The Most Beautiful Walk in the World

The Milford Track.  Legendary. Remote and Hard to Do in a access and permissions sense.  The Milford Track takes you from the end of Lake Te Anau over-water and overland through mountain pass to Milford Sound on New Zealand's South Island.  Located in Fjiordland National Park it is almost as pristine as when first discovered 128 years ago.  Long heralded as the best walk in the world, New Zealand tourism and Department of Conservation manage the area by limiting the daily intake of walkers / hikers and delineating where they stay, the direction the travel and so on.  

The area is remote and in an area of jagged peaks and impassably dense rain forest. In fact it's so far off the beaten path, you can drink the glaciated water from the rivers without issue. Like the area near Seattle in Olympic National Park, the trek begins in a "cold" rainforest of moss covered trees and a million variations on the color green.  The rainforest is an apt term here as the region gets 7-9 meters of rain annually and can experience 20 cm a day (8 inches). Wet gear isn't just advisable, you really ought to consider a snorkel as well.  The first 16 kms of the Track follows the Clinton river to its source and the dead end that necessitates a 700 M climb over McKinnon Pass towards Milford Sound.   It's dense, wet and full of life - though not of the animal variety. In fact aside from birds, there is little movement and noise.   You see New Zealand is literally a set of islands onto itself and the only mammals indigenous to the country are bats.  While today there are others they are invasive species, which like Australia's cane toads and rabbits have wreaked havoc.  Flightless birds were the dominant form of life here and they didn't stand much of a  chance against the imported weasel family known as Stoats brought in originally to control mice and rats.   The country's history (the modern one anyway) only stretches to 130 years  or so in this region, so the indigenous fauna and flowers still bloom. 

The Track is highly regulated and features huts for both independent and group walkers - I was in the latter.  Pay enough money and you too can walk the 34 mile/ 53 km Track, and I'll admit a mild sense of guilt with every step.   I'm used to roughing it a little more and the hot showers at days end complete with laundry facilities and drying rooms made this feel a little like a coddled walk - perhaps more so than a trek through the unknown.  Don't get me wrong, it was easy and comfortable and in my own middle aged condition I enjoyed it nonetheless - but when the -8 degree sleet was hitting my face via gale force winds sideways atop the pass; and when I could not feel my fingers any longer on the way up and down the mountain, then and perhaps only then did I feel I'd earned my days keep. 

We walked as a group or not - it depended on personal preference, ego and your physical condition.  I'll admit preferring the solo aspect, lost on the trail and seeing my own version of it.  I was back in the late 1800's when I could see trying to find the path and knowing it may be in another direction.  Our guides were good - young passionate people that did this not for the money but because they enjoyed it. Young Grace who moved fast and espoused new things for those she found second-hand, and John the lumbering giant from Australia who has learned the Kiwi way and was both shy and strong in humble mix.   There was purity in the trail to be sure, you felt your soul cleansed with the time spent there and even the most emotionally hardened  (like me) felt affected by Milford.  It's 3 days walking with all your belongings, lunch trailside and more walking. While the path is clear there are some issues - land-slides (slides to the locals) are everywhere both scarring the valley walls and blocking the path.  These are young mountains and still growing from all the tectonic activities. We saw and heard avalanches and it became clear that despite the lushness, the soli was only 6-8 inches deep. That meant that a falling tree 400M up scalped a path to the valley floor revealing the base rock underneath in numerous places.

It rained on us hard for two days and we walked in wet gear.  The upside was all the temporary waterfalls that appeared   I made the 9km side trip to Sutherland Falls, New Zealand's highest at 580M/1800 feet up but I'm sure we saw higher ones. Water drove the life and land around us and I didn't begrudge it at all.  

The walk culminates in a 22km hike that ends at the aptly named Sandfly point.   From there it's a short boat ride to Milford Sound, accessible by road from Queenstown in 5 hours.   On our last day we did a boat tour of the Sound, undiscovered past Captain Cook's time and enjoyed a few last moments looking straight up the mile high cliffs of 100% pure New Zealand.  And then it was done. 

As I look back on my week there with the earthquake and the walk I wonder in some ways why other parts of the world haven't designated their real natural wonders as hands-off areas. It's pretty much guaranteed that too much traffic spoils a place and while I'm guiltier than many in terms of carbon and boot footprint I've made, I'd like to see these environments survive beyond our generations.  Sure, that's rich coming from someone just there but New Zealand was fine for a couple million years without us, and it'll be ok without us in the future. Legendary, remote and hard to access is a good thing in this case.  Let's let this part of the world fade into stories and stay pure.  

