I had been looking forward to
this track for years. It
would be one of the finest trails I've done in my life in an area that
is among the most beautiful in the world.
Day One
The big day had finally arrived. I found it hard to believe
that
I’m actually going to be going back into the wilds of
Fiordlands.
It was raining at 3 a.m. and still raining at 9 a.m. The
conditions could be really ugly on the trail, but luckily it had
stopped by the time that I was ready to go. I met the
fearless
boat
captain, Vern, and went with him to the Middle Arm Fiord of Lake Te
Anau. The snow-covered mountains that dropped steeply to the
lakeshore were covered in mist at the tops. I
wasn’t even on the
track yet and I was impressed at what I was seeing. Vern said
that many of the trails with high altitude sections were closed due to
snow. So I really didn’t know what awaited me on
the track, but I
knew that it would be out of this world.
We arrived at the western end of the fiord and it was a fifteen minute
walk to Lake Hankinson. The footing was slippery and many
trees
were downed. I kept on wondering what lay ahead for the rest
of
the track. Hmmm…. Captain Vern had a
small boat stashed on
the shore that he used to bring people down to the other end of Lake
Hankinson. We motored across the water and he dropped me off
at
the hut. He gave me a few hints about the track and said,
“See
you here at 2:00 on Thursday.” I said goodbye and
watched him
head back. I looked forward to not seeing humans in the
coming
days.
I
stopped in the hut and did the final preparations for the
track. The trail skirted the edge of a tall
riverbank.
Later on, I looked back and saw how badly undercut the riverbank
was. There was less than 30 cm. of ground between myself and
a
long fall into the river. It concerned me about what I was
doing
and the consequences of getting hurt. A few minutes later,
the
track came to a three-wire bridge across the river. I have
done
many of these bridges before, but for some reason on this one, I felt
strangely naked. I don’t know why, but knew that
caution would
be in order for the rest of the tramp. Any injury on this
track
would be a real big problem, especially if it occurred far away from
one of the huts.
I soon realized what sort of track I had gotten into. It was
going to be tough. It’s very irregular with large
rocks and tree
roots strewn all over. There were a ton of tree
falls.
Sometimes I had trouble finding the track after climbing over a tree
fall. The track itself blended in very well with the
surrounding
forest. This isn’t a well established
track. There was one
tree fall that was 10 meters long after which I completely lost the
track. I had no idea where it went. I had to jump
over one
meter gaps in the rocks. That may not seem like much, but
with a
loaded pack, it seems wider. In some areas, I took off my
pack as
the terrain was rough and it was easier to scout for the track.
At the next three-wire bridge, once again I felt intimidated.
I
don’t know why I felt this way, but I did.
It was quite high over large boulders, but I’ve done this
before.
The closer the track got to the Lake Thomson hut, the more tree falls
that covered the track. When I mention tree falls, it's not
about
a few
trees, rather dozens of trees lying in large piles.
It took four hours to reach the Thomson Hut. The track map
said that it should take about 2.5 hours. I’m
beginning to get
worried about tomorrow. It’s very unusual that it
takes me longer
than the suggested time on a track if I keep walking. What
concerns me is what will happen tomorrow. The map says it is
a
ten hour walk. Will it turn into a fifteen hour walk, twenty
hours, or even be impassable? It's best not to worry about
the
future in general,
but this isn’t some abstract concern. A very early
start tomorrow
is a must. Who knows what I’ll be facing?
It was a nice evening in the hut. It was very quiet, as there
was
no one else for many, many kilometers. The only noises I heard were the
water in the river and the wind blowing in the trees. One
thing
that was notable was the water. In Fiordlands you can drink
from
the streams in most places. Not just that, but the water is
so,
so good. As darkness falls, I go out to see the brilliant
stars
above. Later on, I read by candlelight. Few things
could
make me happier than to be there at the Thomson Hut on the George Sound
Track.
Day Two
In
the morning, I prepared for my hike to George Sound. It
wouldn’t
get dark until 10 p.m., so hopefully there was plenty of time to get
there. The track started up a hill covered in ground
ferns.
About
ten minutes later, I was hopelessly lost after running into a tree
fall. I couldn’t find the trail further up the
hill, but to make
it worse, I lost the trail downhill. The downhill track
simply
petered out after a few meters. I must have gotten off the
main
trail by taking an animal trail, but either way, I was lost.
