Tramping the Milford Track

Our group of trampers was a sorry-looking lot as we shed our dripping rain gear and fumbled for a mug of hot tea inside Pass Hut. The wind roared as we prepared for more trekking along the Milford Track, the arduous and popular 33 1/2-mile route through New Zealand’s largest national park.

How, I wondered, can I explain this as “vacation”? What had brought us to this place along the peaks of South Island in the driving wind and rain?

After hiking from lodge to lodge in the Canadian Rockies the previous summer, I was hooked on hiking through breathtaking scenery to back-country lodges for four days and three nights.

The Milford Track winds across beautiful rain forests, mountains, fiords, rivers and coastlines. The track gained fame following a route pioneered in the 1880s by Scotsmen Donald Sutherland and John Mackay, who began blazing a trail southeast from Milford Sound. Quintin Mackinnon and Ernest Mitchell were cutting a trail north up the Clinton Valley, then over Mackinnon Pass; the two trails were connected in 1888. The next year Mackinnon guided the first tours over the track, and “tramping,” as New Zealanders call hiking, became a Kiwi way of life.

In March, my husband, Jerry, and I flew from Auckland in the North Island to Queenstown in the southwest part of South Island. After a day of sightseeing, we made our way by bus to Te Anau, about 200 miles to the southwest, on the flank of Fiordland National Park. There we started the journey on the Milford Track.

At Te Anau there are two ways of approaching the tramp. “Freedom Walkers,” those on unguided trips, make reservations months in advance to use Department of Conservation huts. Bookings for a limited number of trampers begin in July for the next season, which runs November through April. Freedom Walkers must pack and carry everything.

We opted for the Milford Track Guided Walk. Guides would lead us through the fiords and forested canopies and past waterfalls, with stops for afternoon tea. At the end of each day, hot showers, prepared meals and beds would await us.

After checking into our simple room at the Centra Motel, we headed for a reception and edged into the group of 23 strangers. We would be the season’s 118th group, made up of a variety of people--among them a 20-ish Silicon Valley techie and a 75-year-old widow from England celebrating successful cancer treatment. (She was the best hiker of the lot.)

“You need one set of layered hiking clothes,” our guide, Susan Gilbert, said at orientation before our noon departure the next morning. Sunscreen, insect repellent and good sunglasses were recommended; cotton clothing that soaks up sweat and water was not. Susan rolled out an appropriately attired mannequin, which was dressed in a striped polypropylene shirt and long johns, shorts, a fleece jacket, hat, gloves, poly-blend hiking socks, boots, rain jacket and backpack.

“Leave that makeup and shaving kit behind,” she told us. Each lodge had toiletries, hand laundry facilities and huge drying rooms to hang gear overnight. We packed a change of clothes for evenings, plus underwear, socks, walking sandals, pajamas, a flashlight, reading and writing material, camera, lots of film plus an extra pair of hiking pants and shirt.

A shuttle took us to Te Anau Lake, and we cruised across it. From the wharf, it was a mile or so jaunt to the first lodge, Glade House, the official start of the Milford Track.

After a “nature hike,” apparently to size up our level of fitness, and dinner, we readied for bed, climbed into our bunks and said good night to our roommates, an Australian couple who snored. We quietly slipped in our earplugs.

Lights came on at 6 a.m. with the generator, and we shuffled to the communal bathrooms. After breakfast, we packed our lunches and, finally, were ready.

A suspension bridge over the Clinton River led to a profusion of ferns and into a silver beech forest. The path was wide and sandy, and under the beeches grew a sub-canopy of tree ferns and shrubs, then a floor of moss and lichen.

My sighting of two endangered blue ducks a few miles into the walk gave me official “birder” status.

One mile slipped into the next, and six miles into the trek we ascended a canyon, stopping for lunch and tea at a hut near Hirere Falls.

The track crossed avalanche chutes cut by snow and trees, and grasslands, alluvial fans of gravel and regenerating forests dot the landscape. More unusual are the tree slides. The lush forests grow on a thin layer of compost atop sheer, steep rock, and roots form an interlocking mat that stabilizes the dense foliage. When a tree falls, usually during heavy rain after a dry spell, it rips the other plants’ roots. The resulting slide leaves a bare rock scar.

We had covered 10 miles as we approached Bus Stop, a shelter with a sign that reads: “If in flood wait for guide.” We crossed the gurgling stream and headed for Pomplona Lodge, where we were greeted with hot tea and room assignments.

Like the other lodges along the track, Pomplona was comfortable and relatively new. After a dinner of honey chicken, rice, vegetables, salad and dessert, we talked about the next day’s hike and the weather. Dark clouds had gathered, and our nine-mile trek would be the toughest: up 11 switchbacks and over Mackinnon Pass. We fell into an anxious sleep.

Rain pounded on the tin roof all night, and it was still pouring when we got up. We ate breakfast, packed lunches, bowed our heads to the wind and headed out. It was barely daylight.

The government heavily regulates the Milford Track, and hikers can travel only in one direction, stopping at designated huts or lodges each night. Only under the most extreme circumstances have any groups taken more than the allotted four days to complete the trek. With that in mind, we forged on.

