The Magical Fiordlands and beyond!

Oh boy! I just enjoyed a long black (aka Americano) in the sunshine of Hokitika and couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the morning than thinking about the last few weeks of our journey in the Fiordlands. It has possibly contained some of the most wonderful and beautiful moments of my life, I can’t wait to share them.

We left the little town of Te Anau, still flooded from the stormy rains, up the Milford Road, which ends in scenery, sounds and mountains. The only town this direction has a population of 50, so the reason for the road’s existence must be to experience a bit of heaven on earth.

Our first hike is up the Hollyford Valley where we meet three hunters who will share our hut for the night. Seventy-year old Pete could be described as a man off-his-rocker, but he is probably more alive and with it than most of us could dream to be at any point in our lives. He is a passionate hunter, dancing around the hut and enthusiastically sharing stories of deer and cognac and meadows, claiming to be “Crazy Horse,” an Apache. He couldn’t be more thrilled to be in the backcountry, pursuing his calling. The next morning we pass him on the trail after our day hike to Little Homer Saddle and he shares with us his “catch of the day.” He pulls out of his antique model exterior frame pack a bloody (but clean) eel as thick as an alder trunk. Mmmm! Dinner he will fry up in butter with a bit of salt and pepper, feels like sticky rubber, but his smile says it all – it’s the best. We bask in more sunshine, and enjoy views of mountains that materialize out of mist as the day unfolds. The moon is full again and I feel more energized and alive than I have in years. After a day of backpacking, I reach the hut and drop my pack, ready to keep exploring this amazing country.

The next day we actually have an appointment. We feel an exuberant crunch that we haven’t felt in months, an excited anxiety for the day ahead. Waking up early to meet the day, we cook up some kumara pancakes in the van and head off for a day of kayaking in the Milford. As we are inexperienced in the art of water sports, we join a group that tours the sound for the day. Our guide is Will, a jolly Maori who picks us up from the tramp and drives us out to the sound, stopping to pour us a cuppa and entice us with Anzac biquits while enjoying the sunshine on the mountains. A beautiful day ahead….

We don the suits, grinning like goons and stoked to hit the water. A blue duck invites us to join him in the big pond, what an omen of the day ahead! Only 1% of New Zealanders have even seen the blue duck, a magestic rarity in the world of water birds. Out on the water we enjoy the sublime view of mountains that seem to dissolve into the water. In our blue kayak, we form team AR (sometimes known as team RA, depending on the mood of our party) and paddle gracefully, making a stellar effort at coordination. The Milford Sound is in an unnatural state of peace today. The wind is quiet, the water is a mirror, the cruise ships are but a ghostly presence in the absence of summer’s tourists and we float in sunshine, soaking up the silence and the depth of the sound. Team RA moral is soaring, and then it bolts to extreme magnitude when our group is joined by another playful group – a pod of dolphins! We glide along at the same speed, delighting in each others company as they pop up in twos and threes, and jump and dance and inspire our racing hearts. One jumps fully out of the water right in front of our boat (unfortunately I missed that photo as I was too stunned and had to collect my jaw from the bottom of the boat.) Magic is the only way to describe the feeling, that and magestic.

Well the dolphins swim on but the fun is not over. While hanging out with our friends we missed “lunch time” so I have to find the acrobat in myself to clamber out on some rocks for a desperate squat. This pee is more than epic, I raised the sound a whole inch with all the liquid flowing through my body. Meanwhile Adam holds the kayak , losing his hand to the icy waters while trying to cling to the rocky outcropping. Sorry! I promise I’m almost done…. I think!? Then a miracle happens: we don’t capsize upon my return!

Back in the boat, we paddle with sore arms, watching a front looming in the mountains. It pushes us back to bay, and we peel of our costumes but not our high spirits. We mow through trail mix, muesli bars, apples and carrots on our way back to the divide, where Rupertina awaits. A perfect day, but back at the van we quickly decide it is not over…

We are at the foot of a great walk, The Routeburn, which calls us to walk in to the first hut at sunset, an hour and a half up the trail. We quickly pack for three days, say ta-ta to Rupertina, and hike in to Hidden Falls. This hut sleeps 50, but amazingly we are the only residents for the night. Most everything I think and find these days has the potential to spread a smile on my face: rain, sun, thunder, stars, wet boots, stinky feet, holes in my socks, a smudge of soot on the firebuilders face, peas in my tea, purple rocks, epic scenery, aching muscles and the color of water.

The next day we hike to McKenzie Hut, which feels more like a walk in the park. Compared to any tramp, the Great Walk status means a cruisy and manicured trail, and the most impressive arrangement of nature’s elements I have ever encountered. A rainstorm blew in and out, filling up the streams and increasing the likelihood of mud puddles, but when we arrive at the emerald lake we find another huge mansion with a big pot-bellied stove and ample wood to spend the night in, all by our lonesomes (a phenomena unheard of on the great walks).