There I was in the middle of Fiordlands, all alone and not knowing
where the trail was, but no need to panic. I decided to walk
down
the hill through the forest to the Wapiti
River and then follow it downstream back to the hut and
start
over. This was a bad way to start the day and
couldn’t help
but wonder what the rest of the day held.
On the way down through the forest, I ran across a track and started
following it back up the hill. There weren't any problems
following it and shortly, an orange trail marker appeared, so it must
be the main track. It seemed pretty certain that I had
gotten sidetracked onto an animal trail. Sometimes when
you are walking you see a little hint the trail goes in a certain
direction and don’t notice a bigger hint that the trail goes
a
different way. Such is the way it goes. The trail
continued
up a
long hill surrounded by ferns. The trail was wet and
slippery, but all around it was green. The trail then went up
a very steep section where the tree roots form a series of tall
steps. Muddy barely begins to describe it.
I got to a section where the trail levels out and once again,
completely lost the trail. I’m standing next to an
orange trail
marker, but don’t know where to go. There are some
indications
that the track goes up a near vertical hill and no indications that it
follows the gentle downhill across a flat area, besides I had to go
down a two meter rock face, so I set off to follow the trail
upwards. I go up the hill and start searching for the
trail. I do a series of searches and all of them lead to a
vertical rock wall. I’m completely
stumped. Repeating the
search pattern over again still resulted in finding nothing.
During one search, on the way down the hill, I
reached a steep drop off and grabbed onto a tree and slid down the
trunk back to where I started. When you’ve
eliminated all
possibilities except for one, however unlikely it appears, that is the
one to try. I climbed down the rock face and find the trail
on
the flat area. Once down there, the trail was very clear,
but when I returned to the top of the rock face to get my pack, I
looked down on the trail and simply couldn’t see
it. It’s gonna
be a long day.
The
path led through a long section where mud alternated with sections of
the
trail that were completely submerged. I noticed that there
were
very few sandflies (a biting gnat) today. Sometimes sandflies
can
be so thick as to make a track quite miserable, but that was not
today. Periodically, the trail was above water, but this was
in a
minority. I approached Deadwood Lagoon through the
forests.
It’s described on the map as “very
boggy". This is certainly an
understatement. The ground was quite soft, muddy, wet, and
yes,
very boggy. The trail crosses a deep pool of water of
indeterminate depth, which seemed best to avoid. I try to go
through some brush towards the Rugged Burn (a burn is a
stream).
I couldn’t see the burn, but could hear it and looked forward
to a
drink of delicious water. With my pack on, I get stuck in the
brush. I push and push and push, but I’m still
stuck. With
one last big push, I’m in the clearing next to the
burn. I
couldn’t believe my eyes. Good heavens was it
beautiful!
A moment ago I was in a deep, boggy forest and in the next moment
surrounded by snowcapped peaks and brilliant blue skies.
High,
rugged mountains
were on all sides. Fiordlands is amazing. I gave out a
Homer Simpson “Whew-Hoo!” Looking up at
the mountains to the
west, the peaks were steep and forbidding. I took them in
and thought, “I don’t know where, but somewhere out
there is Henry Pass
and I’m going over it. I can’t
wait.” However, first things
had to come first. The burn had a rocky bank where I sat down
and
smiled. I looked around and found it hard to believe that I
was
there. I had a bite to eat and drank from the stream under
clear
blue skies. The George Sound Track is even better than I
imagined.
The trail started the climb to Henry Pass and it was indistinguishable
from a stream. The track was the path of least resistance for
the
water flowing down the mountain sides, so the trail had turned into a
waterway. After a tough climb through lush, mossy forests, I
turned back and saw a wonderful sight. I could see mountains
near
and far and looked down onto the valley and lagoon that a few hours
ago, I had sat near and drank some of that fine Fiordlands water.
I
began the final climb above tree line to get over the pass.
The
winds were overpowering, at least 70 km/h. I was really
getting
hammered and had to brace myself by leaning into the gusts
or else I would have been blown over. The trail markings were
pretty sparse and sometimes I wasn’t sure where I was going,
so I just
followed my instincts. There was a pond at the top of the
pass
that had whitecaps in it. The winds were all funneled by the
surrounding mountains into Henry Pass. I took a look from the
top
of the pass. I looked backwards to see where I had come from
and
I looked forward to see where I was going. I can’t
forget those
sights as it felt as if I could see forever.
