Almost heaven
Through torrential rain and three glorious days of sunshine, 72-year-old Albuquerquean completes Great Walk in New Zealand
After 36 hours of travel, we arrived in the small town of TeAnau on the South Island exhausted but excited.
On Feb. 6, we boarded a small boat at Lake TeAnau that took us to the trail head of the Milford Track. We had four days of backpacking ahead of us, staying in 40-person huts along this 33.5 mile trek. Our total ascent would be 3,500 feet, returning to sea level on the last day. Hopefully our training in the Sandia Mountains near Albuquerque hiking a couple of times each week would pay off.
Day 1: Clinton Hut
We didn’t get off to a very good start because it had been steadily raining for the past two days and it was still pouring when we got off the small boat at the trail head, Glade Wharf. My backpack weighed 17 pounds, as I only packed essentials, including a light-weight sleeping bag, rain gear and an assortment of freeze-dried food.
I had purchased some mid-calf rain boots, but decided to leave them in my suitcase since I didn’t want the extra weight in my pack. With all the rain I was really kicking myself for not bringing them and envious of everyone who stopped to put their boots on.
Suddenly the rain was making deeper and deeper puddles and we found the water up to mid-thigh in some areas with a raging river on one side of us. “Where’s the trail?” I screamed to my companions as I watched them sway in the deep water and ever growing current.
“Keep moving,” they yelled back, “we only have a short way to go.”
Luckily, it was only three miles to our first hut and after two hours we were there, totally wet, soggy and now trying to fend off the dreaded sand flies. “Why did we ever put these boots on? They just weighed us down and water flooded over the tops?” my friends wailed. I had a slight grin on my face.
Dinner was freeze dried in a bag, not very appetizing, as we watched a small group making a gourmet meal in a large pot with fresh meat and vegetables. “Someone knows how to backpack,” my friends bemoaned. After putting our wet boots, socks and rain gear by the wood stove in the kitchen area, we crawled into our sleeping bags pondering what tomorrow would bring.
Day 2: Mintaro Hut
I woke up to a person standing by my bunk asking in a loud voice, “Who was doing all the snoring?” It was one of my fellow hikers, but I played dumb.
After another unappealing freeze-dried meal for breakfast and dousing myself with bug spray, I was ready to hike the 12 miles to our second hut. The rain was gone, the trails had magically soaked up the extra water and I found myself hiking in glorious sunshine.
Being the oldest of my group, I informed everyone to not wait for me, as I had my own pace — “slow and steady.” I could finally see the most stunning array of mountains covered in lush rain forest foliage, and crystal clear, rapidly flowing mountain streams with deep blue pools.
I felt like a kid again when crossing numerous suspension bridges that bordered thundering waterfalls, not to mention hearing numerous song birds. Ah, now this is why I came here — paradise.
I was tired by the time I got to the second hut and my finger was sore from taking so many pictures but every bend on the trail gave me a new sense of awe. I passed signs that read, “Don’t stop for the next 300 meters — Avalanche Area,” evidenced by huge uprooted trees scattered around like pick-up sticks and boulders that I had to scramble over to find the trail.
I made it to Mintaro Hut mid-afternoon and enjoyed the camaraderie of fellow hikers. I can’t say dinner was better than before and the snore patrol person was still on the lookout — actually shaking the bunks of offenders during the night. But it felt good to curl up and sleep.
Day 3: Dumpling Hut
This was my most taxing day as I climbed 2,000 feet over Mackinnon Pass (3,500 feet). The trail was steep and rocky, but provided the most scenic views.
Once again I was blessed with full sun making the vistas below spectacular. When I got to the top of the pass I was rewarded by a shelter serving hot chocolate, cookies and juice. “WOW, this is really nice.”
But I was told “Sorry, you entered the guided tour section of the shelter. The independent hiker section is next door.”
Needless to say, “no service” on my side.
Evidently, you can pay for a guided tour on the Milford Track for a mere $2,400 NZ
(about $1,675 U.S.) and be catered to with lodging, meals and snacks along the way. After a brief calculation of what I had saved by taking the “poor man’s” route, I ate my granola bar, drank fresh stream water and started the long descent to my third hut.
Along the way I decided to take a 3-mile side trip to see the highest falls in New Zealand, Southerland Falls — 580 meters tall. As I got closer to them, the sound was deafening.
I’ve never seen such a powerful surge of energy crashing down a sheer cliff. I was spellbound.
After hiking almost 11 hours I finally made it to my hut at 7 p.m. I was greeted by two of my fellow hikers saying, “We were just leaving to find you.” I was the last one in.
I was too tired to even boil water and happily ate the second serving of a freezedried dinner offered to me. “This is absolutely delicious,” I raved and scarfed it down.
Day 4: Sandfly Point
Once again, we were greeted with beautiful sunny weather. It is so rare to get three days of sunshine in an area that is claimed to be one of the wettest spots on earth — 292 inches of rain per year. According to the locals, getting three straight days of sunshine is almost unheard of.
It was a gentle, 13-mile hike down to Sandfly Point, appropriately named, as we swatted flies, sprayed more repellent and tried to cover all bare skin. We all boarded the one o’clock boat to the Milford Sound Lodge, where we each had our own private accommodation. After tramping 37 miles in the bush, we deserved it, Mate, as we were knackered.