That’s how Rudyard Kipling referred to the magical terrain of Milford Sound on the west coast, and like the other million or so other tourists who make the journey every year, we needed to witness its beauty for ourselves.
We stopped a few times on our way across the country. We spent a night in Balclutha in the centre of Otago before heading over to Lake Te Anau. We had tentatively booked a true bucket list activity in Te Anau – a trip in a sea-plane taking off from the lake and flying over the remote areas of Doubtful Sound to the south. But the weather gods were apparently not in favour of this idea, and because of the torrential rain and near zero visibility, the scenic flight was unfortunately off the table. We were pretty gutted to miss this iconic opportunity, but rather than waste our time squeezing in unnecessary activities in the pouring rain, we huddled down and got our penultimate week of schooling sorted so that we could spend more time enjoying the sights of the South Island’s west coast.
The drive from Te Anau to Milford Sound is absolutely epic in its own right, and rather than whisking through it at a hundred miles an hour, we took our time and stopped at all the viewpoints along the way. The weather still wasn’t brilliant by this point, and the low lying cloud cover and drizzle ruined a few of the views, but we still managed to get a real sense of the scale of this landscape.
This is the fabled Fiordland area of New Zealand. These impressive water filled valleys are the result of ancient glaciers carving their way through the landscape in the last ice age. In fact, the definition of a fiord is a sea-filled inlet resulting from historic glaciation. Many of the “Sounds” of New Zealand are actually fiords, but are still called Sounds for historic reasons, as they were called this by the original Welsh settlers who mistook them for the river carved valleys they called Sounds at home.
The first part of this epic drive takes you along the shores of Lake Te Anau, before you notice the landscape change as you head into the Eglinton Valley with it’s views of the snow-capped peaks above the tussock covered hills on either side. We stopped at a place called Mirror Lakes, where you are supposed to get a perfect reflection of the surrounding mountains in the still waters below. Unfortunately, constant drizzle does not a still lake make, and today Mirror Lakes struggled to live up to its name! No worries, it’s a lovely place to see regardless.
The Lake Gunn and Pop’s View lookout points were similarly compromised, with the heavy cloud cover pretty much ruining any view of the higher peaks. Christie Falls on the Hollyford river was well worth a visit, to clamber precariously over the rocks while the perfect alpine river rushes below you.
Next on the list, however, was the brilliant Monkey Creek. Unfortunately not named because of a resident population of alpine monkeys, but instead named after an early settler’s pet dog. We didn’t stop here for a view, although there was a brilliant view in every direction, as there seems to be everywhere around here. Seriously, you begin to become immune to outstanding scenery the longer you spend in this part of the world. Anyway, like I said we weren’t here for the view, we were here for the creek itself. The water in this spring is fed directly from a glacier high up in the mountains above, and is incredibly pure. We stopped here, like many others do, to drink from its crystal clear waters and fill up all our water bottles. The kids were absolutely obsessed with it, and spent the next few days asking for ‘glacier water’ instead of the obviously inferior bottled water in the fridge!
After having a look at Gertrude Valley, but again not being able to see too much on account of the weather, we made our way through the epic Homer tunnel. This tunnel through the Homer Saddle was started in 1935 by five men with pick axes, and continued at a slow rate for many years, hampered by regular avalanches and the onset of World War Two. It was eventually opened in 1953 and finally linked the Milford area with the other side of the mountains. During the summer, traffic lights at either end create a one way flow of traffic to avoid the possibility of two larger vehicles meeting in the narrow, unlined granite tunnel. However, during winter the traffic lights do not operate as both sides sit squarely in an avalanche risk zone, so I guess it wouldn’t be a great idea to sit and wait in your car for 7 or 8 minutes.
As you come out the other side of the tunnel, you are greeted by the “Hundred Falls”, which is precisely what it sounds like. After a period of rain (rather like the rain we had just driven through), the sheer granite slopes are absolutely teeming with gushing torrents of water. The foul weather had by this point started to recede, and the moody clouds were slowly but surely being usurped by a glorious blue sky. One last stop to look at the Donne River from the old, rusty suspension bridge before we finally made our way to the campground at Milford Sound Lodge for the night.
The skies had by this point cleared entirely, and we were able to marvel at the beauty of the Southern skies after darkness fell over the Sound. There is almost zero light pollution in this tucked away part of the world, and the heavenly light display above us was truly something to marvel at.
The following morning we were due to take a cruise along the length of Milford Sound itself courtesy of Southern Discoveries. We made our way to the jetty at the very end of the Milford Sound Highway and boarded our vessel. This is one of the most visited places in New Zealand, and for good reason. There is unparalleled natural beauty here in abundance.
The skipper showed us huge, cascading waterfalls and towering granite cliffs so close you could actually reach out and touch them. In fact, he got us so close to the 500 foot tall Stirling Falls that we were drenched by the crystal clear water as it crashed down next to us.
