New Zealand, Part 1: The Milford Track

Considering our New Zealand trip took place over 1.5 years ago (!!!), it’s safe to say I am well overdue for some posts on this. I couldn’t possibly write one single page on this trip. For one, it would too long and everyone would get very tired of reading by the end. For two, it’s poor organizational skills. In summary, Kit and I traveled to New Zealand for 3 weeks. We spent about half of that time with another couple, Christina and Andrew. We toured all around both islands, hiking, biking, driving, drinking, frolicking with sheep, and unsuccessfully penguin-searching :(.

Today, I present to you Part 1, in which I describe our adventure along the Milford Track. It’s a bit of long one, so bear with me (or, just look through the photos posted here. There are some photos there that aren’t in this post, so check it out anyway if you’re curious!)

Before I fully kick off, a side note: Several of the photos in this post (and I’ll caption as such) were taken by Christina (check her out). Partially, I am using them because I am in them (and this blog is, after all, about me) but she also did a better job with taking pictures of people and capturing emotion. I was more like “but what does this waterfall feel right now?” I never really figured that one out.

Pre-trip Pre-amble

The Milford Track is 100% because of Kit. Or at least, our knowledge of it came from him, and he was the big promoter. (As far as I know, he didn’t physically create the Milford Track.) The track has been around for a lonnnnng time. It’s located on the south island, nestled in Fiordland National Park. The route itself is considered the first European crossing through that region, fully noting that Maori definitely explored this area well before a bunch of white guys (most notably, MacKinnon, McKay, and Sutherland). But colonialists are what they are, and this is only relevant because there are a number of landmarks named after these guys.

I digress. When planning our NZ trip, we knew we’d be hiking at least a couple of the nine Great Walks. Kit read that the Milford Track was once described as the “finest walk in the world” and he was like, “We have to do this.” I was less convinced; I want a spectacular hike, not one that is just “fine”. (Ha. Ha.) Many of the Great Walks, particularly in that region of NZ, look pretty amazing. However, the Milford Track is without a doubt the most popular. So much so that it is really challenging to book. Admittedly, my concern was that its popularity was in large part due to a snowball effect - more people hear about it, so more people do it, so more people tell their friends about how great it is, etc. etc. etc. So, while I was 100% on board with this, I didn’t have the highest expectations.

I was so wrong and my expectations were blown out of the water, but more on that later.

In was, in fact, challenging to book. Essentially, you have to book a bed in each of the 3 huts along the route, and there are only 40 beds available at each hut. Christina and I meticulously figured out which days we would ideally wish to be on the trail, plus a couple of contingency plans should we fail to obtain beds during our optimal days. With our plan in hand, we all waited until the literal second that booking became available for the 2017-2018 hiking season. The site struggled with the number of people trying to get in at that very moment, and it was extremely stressful. We all were hitting refresh, trying to get through. Christina won! She booked us all in our beds. By the end of the day, all of our desirable hiking days were booked, so I’m glad we were able to do it. Woof. Additionally, since it’s a through-hike, transportation must be booked as well. The trail both starts and ends at a body of water, so you have to take a boat to and from the trail to civilization. We ended up booking all transportation logistics through Easy Hike, which was, as advertised, easy. They transport your car for you as well, from the trail start to the trail end. Since there was 4 of us, this made the most financial and logistic sense, as the bus wasn’t exactly cheap either.

Christina, somewhere along the Milford Track

Fast forward six months later: We prepped for the hike in Te Anau, which is a cute little town on Lake Te Anau. Lots of tourists, for sure. Mostly people go through this region to Milford Sound, or make this base camp for one of the three Great Walks in the area. We enjoyed spending some time there and found many places for us to stock up on backpacking meals and other snacks for four days and 33 miles of hiking. More on Te Anau in another post. On to the Milford Track!

Day 1

The first day of the Milford Track is short, as far as hiking goes. From the start of the trail, the first hut is 3 miles (5 km) away. However, there is an hour-long water taxi ride to Glade Wharf, where the track begins. This picks up at Te Anau Downs, which is basically a little dock located a 30 minute drive north from Te Anau. We had a 1 PM boat ride scheduled through Easy Hike, so we enjoyed a relaxing morning of breakfast and bird watching a few blocks from the hostel. Then, with a lot of time to spare, we drove to Te Anau Downs.

