Waning Wonderland

Fiordland National Park.

A substantial protected land area that hosts some of the most spectacular vegetation and landscapes I have ever seen. A large national park that covers the south west corner of New Zealand’s South Island. Uninhabitable untouched wonderland. Just add water, and it will all come to life in a way no other land could. An alluring beauty. Sheer cliffs that have an incredible dwarfing effect, something unable to be captured with a lens or with words. Even experiencing it is hard to believe.

I am but a peon on this planet next to this land. I feel so small here. I can get lost.

I feel like I can breathe again.

Then I went to Milford Sound. Suddenly, I felt like I was suffocating.


The night before we made it out to Milford Sound, Brent and I went out for dinner with Rosie, Alistar and their eldest son Ben. We enjoyed a lovely meal at La Toscana, a small restaurant in their home town. The meal was delicious. The company was like family. Our time in Te Anau was coming to an end. It’s hard to believe we have been here since the 29th of September. We leave this town on the 9th of November. Our longest leg of this trip is almost over. Conquering the massive National Park and enjoying this precious little town surrounded by the mountains. There is a feeling you get when you arrive in Te Anau. I could have stayed longer.

Our final mission: driving the entire Milford Highway and enjoying some time in the small town.

A random snow storm held us back an additional day. It snowed through the night before we were originally going to set out to Milford Sound. We woke up to a fresh blanket of snow on the ground in the town, while the mountains donned new colours and character in the distance. Snow in Te Anau was a concern further up the highway. The Milford road was shut down the night before, bracing for a great deal of snow on the highway overnight. Luckily, not a lot fell in or around Milford. However, chains were required for all vehicles heading in that direction.

So, we waited. What’s the rush? We wanted to enjoy the drive up the highway, and I probably would be pretty nervous if I had to squeeze our car’s tires into chains to enable it to drive any further up a roadway.

We woke up early two days later and headed out for our adventure. Scraping off our car’s windows with anything we could find. They don’t have snow scrapers in New Zealand. When I inquired about their existence in NZ, I was asked why they would need them. They simply pour water over their windshields to get rid of the frost. Back home, that wouldn’t be your best option considering it would probably freeze over pretty quickly.

Morning frost. Empty highway. We set out just before 7am. We decided to book a boat cruise in the town that would take us around the fiord over the course of 2.25 hours. We opted out of kayaking this time, we’ll probably try it in the north island again or in Vanuatu. Our cruise left around 10am, check in at 9.40am, and it took roughly two hours to drive the 120km stretch from Te Anau to Milford. Mostly because of the scenery, but also because of the terrain. Once you pass the Divide, that road changes into something very special.

The start was magical. The early morning sun glistening over the fresh frost on the grassy tussock. A single tree sitting alone in a clearing, atop a frosted mound, created a stark colour contrast against the white peaks surrounding it. We drove through the familiar. The tree coverings draping over the road with the sun shining through the trunks, with moments offering a sliver of a view of the freshly snow capped rock faces. As we climbed higher, I noticed a cloud sitting just above the road, over a lake to our right. You forget how high you really are sometimes.

We drove straight through to the town without stopping in this direction. We would spend more time exploring the area on the way back. But living it even in the confines of your vehicle was something else. The rock cliffs come right up to the road. Massive mountains, sheer rock faces, towering over you as you drive through the winding and narrow road, sometimes narrowing down to only one lane. You experience a significant dwarfing effect from the sheer magnitude of this land. And you’re surrounded.

Magical.

Driving through the homer tunnel was something else. It was darker then I thought it would be, despite having my high beams on. This tunnel was blasted through a mountain to gain access to this area. It sits approx 1.2km long. When you exit the tunnel, you are brought into a different world. You can’t imagine how the mountains could get closer to the road, but they do. And they’re bigger and more beautiful than the last. You enter a new rock valley as you continue your journey and begin your massive decent to the town. It’s all downhill from here.

We passed by the major landslip area that occurred just before our arrival in Te Anau. To see a slip up close is incredible. I have taken many pictures of landslips from afar, but to see the claybed and rock face wiped clean was incredible. It was virtually spotless. The slip; tearing into every piece of vegetation that clung on for dear life along the sheer cliff. Immense.

Immeasurable.

That is a good word to describe this area. Immeasurable. Colossal. Incalculable. Endless.

Captivating.

Without warning we were in the town. A town that I could barely agree is actually a town at all. There was a hotel, a cafe, a very large parking lot, and a walk to the very stylized and ‘airport terminal feeling’ visitor centre at the start of the dock down the road. I imagine there is a town hidden somewhere around here, since there are a lot of workers in Milford, and the next closest town is Te Anau. Not an ideal commute.

And here begins our realization of the waning wonderland that is Milford Sound.

Our initial impression was similar to what we felt in Lake Tekapo at the church of the Good Shepherd. Kind of like when you go to an overhyped movie and end up being very disappointed with the screening.

This is it?

The murky and drab water front of Milford Sound was still. The cruises weren’t up and running as of yet. Only the overnight cruise ship was bustling as the crew started their big clean up. Slowly the realization that this is it! This is what people come here to do. Park their car and walk to the dock to get on a boat and see the sound before leaving once again.

The drive is an adventure in itself. The rock cliffs on the highway pulled on my heart strings. I felt saddened to be staring at Mitre Peak in the water and not being bowled over. It’s beautiful, in its own way, and quite frankly you can’t take away the beauty that is Fiordland, but I was expecting so much more.

