Kiyomi and Ren's Excellent Adventures: Milford Sound

The last couple days have seen us travel from Queenstown to Te Anau to Milford Sound, and in the process going from pretty to out of this world spectacular.

At this point, I should confess that while we've all been generally having a good time, we have indeed experienced some meltdown moments as is inevitable when travelling. Each and everyone of us has lost our cool, gotten frustrated or, in the kids' case, a few major meltdowns. Travelling like this is indeed fun, but takes a toll as well. The kids have been generally taking things in stride, but Ren in particular has had a few dramatic moments with full scale tantrums, so we've had to on occassion curb our plans or just plain wait it out. This evening, for example, we're staying at a local lodge that lets campers have access to a full kitchen. We've been bringing the kids to these camper park kitchens and letting them play with toys while we've made dinner. Ren, however, was having a difficult time tonight. There was some yelling, there was some tantruming. Unfortunately, unlike the family parks, this place is primarily adult travellers (aka young people doing the backpacking thing) and so the looks accorded to a tantruming child were akin to the ones you give that brown gooey stuff on the bottom of a shoe after the oh so recognizable squish. It was tempting to just let him have the run of the place, if for no other reason so that these youn'uns would have a great travel story about the horrid brat that ruined their first meal out from the bush (I mean, it's the suffering stories that really stick with you isn't it?) Plus, I could have the satisfaction of knowing that most of them would experience the same moment in the future with their own kids. But, my Canadian conscience got the better of me and so Ren and I headed to the van so that I could be treated to my own personal tantrum symphony (sigh...)

I'm hoping that the money we're setting aside for their education will be sufficient to cover the therapy bills that will undoutedly ensue. I can hear the first session now - ".... and then, my parents dragged me to the end of the earth, driving for hours just to go look at some big hunk of rock, or stare at another ridiculous gaggle of fur seals!"

We spent yesterday morning down by the wharff in Queenstown perusing a local weekly artisan market and just getting a feel for the town. Despite being significantly smaller, it actually felt busier and more vibrant than Christchurch. Not sure if it's because it really is a tourist destination (reminiscent of Whistler or Tremblant) or because Christchurch is still recovering from the earthquake and has a bit of a hollowed-out fill about it at the moment. The wharff area has a small rocky crescent beach with a few shopping concourse streets emanating out from it like spokes. There was a very relaxed vibe to the place and it would have been nice to hang out in a while longer, but the weather forecast for Milford Sound was looking promising for the next couple days, so the promise of fine weather lured us away. Lunch was at a little Japanese bento restaurant, and was actually surprsingly good. In fact, we've been finding that both the Japanese and Indian restaurants here are really tasty.

And so, we bid a fond adieu to Queentown (we barely knew you) and hit the road for Te Anau, the feeder down for the Fiordlands National Park. Compared to what we'd been experiencing, we were fairly convinved that at least this drive would be ho-hum. I will concede, it wasn't mind-blowing, but it still had its own beauty with tantalizing peeks at rocky, snow topped mountains, more glacial stream cut valleys and rolling green and brown hills.

We arrived in Te Anau by late afternoon giving enough time to do some laundry, let the kids run around a local park and actually get fed and cleaned-up before dark. The town itself is literally the gateway to the Fiordlands and so has a number of ameneties and tour companies operating.

Now, when we set off this morning it was more with curiosity than anticipation. Much of what we'd been through (the north and west coast, inland glaciers), is not really mentioned in the guidebooks and travel brochures. Oh sure, the highlights are in there (Able Tasman, Pancake Rocks, Franz Josef, etc.), but the amazing scenery that stretches in between in marely mentioned, despite the fact that it is jaw-dropping beautiful. The Fiordlands, however, are launded about to the point of hysteria. More than one guidebook noted that if you see nothing else in NZ, make sure you see the Fiords. So, could it live up to the hype?

Those of you who have been here know the answer. Those of you who haven't, I'm not sure my words can come close to accurately describing it, nor can the pictures do it any justice. We set off from Te Anau heading across primarily rolling farmland, replete with the requisite cows and sheep. It's not that long into the 119 kms drive, however, before you start to see the outline of craggy peaks with little rivulets of snow webbing the crowns. The road follows along a valley floor and even a short toilet break turns into a photo opportunity. The one we stopped at was a camp site, which for me, rivalled the beauty of some of the campgrounds I've had to schlep a back over several kms and meters of elevation to get to.

But that is literally only the amuse bouche. The valley walls start to close in and as they do, plummeting water falls, blistering white glaciers and surreal rock walls start to dominate the landscape. As we approached the Homer Tunnel, we were surrounded by the walls of a steep alpine valley. The Tunnel itself is indeed an engineering marvel - a single lane tunnel blasted through the bottom of the mountain. While I've experienced these before, this is the first one that felt like it went throught the heart of the mountain, and that the mountain may have put up a hell of a fight.

When you emerge from the other side, you understand what the mountain was guarding. But, it really is the opportunity to view the Sound from the water that really allows you to appreciate what is hidden behind the ring of mountains. All the adjectives apply - majestic, towering, powerful, awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping - and yet there still are not enough words to truely convey what this place looks like. The moutains of Milford Sound, dominated by Mitre Peak, are indeed sentinels and guardians of the place. They plunge commandingly into the water, but unlike most mountains of their scale and majesty, they are softened by rich moss and vegetation scalling the walls and any number of waterfalls cascading from the shoulders and crowns. Because of this, there mountains seem older than time itself, absorded by life around, yet nonetheless a permanent part of it all. They are the backbone of the landcape - exuding strength and permanence, yet content to stand guard letting the world wash over and around them, confident in the knowledge that nothing can alter their roll as guardians of the sound. The boat also takes you close to one of the permanent waterfalls, and despite the fact that the mist soaked the boat, Kiyomi stayed on top deck happily watching for rainbows in the spray. Ren, meanwhile, ran around the back deck laughing everytime a gush of water hit him.

Rain falls around this part of the world for over 200 days each year. Somehow (actually thanks to our resident weather tracker) we were lucky enough to experience it on a gloriously blue ski day. That said, this place would be equally majestic on a wet day, with the waterfalls that much more significant and the green more vibrant. All I can say, if you haven't spent the last 10 minutes planning your trip to NZ, you've wasted the last 10 minutes.

Our mind's literally blown by what we've just seen, we are now set to bed down by the aforementioned lodge and give our brains a chance to truely process what it was that we've seen today.

A couple things worth mentioning: Kiwis seem to name every little rivulet and stream. Every single one that we've crossed has a little sign with a name. You'd think that it would be impossible to think of enough names, but thus far I haven't seen so much as a trickle without one. The highway system here is very utilitarian and takes up as a little space as possible. The cuts through the forest are narrow and in fact, the tree canopy is cut just enough to allow traffic to pass under. There are also a suprising number of small sections where the road is reduced to a single lane - you need to pay attention to what's coming at ya and who has priority (hint, if it's bigger than you, back up!)