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Timsaunders
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Our Adventures Through The Looking Glass
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The bus took us from Milford Sound back to where the car was parked at Te Anau Downs. A policeman was waiting for us, asking us how we managed to park the car in quite the manner that we had.
"Baked beans," replied Pubdy rather cryptically.
The towtruck dropped him off back at the redhead's house and I found a room in the local hostel to relax and dry out.
I dreamed mossy, green dreams that night as my soul circled round the valleys and pirouetted over the mountain summits. My blisters eventually healed, but I doubt if I will ever forget those four days.
I was awoken the next morning as sunlight flooded my room and blue skies glistened like a stained glass window above.
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Timsaunders
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Day 1 - Glade Wharf To Neale Burn Hut
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We left the car parked at a highly creative angle on the side of the road at Te Anau Downs. A jetty jutted erotically into Lake Te Anau, and several people pointed at our parking efforts.
"That's how we do things round here," Pubdy explained to a slender Japanese girl who was trying to hold an umbrella up to the cold wind. "I used to be a bus driver, but I had to give up because of the accident."
The girl scuttled off and hid behind her even slenderer boyfriend.
The boat ride across the lake was uneventful, apart from the skipper who steered with his legs while his face was buried in a book by Bill Bryson.
We disembarked at Glade Wharf as more rain poured from the heavens, permeating even the most expensive Gore-Tex.
All 40 of us shouldered our packs and sloshed through the mud for an hour to the first hut.
Neale Burn Hut has exactly 40 bunks, which was extremely coincidental, although that didn't stop Pubdy from trying to share one with a blonde from Germany.
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Timsaunders
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Nearly There
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"Not another ****ing waterfall," said Pubdy as we watched more water cascade down the cliffs of Fiordland.
I have to admit, it was getting a bit tedious. Everywhere we looked we saw waterfalls. They no longer held any beauty for us. We just wanted to get home and dry out now.
The rest of the day was spent crossing swollen rivers on rickety swing bridges, and hiding from Trevor the bearded walking guide. Occasionally we would hide behind a tree and make wild animal noises as another walker trotted past. Incredibly immature... but, hey, who cares?
By the time we reached the boat at Sandfly Point at 2pm we were cold, wet, tired, but still ready to laugh at any given moment.
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Timsaunders
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The Storm Before The Calm
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We had spent the previous night in the small township of Te Anau, mixing with locals at a bar called The Moose. The weather forecast did not look promising, but then, it never does in Te Anau. Situated in the heart of Fiordland National Park, the town regularly receives over 4 metres of rain a year. Other parts of the park get over 9 metres a year.
"I might as well prepare for it," said Pubdy, as he asked the lady behind the bar for a vodka, rum, red bull, and raspberry (incidentally, Pubdy calls this a Father's Fart).
Our mission over the next few days was to walk the Milford Track, 53 kilometres of the most scenic trail ever witnessed. It was early December (a particularly rainy month), right in the middle of the peak walking season. Between October and April the track is heavily booked - only 40 independent and 50 guided walkers are allowed on the track each day. It is strictly enforced.
I elected to take an early night, and left Pubdy playing pool with a tattooed redhead at about 11pm.
I picked him up at 7:30am from an address on the outskirts of town...
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Timsaunders
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Day 4 - Dumpling Hut To Sandfly Point
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Day 4 consisted of another 6 hour walk, but it also marked the last day on the track.
We rose early and, after pinching some cornflakes from a slumbering Italian, stepped out into the... sunshine.
Ha ha, no, just kidding. It was raining again.
We tried to get ahead of the crowd, but ran headfirst into the crowd of guided walkers. These are the people that pay ridiculous amounts of money to have their meals cooked for them, their packs transported from hut to hut, and to be led by a bearded environmentalist whose name is probably Trevor.
Pubdy just couldn't help making fun of these groups when he saw them, and I usually had to walk along pretending I didn't know him. On this particular occasion he walked boldly up to Trevor and peered intently at the poor guy's face.
"Say," he said. "That's a mighty fine beard you have there. Do you use shampoo? Conditioner? Deodorant?"
Narrowly excaping an international incident, we fell over laughing and waited until the guided walkers had disappeared from sight.
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Timsaunders
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More Day 3 And More Rain
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Our climb up onto Mackinnon Pass soon levelled out, and we found ourselves walking amongst tarns and rocks. Then, with no warning, the track dropped down the other side and we started the long descent to Milford Sound.
Grey clouds danced around us like the ghosts of pioneers, softly kissing our cheeks with their cold, dead breath.
Several times we slipped on the wet rocks, landing on our bums with thumps and bad language.
A signpost lured us onto a sidetrack, which we followed for 45 minutes. The air was cracked open by a booming roar as we gazed out at the Sutherland Falls, the ultimate of Fiordland's waterfalls. So straight, so perfect, Sutherland Falls drop 580 metres from clifftop to river.
"I'm surprised nobody has tried to bungy jump it," said Pubdy, and I quickly led him back to the main track before he got any ideas.
We reached Dumpling Hut six hours after leaving Mintaro Hut.
