When we left Aoraki, we drove out to the nearby town of Twizel for a brunch meetup with two of Grace's friends who conveniently happened to be in the same area as we were. We met up at Mint Folk & Co., a lovely brunch spot in this small community shopping center. I went for an egg benedict with bacon on sourdough, accompanied by a flat white. We enjoyed hearing about Grace's friends' travels, which also included stints in Fiji and Australia; it was a pleasure to meet them and enjoy a nice breakfast together. They were on their way into Aoraki, so we talked about some of the cool things we had done and seen.
Also, this is where I first chatted with my gang about nice coffee. You see, drinks culture is very serious in Melbourne, where they live; I had heard much from a lot of people in Boston that I would need to lean into the cafe culture on my trip. So as I enjoyed my beautifully decorated flat white in a rounded porcelain cup, I was curious how they rated the coffee. The concensus? Very nice, but not as nice as their Melbourne favorites. To this uneducated coffee drinker, I thought it was a bit weaker than the coffees I'd had at home in the northeast and earlier on the trip, so I was confused as to what made this superior. What really makes a great coffee? According to my friends, it's a question of not burning the beans - which is different than the boldness or weakness of the cup itself. I remained unconvinced.
After a quick post office pit stop - including the friendliest postmaster I'd ever encountered (he went well out of the way to make sure my mail had the right touch for my recipients in the "Great North America") - we hit the road for the drive south.
It's hard to portray the various terrain we saw. From amber fields to green pastures; rolling hills to flat landscape, the drive evolved from one landscape to the next. There was a winding mountain pass with sweeping views and we descended to a ravine with a historic suspension bridge where bungee jumping was supposedly invented. We decided to pit stop in Wanaka, a bustling lakeside town with a famous tree offshore in the lake. We sampled "Patagonia" ice cream which tasted sublime, even if it didn't entirely remind me of my trip to Patagonia. Luxurious chocolate was a theme here, but I was also amazed with their homemade waffle cones.
Hopping back in the car, we finished our leg into beautiful Queenstown. This mountain town has a population of only around 30,000, but the tourists must significantly multiply that. It's located on Lake Wakatipu, a bright turquoise lake fed by the glaciers of the Southern Alps. Per Wikipedia, the lake is 50 miles long and a couple miles wide, forming a huge S shape. From Queenstown, you would be forgiven for thinking that the lake was actually a bay or fjord, such was its size and mysterious shape.
The town is positioned against one of the big central bends of the S, in a location that has a natural inlet - very convenient for sheltering the few boats that run on the lake (including an old-fashioned steamer). It is on a hill slope that is only gentle relative to the surrounding mountains and the town center is dominated by a mostly pedestrianized shopping and dining area that's absolutely fantastic for visitors. Along the water, you can enjoy a small beach or simply take in a great sunset. We had ramen and went for a little walk before packing for our backpacking trip.
On the back end of the Routeburn (see last post), we had a hotel in Queenstown for two nights to recoup. We devoured the aforementioned Fergburgers on the stunning waterfront. I had also recalled hearing about "New Zealand-style ice cream" but unfortunately we didn't immediately find an option for this "real fruit ice cream" before being lured into yet another Patagonia ice cream branch. Yeah, ok, the chocolate and hazlenut-dipped cone with dulce de leche ice cream was too compelling to turn down.
On our last full day in New Zealand we had a big road trip in store. In all my research, everyone online said that Milford Sound was a must-see destination, a fjord on the coast of the South Island. What you have to understand, though, is that Milford Sound the town has almost no facilities. The road to Milford Sound is a roundabout 4-hour drive from Queenstown, passing through the smaller lakeside town of Te Anau halfway. Think of it as a clockwise drive around a significant chunk of lake, farms, and impenetrable mountains.
To make matters worse, there's irony: the one-way Routeburn Track is a miniscule 33 km (19 mi) in length, spanning the Divide. Its exit is a short handful of miles (maybe 10-15 mi) from Milford Sound. And yet, the drive from the Routeburn Track trailhead to its exit is a ridiculous 4.5 hours (324 kilometers). Stan did some research and discovered that through the years, many options have been presented for connecting Queenstown to Milford Sound. One credible option that was legitimately explored went like this:
- In Queenstown, take a ferry across the lake
- Transfer to a special all-terrain crawler to take you into the mountains
- Transfer to a monorail to propel you the bulk of the distance through the mountains
- Transfer to a bus at the Routeburn Track exit; the bus takes you through a tunnel (more on that in a moment)
In other words, Milford Sound is really hard to get to. Was it really worth an 8-hour round trip and $750 NZD in boat tickets on a day threatening lengthy downpours?
Short answer: absolutely.
So where we set off going north along Lake Wakatipu to get to the Routeburn trailhead, we setoff going south/west along the lake at 6:45 am for our long road trip. The views over the lake were great and there were nice rainbows as the sun penetrated the morning rain and clouds. We left the lake and drove past field after field of livestock, with some crop farming as well. When we reached Te Anau, we stopped for a quick pastry and coffee breakfast; Grace and I split a frittada, a breakfast pie (that was supposed to be a non-breakfast pie), and a hearty scone. But mainly we kept driving.
