The tour left Tekapo
and headed farther south, and soon after departing we passed Mt. Cook, which is
NZ’s tallest mountain. Unfortunately the day was so overcast that a thick cloud
surrounded much of the mountain, so I’m still not sure what its peak looks
like. However, our stop at Lake Pukaki at its base still provided a beautiful
sight—but I’ll have to go back someday to take in all of Mt. Cook. We drove on
into more gorgeous scenery, including the Lindis Pass through the Southern
Alps, and stopped to visit a salmon farm and to get lunch. While in Cromwell
for our midday meal, I chatted with a friendly trio of older ladies from
Dunedin who were on holiday and who were most curious to find out how an au
pair’s job works.
Our journey continued
well into the Southern Alps until we reached “the adventure capital of NZ”:
Queenstown. It comprises a small but beautiful area on Lake Wakatipu, and the downtown
only fills about one square kilometer. The town makes no bones about how tourism-dependent
it is; most of the stores cater to travelers seeking activities, food, and
retail therapy. I joined two new friends in ambling through the town, and I enjoyed
taking in the views of the lake. Tekapo/Queenstown pictures here.
However, no views
compared and no description could have prepared me for the following day. We
took a day trip to Milford Sound, a place that everyone raved about but no one
really described; after visiting myself, I understand why that happens, but I’ll
try to provide a substantial account.
The bus drove well
into the Southern Alps. Heavy clouds clung to the mountaintops, and rain pelted
the windshield a few times. The farther we went, the closer and higher the
mountains grew until we entered Fiordland National Park. Heavy rainfall in this
part of NZ gives the area a luscious appearance, and the park is indeed a temperate
rain forest. Trees closed in on the road, but through the branches I saw the
mountainsides become steeper, and saw narrow waterfalls rushing down their
sides. The trees began to thin, and we were surrounded by sharp, gray walls and
peaks topped with snow and covered by even more falls. The road took our bus
through a long, narrow tunnel, and when we emerged the sight only became more
astounding as the mountains and waterfalls increased in grandeur. We wound down
into the valley between the two sides of mountains, and finally a glistening
body of water appeared.
While no one resides
in Milford Sound, a bustling depot for tourist buses and ferries sits next to
the fjord. We boarded a ferry and rode for an hour to the Tasman Sea, and on
the way the mountains remained steep and ominous, and the hundreds of waterfalls
swelled and pounded the rocks. I didn’t remain on deck for the entire journey
due to the icy rain that came and went, but I tried to take in as much as I could.
Even still, when the ferry docked I was just as amazed as I was when we departed.
My wonderment remained as we retraced the long road out of the park, and even
as I reflect on the astounding work of nature that I took in, I struggle to
articulate all that I saw and felt. All pictures here.
I suppose that’s what
visitors to Milford Sound really wrestle with: how to express how it felt. I’ve done a decent enough job
piecing together what I saw, but it’s a place where every other piece of the
environment that the senses can take—the magnitude of the mountains, the
iciness of the waterfalls’ spray, the sound of furious water—all combines to
strike awe and wonderment into any who enter. I can’t speak for every visitor, but
for me, it was a place that made me feel small, yet made me feel truly alive
and part of something bigger. If I take anything away from this trip, it will
be how I felt in the midst of Milford Sound.
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