after MacKinnon Pass was the most difficult, as we were forced to use a steep, emergency route because the usual route was too close to the avalanche zone. Soon we reached the treeline again, and continued to descend down along another beautiful river using an extensive boardwalk and step system that hugged the river’s many cascading waterfalls.
About an hour before reaching our hut, we took the side trip to Sutherland Falls, the tallest waterfall in New Zealand and the third highest in the world. Over three cascades they fall some 582 meters (1900ft) - and you can walk right up underneath them. By this point, we were pretty exhausted, and the sun had already tucked behind a large peak, putting the entire falls in shadow. But nonetheless, Sutherland Falls was impressive. I decided that it had been awhile since I’ve done something crazy, so I put on my swimsuit and ventured out onto the rocks below the falls. As I stepped in up to my knees, I realized just how cold it was. The sun was gone, the wind had picked up, and I was being assaulted with a cold mist, the molecules of which had likely been solid glacial ice as recently as that morning. I stayed there long enough to get thoroughly wet (about ten seconds) and then whimpered back to my towel to warm up.
We walked the last few miles to Dumpling Hut, and finished the day with a quick dip in the river (also very cold) before making dinner and then promptly passing out for the night.
The next day was an easy, flat 18km (11.5 miles) along the Arthur river, by numerous other waterfalls, and along shores of Lake Ada. After about five hours on the trail, we reached the Milford Sound and the terminus of the Milford Track, Sandfly Point.
This is perhaps the most aptly named location I’ve ever been to. For those who don’t know what a sandfly is, it is a small, pesky, biting insect very similar to the mosquito. But unlike the mosquito which tends to be most active in the hours around sunset, the sandfly will happily suck your blood at any time of the day and in nearly any weather condition. Upon reaching Sandfly Point, we didn’t even have time to congratulate ourselves before being blitzkrieged by the little buggers. I’ve never seen a more voracious insect. We snapped some photos and then I tucked into the shelter to wait for the boat to take us out.
Around 2:00PM, we boarded the boat and made our way back across the Milford Sound. After four days and 33.5 miles, we completed the Finest Walk in the World, and we didn’t get a drop of rain, which is extremely rare. I felt great.
