33.5

It's been just over a month since I hiked the Milford Track. As a testament to the experience, it remains the highlight of my travels thus far. Luckily, I still find it remarkably easy to recall each stage of the trek which has hopefully allowed me to detail the adventure appropriately here, despite the considerable time that's elapsed.
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On December 7th, I showed up at the New Zealand Department of Conservation office in Te Anau slightly uneasy about what I'd signed up to do. I barely pass for a day hiker, let alone someone who was about to trek 33.5 miles into New Zealand hinterland on the fabled Milford Track. It didn't help that I'd only just found out that the trail was 33.5 miles on the bus ride that morning - considerably longer than the 20 miles I'd calculated in my head with a rough kilometers-to-miles conversion weeks before (math is not my strong point). My hesitation was compounded when I pulled my $5.99 budget rain suit from my pack (the smallest pack of the group by far - a failed attempt to not arrive looking like a rookie) to ready myself for a rain-filled four day trek that is the norm for the Milford Track, only to have the pants split down the side within a few minutes of donning them.

From Milford Track...

Despite all indications that perhaps I should return with the ferry, I proceeded to disembark with the other 38 hikers in my group after an hour-long trip across New Zealand's second largest lake, Lake Te Anau, to the trail head on the fringe of the Fjordlands National Park.



With the first step, it was like walking onto another planet. New Zealand's fjordlands compete as one of the globe's wettest spots, receiving significant amounts of precipitation annually, something that was not lacking the day of our arrival. All that moisture created an unique mixture of thick rain forest and wetlands nestled between misty, snow-capped mountains. Green and brown moss covered everything on the valley floor and up the trunks of the surrounding trees which created a tight canopy overhead, often blocking the views above so that you could only concentrate on the otherworldly surroundings immediately about you.







As the trail weaved its way through this engaging terrain, glimpses of the Clinton River poked through gaps in the forest. The Milford Track follows the Clinton River for the first half of the track to the river's source some 12 miles ahead where the pass rises up and takes leave of that river to climb over the 3,500ft McKinnon Pass and join another one, the Arthur River, on the other side. The Clinton, exactly like it's sister Arthur River in the next valley, is the stuff of purified water commercials with crystal clear, amazingly pure waters flowing through a picturesque, nearly untouched landscape.



After just over an hour's hike, deceivingly short for the coming days, I arrived at the hut complex that served as the first night's stop. The complex was a collection of three simple 40' x 40' huts with two serving as sleeping quarters, accomodating 20 each in bunks, and one as a combined kitchen (i.e. burners for your freeze-dried food), dining room, and social area. It's here that I discovered the part of the journey that's not mentioned in the brochure.







Any recounting of a trek on the Milford Track would be only half complete, and half as interesting, if it didn't include mention of the fellow hikers on the trip. Each day a group of 40 strangers sets out on the Milford Track with only a reservation date in common. While each day's hike on the track is a main focus, as much time, if not more, is spent commingling with your fellow hikers in the huts recuperating from a long day's hike. Without the disruption of telephones, televisions, work, computers or similar distractions, your left to get to know your fellow travelers in a way more personal and natural way than you might otherwise.







I was fortunate enough to be hiking the track with an incredibly amiable and entertaining group that hailed from all corners of the globe as far reaching as Holland, Japan, Australia, Israel, the United Kingdom, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Germany and even the United States. Post-hike evenings were spent playing games, comparing freeze-dried delicacies, determining who was snoring the previous night, comparing sandfly bites (and avoidance tactics), discussing the trail ahead as well as the one behind and learning a little bit more about other corners of the globe and the people that live there. Those interpersonal experiences are as much a part of hiking the Milford Track as the trek itself.

After a night of round-robin getting to know each other, we awoke early the next day - thanks to the one up, all up feature of a bunk house - and tackled our first of three long hikes in as many days to come. The previous day's rain forest became more sporadic, ceasing altogether for long stretches and giving way to an open valley floor. This brought about some of the most memorable sights on the trail. As it's spring in New Zealand, the fjordland mountain snow caps had begun melting which induced a spectacular array of waterfalls flowing down the mountain sides in every direction. The scene repeated itself each time we exited a stretch of forest over the 11.5 mile day's journey.







The first nine or so miles went by without much pause for thought of the rigors being undertaken by the body. That changed in the last two miles as the trail turned uphill to begin climbing the approach section of McKinnon Pass leading to our hut for the night. Each mile on the trail - originally established in miles and still following that system today - is marked by a green post in the ground. My final two miles that day were spent looking for a marker around every new bend to indicate I could finally rest my aching, chilled body....a dream finally realized a few hours later.