"What kind of a name is Dumpling?" said Pubdy as he peeled off his socks and created a small environmental disaster.
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Timsaunders
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Day 3 - Mintaro Hut To Dumpling Hut
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The following day dawned with a flourish of rain beating a techno rhythm against the window, giving the poor spider who had stretched its web across the glass a headache.
All 40 of us left the hut together again, but Pubdy and I were soon left behind as the horde outdistanced us.
"What's the hurry," asked Pubdy as we loped along in the refreshing wetness.
The track started climbing upwards as soon as we left the hut, leading us onwards to Mackinnon Pass. Views of mountains swirled in and out of the cloud, and we made out tantalising glimpses of Mount Hart. Mount Balloon came into view just long enough for me to mentally note a route up its southern flank.
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Timsaunders
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Still Day 2 And Still Raining
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Our waterlogged lunch break meant that our 38 walking companions disappeared in the distance, and finally we were left alone to enjoy the wilderness.
We clambered carefully over the debris left by an old landslide, and gazed lazily at the dead trees that poked like skeletons from the lake. Waterfalls rolled like silk ribbons from the sides of the valley, ponytails of nature.
One of the greatest mysteries of the universe, perhaps the most perplexing of all of the world's unsolved riddles, is Pubdy's propensity to strip naked and dive into icy lakes at a moments notice. I was enjoying a moment of well deserved bladder relief when I heard a loud splash behind me. Seconds later the shaggy, bearded head of my companion surfaced, a grin dividing his chapped lips, water fountaining from the gap in his teeth.
We arrived at Mintaro Hut a few hours later to find the other walkers drying their socks in front of the fire and playing cards while huddled in sleeping bags.
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Timsaunders
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Day 2 - Neale Burn Hut To Mintaro Hut
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I would like to say that we awoke to the most glorious sunrise ever to grace the art of travel writing, but I can't. It was still raining.
After a hearty breakfast of tea and gingernuts, Pubdy and I shouldered our packs and headed out the door.
Day 2 of the walk consists of 5 hours walking, and we were keen to leave early to avoid the rest of the group. Unfortunately, they tried to leave early to avoid us. So once again, 40 soggy and slightly smelly trampers sloshed through the mud, along the banks of a river, and under the green and lush beech trees.
The river was muddy and brown, swirling in the first stages of flood. But every so often I caught a flash of silver in the chocolate deluge as a trout made a bid for freedom from the murky torrent.
We stopped for a lunch of soggy cigerettes and biscuits under a Lord of the Rings sky.
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Timsaunders
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Day 15 - A Wilderness Experience
From Kaka Point, on the east coast, I decided to shoot straight across to Fiordland, on the west coast. This meant driving through Gore - the country music capital of New Zealand. They make very good whiskey here, though.
I stopped for lunch at Lake Manapouri, quite possibly one of the most beautiful places in the world. Surrounded by mountains that were crumpled like an unmade bed, Lake Manapouri sparkled in the sun as if it were alive, its gentle lapping waves whispering softly with the beach.
After lunch I drove through Te Anau, where I stopped for supplies, but I knew I was coming back that way so I didn't hang around.
Milford Road leads to Milford Sound, and is scattered with little camping areas. I stopped at one called McKays Creek which had a distinct lack of people (which was good), and a long drop toilet.
And more scenery you could shake a stick at. I was actually disappointed when the sun went down, because it meant that I couldn't see the mountains anymore.
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Timsaunders
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Day 17 - A Day Off
I spent two nights in Te Anau on this particular trip, although it is a place I keep going back to. The lake is the most beautiful feature, laid out flat and calm under the southern sun, and the township is also a great place to be based if you fancy doing one of the Great Walks, such as the Milford Track, the Kepler Track, or the Routeburn.
There are also glowworm caves across the lake, but visiting them would mean giving more money to Real Journeys, and they've already killed most of the worms with their lights and walkways anyway.
The town is great for just lazing around, and there are a few shops to buy supplies.
It is a place to recharge the batteries of your camera and your soul.
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Timsaunders
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Day 16 - A Cruise In Paradise
Milford Road is simply amazing. It takes you through rainforest and over a mountain pass, with huge chunks of granite towering over each side of you like solemn guards. The highest point is marked by Homer Tunnel, cut by hand through a rock wall, as dark as pitch and barely wide enough to pass two buses through.
Milford Sound lies at the end of the road, its pristine waters broken only by about a million tour boats carving their way to more cash at the expense of the environment. Real Journeys seem to be the worst, and the best seems to be Mitre Peak Cruises, which is the option I took. The small craft only took 60 passengers at a time and the skipper gave a good commentary and mixed with the passengers (as opposed to Real Journeys that take up to 400 people at a time, and do their best to make passengers feel like sheep).
The natural environment of Fiordland is a real treasure, and has to be seen to be believed. Its a pity Real Journeys is ruining it.
The drive back out to Te Anau gave me another chance to experience Milford Road, and the campground here is comfortable and friendly. The Moose is the best of the pubs and restaurants, and is within a stone throw from the Real Journeys office...
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