A somewhat important aside - there are essentially only two ways to hike the Milford Track: self-guided, which requires booking through the Department of Conservation Hut System (our selected option), or the much more expensive, ritzy, guided tour. This system has 3 separate huts, located at completely different places along the track. All gear is transported separately, so these hikers only carry a day pack, and food is provided. I’m pretty sure fresh linens are helicoptered in to each “hut”. So fancy. So luxurious.

Anyway, the 1 PM boat pulls up to the dock. It’s really a large catamaran-style boat, which is not what I envisioned for a water taxi. We cued up but much to our surprise, our names were not on the manifest (ACK!). Christina and I both had multiple confirmation emails printed out to indicate that we should be on the 1 PM boat. “This is the guided tour boat,” we were told. Hmm. Okay. Perhaps we had the time wrong? The guides were kind to us, but the boat was full so there wasn’t much they could do. Our best bet was to wait for the 2 PM water taxi and hope we were on that manifest.

The panic begins to set in. We didn’t have cell service this far out of town, nor did we have time to drive back to Te Anau to call ~~Easy~~ Stressful Hike. Kit and Andrew took the car to drive down the road a ways, in hopes of getting some cell signal or finding a roadside shop with a telephone. Christina and I anxiously paced around the docks in the bright, hot afternoon sun while lazy bumblebees buzzed around us. We sat mostly in silence, with our full backpacks stocked with four days of necessities, hoping this wasn’t going to be the thing that kept us from completing the hike that took so much planning.

The boys returned without good news.

The 2 PM taxi arrived. This was a much smaller boat and closer to what I imagine when I hear “water taxi”. This offered some amount of hope. We all quickly got up and met the captain, as this boat had no guides or crew. Unfortunately, we were not on the manifest either. However, he seemed much more willing and able to help us. “Oh yeah, I work with Easy Hike all the time! Let me give Kristen a call!” (I don’t remember the name, don’t quote me on this...) He was able to make some calls through his boat radio, or whatever the technical term is. Ultimately, he didn’t get a hold of the right people, but he was able to take us to Glade Wharf. Very kindly, he said he would get ahold of Easy Hike later to resolve payment and other issues.

It is true that most New Zealanders are friendly and will do what they can to help!

Here, Here to the kind Captain of this boat!

New Zealand Christmas Trees! (From Christina)

We had a great ride up Lake Te Anau - this lake is huge! Tree-covered cliffs jut through the glacial-carved fiords. Many of the trees surrounding the lake are called “Christmas Trees” because they are deep green, and bright red flowers bloom all over the trees right around Christmas time. Everything here looks so different from the terrain and vegetation that we are used to seeing. There were only two other groups in the boat with us - a nice couple from Wellington and an Australian family with three boys. We had a nice time chatting and soaking in all the stories from the captain.

We got our first taste of the jungle we’d be hiking through when the boat hit shore. There is only a small bit of rocky beach and then a dense green forest of ancient ferns and trees I’ve never seen before, stretching far back into the valley beyond.

We didn’t hike far through the lush greenery before coming to our first bit of “excitement”. This came in the form of a large meadow with a helicopter preparing to take off: supplies, for the first Luxury Hut, confirming my thoughts on just how extravagant the guided tour must be. The meadow gave way to a wide river with a massively long suspension bridge just narrow enough for single-file pedestrian crossing, and the fiords could be spotted above the river valley. Since we had several hours of daylight and only about an hour of hiking to our Peasant Hut, we stopped to take photos on the bridge and enjoy the scenery.

Much excitement. And not our hut in the background. — Much excitement. And not *our* hut in the background.

Kit and I on our first pedestrian suspension bridge. (Christina snapped this with my camera)

After crossing the river, we plunged back into dense forest and spent the rest of the afternoon in the company of birds. We met two different species on the trail: a little grey robin (later discovered to be the “South Island Robin”) and a fantail. One of the robins hopped onto a rock right off the trail and struck many poses for us - Andrew and I took several photos of the little model. The fantail also waggled his tail feathers at us, but he was too quick and we got no good photos.

We also came across our first weka right before reaching the hut. Andrew and Kit were hiking just out of site in front of us and suddenly came hurrying back to Christina and I. “There might be a kiwi up ahead!” they whispered frantically. We crept up on the bird, trying to remember exactly what kiwis are supposed to look like. That’s when another hiker nearing the hut informed us that this was a weka, which is basically the chicken of New Zealand. Much less exciting. By the end of our time in New Zealand, we were a little sick of the damn weka.

