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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 2, Issue 11 (March 1, 1928)

“The Finest Walk in the World.”

page 13

“The Finest Walk in the World.”

The Milford Track has been described as “The Finest Walk in the World.” It is certainly a most beautiful and interesting one. If you look at your A.M.P. map you will notice that, after leaving the train at Lumsden, you go almost due west in the motor to Te Anau. There is little of interest between Te Anau and Lumsden, a wide plain with the mountains in the background. The party of which the writer was a member was due at Te Anau about 6 p.m. on a recent afternoon. Just as we began to ask ourselves how soon the lake would appear in sight we saw it beneath us, with the accommodation house nestling in the trees.

The standard of this house surprised me—they have nothing to learn from city hotels. Of course it all has to be paid for, and it is the tourists who pay.

Saturday morning found us early astir as the steamer leaves for the head of the lake at seven sharp. There was scarcely a ripple on the water as we cast off, and the hills at that hour were swathed in mist. In the distance, one or two peaks could be seen glistening in the sun, though before long the mist rose leaving everything in clear view. The lake is 32 miles long and you sail almost due north for about five hours, passing, in order, the south arm, the middle arm and the north arm. One of the islands on the lake is known as Lion Island. Seen from a certain angle it is very like a lion couchant. We stepped ashore about 12.30 p.m. and walked through a charming bit of forest to the accommodation house at the Glade. Here we made close acquaintance with the sandflies, or rather the sandflies with us. The scene from the front door of Glade House is one to delight the eye. At your feet you have the Clinton River, beyond that the beech forest in wonderful hues of green and brown, and in the background, the everlasting hills.

After lunch here we forthwith set out in the track for the Pompolona Hut—about 10 miles distant. To reach the hut you pass through a magnificent beech forest with surprising growth on all sides. I have never seen such large tree trunks; they out-rival those at Paradise, although not so straight, being often twisted into queer shapes.

We stopped frequently to admire the view. Being somewhat tired and weighted down with our packs our progress was by no means rapid. However, Pompalona was reached at 6.30 p.m. Full justice was done to the good things set before us in the hut. Wekas are quite common on the track, and it was delightful to see how fearless they were. Round about the huts they run, big and little, and as tame as a barnyard fowl. The Pompalona Huts are at the mouth of the Clinton Canyon. At the other end, against the skyline, you see the Mackinnon Pass, over which we went in the morning.

Christchurch-Greymouth Express approaching Arthur's Pass—the gateway to the scenic wonders of the West Coast, South Island.

Christchurch-Greymouth Express approaching Arthur's Pass—the gateway to the scenic wonders of the West Coast, South Island.

Sunday was Christmas Day, and never before have I spent it in such unfamiliar surroundings. We were early astir, and after a hearty breakfast took to the track once more. At this spot you leave the beech forest behind, temporarily, and enter a ribbonwood grove. The trees, unfortunately for us, were not yet in flower, although I noticed the flower buds were swelling. At various points along the track you see delightful flowering shrubs and plants—cellinisias, mountain daisies, veronicas, etc. After walking some distance we boiled the billy for morning tea in a disused hut, and then tackled the climb up the pass, a long zig-zag one. Near the summit the far famed Ranunculus Lyalli may be seen in flower in all directions.

The summit of the pass is 3,800 feet up—the altitude of the hut at “Pomp” is about 1,000 feet—so we had climbed 2,800 feet since breakfast. The view from the top is grand. Down below, ever so far down, you see the next group of huts—the Quinton Hut. On your right you have the Clinton Canyon, and on your left, one page 14 mountain after another. After a frugal lunch we set off down the other side of the pass, getting a good view of the Jervois Glacier high above us on the opposite side. We here saw a small avalanche—the snow slithering down and dropping four or five hundred feet over the edge to the next ledge on the mountain side. Over the Roaring Meg we went, then into the beech forest once more, and down a long zig-zag track to the hut which was reached about 3.30 p.m. Here we had afternoon tea, after which we walked along to the Sutherland Falls—a walk of half-an-hour. The water of the falls comes down in one—two—three—leaps. It is hard to believe the height is 1,904 feet, but man is so small measured against inanimate nature. The water, in the bottom leap, comes down in graceful clouds of spray.

