The road from Dunedin to Te Anau went via the 'Presidential Highway' the strip of asphalt linking the towns of Clinton and Gore. The rest of the drive was pretty unremarkable for New Zealands standards - until we were close to our destination. The first sign of the dramatic and beautiful landscape surrounding Te Anau was the majestic range of snow capped mountains filling our vista. It wasn't long before we were cruising down the street adjacent to the lake, it's size complementing the mountains perfectly.
As a premier Fiordland location, the town was buzzing with swarms of transient tourists, backpackers and families all enjoying the blistering sunshine. We crossed our fingers and hoped that the weather would stay fine for the track. We hired some sleeping bags and a cooking pot and stocked up at the local supermarket for what we thought would be essentials for hiking the four day Kepler Track. Dried pasta, crackers, honey, oh yes, and a quarter bottle of whisky, strictly for medicinal purposes of course, all made their way into our ever expanding packs until we could squeeze in no more.
The day before we were scheduled to start the Kepler Track it rained heavily, the sky was dark and a fearsome wind chased the clouds across the sky, obscuring our view of the mountains. Tomorrow was D-day though, because, due to the enourmous popularity of the Great Walks a booking system required you to set off on your allocated day or not at all and the weather was looking ominous to say the least.
We needn't have worried as the next morning was dry and bright. Shouldering our packs and immediately being struck by their weight, we set off around the head of the lake to the start of the Kepler Track.
We'd already been walking for an hour before we came to the trailhead. The trail disappeared into the bush which skirted around the lake to our first stop at Brod Bay. Due to our late start, it was lunchtime so we shrugged off our packs, remaining semi-stooped until we decompressed into a more recognisable human shape, and sat down to share a sandwich with a cloud of sandflies! This was our first experience of the persistent and resilient microscopic monsters that we'd been warned so much about. Their presence wasn't more than a nuisance and a liberal coating of repellant kept them at bay - it wasn't until later when it looked like I was wearing a pair of tights full of marbles that I understood why they had acquired such a bad reputation.
After leaving the bay we tramped up through the bush, passed fern glades and limestone bluffs until we reached the bushline. Above this, the path climbed through tussock grassland and the absence of trees meant we could take in the panoramic vistas of fiords, snowy peaks, grassy plains and the town itself, a days walk away on the far shore of Lake Te Anau.
Mount Luxmore hut was where we were to lay our weary head, legs, feet, shoulders and pretty much everything else for our first night on the trail. With enough bunks for around fifty trampers, toilets and cooking facilities too, the hut was almost the size of a small hotel and the tiny, feisty ranger / school ma'am ruled it with a rod of iron, ensuring the place was spotless (and woe betide you if you were caught eating in the middle of her hut talk!) The 'type A' personalities marked their territories early, taking over large parts of the communal areas and then telling their chums how they could run the 100m in 10.5 seconds while the rest of us tried to manouvre around their gargantuan cooking pots to locate the last remaining gas burner to make a cup of tea.
Sleeping in a dorm with 30 odd (some very odd) people was a new experience too. It was lights out around 10pm so at least everyone was in bed by then but that's when the noise starts. Rustling, creaking, zipping, unzipping followed by groaning, snoring and more rustling set the tone for the evening. If you don't have earplugs it's like listening to a Pink Floyd track that was considered too way out to make it onto the Dark Side of the Moon through headphones. Snores seemed to come from theleft, the right and swoop in from above and below, all in all, not very conducive to a good nights sleep and a full days walking the day after!
Day two, however, was awesome. The 'Type A's' got up early and seemed to troop off, en masse as quickly as possible to bag the best bits of the next hut. We hung around until we were sure everyone had gone and set off with the track to ourselves.
Twisting trhough alpine scenery we made the side trip to the peak of Mount Luxmore and carried on, winding our way across saddles, plateaus and ridges. At one point where the ridge was quite exposed, we spotted Klaus, a German guy who'd passed us several times along the route. He motioned for us to approach but stay quiet and the reason was soon obvious, sat next to him were two young Keas, the mischievous alpine parrots who have been known, amongst other things, to trash hikers gear and attack sheep!
After trekking along mountain tops for the best part of five hours it took another two to drop down into a deep valley and the Iris Burn hut where we'd spend our second night. By the time we arrived all the stoves were in use and there was nowhere to sit except outside where we were at the mercy of hordes of particularly viscious sandflies. It was then that we decided that maybe we weren't too keen on communal trekking and resolved to miss out the final hut if possible and complete the walk in a day less than planned.
That night wasn't too bad though as we were in a dorm room with only twelve bunks and we had some decent company, except for the guy who fell asleep with the tinny whine of his headphones loud enough for all to hear and could breathe louder than I'd heard anyone snore the previous night.
Last to leave once more the following morning, we made our way towards the final hut, trekking through forest that was resplendent with masses of moss and giant ferns. It was 2pm by the time we reached the hut and although many of our companions had already moved on hoping to catch the 3pm shuttle bus out of the park, most of the bunks were taken. Another shimmering black curtain of sandflies and rain forecast for the next day were the final factors in our decision to get out of there and after refilling our water bottles, we were on our way.
The plan was to high tail it towards the shuttle pickup point where another bus was due at 5pm. Amazingly we got there at 4pm and were faced with a dilemma - sit around and wait or add a further 3 hours onto the trek and complete the circuit back to the start of the trail and onto Te Anau. Bearing in mind we'd already been walking for 7 hours at this point, there was only one option - on went the packs and we hit the trail, hoping we hadnt made a big mistake!
Tha walk was brilliant, after mirroring the twisting course of the bluest river we'd ever seen. We reached the end/start of the track by 6pm giving ourselves an hour to get back to the backpackers before reception closed in the hope that they'd have some rooms available, as of course, we were arriving back a day earlier...and that's when the rain started.
We squelched our way into Te Anau only to find they had nothing left but recommended trying the place next door. We ended up in a two bedroom caravan with a fridge, cooker and TV, bliss!
The last couple of days were spent back at the backpackers were we found ourselves sharing the 2 bedroom unit with a different couple each night, bizarrely all originating from Melbourne. We spent half a day hiking in the Manapouri region, it was unique in that we had to hire a rowing boat from the village store and row across the wide river to the start hoping that my knowledge of knots would ensure the boat was still there when we got back.
After leaving Te Anau we drove along the incredibly beautiful road to Milford Sound. Monster mountains rose up behind huge expanses of grassy plain in front of us as we sped along accompanied all the way by numerous tour buses. As we reached the foothills of the snowy peaks we could plainly make out blue glacial ice above. Down in the valleys melt water streams boiled and swirled over boulders. Immense rockfaces glistened with rainwater reflecting the fact that over 6 metres of rain falls each year in the Fiordland region.
The afternoon was spent cruising Milford Sound, mainly in grey drizzle. This didnt diminish the awesome natural spectacle before us as we sailed past cascading waterfalls and mist shrouded peaks, often accompanied by seals and dolphins. We spent the night in a wooden hut where bursts of torrential rain hammered on the tin roof, entertaining for us maybe, but not much fun for the poor souls camping near the car park.
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