New Zealand - The Rumble

I've made it to New Zealand which in and of itself isn't much of a stand alone accomplishment. I didn't swim here or anything.  I did come the long way round and spent 15 hours recently sitting within the comfortable confines of Singapore Airlines (again, no hardship there). I've gone directly to the South Island and the largest city there - Christchurch.  This is actually my second time visiting as a friend and I made our way here once to ski about 30 years ago.  My dim memories are of lots of sheep and a cozy sleepy little city-ette (not quite big enough to be a proper city).  It's grown and shrunk in recent years, however an afternoon stroll through the city centre reminded of how English country-side picturesque it is, complete with winding River Avon.

What strikes you (allow me a small pun) about Christchurch is the building going on, or rather re-building. There are many derelict buildings and many more new strong looking structures - lots of externalized steel skeletons and new finishes.  The skyline is dotted by construction cranes, all looking to recreate their city.  Christchurch in the last 5-6 years you see has been hit with earthquake after earthquake and their last big one was on Valentine's Day this year*.  They have seen so much movement in fact that the job of rebuilding had to be put off until things calmed down. It's taken it's toll of course.  While 185 people died on that 2011 day of the first big quake, more than 75,000 have left the city since searching out better more stable places to live. A lack of stability means something different here than it does elsewhere.  The local rebuilding cost estimate goes to $45B NZD.  

Let me explain the * above.  So I spent the day looking around and sourcing one or two missing bits for my upcoming walk.  I bought some Indian food in the supermarket as my little hotel room came with a microwave oven and settled in early, tired from all the flying.  I was woken up at almost the stroke of midnight by noise and shaking and will admit to being pretty disoriented.  I got up quickly as my bed was shaking and I distinctly recall the floor also shaking - flowing is more accurate - I was aware of the sensation but couldn't wrap my brain around it. Until I could - this was an earthquake. I was in an earthquake. Now keep in mind I was asleep in bed for the onset and it did take me a few moments of head-churning to "get it".  I was confused and didn't know what to do - it was hard to grasp the severity after all. I popped open the sliding glass door as I was looking and listening for sound clues - falling crashing debris, screaming, sirens - and my rationale was that if anything that would give me a clue, as the room kept shaking and moving.  I heard nothing save the earthquake sound itself as everything around me vibrated. That wasn't a sound heard so much as felt, and my brain flashed to whales and elephants.   Half my mind wondered why nothing had fallen on me and I started to gather up key belongings - passport, phone, wallet and so forth. I kept looking out at the two story car park outside my room and now open door to validate it wasn't tumbling. And the movements started to abate a little. I decided to forestall my escape (dressing, more key belongings etc) and went to the bathroom.  The shaking started again but didn't last more than 10 seconds this time. That said after-shock to me.  I think as still in fight or flight mode and so watched car park again. No people were obvious visually or otherwise - I was the only one in this earthquake it seemed.  I wondered if they were all like this.  I popped open my phone and goggled "Christchurch Earthquake Nov 14" and got the following result.  That also calmed me as it was already online and so the world was acting as it should it seemed.  I texted my wife as I imagined she might be worried.

With little commotion from others I also elected to play it cool and went back to bed. I felt a couple more aftershocks and it started to feel like airplane turbulence, which I admittedly somewhat perversely enjoy.  In my head I knew I had an alarm set for 4:30am to get a plane to Queenstown (which I somewhat doubted would operate) but imagined the airport might be as good a place as any to get news.  And I slept.  How could that be ? How can you go through a 7.5M earthquake and go right back to sleep ?   Well, in fairness I was tired from the trip and the complete lack of reaction around me (still no sirens, flashing lights or screams for help) told me this was routine. 

When I did wake at 4:30 (yes, I'd slept soundly) I popped open the same sliding door and there was a guy on the car park roof who told me tsunamis were due and to stay on high ground.  Clearly I'd had a better night than him.  I got ready, called for a taxi and proceeded to the airport with perhaps New Zealand's most zen taxi driver who espoused his belief that you can only worry about what you can control. What a place this is.  I can only imagine the universe altering effect of an earthquake like this back home, but here it's just another Sunday night.  

Of course my flight was cancelled and there was some fun getting down to Queenstown where I now am (Air New Zealand did an aborted last minute landing and our airport bus broke down necessitating a replacement). So besides feeling like an absolute bad-luck virus today, I'm probably most impacted by these people. 

New Zealand has always struck me as the densest beauty in the world - the mountains and fjords are adjacent to rolling hills and stunning coasts. Glaciers and palm trees all in a tight little package. But it's the resilience of the people that struck me most today. I'm wondering now what it would take to get an over-the-top reaction from them. More importantly I'm wondering how I can be more like them.  Toughness personified.  