I maintain that I am NOT “armrest height”. (From Christina)

We arrived at the Clinton Hut around 4 PM. This hut consisted of two bunk rooms and one cook room, connected by a vast deck. Hikers were already sprawled across the deck, enjoying the warm air or treating sandfly bites (we had none, yet…). We signed up for our bunks, then attempted to play a few card games out on the deck. That’s when the first few sandflies found us (and by “us,” I mean “Andrew”). At 5 PM, the hut warden (ranger? master? pal??) led interested persons on a short nature walk around the area. We joined, and found it incredibly informative. This man had been spending weeks at a time at this hut for a good part of this summer, and several summers before this. He knew his Clinton Valley flora and fauna. He taught us about the weka, robins, and fantails, and about all the different ferns, trees, and other related shrubbery. Do I remember the details now, almost two years later? Nope :(

We also went wandering down by the river, though it was not warm enough for us to consider getting wet. The valley was gorgeous, with a wide sinuous river bed surrounded by beech trees, and the steep, rocky fiords jutting up above it all. We also tried to spot some glowworms in a rocky alcove near the trail, but it was hard to see in the light.

Christina and Andrew, enjoying a walk by the river.

Dinner for us and 80% of our hutmates was rehydrated backpacking food. Even without the need for carrying a tent, we had four days of hiking and 33+ miles to cover. Light packs were essential. Or so we thought, until one group whipped out ingredients to cook what looked like a 4-course spaghetti dinner, complete with an entire bottle of wine. I can only hope it was a plastic bottle. We did find some comfort later on this trip when that group was the last to the hut every day.

The hut ranger gave a little talk after dinner in the cook room, with everyone gathered around. Unfortunately, he informed us that tomorrow was probably going to be rainy, but that we should not despair! Rain really made the valley come alive. We went to bed nervous and excited for the long day ahead. Since I have a hard time sleeping in dorm settings, I had loaded my phone with a couple of Harry Potter audio books - so, I fell asleep to the sound of Jim Dale describing Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s worst camping trip ever.

Day 2

Day 2 was wet. So very wet.

It’s not an adventure if you’re not miserable! (From Christina)

We woke up to pouring rain and decided to get out on the trail pretty early, to get it over with. We downed a quick breakfast, packed up, and covered ourselves with rain gear. The tramping chefs were starting to fry up their bacon as we were leaving (who does that?!). The shade of the forest offered some relief from the rain, so I was relatively (again, relatively) less grumpy about the rain than I normally would be. We also quickly witnessed what the hut ranger was talking about the night before, when we turned a corner and broke through the trees for the first time. We all stopped.

Holy shit.

Spread out in front of us was steep fiord walls, teaming with hundreds of waterfalls rushing down their faces and into the valley. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. We lingered to take several photos, though we would soon discover that much of today would be spent enveloped by similar views.

Our view, more or less, for the entire day.

There were 40 people hiking between Clinton Hut and Mintaro Hut that day, and yet we came across very few others during our hike. There were two lone hikers, a tall Japanese man and a young Korean man, with whom we crossed paths on a few occasions, though we didn’t interact with them beyond a friendly smile and nod. There was a bit of a language barrier. So, it was in solitude that we ate lunch under a small shelter in a wide, open area of the river valley. The rain had let up a bit, which gave us brighter skies and a reprieve from being completely soaked. A couple of weka joined us for lunch, waiting for us to drop a tasty morsel. I am skeptical that the weka are picky creatures though, as we definitely saw one eat a rock.

Lunch for Kit and I was some unappetizing gluten free PB&J’s (it’s not like I forbid Kit from eating gluten. He does this to himself for “convenience”, i.e. I make his sandwich). Christina had packed multiple apples and several carrot sticks the size of my forearm, which made for healthy snacks, but we spent most of the trip making fun of the weight-to-calorie ratio. This was several pounds of carrots. I’m pretty sure Christina was wishing one of them would morph into a bottle of wine.

Day 2 was pretty long, covering over 10 miles (16.2 km). It was very gradually uphill, at sea level, and on an extremely well-maintained trail, so it did not feel particularly strenuous. While we spent the entire day in the Clinton River Valley, it was apparent how much ground we covered, as we passed in and out of thick growths of ferns and tall beech trees, across rocky “ice fields” not unlike Colorado boulder fields, over distinctive green steel bridges, and by beautiful waterfalls fed by the rain.

It’s really best described in photos.

Christina’s Wide Load Backpack, full of carrots

A small bit of the trail was completely submerged. We just trudged through it, boots and all. Here’s a disgruntled Andrew.

