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Published: February 8th 2010
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Invercargill would be the last town of any decent size for a long, long time. As a person who is very much use to the general overpopulation characteristics of a gas station and McDonald’s on every corner and the convenience of 24 hour shopping, I grossly underestimated the scarcity of resources available on the southwest and west coast of the island. Also, as I learned, when the map shows no roads in an area, this is because there are actually no roads, it is not because the map is not enlarged enough to see them. I headed off eagerly to Te Anu, half-cocked. This dawned on my holiday-happy brain only after I arrived in the small tourist destination and, unfortunately, that sent me right back to “start.” (most recently known as Invercargill). Back again, this time I purchased all the essential supplies and camping gear that I should have stocked 1. From my house before I left for the trip, or 2. The first time I was in Invercargill. Third times a charm; now I was ready.
On the positive side, I was glad to spend a few nights at my favorite spot along the Southern Scenic Highway, Monkey Island. Monkey Island is a very small, lookout island that is only accessible at low tide. In my opinion, the backdrop of endless misty mountains that fade into the clouds and the stunning aqua-blue sea help to make this one of the most beautiful places in the south. I stayed for two nights. Each evening, before the sun fully set, the moon rose from behind the mountains like a gigantic wheel of stunning Camembert cheese and used its invisible ropes to pull in the thunderous tide behind it.
Back in Te Anu, I made three stops. The first being the information center; where I picked up my newly relevant brochures, camping information, and maps. The grocery store; where I stocked up on dry goods, bug spray; and found, in the parking lot, a loving caretaker for my wilting basil plant. The poor plant that had once lent its sweet leaves to some tasty bruschetta that I had prepared for the Mornington Manor crew, had been through a lot since then. Namely lack of water, but also, (I didn’t tell its new owner this), Sunny had run over it twice by accident. (On a side note, it is interesting that the grocery stores here sell fresh potted herbs rather than packaged. I guess the American grocery stores subscribe to that old adage, “Teach a man to fish…and you won’t make as much money.”) Lastly, I popped into the petrol station where I hoarded the last gas available for the next untold amount of kilometers. Then Sunny and I headed down (or up, rather) the Milford Highway and into the Fiordlands.
The Fiordlands are very remote, with only one main road in and out; the rest being accessible only by foot or by boat. My favorite stop along the way was Mirror Lakes, which were stunningly still, crystal clear ponds that reflected the nearby mountains. The look out point over Hollyford Valley was also quite spectacular. Sunny and I made our way to Gunn’s Camp, which is the only serviced campground in the Fiordlands. Just about an hour from the Milford Sound, it was the perfect spot to make base for my explorations. Gunn’s Camp used to be a camp for the workers who helped to build the Homer Tunnel, which is a very long and steep passageway through a mountain that was created to make the Milford Sound accessible. The Campsite today is a very quirky and humorous historical relic of this time.
The day was hot, setting up camp brought on quite a sweat. Luckily, I had picked a site with access to the stream, so I took advantage of the ice cold, baby blue mountain water to cool off in.
Feeling refreshed, I decided to do some hiking. The first track I tramped was called Hell’s Bell’s. It led through the jungle bush to an old dumpsite from the days of the Homer Tunnel construction. The dumpsite had become more like an earthy museum and was quite interesting. Then the trail led up to a gigantic old tree that was about 10 feet wide and was somewhat hollow, so that you could climb inside and fit a few other people in with you at least. I’m guessing that this tree is how the track was named, because when you see it, you might say, “Hell’s Bell’s, that’s a big tree!” The next trail I took led up to an outlook for Humboldt Falls, which was a long, long, long fall off the top of a mountain. Then I walked down to the beginning of the Hollyford Track to check out the swing bridge, which hung over the same stream that ran behind Gunn’s Camp (though, at this point, it was more of a full blown river). I’m not really a fan of swing bridges, mainly because they swing. Even with just my weight, the motion was enough to make me grip the cable railing tightly. The view was worth it of course. So I ventured out on to one more swing bridge down the road to take some pictures of the enormous boulders in the river before heading back to camp for the night.
The next morning, I rose early, as I had booked a 9am Milford Sound cruise. Despite my heavy bug spray applications, the sand flies had been relentless. I found it very challenging to drive, scratch and look at the scenery all at the same time. The commute to the sounds was amazing, I felt like a tiny ant driving through the valley completely surrounded by the towering mountains. The Homer Tunnel looked like someone had dug it out with a shovel. The inside was not finished with concrete or tiles, it was just the exposed scraggly rock. There were large sheets of metal hanging from the ceiling to deflect all of the water that was seeping in. The tunnel went down at about a 45 degree angle and dumped into yet another stunning valley. It was like walking through the back of the wardrobe.
The sounds cruise was on a small boat that held about 100 passengers, but since I took the early morning option, there were only about 25 of us. Perfect. This made it easy to access all of the viewing decks as I wanted, without having to compete for picture taking space. The highlights of the cruise were: Miter Peak, which, if I understood correctly, is the tallest and most photographed sound peak in New Zealand; the adorable baby seals playing on the rocks; and when the ship went right up next to one of the waterfalls, (most people didn’t want their cameras to get wet, but I took the risk and snapped some absolutely unreal pictures at the base.)
I have to say that I think it was funny that there were a few passengers who may have had a misconception on what type of cruise this was. For example: the girls who wore short, fluffy mini-skirts (they couldn’t take pictures because they were to busy trying to keep their skirts down in the wind), or the ladies who wore swimsuits and were lathering up in sun block. If you are planning on taking a Milford Sound tour, just remember: its not a cruise to the Caribbean on a Carnival ship. For maximum enjoyment, you will need warm, comfortable clothing and a rain jacket, even in the summer.
On the way back to camp, I stopped to do two hikes. One was to see The Chasm, which was a phenomenal display of charging whitewater carved rocks in a deep chasm (obviously). Then I took the abbreviated hike to see the moss covered boulders and river falls that filtered out of Marin Lake. Back at camp, I contemplated staying another night; however, I had completed most of the modest hikes in the area, the day was still young, and I was anxious to get back into wine country. So I packed up in the heat of the early afternoon, taking advantage of the cool stream again before getting on the road. I had just enough gas to get me back to Te Anu, where I stopped to refuel before pointing Sunny in the direction of Queenstown.
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