The Milford Track and 'Becomming Fine'

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The Milford Track and Becoming Fine

The heralded Milford Track, the finest walk in the world. I agree it is truly one of the most stunning places I've seen on earth. The Milford resides in the Fiordland National Park, a world heritage site and 10% of the New Zealand landmass. Between the 45th and 47th south parallel and west of New Zealands southern alps receives some 5- 7 meters (16-22ft) of rain a year and not too many rain days to be otherwise noted. So when it rains, the granite mountains come alive and the rivers turn into raging torrents. We were a part of 40 independent trampers (regulated by the Dept of Conservation) from all over the world. Small world note: But Sara met somebody from her days at Philadelphia Girls Rowing Club.

The moderate daily tramping distances each day provided time to enjoy Aspen forests, treefern lined trails and a glimpse of amazing (have I used that word yet?) waterfalls. Also the 6 hours or so on the trail leaves much time to get up and have breakfast and at the end of the day have a relaxing dinner and mingle with the other international trampers. 'Becoming Fine'was the weather forecast written on the chalkboard at the second night's hut. The question was raised as to the defination of 'becoming fine' by an Israeli. The witty resident ranger in his nightly talk to the trampers explained, that 'fine' did indeed meant fine weather but warned that weather forecasts are just that, a forecast. The waether changes quite dramatically here.

He also spoke about everything from hiking instruction and precautions of the next day's walk, to fire and Kea safety. Kea safety? Keas are a New Zealand parrot found on the south island. They have been conditioned to stay close to the huts by tramper's handouts. But when the food handouts or items are stopped these mischievous birds tend to take things from unsuspecting trampers like a hiking boot drying on the steps or a mislayed toothbrush. Their sharp can-opener like beak can rip open a backpack in no time. These feathered friends were the least of our worries. The dreaded 'SANDFLY' beast made its mark worse than any New Jersey's state bird, the mosquito. Or is it the Greenhead Gnat? I thought an exchange of little blood for passage might be the best deal of the trip.

With the weather 'becoming fine' we headed off to the steepest day of the hike. The Mackinnon Pass opened up as we labored up the switch back trail to show us the splendor of snow capped mountain vistas, newly forming glaciers, reflecting pools and the valley below we had hiked through the previous days. The final day weather turned mightily - 9 miles of rain- first easy rain (boots dry), then harder (one boot wet taking the brunt of the puddles) then torrential downpour (both boots wet, jumping in every puddle). The landscape was transformed into a surreal dreamland of waterfalls falling from the clouds above. The outline of the mountains could not be recognized with the thick cloud ceiling 50 feet above. As the day bore on it seemed to rain harder and harder. My childhood summers in Elkmont lended some knowledge to navigating thigh high water trails in parts and through streams that had become torrents in the downpour. And lucky we invested $4 for a plastic backpack liner, because at day’s end we were truly soaked to the

bone.

Reclaimation of comfortable dry self came soon after we boarded the Milford Explorer for an overnight cruise of Milford Sound on a scooner. I think we used all the hot water on the boat for showers. Then magic happened, the winds changed and began to blow southeast, the skies cleared in an amazing display of meteriology and the view was transformed into tremendous beauty with a at every turn of the head. The waterfalls were gushing at almost maximum and even some trickled for what seemed hundreds of feet. The granite cliffs glistened with the long rays of the evening sun and the seas calmed to reflect the snowcapped mountains. Did I mention seal lions and dolphins?