The final journey of Day 2 involved slightly more uphill hiking as we approached Mintaro hut. The rain had completely subsided by mid afternoon when we rolled into camp. Beams of sunlight poked through the thinning clouds, illuminated the small collection of buildings, which were nestled high up in the significantly more mountainous terrain. Hiking boots and rain gear had been strung up all along the front of the main hut, hoping for any amount of sunlight to suck out some moisture. We followed suit, excited to take off squishy wet boots.

Mintaro means “resting place” in Maori, and boy did it feel like one! Mintaro Hut was not only my favorite hut in New Zealand, but also one of the best places I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. So, I apologize as I continue to aggressively wax poetic about it. The setting is amazing, yes, but it also had a feeling that I can’t quite describe. Maybe it was the respite from the rain and the soul-warming sunlight; perhaps it was cozy second-story bunk room, with a four-bed nook perfect for our group; or, possibly, it was just the mood I was in: here we are, deep in the fiordlands of New Zealand on the other side of the world and we spent the entire day getting our socks knocked off by breathtaking views. We get to rest at this beautiful hut, surrounded by only 36 other people from all across the globe. Amazing.

And I am so lucky.

Most magical hut ever (this photo was taken in the morning when we left. So, I have no proof of the wonderful beams of sunshine.

Jackets and shoes hoping to dry out by the morning.

We sat out on the deck that afternoon. I attempted to briefly journal our trip so far, scratching away in the tiny notebook I brought; Kit and Andrew read their books; Christina was playing with her camera. It was quiet, save for the relaxing twitter of distant birds in the neighboring trees. It was extremely tranquil and I will never forget it.

Christina eventually struck up a conversation with the couple that we met on the water taxi. They are “locals”, from Wellington, and offered many suggestions for activities to do on the north island. Christina is much better than I at making friends on a whim, but I joined in, and we all enjoyed learning a bit about each other and our cultures. They first assumed we were Canadian, though that may just be the safer assumption, as one would not want to offend a Canadian by suggesting they are American. Also, Americans are usually associated with cruise ships and touristy towns, apparently; not remote backpacking trips that take one far away from civilization. The man expressed that he generally associates Americans with The Simpsons. He’s not entirely wrong, and I’m not entirely offended.

Me, concentrating on my notes. (From Christina)

We had a joyous dinner in the noisy first floor of the main hut. The room was full talking and laughing, a good vibe all around. The hut ranger here also gave us a little talk. She told us about the kea, an endangered species of mountain parrot. We would, whether we wanted to or not, meet these birds around 5 AM tomorrow morning. They are incredibly smart. We were warned to leave our shoes outside, but tied up on hooks underneath the roof deck. All other items, dry or not, were to come inside, lest they become the playthings of the kea. Unrelated to the kea, she also polled the group for where we were from. We learned that about half of the group was from Australia or New Zealand; everyone else came from all over: Japan, Korea, Argentina, the United Kingdom, Germany, the United States (us), and probably somewhere else I’m forgetting.

Christina and I played games in my notebook up in the bunks prior to turning in for the night. I remember realizing that we were giggling a bit too much as the hut patrons were winding down, after which we got much quieter. But I was too high on joy to feel too bad. What an unbelievable day.

Day 3

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

Or so we were woken up on the morning of Day 3. The hut ranger was not stretching the truth. It was still pretty dark in the bunk room, but Christina and I both grabbed our cameras and crept downstairs. We weren’t about to miss the kea. Sure enough, there was at least 20 of these parrots soaring around right outside the hut. The thump, it turns out, was the sound of keas “gracefully” landing on the roof of the deck, stomping around a bit, then flying around to another surface to check out what it had to offer.

The hut ranger was awake, and a few other folks came down to join us as well. Apparently, the keas’ favorite items to steal from hikes are insoles from shoes. The hut ranger was not entirely sure what they do with them. We got the impression that half of holding down Mintaro hut involves chasing after kea in an attempt to retrieve stolen items. It is almost never successful. It’s not good for the birds, either, which is why the boots get hung and the jackets stored inside. The kea reminded me of a troupe of toddlers let lose in the wilderness, trying to get into anything and everything, and approaching people who are not really sure what they are supposed to do. Christina, seated at one of the picnic tables, stared down a kea perched on the table - it kept making a go for her glasses. After Andrew rolled downstairs still wrapped in his blanket to check out the commotion, a kea also tried to steal his blanket.

Christina and I both got many great photos, and a good hour of entertainment.

Kea watchers - and Andrew with his blanket.

