Milford Track

On to the track

A clear moment descending from MacKinnon Pass

Sutherland Falls: second longest in the Southern Hemisphere

The weka

Our pickup from Sandfly Point

The Milford's reputation as "the finest walk in the world" has set it apart from other walks in NZ. It books up months in advance, and there are no campgrounds: all trampers must stay in the Department of Conservation huts. There is also no flexibility once you begin the walk. You must move on to the next hut each afternoon. You cannot, say, wait out the poor weather before beginning the scenic mountain pass. These restrictions are sore points for many walkers, but they exist to meet the huge demand for space on the Milford. And if the Milford does feel more regulated than the other walks, the boat ride to and from the track, the clear all-star cast of DOC hut wardens, and the historic markers of Quintin MacKinnon and Donald Sutherland along the track also add to a special mystique about the tramp.

The track is centered in Fiordland National Park in the southwest of the South Island, beginning at the head of Lake Te Anau and finishing in Milford Sound. Fiordland is incredibly wet, with an annual rainfall near nine meters. This rain feeds the mountain waterfalls that surround, or as often is the case, flood the track (the group two days behind us spent their final day wading through waist-high water, gripping large fallen branches between them for safety!). The waterfalls are so powerful and plentiful around the sound that near the water's surface live confused sea-creatures that otherwise only live in deep ocean environments. Beyond the rain, Fiordland is characterized by the innumerable sandflies (imagine fruit flies that swarm and eat you) and mountains. The mountains of Fiordland shoot up from the ground at extreme angles, and walking through a valley at their base you feel dwarfed by the peaks that appear to stand directly above you.

The most challenging climb of the walk was up MacKinnon Pass, the top of which offers complete views of the mountains just passed through and the alpine terrain and sound to come. The fog and horizontal rain robbed us of this perspective, though, and we could barely see our hands held out in front of us. I thought the following quotation posted that evening at Dumpling Hut (warden: Ming Tsai) captured the disappointment well:

"What a grief to be doing it in this fog! We are walking on top of the world amid such company of Mountain Kings as we may never meet again, and not one glimpse of them to gladden our eyes!"  -Elsie K Morton, 1949

As Christina could tell you, I tend to mope around a lot when we find disappointment on the trail, but the descent down an excellent waterfall boardwalk and, later that afternoon, a side trip to the gigantic Sutherland Falls cheered me up plenty. Also, on this walk I made the discovery of marching to the theme of The Last of the Mohicans (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygNuRpwZqRU) when I am either upset or running out of energy. Works wonders!

The first day on the Milford was the most memorable, despite only about an hour and a half walk to the first hut. It was our one clear day, and after setting down our bags at the hut we went swimming in the pristine and frigid Clinton River. I didn't last long, but submerging myself was exhilirating. Later, our no-nonsense but wickedly-funny hut warden named Peter Jackson (!) took us on a nighttime tour of nearby glow-worms, which were more beautiful than I expected. Next he took us to the nearby heli-pad, surrounded 360 degrees by mountains, silhoutted by the moon that had not yet risen into sight, and he pointed out the summer constellations of the Southern Hemisphere. To experience so much after dark, when I am ordinarily asleep and searching for recovery for the next day, was magical.