Four old friends came to visit the other day, to join us for lunch and to see our new home. As we lingered over our lunch, Lewis spotted something familiar in the sitting room. “Isn’t that your walking stick from the Milford Track?”, he asked. It certainly was, the decorative walking stick came complete with a map of the famous walking track and a description of the terrain to be encountered on the four day walk. Out came the photo album of our trip, bringing back lots of great memories. We all commented on how young and slim we looked, and goodness me, our hair was so much darker back then.
Milford Track decorative walking stick
Five of us had an adventure of a lifetime back in the 1980s, 25 years ago. Robin and I, our lunch guests Shirley and Lewis, and another friend Jim travelled down to the South Island together to tackle the 53.5 km walk over 4 days in beautiful Fiordland National Park. We had done a little training, walking up and down the local hills, but on reflection, not nearly enough, and we should have been practising carrying our packs too. The Milford Track has long been described as "the finest walk in the world". Since Quintin Mackinnon pioneered the route in 1888, everyone from hardened trekkers to novices sporting their first pair of boots have taken up the challenge of the Milford Track.
Our trip started when we joined a whole group of other trampers to board the launch to cross Lake Te Anau, then we had a short one hour tramp to Glade House. We were taking part in a trip run by the Tourist Hotel Corporation (no longer exists), and stayed at serviced lodges. The facilities offered were hearty cooked meals, cut lunches, showers, toilets, and the essential drying room for wet clothes and tramping boots, and bunk rooms to collapse into after a hard day tramping through spectacular mountain scenery.
The start of our adventure
Each evening the ranger gave a talk of what to expect on the day’s tramp, and advised on the weather conditions. This part of New Zealand is wet, wet, wet, and we saw so many waterfalls coming down the mountainsides that they ceased to be noticed after a while. Day 2 took us to Pompaloma Hutt. This map shows the Milford Track from where it starts at the head of Lake Te Anau, to the end at Sandfly Point in Milford Sound. The hill profile image below gives you an idea of the steepness of the track at each stage.
We were all rather worried about the next day, when we had to climb up McKinnon Pass. The track followed a series of switchbacks out of the bush and into the alpine sections. A little before the top we were stopped by a ranger, who advised us to put on whatever extra clothes we were carrying in the packs. The conditions were freezing cold at the top of the pass, and we certainly needed those extra layers of clothing. We stopped for a photo in front of the large memorial cairn that honours the discovery of pass by Quintin Mackinnon and Ernest Mitchell, in 1888.
We made it to the top - McKinnon Pass summit
Climbing up to the top was not so bad at all, but it was quite a different matter going down the other side. The track seemed to consist of “steps” all the way down, too high to walk down easily. It was a matter of balancing on each step with one foot, and swinging the other leg down a two foot drop, all the way down the mountain side. My back was screaming with pain by the time I had reached the bottom. We stayed the night at Quinton Hutt but no before we did a side tramp the the Sutherland Falls (NZ highest).
After that gruelling day, our last day on the track was a 18km walk, and we had to hurry along to ensure we didn’t miss the launch at 2pm. We made it with time to spare, and waited in the shelter at Sandfly Point. This place was not named lightly – the West Coast sand flies have ferocious appetites, and just love to attack bone weary trampers who have no where else to go but sit and wait for the boat to take them away.
Waiting at Sandfly Point – Robin, Jenny, Jim, Shirley and Lewis
What a sense of achievement we all felt as we reached the end of the track. We were soaked through with the incessant rain, and we had long since given up trying to keep our boots dry, and simply just kept plodding through the mud, puddles, and through streams. Robin’s woolly hat which I had knitted especially for the trip got so wet it stretched out of shape. The sodden hat kept falling down over his eyes and ears – I couldn’t help but laugh at him! It was a lot of fun – thanks for reminding us of that trip, Lewis.
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