I’m not really sure what this kea is doing

Today’s hike was the day I was personally most excited about. I had already come to understand why this hike is insanely popular, and I would have been content with more valley hiking at this point. But I have a soft spot for steep passes and vast mountain vistas, which is what today promised. Unfortunately, there was also a deep fog filling the valley, and I was feeling pessimistic that we’d get our view. It’s not uncommon for it to be cloudy up on MacKinnon Pass. Christina was hopeful, though, and as a result we all set out in a good mood.

Parts of the hike, especially the Day 3 mountain pass, are considered somewhat challenging to hike. Since we are seasoned Colorado Hikers, we found it to be fairly mild, though the climb over the pass was no joke. There were a lot of little things though that made the whole experience of "tramping" (as they call it) in New Zealand better than in Colorado. Minus all the rain, of course. Of note:

No bears. No mountain lions. I don’t even think there were snakes. Just birds. A lot of birds. There are also eels in the rivers, which we saw once. I wasn’t a huge fan. They are very snake-like.
We didn’t really have to worry about water filtration. We brought the UV pen, but the water was generally considered to be safe to drink. At the huts, the rangers all used the unfiltered water, which was mostly obtained from rain collection tanks. We didn’t bother treating the water, and no one had any issues. Since there are so few animals and pollutants, everything is very pure here.
Staying in huts is awesome! It is really nice to backpack without a tent (…which Kit carries, but still). I also didn’t need to lug around as many warm layers as I usually bring. While the temperatures were pretty cool most of the hike, having even a non-heated hut made a huge difference in evening comfort. The huts also had cots, so we just had to bring a sleeping bag - no pad.
I mean, you’re in New Zealand, so it’s great.

So, in the morning of Day 3, we hiked up and up. We were in mostly thick, dark forest, until we hit several switchbacks. Then, we climbed up into the clouds. I’m starting to wonder if the clouds are going to break, or if we’re going to get a nice eyeful of solid grey as we approach the top of the pass. That’s when I turned around and saw blue sky behind us, with a clear view of the sharp, steep fiords towering in the background. I had no idea we were hiking so close to the top of the peaks! Christina and Andrew, a hundred yards behind us, had made the same discovery and we all stopped in awe.

The clouds continued to dissipate over the next half hour as we slowly made our way across the pass. Christina and Andrew were going on about inversion layers and something something weather, but I was just happy to enjoy the view. I’ve seen mountain ranges from the tops of passes before, but the fiords are something else! Bright sunlight warmed us all. I was satisfied.

Kit and I looking down the valley we hiked the day before (From Christina)

There was a fair amount of hiking to be done on the top of the pass. About 10 minutes after reaching the top, there is another hut, though this one is not for overnight stays in the summer. Winter season hikers can use it, especially to hunker down in inclement weather. Hiking around here would be crazy in the winter! Avalanche danger is extremely high, and most bridges are removed as a result. Apparently, you have to have alpine winter hiking skills (of which I do not). In the summer, though, walking across the pass was a dream.

Also a dream was the toilet at the top of the pass. And they know it, too. Stay tuned for my “Toilets of New Zealand” post (I’m not joking.)

The decent was more challenging than I anticipated. The track gets considerably more rugged. Plus, it felt like it went on for years! Part of it was literally wooden stairs, thought at least that provided us with level footing!

We lunched at a shelter tucked in the forest, then continued downwards. There is a highly-recommended side trip a couple of hours before our final hut: Sutherland Falls. This is the 11th tallest waterfall in the world! The turn off for this trail is located at the Fancy Luxury Hut, so they supply the Peasant Hikers with a little space to store our bags. They even provided hot tea and coffee! It felt like cheating to take treats from the guided tour group. However, we were really interested in seeing the falls, and hiking without our bags was too good an opportunity to pass up. It’s amazing how much lighter we felt for the 3-4 miles that took us to the falls and back.

The stairs, though somewhat hard to see in the harsh shadows

Me - I think Kit took this photo on my camera??

The falls were really something, too. It’s hard to get a scale for the thing - the best views I’ve seen are pictures taken from helicopters. It’s difficult to understand the falls, even having seen it in person, from the base. What I can tell you is that the mist from the water slamming into the rocks was intense. A picture was impossible to get because our cameras were constantly sprayed with water. The day was heating up though and the mist felt wonderful on our skin. Is this what a shower feels like?!

The rest of the hike to Dumpling Hut was very uneventful. We were glad to be done for the day, when we finally arrived.

