The Routeburn Track, Fiordland, New Zealand 

In December 2004, our family walked the Routeburn Track. There were ten of us, 3 generations from 14 years to 71. December has the forecast for the most wet days in the Routeburn year so we were well kitted up with raincoats, waterproof trousers, plastic capes, woolly underwear, silver emergency blankets, whistles and extra food. We wouldn’t have been the first group to be stranded by fast rising rivers. So Murphy’s Law kicked in and we had no rain until we got to the car park at the other end – always works!

Our mini van driver drops us off at the Glenorchy start of the track with packs full of food and we set off with great enthusiasm. The first hour is a good warm up along pretty paths through the beech forest. We follow a river that is at one time a beautiful languid blue pool and then the next a torrid wall of rushing white water. We walk at a leisurely pace, stopping to take photographs, pausing to watch birds, yellowheads and bellbirds, and admiring the mountain views from the swing bridges. 

Our packs aren’t too heavy, about 10kg at the most, and that makes for comfortable walking. The Routeburn is one where you can book a bed before you go which gives the advantage of not having to carry a tent just in case there are no beds left. And the superb kitchens have gas cookers and running water. However, the last stretch to the first hut is definitely uphill and we are pleased to arrive and be sitting down with a can of beer, willingly carried for such an occasion. The company in the hut is a mix of 40 hikers from all over the world, a curious diversity of languages and food, but a collective feeling of enjoyment for the mountains and bush.

The new morning is clear and cold. We have slept well enough for communal living in big bunk rooms, not too much snoring and rustling. Small groups leave the hut as the fancy takes them because we have six hours of hiking to do today and all day to do it in. We would meet at Harris Saddle for lunch. Walking steadily but not steeply uphill, we pass through a rock hewn valley - golden with tussocks, strewn with wildflowers and nourished by clear gurgling streams. We have a feeling of being far away from civilisation – people only come here who walk here – to us we feel special. We walk past Lake Harris, and as the track reaches its highest point we have to negotiate frozen snow that has been lying since a late fall in spring. We really feel as if we are mountain climbers. The saddle is at 1277m above sea level and we are surrounded by the mountain ranges of the Southern Alps. There is snow on the tops and a coolness in the air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We all meet in the Harris Shelter for lunch - a gourmet meal of cheeses, salami and tomatoes and crackers – but as we relax the mist rolls up the valley and engulfs us in a cloud of white. The track sidles around the steep edge of the Hollyford Face, and as the mist encloses our space our focus becomes closer. The flowers are prolific and spectacular. A lot of New Zealand native flowers are white but these ranunculus have a whiteness of intense purity.

Eventually we drop down through the cloud to see Lake Mackenzie, a beautiful turquoise blue, below us. And the next hut! But first a steep descent through tussocks and flowers and then through a forest cloaked in emerald green mosses. This is obviously a moist environment but such a pretty one with droplets of water poised on grasses and ferns. Tonight after another large meal we play Yahtzee, with friendly but competitive banter on the strategies of the game.

The third day dawns with sunshine gleaming on the snow on the tops of the mountains, almost enticing us to go back to see what we missed (well okay, not really). The route takes us high enough again to be out of the bush to a vantage point where we can look away down the soft blueness of the valley to the sea – the Tasman Sea on the West coast of New Zealand. Rounding a bluff we see the Earland Falls. They cascade hundreds of metres and the spray covers us as we walk below them. They are very impressive and it hasn’t rained for a few days. I wonder how passable they are after a few good days of rain.

The track is 33kms long and we pass some people running it, just carrying small day packs. It looks quite fun but we have enjoyed our stays in the huts and the status of being hikers. Our last lunch stop is in Lake Howden Hut where we can boil the billy for a cuppa and eat up as much food as we can – no sense carrying it on our backs if we can carry it in our tummies. Fantails are busy outside eating sandflies but not fast enough! The track takes us up for the last time to Key Summit, a strategic point where we can look all around; upwards to the surrounding arena of mountain peaks, across and into hanging valleys with cool tarns, and down the glacier carved Hollyford Valley to the tiny airstrip. The track from here is all downhill on a wide meandering path until we encounter a great meeting place – The Divide. Buses and vans and cars stop here to pick people up or drop people off. Tourists stop here to go for day walks or just feed the keas who delight in picking the rubber from the car windows and pulling the rubbish from the bins.

As I said, it started to rain as we clambered into our waiting van and headed home.