Sri Lanka

After a brief stopover in Istanbul, my trip has continued to Colombo, Sri Lanka.  One of those little highlights along the way was a brief stopover in Male, in the Maldives - Sri Lanka's ocean playground neighbour.  As a series of Atolls rising a meter or two out of the Indian Ocean, the Maldives are both unusual and spectacular.  While today these sandbars and reefs host luxurious playgrounds of westerners flying in to bulk up on their vitamin D, when Global Warming hits hard they'll simply be a set of "live-aboard" dive resorts where future travelers can snorkel above the once opulent ocean hotels.  

It's a hop to Colombo, the primary city of Sri Lanka and sort of its capital (that's actually an adjacent little area to Colombo - a suburb as it were.  Metropolitan Colombo is home to 5.8M people, and all of Sri Lanka today thrives having settled their 30 year domestic war less than a decade ago.  Like all areas in the region, it's a mix of people, religions and language. While Sri Lanka is primarily Buddhist, the city of Colombo is primarily Muslim for example. Colonized at numerous points in its history, we also recognize Sri Lanka by the name Ceylon as that was its label under British colonial rule for 300+ years, and not formally changed until the 1970's, well after its independence from the U.K. 

 

The name itself ironically is a Portuguese twist on what the locals called it. Colombo can seem like a memory of Thailand, more than it's closer cousin India, perhaps due to the rules forbidding littering - it's a very clean city.  

A mix of colonial and modern architecture illustrates the wealth here.  Vast areas are being torn down and rebuilt to be taller and modern, but always with government supplied housing for those displaced.  Socially Sri Lanka has a safety net too that seems to limit the street homeless and begging found in so many places too.  Healthcare is provided and the whole country gives off an air of being on the right track. That seems consistent for what it's worth - rarely have I encountered as warm and sincere group of people. Everyone I've come across here is engaging and interesting with great English. It's the third language everywhere by the way - again pushed by the government as a tool to ensure education and business relevancy.  

Sri Lanka has been eye-opening to me as I'd expected a more tropical Nepal but its an enigma of success, grace and Indian Ocean hospitality.  I'll be back soon - hopefully to see the elephant orphanages next time. 

And So It Begins

The first of many flights taking me to the greatest walk this planet offers routes me to Istanbul.  This was quite intentional - I'd never been there before, and despite some concerns regarding security, it's an historically incredible city.   The crossroads of where the old world met the new, and the juncture of Europe and Asia where the Black Sea leads to the Mediterranean.   

Turkey today is a confounding nation.  Part of Europe in so many ways but authoritarian when allowed, the mix of ethnic groups and large geography with "hot borders" (Syria) makes it tremendously dynamic. The current rulers seem to have foregone democratic institutions but unlike many of their neighbors, the population believes in it and so it will return.  

Istanbul is a city on par with Rome or Athens in (Western) visible history terms.  It's spectacular in terms of monuments, mosques and a seminal role in history.  It's strategic location guarantees it a place in history.  Straddling worlds and religions, Istanbul blends eastern mysticism with western thinking to arrive at a place utterly unique.  

I was as ever fortunate to spend a few hours here and share the sights I saw. 

Collections

I've been a collector of late, assembling memories and pursuing or searching for something.  I'm fascinated by the beauty in our natural world and have ventured far and wide and higher to experience these myself.

In a sense, I'm want to stop doing this, fearing that every new moment created will dull or blur the previous ones.  I hear people speak of 'trips of a lifetime', or other descriptors and I see the value of being face to face with the extraordinary and relishing it.  I don't wish to devalue each different experience in my own head, making the details that are so very vivid of one place, one time and how I personally experienced it fade or become jumbled with others.  This year I'll have had the good fortune to explore the mountains of Peru with my family and climb in the Himalayas with my son to the roots of Sagarmāthā and each of those efforts was incredible.  One didn't take away from the other, and like a tuning fork resonating acoustically long after the sound seems to be gone, each has stayed with me.

I'm about to embark on the next chapter, this time alone to try to experience more that is wondrous in our world. Again, I see my good fortune in having the means and ability to do these things, and have positive expectations of what it will be like.

As I learned from reading Bruce Chatwin long ago, walking is to reach for the divine, so I'm off to walk again and get back to the snow covered peaks and lush valleys that are so very magnetic to me, collecting more moments and memories.  In a sense I'm going home to where the pack on my back and my tired old feet will find the trail once more, and rounding every corner will be filled with possibilities.