The last night at the final hut felt different. People were more open and friendly. Shared adventures, both good and bad, really bring folks together. Christina and I ate dinner across the table from a couple from the UK. Both were expats, though - one was German, and the other from Seattle (so we were not the only Americans after all!). One or both of them were working on a masters or a PhD in the UK - I don’t recall. What was fascinating was listening to the German discuss the vitriol he has experienced in the UK, particularly surrounding Brexit. He is, evidently, supposed to return to where he came from. It is surprising, because they are both white men, though on the other hand, it is not surprising that a gay couple is bullied. Unfortunately.

The other fascinating story from the German: Germany is really into saving energy. In fact, most European countries are in a bit of a competition to see who can use the least (ugh, Norway, am I right?). I found this hopeful, though it also made me depressed at the state of the US. Why aren’t we part of this competition? Why can’t we find pride and motivation in using less instead of more, in caring for our planet and allowing for our species to have a future?

Christina also struck up conversation with a Kiwi couple from the far North Island. They were older, retirees. The woman proclaimed, “You know, we in New Zealand don’t really like your president [Trump].”

“Yeah,” Christina responded. “The majority of Americans don’t either!”

Later that evening, our entire bunk room (filled mostly with 20-somethings) spent at least an hour talking about Harry Potter and the impact it had on our childhood. Yes, liking Harry Potter is not exactly an unpopular opinion for people my age, but it was fascinating to have something that we could all passionately discuss, in varying levels of broken (or perfect) English.

I wish I were better at meeting folks when I travel, because some of my favorite memories from this trip are the things I learned from other people. We are too isolated, even with the connection that the internet brings. Face to face conversations with every day individuals is incredibly valuable. I realize that I have a lot in common with the active, financially privileged folks who can afford to travel to New Zealand to complete a trek such as this one; but I also find comfort in knowing that there are people very similar to myself all around the world.

Day 4

I’ll keep Day 4 brief. You get it: we hiked, it was beautiful. I was, however, ready for a shower and a proper bed. Not anxiously so, but enough that my pace quickened. It was a flat day, spent crossing back and forth over the river, in a valley that was very different from Clinton just on the other side of the pass. There were different trees and parts of the hike were rockier. We stopped by McKay Falls, which were piddly little cascades compared to Sutherland Falls; we hiked over several more suspension bridges, of varying degree of bouncy sketchiness; we hiked along a cliff edge where the path had been chipped out of the rock, though it was not particularly treacherous.

One of my favorite stories: Sutherland and McKay were exploring the river valley, hiking in from Milford Sound. They came across these gorgeous falls! McKay and Sutherland fight over who gets to name them. McKay wins the coin toss (or game of rock-paper-scissor, or maybe he just poked Sutherland in the eye and he gave in). This is how McKay Falls came to be named. Then, a few hours later, they come across the 11th largest waterfall in the world. Sutherland promptly said, “I’ll take this one. Suck it.” …More or less. My history isn’t accurate.

The final stop of note is Lion Falls: here, you cross the last bridge of the journey, suspended over a crystal clear river and in front of a large, raging waterfall. It is the picture on the cover of the Milford Track pamphlet. It is, in part, the scene that led Kit to select this hike. The entire group of hikers had congregated here: the boats pick up at a location about a mile away, unfortunately named Sandfly Point, so no one wanted to wait there. We all sat sprawled across the rocks, together as a group one final time before departing forever, never to meet again. It’s sad, and then it isn’t. There is something about silently sharing a moment with others, knowing that your paths crossed for just these 4 days.

The water looked so enticing. I took my shoes off to soak my feet - my feet lasted about 30 seconds. It may look as clear as the waters of the Caribbean, but this came straight off a glacier. It was far too frigid.

The first amazing view of the famous Milford Sound.

Ultimately, that was our time on the Milford Track. We eventually hiked the last 20 minutes to Sandfly Point, where we were eaten by Sandflies (just kidding, it wasn’t that bad. We all received a couple of bites. Andrew got the worst of it. Thanks for taking one for the team, man!). We boarded a water taxi with no hiccups this time, and made our way back to civilization.

If I ever get around to writing New Zealand Part 2, we will pick up there.

For now, I want to express how thankful I am that I was able to complete this journey. I’m thankful for the company I had along the way, and for the friendly faces I had met by the end of the experience. Here’s to always seeking out new adventures! When in doubt, do the thing. Get soaking wet. Cross the bridges. Bring the giant carrot sticks.

love,

april

Song of the Day: MJ by Now, Now

long post, adventuresACSeptember 29, 2019New Zealand, Milford Track, Hiking, HutsComment