I crested the pass and started down the other side. Looking
to
the west, was a long valley that was absolutely, completely
green. I couldn’t yet see George Sound, but I knew
that it was
ahead of me, somewhere out there. Going down the west side of
the
pass was quite steep. I had to cross a wide open section of
rock
that was at a 75 degree angle and crossed under a waterfall that flowed
across the barren rock and then it was back into the trees. I
still had to be very careful, but at least I was out of the
winds. It was a steep descent down the valley. I
was very
consciously careful how I walked as there were a lot of places to get
hurt. Not always overtly dangerous places, rather the footing
was
wet and slippery and the rocks and tree roots were irregular and
covered in moss. One could have twisted a knee or ankle in
10,000
places. One of the things I had to do today was to stay
completely focused on tramping. It only takes a moment of
inattention and one can get hurt. However, I also needed to
keep
a steady pace in order to get to the sound before dark. I
kept
going downhill and downhill.
The trail crossed a large landslide, the top of which was a
thousand
meters
above. It took me a while to find the track at the other side
of
the slide as the trail was completely obliterated under untold amounts
of rock. Large trees stuck out of the debris, having been
tossed
every which way. I reached another downhill section which had
a
series of what almost looked like steps cut into the rock, created by
Nature especially for me. They may have looked like steps,
but
they were slick as could be. Once again, I had to be careful
all
along the track due slippery footing.
I walked onto a flat, rocky area and crossed a stream. I had
finally reached Katherine Creek. I would follow this creek
all
the way down the valley to the sound. I finally had an idea
how
far it was to the end of the track, but I still had to keep moving as
it was getting later in the day and I also had no idea what the
condition of the track was ahead. Luckily there
weren’t many tree
falls since early in the day, but that might change as I got closer to
the sound. I crossed the stream and then had to cross it
again,
then again. I must have crossed the stream 8-10
times. Then
I walked for a while without crossing. I was still on the
right
side of creek and I should have been on the left bank. I then
began to wonder if it was Katherine Creek nor was I sure where I was
anymore. I started on another descent, it wasn’t
quite as steep
as the way down Henry Pass, but I had to be cautious. I
crossed
the stream once more and was still perplexed where I was.
With
the terrible rains in the last weeks, it was possible that new
streambeds could have formed. Now I wasn’t quite
sure about much
of anything.
I
was walking along and suddenly there was a clearing that allowed me to
see through the thick bush. I had my first view of Lake
Katherine. It was such a deep blue, surrounded by a forest so
green, under a light blue sky. What a beautiful sight it
was. I
was so excited to see it and I didn’t know why. I
just knew how I
felt. Perhaps I knew that the sound was getting closer, but
it
was much more than that. I couldn’t imagine any
place more
stunning at that moment. I descended down to the lake and it
only
got more beautiful. There were near vertical, rock walls that
led
down to the lake. I gave out another Homer Simpson
“Whew-Hoo!” As I reached the lake, I
dipped my feet in. For
some reason, it seemed like the thing to do.
I had a sneaking suspicion that the track would be a bit rugged along
the lake, looking at how the mountain walls dropped steeply into the
lake. This suspicion would turn out to be correct.
The
track went down into the lake next to the rock walls and I walked
through the lake itself. I guess the symbolic wetting of my
feet
earlier was proving a bit redundant.
I continued to walk with Katherine Creek to my right. I knew
where I was once I came to the lake. I quickened my
pace.
Not because I was rushed for time, but I was getting more and more
excited at the prospect of reaching the sound. The trail was
still rugged, but the descent was relatively gentle. I came
to a
steep climb away from the stream, then a steep descent. The
forest had started to change. It wasn’t quite as
dense and seemed
to have a lighter shade of green. That might be because I was
approaching sea level, though I wasn’t sure. It
certainly wasn’t
the same forest that was near the top of Henry pass. The
trail
leveled out and became gentler. I was becoming more and more
excited as time went on. I picked up the pace a bit just
because
it felt good to do so. I wish I could convey the sense of
excitement that I felt and actually, still feel as I write this, but I
just can’t find the words. I could feel the
approach of my
goal. After a little more walking, I reached a three-wire
bridge
that crossed Katherine Creek. I knew that George Sound was now
close. I quickened my pace once again. It
didn’t feel like
I was walking, I was dancing on air. I felt that good about
it. I could hear the rushing of the stream and then a few
minutes
later, out of nowhere it appeared. Once more, I exclaimed,
“Whew-Hoo! Whew-Hoo!” I had
finally reached the sea.
