Milford Track

After doing the Abel Tasman walk we’ve decided that the less we can get away with carrying the better, so armed with small rucksacks containing just two t-shirts, a jumper, waterproofs, combats and the food, cutlery, bowls and water bottles we’ll need, we arrive early to catch the bus that takes all the walkers to the ferry and on to the track. Once we’re on board the ferry we are amazed at the size of some of the bags the other walkers are taking, some of them are as big as the little girls carrying them. We’re hoping they are fit as we’ve felt just how much difference carrying your pack can make to you when you walk all day.

After a scenic trip across the lake, with commentary on the history of the pioneers of this trail, we have just a one and a half hour, 5km forecasted route to the first hut. After just an hour we reach our base for the night, three huts called collectively Clinton Hut with a viewing platform out over the wetlands. We’re here by early afternoon so relax and have a bite to eat before exploring back along the track a bit to view the wetlands a little closer and along the banks of the Clinton river from which the hut takes its name. We can presume that the river is good for its trout as three men dressed in stripy tights and pink fluffy deelyboppers, (it takes all sorts…), clutching flyfishing rods pass us by. By evening all the walkers have arrived at the huts and are busy settling in and making their respective dinners. We’re accosted by a small but very loud American woman who enquires if we’re Scottish and asks about how much training we’ve put in in preparation for the walk. We explain that we’ve not done much, as we only booked a couple of weeks earlier but that we’ve done the Abel Tasman walk, to which she voices first surprise that we managed to book so recently and then scoffs that the Abel Tasman isn’t a real walk and as such no real preparation.

We’re interrupted at this point by our hut warden who gives us a run down, Hitler style, of our responsibilities around the huts and then gives us an idea of what we’ll encounter on our next days walk. She suggests that if we arrive at the second hut early enough and the weather is good we should drop off our bags then press on to the top as the weather might not be as favourable the following day. This would turn a 16.5km walk into one closer to 30km and Rob and I make a pact not to follow this advice. Day 3 is supposed to be the most challenging anyway without us knackering ourselves the day before.

Off to bed and early to rise, we’re soon breakfasted, packed up and on our way. We follow the Clinton river up to its source at Lake Mintaro, the start of the Mackinnon Pass and past the Pompolona Ice fields as well as several waterfalls. We’re still blessed with uncharacteristically hot and dry weather so the waterfalls are more like trickles but the path is leafy and beautiful and we make good time, getting to Mintaro hut in 4hrs, 2hrs less than forecast. After reading the literature on the walk, I’m relieved not to have been wading waist deep though rivers and flooded pathways and this probably accounts for our good time.

Nearly two hours after we’ve arrived the little loud American (ref.LLA) arrives with her entourage and claims bunks adjacent to ours. They complain of having been kept awake all the previous night by a loud snorer and she asks how our walk has gone, pealing off her socks to reveal a large blister on her foot. I brush off the days walk as having been easier than I thought but the next day is supposed to be the hard one, she doesn’t look pleased. They start to unpack and the size of their packs is explained by the shear quantity of ready meals they have packed, they must have bought every one in the store, plus a box of wine and a dozen bars of chocolate. I like life’s comforts, but right now I’m far happier having two hours less to walk and a bag of nuts to munch on following my dinner.

That night I’m kept awake by the LLA’s husband snoring his head off and the LLA loudly whispering for him to shut up and shining her torch in my eyes as she shines it in his to wake him up… and she complained about snoring. At least she is trying to quieten him down I guess.

Day 3 and we’re up early again. The LLA complains loudly at breakfast that the Germans in our room kept her awake snoring until I silence her with a stare, can’t believe she has the nerve. The weather is on our side and its crisp blue skies as we make the final push to the monument at the top, the highest point on the walk. With fantastic panoramic views back along the valley we’ve walked and on into the next valley, we visit the “loo with a view” and carry on our way. The walk is now mostly downhill over rocky craggy ground and I’m grateful yet again for the fine dry weather as the rocks can be slippery enough when they are dry. The distance to the next hut is 14km with a forecast 5.5hrs for this leg, but we make good time and opt to take a 5km detour (fortunately without our big packs) to visit the base of the Sutherland falls, the tallest falls in NZ. The noise from the falls is incredible and we ditch our cameras in a bush to have a go at clambering behind the falls. Even metres away we are greeted by the spray and within seconds are soaked and I’m blinking blindly as the water runs down my face streaming mosi guard and sun tan lotion into my contact lenses. We carry on to the edge of the fall, our trainers now buckets of water before finally turning back. Rob has spotted several large rocks, that unlike all those around them aren’t covered in the green algae and moss which suggests they have been there some time. The likelihood that they have travelled over the falls with the water puts us off getting any closer and at least refreshed from our “dip” we return back to the track and the final hike to the hut.

