Day 1
Entering the Milford Track is like stepping into another world. The ferry ride guides you through dense fog that drapes the mountains like rabbit fur coats. The air carries rich smells of decomposing plants and rain. The mountains huddle around you clinging tightly to their verdant, richly green forests. Waterfalls clamor down cliffsides into the sparkling blue water. It's a land untouched, oblivious to the impatience of the modern world, its tranquility is palpable.
The first day the walk is 1 mile to get to the first of 3 huts, you get a head start from the guided walkers (for double the price you get showers, catered meals and fancy titanium walking sticks) so you don't sully their experience with your stick-free walking and immense clumsy backpacks. The walk is completely flat and extremely well maintained. The track winds through tightly wound ferns and psychedelic mosses that blanket the ground and trees. It was during this 20 minute stroll that I got to thinking that I might just enjoy the 4 day hiking trip. However, my next thought was that I had only just completed 1/33 of the journey.
Day 2
The second day begins the slow ascent to the mountain. The walk is largely along a large stunningly clear river that twists and turns through the trees. Eventually the forest opens up into a beautiful savannah like plain. It was here that we listened to the shockingly loud gunshot rumbles of avalanches cascading down the mountains. The day ended at the base of the mountains, nestled in valley wedged between steep cliffs. Keas and wekas darted across the porch threatening to carry off shoes, backpacks or anything that they can drag off between their beaks. The end of day 2 felt really good, I had made the hike with energy to spare and watched the sunset's glow off the mountains with a glass of wine and a sleepy smile.
Day 3
Day 3 is spent arduously hiking to the top of Mackinnon pass and then perillously navigating the way back down again. White mountain flares peak through the snow, the sun sets the mountain ablaze with a shimmering sparkle. The ice and slush demands that the ground not be taken for granted. The summit is blustery and cold. Katie hands me a chocolate bar in the hopes that I won't cry. When asked what I think of the view, I callously respond that I've seen mountains before and I prefer to view them from my seat in front of the fireplace. The top of the mountain has an outhouse with arguably the best view in the world. So while I clumsily undo my many layers of clothing, I laugh, the view from the toilet is stunning.
As a result of the increasing avalance danger we are instructed to take the emergency path down the mountain. This “safe path” is actually the dried up remains of a riverbed, so the next few hours are spent treading atop smooth river worn stones. By the end of it my knees feel like they have just been icepicked by tiny midgets for the last few hours. My ankles are tired and wobbly and my legs feel like jello. Despite the cold I have been sweating and panting. I am dirty. I am tired. I am done with this walk.
After lunch and a few cigarettes we had the opportunity to take our packs off, change into sandals and take a detour to Sutherland Falls (arguably the fifth highest waterfall in the world). The thundering waterfall sprays icey mist into my face and I have to admit silently to myself that the Milford Track is exquisitely beautiful.
Day 4
Day 4 is exciting because the end is in sight. My body is sore and I am grumpy. I do not want to eat any more canned tuna and I yearn for a scaldingly hot shower. The walk out is flat and easy but at just over 10 miles it is the longest single stretch of the trip and it has to be completed before the last ferry leaves at 2pm. An hour into the hike I can feel my ankles bleeding, I don't dare take off my shoes because I know that once I do I will not put them back on. By mile 5 I pick up the pace despite my throbbing knees and smarting ankles. A swarm of sandflies gather around my face and as long as I don't stop they will not eat me alive. The end of the hike looks exactly like the beginning and I don't even bother taking out my camera. The last two miles are torturously long and never have I beamed like I did once we reached Sandfly Point. The walk had finally come to an end.
Looking back on it, I don't regret walking The Milford Track, it was absolutely incredible, it was dramatic and stunning and never have I been anywhere so blissfully undisturbed by humans. In fact, I am proud of myself for embarking on what may have been the dumbest idea I've ever had. However, the best part is that now that I have the distinction of walking the “most beautiful track in the world”, nothing will ever rival the experience so I will never again have to bother.
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