I took off my soggy boots and walked into the water. I stood
and
looked at everything. The skies were clear as my
mind.
Nothing mattered except being there. I gazed at the hills
across
the water. I looked at the hills to the left and then to
right. I looked up to the perfectly clear, perfectly blue
sky. I could not believe I was finally here, at George Sound.
For
years I had looked forward to this moment and finally it had
arrived. I tramped the Dusky Track two years ago and thought
it
to be
the finest trail that I’ve ever done. Shortly after
that, I
learned about the George Sound Track. It was something that I
had
to experience. Over time, the idea of tramping this track
took on
a life of its own. I daydreamed of the day I would be
there. It was something that had to be done. There
was
something
about the track that was drawing me even though I could find little
information on it. Even with only a brief description, I
had a clear vision of it in my mind. That was enough for me
to
say that no matter, I was going to make it there. To
this day, I don’t understand why it was so important for me,
but it
was. All of these memories came back upon reaching the waters
of
George Sound.
A minute later, I was startled by something in the water just off to my
side. It was a seal playing with a fish it had
caught. It
would throw the fish across the surface of the water and fetch
it. The seal would disappear under the water and then pop up
somewhere else. It would then throw the fish and go fetch and
so
on. The seal seemed to be having a good time as I was having
a
good
time watching it play. You know, whether I was there or not,
that
seal would have been playing with the fish. Nature exists on
its
own. It doesn’t need us to validate it.
I’m privileged that
I could have been there to witness that seal.
I’d like to tell you I spent hours standing there in the
gentle embrace
of the fiord, absorbing all that the Universe has to offer, but
the water was very cold and I was getting eaten alive by the
sandflies. So I put my boots back on and went into the hut.
It was quite late as it had taken thirteen hours to do the
tramp. Later I went out and stood at the water’s
edge and watched
the sun set over the fiord and skies darken into the night. I
settled into the hut, but it was pretty gritty.
I’ve been in a
number of huts, and this was one of the scuzzier ones, but who
cares. It’s a roof over my head. Nothing
fancy in the
slightest. The only people who reach here are hard-core
trampers
or hunters who fly in to the fiord. Given this clientele, I
have
to say that I was surprised at the books that were in the
hut.
It’s highly unlikely that trampers carted them in.
The hunters
must have brought them in. What was surprising about
them?
They were pulp romance books! I guess the hunters come here,
when
no one is looking, and read romance novels to get in touch with their
feelings and explore their feminine sides. Yep, burly
hunters.
The rest of the night was spent relaxing and writing my journal by
candlelight. When the spirit moved, I climbed into my
sleeping
bag and fell asleep. What a perfect place to be.
Day Three
I made the difficult decision to only spend one night at George
Sound. I really wanted to spend more time there, but it might
not
be a good idea. Yesterday, there was only a single place on
the
whole track near the eastern side of the pass where I could safely set
up a tent and even that seemed pretty exposed. I’ve
been in
Fiordlands when it rained for three solid days and nights.
The
rains can be heavy and unpredictable. If I was in the
Katherine
Creek crossings area and it started to rain, the creek could flood in a
matter of minutes and I could get stranded in the middle. I
wouldn’t have been able to go forward or backwards as all the
rains
would funnel down the valley into that one stream. Perhaps
Lake
Katherine would flood and I would be stuck for days. How
could I
hope to cross that steep rock face near the top of the pass when the
small waterfall would turn into a raging torrent in a
thunderstorm? I was supposed to meet the boat on a given date
and
if I didn’t show up for it, a helicopter would come looking
for
me. I guess I had to err on the side of caution, given that I
was
by myself (and few people would do a track like this alone) and had no
way to communicate with the outside world. I didn’t
want to make
this decision, but I couldn’t see any other way given the
circumstances. The weather in the morning was absolutely
perfect
and given the variability of Fiordlands conditions, it might be very
different tomorrow or even in one hour.
I
stood at the edge of the water and looked out over the fiord.
Some of the fiords that I’ve seen have towering rock walls a
thousand
meters tall, but George Sound is different, at least on this
part. This fiord is more like hills that slope down towards
the
water. It might not be on a postcard back in Te Anau, but
it’s
still really something to see. I turned to pick up my pack
and
start the trail, but I stopped and went back to standing at the edge of
the waters. I wanted to look at George Sound a while
longer. I turned around and started to walk up the trail, but
again I stopped and went back to standing by the water.