Three hours into this drive, we entered Mount Aspiring National Park, shortly before reaching the Routeburn Track exit. The Park road was entirely forested but as we drove into the deep valleys, we were met with strong rains and mist. The forecast was for 100 mm of rain (that we didn't think to check before booking our boat, oops!). Gaining elevation, we noticed that the valley walls were closing in. The mountains had no gaps; shear walls tumbled into the valley. The walls were riddled with "rivulets" of water. Of course, I'm sure each rivulet was, in reality, a torrent dwarfed by the scale of the landscape.
At some point we pulled out from the trees and, looking ahead, the valley came to a dead end. The silvery gray mountain walls surrounded us. A traffic light and changeable message sign stood guard in front of a hole: the Homer Tunnel.
Completed in 1953, the Homer Tunnel was intended to be a 1.2 km (0.75 mi) two-lane tunnel. Indeed, it took them 30 years to build and at first it was started by five men with pick axes. The prospect of carving this thing with pickaxes is ridiculous however; the entire tunnel is through solid rock and explosives were quickly employed. Today, the completed tunnel implements alternating one-lane, one-way traffic. I honestly can't imagine how tight it would be to permit two lanes as it was pretty tight with just one lane.
Emerging from the tunnel revealed a spectacle straight from Jurassic Park. Vertical horseshoe-shaped cliffs issued hundreds of waterfalls from an enshrouded ridgeline. As we wound our way down switchbacks, we continually marvelled at the incredible spectacle. It's no wonder this drive is regarded as one of the best in the world; the sight was so impressive.
The road eventually straightened out as it entered the treeline. The showers continued, even as we rolled into the tiny town of Milford Sound. We could hardly see anything in the sound, as the mist was thick; even walking from the parking to the ferry terminal, we were all pretty wet from the rain.
Though only a few kilometers wide, the sound (aka Piopiotahi) is almost 15 km (10 mi) long and has a maximum depth of almost 300 m (1000 ft). So the ferry set out along the western rim and would go as far as the outlet at the Pacific before following the eastern rim back to town.
The tea and biscuits in the heated interior would be put to good use as the only places to take photos were from the exposed roof, the exposed bow, and a covered outdoor area at the stern. As the catamaran left port, we quickly explored the small boat to scope out all the options. It was rainy, windy, and cold but as we cruised, the rain would subside and amazingly the clouds lifted a bit.
Our captain pointed out that when you visit Milford Sound - one of the wettest locations on earth - there are only two types of weather. Sunny with no waterfalls, or rainy with waterfalls. We had tons of waterfalls. Again, the cord-like streaming rivulets were on every single rock face on both sides of the mighty fjord. That isn't an exaggeration. Several wider, giant waterfalls raged from hidden overhead origins. Some waterfalls crashed into the fjord. Others were overpowered by the wind and were blown apart into drifts of water vapor. These were pushed back up and over the top of the waterfall, before finally dissipating into thin air.
And yet, the record 24-hour rainfall is a whopping 1.2 m (4 ft). A lot more than the 100 mm creating this day's spectacle.
At one point, Grace and I headed to the bow of the boat early in the journey. We were approaching a gushing waterfall. What we didn't realize is that the captain is able to pilot the boat almost all the way up to the rock face due to the steepness of the cliffs plummeting into the Sound. So as we and some other passengers enjoyed the views, the captain steered the catamaran directly toward the waterfall. The power of the water coming off the falls was literally breathtaking in its force; wave after wave of water buffeted us with its own wind. Our raincoats and pants were drenched; you couldn't even face the waterfall owing to the intensity of the spray. Such is the epic force of nature!
Thank goodness I had left my camera with Stan and Pola!
As we came back down the eastern rim (after enjoying the soaking spray of a second waterfall), we pulled into a small cove. Per the captain, it's the only place in the fjord you could go ashore - or even use an anchor. In the back of the cove, the captain pointed out three small fjordland penguins! They are quite rare at this time of year, usually having aleady migrated south for the summer. But here they were with their snazzy yellow "eyebrows", enjoying a great day at the beach in the rain. What a life.
It's impossible to portray in text how amazing the fjord was, with its "weeping" mountains and black waters. The 90 minute cruise was gone in a flash but the indelible memories will continue forever. Honestly, I would love to do it again in the rain, well-dressed, in order to capture the full force and majesty of this incredible geologic feature in all its glory.
A weka bird met us at our car to bid us farewell after a quick stroll around the ferry landing. We drove back to the tunnel and as we waited, a small flock of Kea were wandering amongst (/on top of) the queue of cars, curiously looking into everyone's windows. Does this land ever cease to amaze?
The next day we would depart New Zealand, the magnifcent land of glaciers, fjords, waterfalls, and earthquakes. So after our four-hour drive home, we sat around at our Queenstown hotel eating leftover backpacking food (tuna on sourdough anyone?) and New Zealand snacks, admiring the sunset behind the Remarkables and Lake Wakatipu. I was curious what everyone's favorite thing was. For Stan, it was climbing the Harris Saddle on the Routeburn track. For Grace, it was Milford Sound. Pola loved the Tasman Glacier. And for me, it was cresting the knob going up to the Mueller Hut. Something for everyone. It's a shame we only covered a small smidgen of New Zealand in our week here. One senses it was just the tip of the iceberg. But I'm so happy to have done it - and that I could do it with such great friends. Hopefully I'll be able to come back again soon and see more.
Next time, I turn my attention to Melbourne, Australia, a city with a population equal to the entire population of New Zealand. And now for something completely different, as they say...