We leave most of our packs in the hut and take a full day trip up to the Harris Saddle, probably one of the most perfect days I have ever had. The night before I slept soundly, tucked into down sleeping gear next to a hearty fire blazing in the stove. Adam woke before me and was already outside running through misty grass to take photos of the brilliant morning. I stroll around the lake to soak up the morning light and the crisp sunrise on fresh, snowy mountains. Stoked to embrace the day, we pack lunch, warm clothes, tea and eat our oats (of course) and get our blood flowing, hiking up through the trees to the alpine. Ice descended on the ground while we slept and clung to the shade, making the trail into an ice rink. After a short hour of hiking we pop out on to the most stunning viewpoint that begs you to sing, I’m alive!!!! Despite our full daypack, Adam floats along in paradise, and though the icy footing is delicate, we glide along at ease.

We finally share this experience with another tramper we pass on the trail, and then 12 more! Our house will be cozy tonight as they are all headed for the same hut. A short while later we are on the saddle and I will let the photos speak for me… We are hungry for lunch so we sit down to admire the storybook views while we savor crackers, the most divine avocado, and a sweet thai chili tuna in awed silence. Then we break out into our goofy selves and bubble giddily around the sparkling alpine. On one side of the pass conical hill beacons us to summit it’s small (but icy as snot) peak, so we clamber up for another view, and are able to see all the way out to the ocean.

We cruise on with youthful exuberance and bountiful energy, managing to hike a 3 hour path in just 2. We reach the hut hungry and decide to cook up two dinners and enjoy a feast! I fall asleep full and satisfied.

Well as the world seems to work in karmic cycles, we are tested once we step out of the backcountry and head for civilization. We are the luckiest souls until Rupertina decides to putz out and leave us stranded, miserable sods, in a carpark with no communication tools. A works vehicle finally chances upon us and radios a tow. We found mouse droppings in our Anzac biquits, so assumed our electrics has been chewed. Well we’re an hour and a half outside of the nearest town so we get comfy and nap and read and wait and whimper about the impending bill. And also gripe about our “home sweet home” turned sour. Adam jiggles some wires while we twiddle our thumbs and Rupertina decides to hum to a rumble and start. YAHOOO. We celebrate and quickly hit the road, but end up passing the tow truck on our way out, who sees us and tails us back to town. We hope to make his day since we’ve had such luck, and he seems happy enough after $300. Welp Karma continued. We’re a bit gutted, and decide a holiday park is in order to care for a basic needs. Amenitites at the holiday park include: hot showers! A kitchen! Laundry facilities! A hair dryer! A refridge! And, most importantly, communal space that is not the van! All for $15 per individual. We must capitalize on our time at the holiday park… I bake us some energy dense muesli bars, make a huge cabbage salad (fresh veg!), while Adam empties our compost, trash and recycle, showers and runs a few loads of laundry.

Well the van the van. The bumbling stumbling van. It was a heavy rain that followed us from Te Anau and crashed down on Rupertina. She gets cranky when moist and left us by the side of the road again, another $300 away from Haast, the next town. I sit in a lodge filled with antlers next to a fire with a cappuccino to read while we glumly anticipate the worst. Adam and the mechanic fiddle with her innards and clean out her pipes and we’re on our way again, but disenchanted, suffering from the impending doom of selling this hunk of bolts further down the road. To make matters worse, it is still damp and grey, we are literally inside of a cloud and we ran out of cooking fuel and the next place to fill our tanks is a few days away so we jet boil water with our little camp flame for couscous and tuna and subsist mainly on muesli bars. We fall asleep next to a lake that sends an army of mosquitoes that barrage us during the night. An assasain killed my Mom in my nightmares, and then I killed him. It was bloody awful.

We awake to more fog and decide to spend the day sitting in a coffee shop, trying to plan our daunting financial future and collecting any good news we can find from the home front. We stay the night in another holiday park to collect our spirits and watch the worst movie in the most uncomfortable fluorescent lit kitchen, the culmination of our misery.

But the next day brings promise of sunshine, so we pack up happily, fill our bellies with hearty pancakes topped with poached eggs and nutella and enjoy climbing up Mt. Fox through a jungle, using the tree roots as stairs and ladders, pulling ourselves to the top. The sunshine fills the canopy and sinks down into the bush, making a steamy environment. We emerge into the alpine and keep heading up, sweaty and happy, and enjoy a 360 degree view that includes the ocean, a huge glacier, the tallest mountain in NZ and a cloud inversion. We literally climbed out of our grey funk into sunny skies and fortunately it seems to continue following us up the West coast.

Last night we were welcomed into the house of Dan and Kath, a pair of friendly recyclers who were recommended to us by our hitchhiking friend, Tom. They distill their own vodka, brew up fruity wines and honey mead, maintain an apiary, build houses from recycled materials, use rainwater for most things, grow and preserve food and make a living by pursuing hobbies and running a small back packers. They shared spirits with us and we played some killer pool.

Now we are on our way to a small community up north (yay warmth and sunshine!) that runs a fantastic restaurant to hop back on the WWOOFing train for a few weeks, make some more connections with kiwis and travelers, and dig in some soil and find some mud puddles to play in! We are looking forward to being back in the homelands and immersing ourselves, head to toe, in Oregon soil! Adventure awaits everywhere these days ☺