Eventually I knew that I had to say goodbye, but it wasn’t
easy.
Not easy in the slightest. I forced myself to start back
towards
Henry Pass.
I knew that today would be different. I would still have to
be
very attentive as I walked, but I would at least know the conditions on
the trail and know where the delays were. If the weather
held, I
think I could be a lot more confident and relaxed about my
tramp.
As enjoyable as yesterday was, it was somewhat stressful because of the
uncertainty of what might lay ahead.
I started walking up the valley and crossed the three-wire
bridge. I go up a rise and descend towards Lake
Katherine.
I’ve noticed that the lake’s water level has
dropped about 25 cm. as I
didn’t get quite as wet when walking along the rock
faces. I sat
on the lakeshore. I looked over the water and
imagined.
What did I imagine? I don’t know, I
just…I was just happy to be
on the lakeshore. I got to the section where it crossed
Katherine
Creek ten times. I looked up towards Henry Pass and the
weather
started to look threatening. It wasn’t a good
sign. I did
not want to be crossing the pass in a storm, so I had to keep moving
on. I quickened my pace, just a bit. I reached the
landslide and started to cross it. I climbed over large,
jagged
boulders and looked up the mountainside. The slip was
funnel-shaped. Narrow at the top of the mountain and wide at
the
bottom. It had a very well defined shape. I was
standing
among the chaos of the rocks, some of them as large as a house, yet a
few feet away past the slip, the forest grew comfortably as if nothing
had happened. The extremely heavy rainfall (and this is an
area
that gets eight meters of rain a year) of the last weeks had loosened
up the mountainside. A small slide starts and before you know
it,
it has turned into a large one. I can’t imagine
what it must have
been like to see a mountainside fall down, but fall it
did.
I started the climb up towards Henry Pass and was relieved that blue
skies had returned. The higher up the track went, the steeper
it
became. It had really turned into a steep climb.
I can’t believe that I made it down this yesterday.
There was a
steep rock face that was taller than I. Two tree roots formed
a
“V” up the rock face. I tried to climb up
the roots, but that
proved too difficult. It was no trouble with this
yesterday, but there was the force of gravity to help me
downwards. I tried to go through the bush but with a
backpack,
that proved even more difficult than trying to climb up it. I
figured the best thing to do might be the simplest. Take off
my
pack and heave it up to the top of the rocks and climb up the
“V”
unencumbered. It seemed to work. It was nice that
there was
no wind as I approached the pass. However, that
wouldn’t last for
long.
As soon as I cleared the tree line, winds of 70-80 km/h hit me full
force. Once again, I had to brace myself to
avoid getting blown over. I crossed the steep rock face with
the
waterfall and still couldn’t believe how tough the winds
were. I
passed by the ponds, yep, they still had whitecaps on them.
I’ve
been at the top of a mountain pass getting hammered by the winds on the
Dusky Track, however at that time I was in a terrible downpour, so
today…no problem. Winds or not, I
couldn’t believe
the view. I turned around to look back towards the
sound.
That valley was green as far as the eye could
see. I turned around again and looked down towards the
Deadwood
Lagoon and again, it was green as could be. I don’t
care about
Mt. Everest, as far as I was concerned, I was on top of the world.
I descended from the pass into the trees and out of the wind.
Below the pass was a very steep descent. Good heavens was
that
steep, I can’t believe that I made it up this
yesterday. There
were a series of steps, between ½ and 1 meter
tall. They
consisted of tree roots that held in rocks that formed the
steps.
Each of the steps was flooded with water. I would put my foot
down on the step into a puddle of water. Since it was full to
the top, it overflowed and drained down the next step. That
step
would overflow and would flow down to the next step and then the
next. Every time I went down another level, I would flood
that
step and watch how I started a small waterfall.
The
forest was as beautiful as any I’ve ever seen
before. All
was green and covered in moss. Fiordlands gets an
overwhelming
amount of rain each year. The lush forests around were ample
proof of that fact. I wish I could emphasize how much
everything
is covered in moss. While sometimes the mosses made things
slippery to the feet, they were pleasing to the eyes.
Everywhere
around me was something living, something wet, and something
green. The track descended towards the lagoon. I
walked
down one of
the sections of the track that resembled a stream. It was
strewn
with bleached deadwood that looked like ancient dinosaur bones that the
Earth was giving up. It was kind of neat to think of them
like
that.