We were also lucky enough to spot a pod of bottlenose dolphins as they danced in the wake of our boat, and several seal pups basking on the rocks.
The added bonus of booking the “Discover More” version of the boat cruise is that you also get a guided tour of the amazing underwater observatory. This floating submarine facility offers a unique perspective on the Sound by allowing you to descend ten metres below the surface and marvel at the fish life and the contents of their suspended coral gardens. This coral is usually only found at depths of around 500 metres, but the unique make-up of the water here tricks the coral into thriving at this depth. There is a layer of darker fresh water which has run off the surrounding mountains creating a light-blocking blanket on top of the clearer salt water underneath. This allows the coral to thrive in uncharacteristically shallow waters.
We finished our Milford Sound experience by wandering along the foreshore trail to locate the iconic Milford Swing. To be honest it’s just a fairly poorly constructed and uncomfortable rope swing, but the reason it has become so popular is that it offers one of the most picturesque views of the Sound itself from a hidden area of the shore that is reasonably hard to find. You have to veer off the woodland walkway and pick your way carefully through the overgrown shoreline to find it, but you are rewarded with the most instagrammable view in the area.
You might even spot one of the rare Weka birds hovering in the undergrowth, but don’t be fooled into thinking you’ve spotted an elusive kiwi – this is his sturdier and more common cousin.
That was it for Fiordland, all that was left was to undertake yesterdays fantastic drive back in the opposite direction. But the weather was now absolutely glorious, so we took the opportunity to stop at a few of the viewpoints we missed on account of the rain for a second look. The Hundred Falls had by this point dried up in the sunshine and become the “One or Two Trickles”. We made our way back to Monkey Creek so the kids could replenish our stock of alpine glacier water one last time, and managed to get a better look at the valleys from the lookout at Pop’s View. Mirror Lakes was, however, still not exhibiting a mirror finish. Despite the false advertising it was still a lovely place to see without the dreary drizzle of the previous afternoon.
After a long, but extremely picturesque four hour drive, we had finally made our way to our next campsite on the shores on Lake Wakatipu. Nestled in the shadow of the brilliantly named Remarkables mountain range, Queenstown is known for being the adventure capital of New Zealand, and an absolute Mecca for thrill seekers and nature lovers alike. There’s bungee jumping, parasailing, jet boating, skiing, snowboarding, skydiving – the list goes on forever. The town is also jam packed with cool bars and edgy eateries, it really does have something for everyone.
That night, as the kids were playing in the campsite play park as dusk fell, disaster struck. I was sitting in the van enjoying a cup of coffee when a frantic Hunter flung the door open. In tears, he told me Bam had hurt herself really badly on the trampoline. I ran as fast as I could, almost choking on the coffee as it dropped from my hand. What had she done? I had visions of a broken leg, emergency trips to hospital and all further adventures being cancelled as we caught an emergency flight home. Bam was bawling in a heap on the trampoline. I checked her over, and (thank God) she had only twisted her ankle. This was a new feeling for Bam, never having twisted an ankle before, so she thought she was in real trouble. That night was spent with Bam hopping everywhere, and me having to carry her to the showers and toilets. Luckily, the following day, she was able to walk a little, albeit with a rather dramatic limp. She had now earned herself the nickname Ham as she hobbled herself to the Gondola for the trip up the mountain.
You may recall our trip on the cable car in Rotorua to ride the awesome luges down the mountainside. Well, that’s exactly what we wanted to do here as well. The same company operates a very similar operation in Queenstown, although in my humble opinion this one is even more impressive. Our campsite was directly below the cable car, and the sheer incline of its ascent seemed terrifying as it loomed above us. As we were whisked up the hillside, climbing 480 metres above the town on the southern hemisphere’s steepest cable car, the views were mind blowing. If you can banish the thought of falling to a horrific death thousands of feet below should something go wrong (not that it ever has, but it has happened elsewhere!), you are treated to vistas over the surrounding landscape that get get better and better with every foot you climb. At the top there is a 220 degree panorama of the town, the Remarkables and the beautiful lake. It was quite possibly the best view we had experienced so far in New Zealand, and that’s saying something in a country known for it’s incredible views.
The luge tracks here are enormous fun, and the bonus is that around every corner is another glimpse of the incredible scenery as you rush past it at high speed. Just try not to become too distracted and lose control on the tighter bends as one of the paragliders soars overhead and into the distance! The ski lift that returns you from the base back to the start also seems slightly safer and better constructed that the Rotorua counterpart, and it’s easier to enjoy the ride without worrying about the little ones wriggling their way out.
Eight luge rides, one cafe lunch and a trip to the medic to blag a free ankle support for Ham later, we returned to the bottom of the hill via the slightly alarming, but highly compelling gondola, and bid farewell to this brilliant town as we continued our journey north.