While the first night in the huts was spent in the who's who and from where phase of getting to know each other, the second night was spent simply enjoying each other's company. As we waited for our clothes to dry and the sun to set, indicating to was time to turn in, we played card games, chatted about the world and each other, and told stories and jokes. The hut was chilly due to a higher elevation and attempts by no less than a dozen of us - myself included - failed to light the cast iron stove, our only source of heat. Finally, one dedicated Aussie spent an hour fanning the flames, literally, to become the day's hero as pants, shirts, shoes, underwear and bodies (dressed) quickly filled the space around the suddenly hot stove.





At around 7am the next morning, I was in the last third that set out to tackle McKinnon Pass and start our descent down to the Milford Sound. The path up the pass rises about 1,800ft up a long stretch of switchbacks. Halfway up the trail, the switchbacks climbed out of the shelter of the treeline and I donned thermals, a wool hat and winter gloves for the rest of the chilly ascent. Although only at an elevation of 3,500ft, the pass is decidedly alpine with bitter winds and snow flurries to prove it. For about two hours I felt like I was somewhere in Colorado in mid-January. At the top, our bittersweet reward was spectacular views of the valleys on each side of the pass, bitter only because of the biting wind and snow that accompanied the view.







The second half of the third day felt like a separate day altogether. After spending the first portion of the day tackling McKinnon pass, the climate changed significantly while descending down the other side to discover the incredible Arthur River valley. The path down (finally down!) into the new valley began at the Arthur River's origins as a series of remarkable waterfalls and mountain steams that gather and grow to become the Arthur River a couple thousand feet below. While down was considerably more enjoyable than going up, the path down is twice as long and just as steep as the path up the other side and I eventually found my quads and calves barking to stop. Thankfully, once the trail found the valley floor, there was a rest stop a few miles before the hut for that night.





After half an hour of relief at the rest shelter, I set out with a couple of my fellow hikers on a short side trip to the impressive Sutherland Falls. Falling over 1,900ft down a sheer mountain face, Sutherland Falls is the tallest waterfall in New Zealand and one of the tallest in the world. It's also one that can be felt about 50ft away from it's cascade as the sheer height if its descent sends water spraying in every direction. It was here that the first streaks of sun we'd seen in last two days began to break through the clouds, a welcome event that made for some breathtaking views of the landscape around us and an enjoyable last few miles of hiking for the day. An hour or so past Sutherland falls, we found ourselves turning into the hut for our final night on the track.







While there was no overt moment to mark a celebration that last night, the mood of the group was certainly jubilant at having conquered the toughest portion of track. So much so that conversation often turned to talk of getting a shower, a hot meal and a normal bathroom without recognition of the nine miles that still lay ahead of us the next day. As jubilation gave way to exhaustion most turned in earlier than usual to rest up for the last leg.







If the previous day was the pinnacle of the trek, then we were justly rewarded the next morning with bright blue skies and warm sunshine to accompany us for the last day. With weary bodies aching for a solid meal and warm shower, most everyone pushed abnormally fast along the last nine miles. But, the landscape frequently arrested the pace with unending sights to take in along the way. A mostly flat path, plenty of sunshine and continuing scenic highlights kept everyone in the group motivated through the final stretch of the track.







The last two miles rushed past as the last milepost was eagerly sought out. Finally, a hanging sign designating the 33.5 mile mark emerged at one end of the trail, drew nearer and then served to commemorate the completion of 'the greatest walk in the world.' A smattering of congratulations were dolled out by some, but mostly just knowing looks as we passed one another on the way to pass out in the shelter and await the ferry.





The epilogue to the journey was the 20 minute ferry ride from Sandfly Point across Milford Sound to the bus station. For most of the 33.5 miles, I wondered what made the initial trailblazers of the Milford Track pick this inlet of water - out of so many that cut into the fjordlands - as the end game for this hike (although the original trampers made the return journey as well). Making our way across the Milford Sound, it was instantly clear. The Milford Sound is a scenic gem with two majestic looking mountains standing guard on either side of a watery path that leads out to the vast Pacific. You can reach it in a few quick hours from a myriad of directions via bus or car, but hiking 33.5 miles over four days with 38 new friends from around the globe makes it immensely more rewarding.



Milford Track Photo Album: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/MilfordTrack06