This is a tourist hot spot. And in my opinion, has robbed this part of the national park from some of its beauty. Doubtful Sound feels untouched. It sits in peace away from the everyday tourist in their campervan. Milford is overrun. The boat cruise companies are everywhere – I believe there are 4-5 main ones who work out of the visitor centre – and some have more then one boat and cruise option. There are boats all around you when you get out on the water. The helicopters are flapping above you, as are the smaller aircrafts. Different ways to experience this land. In the end, it’s all just noise pollution, and visual pollution. I couldn’t imagine competing for water space in a kayak. You’d be thrust around in the wake of the other boats.

The cruise was nice. We had prime standing places at the front of the boat on the upper deck. It was a small boat, so it moved slowly allowing you to have a lot of time to enjoy the views. The size of the vessel was also a bonus when approaching the shores and rocky cliffs to take sneak peeks at different wildlife.

Clearest day at the start. Blue skies. No rain in sight. Which also means that the cliffs of Milford did not come to life. They were dry as a bone. Only the permanent waterfalls lathered the rock faces on our cruise. Almost an unfortunate situation. You want to be in Milford immediately following a massive rain storm. The water would be rushing off the mountains in every possible way, bringing to life the sheer rock cliffs as the water starts to gush in every direction using any trail possible.

The grandeur of the Sound is still impressive, even without its signature rain. One of the only places on Earth where rainfall is calculated in metres, not millimetres or centimetres.

We cruised alongside the cliffs in a way where even looking straight up, you couldn’t imagine the height of these enormous mountains. Solid rock. Vegetation struggled a little bit more to grow in this part of the National Park. The terrain offered a different challenge.

We were fortunate to see a small pod of dolphins today. Three of them swam towards us and dove underneath our boat, only to follow in our wake for a short distance before drifting away. I couldn’t capture these creatures. They are so wonderful. I have been looking forward to seeing them all day. I spent a good part of the Doubtful Sound cruise trying to see dolphins in the water, and never once came across any. It was wonderful to catch a glimpse of a few of these precious creatures today.

We also had a lot of seal and penguin spottings throughout the cruise. At one point, I indicated to Brent that there was a penguin swimming just under the water alongside the boat. He couldn’t see the darn thing, which left me puzzled. Everyone was shouting how adorable the penguins on the rocks were, yet here was this single penguin so close to our vessel and nobody took notice to him.

It was only until later on that Brent made the connection. I was wearing my polarizing sunglasses, and could see deeper into the water, as the sunlight’s reflection on the top of the water is filtered out with my lenses. When I was watching the pod of dolphins swim underneath the boat, there is a chance that I might have been one of the only people able to see the event take place.

By the time we docked, the storm clouds had moved in. It was for us on the entire cruise. With the wind so strong and the rain coming, the early afternoon cruises may be interesting.

We set off for our leisurely trip back down the highway. Spending time to pull over when we could to take a moment to enjoy the environment. Soak it in. Unfortunately, most of the earlier pull over locations didn’t offer much for views. It was once we were driving that the mountains appeared more clearly from the tree line. There is a large area along the highway where you are not supposed to stop your car due to avalanche concerns, so a good deal of the sheer rock cliff area is a no-stop zone. I figure the passengers are alright, but the driver misses out. Boo.

Approaching the Homer Tunnel we came to a stop. At first we thought the driver two cars up simply stopped and got out of her car. In the end, it was a traffic signal that stopped us. Between 9am-6pm only one direction of traffic travels through the tunnel at one time. Although it is wide enough for two vehicles, I guess due to the dim lighting and other factors, they find it safer to work on traffic light intervals. Preventing more accidents between foreigners. Each traffic light lasts up to 15minutes. Coming from Milford, you approach the tunnel on a steep and winding uphill climb. We had to stop on the uphill. While on the other side of the tunnel, there is a car park you can turn into, which offers a flat terrain to park your car.

Once we drove through the tunnel, we turned off to enjoy the view on the other side. There was a 15minute nature walk that you could do, but there was also a great number of Keas surrounding the area. These birds were being fed by stupid tourists who would then get upset when the Keas wouldn’t leave their cars alone as they tried to drive away; usually leading the birds to begin snacking on their vehicles. And since we were blessed with two really dumb tourists feeding these birds some bread right beside our car, it was best not to take the 15minute walk while the Keas have a feed on our car. They eat rubber and really just pull the darn things apart. And they have powerful beaks. If you were outside your car, you could shoo them away from your vehicle. But once you drove up or returned to your car, these birds would swarm you. Sitting on your side mirrors or walking up your hood. A few of them would land on your roof and start to walk along the top of your car as their claws tapped on the metal; from time to time they would peek their heads over the top of the car and look into your windshield to keep a watch on you.

We drove along the highway and enjoyed little pockets of views and interesting history and facts. Interacting mostly with Kea birds along the way.

One last stop at my favourite spot on this highway, a grassy tussock valley set against snow capped mountains. I loved this one spot from the moment I first saw it. It just looks like a field where you can run and get lost in. Every step taking you deeper into the wilderness, and further from the highway and the general public. A place where you just wanted to jump around and do cartwheels.

Milford Sound is a beautiful place, but a good part of the magic was missing for us. So we didn’t enjoy it the way we expected to. But the drive up the highway was quite magical.

You can’t take away the magnificence of the natural beauty that exists in this part of the country. You can mask it, and maybe that was the impression we had of Milford Sound. There is a haze over the place in our eyes. Something is lost when you can’t find a quiet moment to breathe and take in your surroundings.

Maybe in the middle of the night in a row boat, one could experience the fiord by moonlight and get lost in the sounds of their surroundings.

Silence is what's missing.