We are presently in Wanaka, southish on New Zealand's South Island. We have just finished tramping the Dusky Track, which was something of an adventure
. Having found our way down to a place called Te Anau, a couple of hours south of Milford Sound, we resolved to head off out into deepest Fiordland, the wilderness of forest, lakes and rivers that covers the south west corner of the south island. The Fiordland National Park is enormous and has lots of empty wilderness. It also, unsuprisingly, has lots of fiords or sounds, including the reasonably well known Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound. The Dusky Track runs through the heart of this region and we walked from the far arm of Lake Hauroko, the deepest lake in the country, to the West Arm of Lake Manapouri, perhaps the most beautiful lake in the country, over a week's trekking. And we discovered that this is no stroll in the park, however which way you come to look at it. Firstly, with an average rainfall of a staggeringly damp 8000mm per year it is one of the wettest places on earth. Secondly, gettting to and from the start is a bit of faff, invloving the chartering of boats and lots of patience. Thirdly and most importantly though secretive, the route is actually a military grade assault course. we have discovered why the Kiwi's call what we would know as walking or hiking 'tramping'. Because the amount of actual walking is fairly small. Most of the time one is engaged in clambering over treefall, wading through groin deep mud, fording rivers, climbing rock faces and stumbling along rooty routes.
The reason for this activity was at times lost in the mist, but the rewards are high for the effort with outstanding views, wonderful wilderness and a chance to really get a feel, very closely as it happened, with the incredible landscape that makes up this part of the world. It is a land of deep valleys and steep sided hulks of granite cloaked in dense forest, snow capped atop with gushing rivers and pockets of lochs and lakes. They run out to the Pacific Ocean, first into deep Sounds or Fiords from which the area is named, gashes eating their way into the coastline.
The tramping was of a different nature from that which we had so far experienced. Tough underfoot, we in fact got lucky with the weather. Although it rained on every day excpet the first, mostly heavily and persistently, the rivers did not raise too much which kept the way open for us to pass. It is a common occurance for trampers to have to swim across backwaters or be held up for days with flooded rivers. We contented ourselves with waist deep waters and lots and lots and lots of mud. Staying in backcountry huts all along the way negates the need to carry a tent, handily, and allows a drying, warm room to be established at the end of each day. Which usually came as something of a relief. The tramp is not a long one particularly, but when one averages covering less than one mile and hour given the tricky terrain, tea and soup and a blazing fire is much appreciated.
All of this involved high adventure, considerable soddeness and an enormous sense of satisfaction at the end. It also involved quite a few sandfly bites, the bain of anyone outside in the region. The little buggers bite like mozzies and descend on any uncovered flesh at the first opportunity. We have developed at hatrid for the little gits that is only satisfied by their intensive swatting whenever possible. The killing of Sandflies is an activity all of its own, and a worthy one at that.
We are presently in Wanaka, somewhat further north en route back up the West Coast. We will stop off at the Franz Joseph glacier for a bit to see some ice and then head up through Nelson to Picton in order to first walk the Queen Charlotte Track and then boat over to the North Island.
More pics will follow just as soon as the Blogger website sorts it's act out, which is frustratingly not right now.
We will now be staying in New Zealand until the 4th December, when we fly over to Cairns, Oz for some Queensland sun.
Crawling through the mud to negotiate obstacles became a daily
Only a couple of hours from the end of the tramp and still the mud was, as here, thigh deep. Fun.
2. En route to Loch Maree, crossing the three wire 'bridge' over the Seaforth River. It had rained and rained all day long. 3. On the way down from the Pleasant Range to Loch Maree. This is an absurdly steep path, indeed climb at this point. 4. Inside the Hut at Loch Maree. Note Matt's World Cup Cross of St George Boxers drying by the fire.
On day two of the dusky, on the way up to Lake Roe Hut, beside Lake Haffy.
This shot is from the beginning of the tramp, just before we took a boat across, Lake Hauroko, which is shown. The weather was deceptively marvellous.
Very obviously the start of the tramp proper, after the hour or so boat ride. From this point it is at least a six day walk to the nearest civilisation.