Boxing Day broke fine and we were once more early astir. The track from the latter hut to Milford is the easiest of the lot, five of the thirteen miles being covered by launch down the Arthur River and across Lake Ada. The track round the side of Lake Ada, owing to a washout over portion of it, was not in use at the time of our visit. We therefore missed seeing the Giant's Gate Fall, although we saw the “Gate” as we passed down the lake. We stepped ashore at the landing at 2.30 p.m. and had another half hour's walk through the forest to the hut and Sand Fly Point—well named, my word! (There are millions of sandflies and you can't get away from them. You start swotting them before rising from your bunk in the mornings. However, they are but a memory to me now and I hope to do the track some other day in spite of the sandflies.)

After tea we went for a cruise in Milford Sound. It was a fine clear evening and we saw the Lion Rock, Mitre Peak and the Pembroke Glacier. The Lion Rock is most imposing. Much of it is cloaked with dense bush. Mitre Peak—the top of which is shaped very much like a bishop's mitre—looks every inch of its 5,500 feet.

We sailed down the sound to the Bowen Falls—504 feet in height. They are a most graceful sight, the water coming down in two leaps, the first one of which lands in a bowl and then leaps out, giving a beautiful cart wheel, or as I should say, mill wheel effect. From the Bowen Falls we passed on to Sutherlands, saw the site of their house, also their graves—over which we raised our hats out of respect to their memory—and then went back to the launch and to Sandfly Point.

(N.Z. Publicity Dept. Photo.) Mt. Elliott And Jervois Glacier, Milford Track.

(N.Z. Publicity Dept. Photo.)
Mt. Elliott And Jervois Glacier, Milford Track.

page 15

There was a very warm wind blowing up the Sound which did not promise well for the grand trip on the morrow. We awoke on Tuesday to find it raining heavily and at one time it was doubtful if there would be any trip. However, at 10 a.m., the rain eased off and we embarked. From a sight-seeing point of view the day was practically spoilt. The Lion Rock was in clear view, but the Mitre Peak and the Pembroke Glacier were obscured. I have never seen such steep mountains before, and it puzzles me how the trees manage to grow on them. There is a fringe of bush along the base of the Mitre Peak; above that, bare granite.

Wednesday we turned our faces homeward. It was raining again and rained all day and all night. By the time we got back to the Quinton Hut we were all pretty wet. However, we were bent on seeing the Sutherland Falls again,—which we did. They were much more impressive than when we saw them on Christmas Day. I suppose as much water again was coming down the fall. It was here we met the Tararua tramping party (about thirty of them) and a jolly lot they were.

Thursday was dull and misty, but as we got further back from the coast the mist lifted, and from the top of the pass the huts at Pompolona were seen in bright sunshine. The “washing” could be seen through glasses, flapping in the breeze. This was our last night on the track. Just before tea time our numbers were swelled by fifteen new trampers.

Friday morning broke clear and fine and after bidding good-bye to those starting out on the track we ambled down to Glade House, arriving at 2.30 p.m. I asked one of my mates had he ever seen a crested Grebe—he admitted (as I did) that he had seen a stuffed one! The very next day, however, we saw a pair of them swimming and diving in the lake. That was a coincidence for you. Birds are fairly numerous along the track. Every now and again you see a pair of paradise ducks with their young in the water, and sometimes a pair of Blue Mountain duck, or grey duck. In the trees you see the wee tom-tit flitting about, also the wax-eyes, sometimes a pair of pigeons, and once we noticed a pair of kaka. In the evenings you see the keas wheeling overhead and calling out “kee ah.”

Monday morning we bade farewell to Te Anau. Soon after leaving it began to rain and the rain could be seen falling over square miles of the flat country.

At Lumsden our party broke up, each going his separate way.

(N.Z. Publicity Dept. Photo.) Junction Of Chiddan And Esperance Rivers, Milford Track.

(N.Z. Publicity Dept. Photo.)
Junction Of Chiddan And Esperance Rivers, Milford Track.