But the trade-off for the rotten weather was seeing waterfalls. I lost count of the ribbons tumbling from the granite rim as the hours progressed and our climb took us from the umbrella of the Mist Forest, dripping with goblin moss, along the face of Mt. Hart and over the pass. Just past the 14-mile marker, the switchbacks began.

This was not difficult, high-altitude hiking. But the rain turned the trail into a stream bed. Any notion of keeping my feet dry vanished as I trudged across the base of yet another waterfall.

A third guide joined our group for the ascent, and Susan told us she would wait near the final zigzag before we forged to the crest of the 3,785-foot pass between Mt. Hart and Mt. Balloon. I’d lost track of how many zigs we had zagged when I spotted Susan in her red rain jacket.

“It’s not much farther. Don’t stay long at the monument; go to the hut as quickly as you can,” she hollered over the wind.

We made the final traverse and walked along the granite path. Sleet blew against my face, and Jerry fumbled to unpack our camera to document our ascent. The roaring wind made conversation impossible, and Mother Nature had robbed us of the panoramic view. We snapped a few shots, then pushed on to Pass Hut at 3,808 feet.

The warm hut air was like a surprise kiss on my numb face. I looked around. Group 118 wasn’t looking too good. Everyone was thinking the same thing: The hike up was supposed to be the easy part.

We gulped hot tea, ate our smashed sandwiches and readied for the three- to 3 1/2-hour downhill tramp. “This is like boot camp, but they’re nice to us and haven’t shaved our heads yet,” Jerry joked.

It was still raining, but the lingering gloom of the hut lifted as we rounded a curve toward Arthur Valley. The waterfall-festooned rock lay before us as we descended toward the base of Mt. Balloon.

The track drops 2,904 feet in a little more than three miles. Avalanches had left their calling card: vast open sweeps of empty land.

The track continued across Moraine Creek. The falls crossings were more difficult and intimidating going down, with sheer drops awaiting those who lose their footing. We had been told to walk in groups, and everyone offered a hand to the next person.

The unrelenting descent continued, and we stopped to rest at the first sighting of Sutherland Falls, the fifth-highest falls in the world, in the distance.

By the time we reached Quintin Lodge, where we were to spend the night, the idea of a side trip to the base of Sutherland Falls sounded ridiculous, but we shed our packs and continued our folly.

The 45-minute walk was a breeze, and the sight and sound of the falls was the prize we had lost at Mackinnon Pass.

A generous pouring of wine made our night festive, but we had 13 miles to go to Sandfly Point the next day.

The heavy rain had turned into a mist, and sunlight battled with clouds. The 13-mile hike was the longest of the track, and the beginning of the trail was uneven and rocky. Along the banks of the Arthur River and down a descent aptly named Gentle Annie, I began to think about reaching our destination. I didn’t want it to end.

We crossed a swing bridge near the 26-mile marker and found ourselves walking on boardwalks through a forest. Wooden steps deposited us along Lake Brown and then Lake Ada.

I wanted to take my time these last few miles, but two scheduled boats were leaving Sandfly Point, and we didn’t want to miss them. We arrived, hastily had our picture taken at the 33.5-mile marker and caught the 4 p.m. boat to the main dock at Milford Sound. We had reached the end of the track.

Our hosts greeted us at Mitre Peak Lodge. After a you-made-it ceremony, we ate dinner and fell into bed.

Sunshine greeted us that morning, and a shuttle took us to the harbor launch. Cruising through the beautiful sound, we felt a bit smug. Cruise ships enter the sound, bringing day-trippers for a couple of hours. We had walked here.

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GUIDEBOOK

The Path to a South Island Hike

Getting there: From LAX, United and Qantas fly nonstop to Auckland, New Zealand. From there, United offers nonstop service to Queenstown, and Qantas offers one-stop service. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,383.

When to go: The Milford Track is open November through mid-April. Because of the popularity of the route and the limited number of people allowed on it, hikers traveling independently are advised to make reservations as far in advance as possible.

Getting around: The Milford Track is not a technical climb but a hike for fit walkers capable of three days of strenuous exercise. (The fourth day is relatively easy.)

Independent walkers must follow a rigid itinerary and stay in Department of Conservation huts. Contact Great Walks Bookings, P.O. Box 29, Te Anau, New Zealand; telephone 011-64-3-249-8514, fax 011-64-3-249-8515, Internet https://www.doc.govt.nz.

We booked our guided tour through Milford Track Guided Walk, P.O. Box 259, Queenstown, New Zealand; tel. 011-64-3-441-1138, fax 011-64-3-441-1124, Internet https://www.milfordtrack.co.nz. Our package included five nights’ accommodations, all meals, wine, guide service and orientation, some equipment, Milford Sound cruise, bus shuttle service and a flight from Milford Sound to Queenstown. Our high-season rate was about $655 per person, plus tax.

What to take: Proper clothing is imperative for staying warm and dry. Warm polypropylene and fleece layers are critical. The company provided backpacks, rain jackets and pants, waterproof pack liners and a sleeping sheet. The jackets and pants do not breathe; we invested in good rain gear and brought our own packs, which I recommend. A walking stick is invaluable too.

For more information: Tourism New Zealand, 501 Santa Monica Blvd., Suite 300, Santa Monica, CA 90401; tel. (877) 9-PURENZ (978-7369), fax (310) 395-5453, Internet https://www.purenz.com.