Despite the detour we are still at the hut in under 6hrs, we’ve kept a steady pace all day and for the second day running we’re first to arrive at the hut for the night. Going through the ritual of rinsing and hanging out our t-shirts to dry and leaving our trainers to air we explore a little and try taking a dip in a nearby waterhole but the water is so icy cold we don’t brave it for long.

The rest of the walkers come in in dribs and drabs, some of them taking 14hrs to do the days walk and that without the detour up to the falls. We can only think their huge bags are to blame. Scotty the warden for the night at Dumpling Hut lets us know what we are in for the next day, telling us it will take as long as it has taken the day before to do the final days walk. We don’t have to be there till 2pm for the first ferry and 3:15pm for the latter one so we are comfortable that we have an easy day ahead but some of the crew are quite distressed at the prospect and plan an early start, (one group didn’t actually make it to the hut until after we had gone to bed and had left in the morning before we even got up!)

Day 4 and by the time we’ve casually got ready there only remains one other couple at the hut. As a bit of fun we decide to count the people we are passing during the day, counting back from the total on the walk, with 39 people in our group, 2 left behind and the two of us we’ve 35 walkers ahead of us at the start. The advantage that our tiny packs gives us is soon evident, by the time we’ve passed Mackay Falls, Bell rock (so named because it is shaped like a huge bell that you can climb under and inside, which I do despite my fear now of cave wetas), and get to Giants Gate (another big waterfall) we meet up with the final two of the 35. It turns out to be the husband of the LLA and her much nicer American friend. We’ve passed the LLA almost an hour back on the track and the husband and friend are discussing how she (the LLA) is jealous of said friend and now not speaking to her. I don’t think that walking off together without her will have been the best thing for improving her humour but at least it gives Rob and I something to gossip about for the last leg of our trip.

We reach the final hut at Sandfly point and as usual are tortured by the presence of the guided tour’s hut. All along the route have been alternate huts for the guided walkers, paying up to ten times what we have paid they have the luxury of proper bedlinen and food cooked for them (and probably flushing toilets and showers). This final hut appears no different, ours is bare apart from a bench running round the outside and a wood burning stove in the centre. Theirs contains padded seats as well as tea, coffee, orange juice and cookies, torture to us and Rob and I joke about how to break in, squeezing me through the ventilation duct or a window, just as a track warden arrives, which just adds to our humour (picture the window just above head height and my legs sticking out of it as he comes round the corner). The nice American lady arrives with LLA’s husband and we venture down to the end of the jetty where Rob persuades me, after much deliberation, to jump into the fiord. Crikey its freezing, but at least I’m feeling a touch cleaner and the sun is hot enough to warm me as soon as I’m back out.

We get back to the hut and the others are coming in, the couple that came and went in the night comment on seeing us awake for a change and the LLA settles down to examine her blisters and start showing off with all the food they still have to eat. She has been quizzing us all along as to whether we have been eating and now remarks on us both just wearing trainers as opposed to her big hiking boots. She can’t believe that we’ve done the whole track without all the rubbish she has been carrying (we even saw a small shovel in the rucksack of her husband on one night). Rob is wearing his Mercer t-shirt so the obligatory “oh have you done a skydive?” question comes out and she quizzes me likewise, we affirm that we have each done “a skydive” and she also delights in telling us all the extreme sports her and her husband have been up to in recent weeks, although skydiving “isn’t for her”. She works for AJ Hackett and tells us all the places we should go to do a bungy, but I’m pretty sure doing the three in Queenstown will suffice.

We get the early ferry back to Milford Sound but unfortunately as we’re booked on a later coach we can’t get the earlier one to Te Anau. Damn, nothing for it we’ll just have to hit the pub, a couple of bottles of ice cold beer and a bowl of chips, bliss. After a scenic drive back we collect our little van, shower up and head into town for a bite to eat. I’d spotted a place on our first day there and we decide, after 4 days of re-hydrated meals, to treat ourselves. The food actually doesn’t work out any more expensive than the pub up the road, but it was sooo the right decision. I opt for a Lamb Roast dinner and Rob has a Beef Wellington which is probably the best I’ve ever tasted, the Kepler Family Restaurant is definitely going down in my book for must visit places!