While it is a pretty futile gesture in these parts, yesterday I made
efforts to keep dry and tried to go around the boggy and
muddy areas. That didn't happen on this day. This
time, I
didn’t
care in the slightest. I went straight through everything
(and I
mean everything). That “deep pool of water of
indeterminate
depth,” straight through it. Ankle deep in the
muck, calf deep in
the morass, knee deep in the mud, thigh deep in the slop.
Nothing
stopped me. I just kept going and was having the time of my
life. I surged through the boggy areas and arrived at
Deadwood
Lagoon. I spent some time sitting by Garnock Burn enjoying the
views and the taste of the water.
As I mentioned, I was in the mood to slog through it all and there were
sections of the trail where a full km. was underwater. It
didn’t
bother me in the slightest. After getting to a dryer section
of
the trail, I took off my pack and sat down. The last two days
had
been
absolutely perfect and pleasant weather for tramping. The
forest
surrounded me with grand trees of an unknown age covered in moss from
the
roots to the very tops where their branches reached to the sky of
blue. Oh what a sight it was!
I sat and looked around and then closed my eyes. I
don’t have any
idea how long it was, but I enjoyed every moment. After a
while, I realized that I was at the area where I had completely lost
the trail only to find it by climbing down the rock face. It
seemed so obvious where the trail was now that I don’t know
how I could
have missed it yesterday. However, I think a lot of things
are
like that in life once you figure it out. It only made me
appreciate the forest glade even more. I guess it was good
that I
appreciated it because then I heard something that was even worse than
stormy weather. There were voices on the trail.
I couldn’t believe it. This trail is hardly used
and it had been
many weeks since someone had been on it. Everyone who knew
of the trail said that it would be six days of solitude, but there
were a few guys coming down the trail. I started to get a
sick
feeling. I chatted with them for a few minutes and told them
what
lay ahead and where they could camp as it was getting too late to reach
the sound and they were already tired. They told me that
there
were a few guys at the hut spending the night there. My solitude had
been ruined. One of the reasons I chose this track was
because of
its isolation and now that aspect was gone. I continued to
walk
onward but for the next hour or two, it wasn't really
enjoyable.
This shouldn’t ruin things for me, but that’s not
how I felt
about it at the time.
About a half hour before arriving at the Thomson hut, I started to get
over not being alone and started to appreciate the forest
again.
It was soft and green, ancient and fresh, lofty yet down to
earth. I sauntered towards the hut, taking my time.
At the
hut, there were the guys who were too tired to go on for the
day. Two of the guys had just finished the Dusky Track the
previous day. I was strong enough to do these two
tracks without a break, but I was in absolutely top condition. I asked
him, “What were you thinking?” He said,
“I don’t know.”
I still wanted to be alone as much as possible, so I sat by the
waterfall until night fell. It had taken more than 14 hours
to
reach the hut today. It took longer as I could take my time
knowing what the trail held. It was nice that I could
sit on a rock today and just sit.
Day Four
Two
of the guys were too tired to go on and were going to spend the day at
the hut. My solitude was more important than
spending time at the Thomson hut, so I headed off early for Lake
Hankinson. I don’t have any idea what time I left
or how long it
took me to reach the lake, nor did it matter in the
slightest. I
was so relaxed about the day..without a care in the
world. The trail was just as rugged as before, but I knew
what to
expect and it was only a half days walk if I walked straight
through. When I felt like sitting down and thinking, I sat
down
and thought. When I felt like sitting, I just sat.
What
could be better than that?
The trail overlooked a meadow that had several gentle,
meandering streams running through it. Something in one of
the
them caught my eye. I walked (ok, slipped is more like it)
down
the steep hill to the meadow and up to the stream. It was an
eel
about a meter long swimming down the stream that had caught my
eye. It
was so gentle as it sinuously swam. I could watch it go
downstream as it was going no faster than a slow walking
pace.
It was hard to believe how graceful it was and I followed it
until the stream joined a pond.
I continued on, however slowly, toward the hut at Lake
Hankinson.
The trail followed Lake Thomson and I could look down on its blue
waters. That is a color I do not tire of seeing.
The
temperature was absolutely perfect, the breezes gentle, the skies blue,
the waters crystal clear, and the forest oh so green. I know
that
I’ve said that many times, but it’s just so
true. I didn’t really
wander aimlessly as I was following the trail, but it sure did feel
like that. It just felt good to be on the track that
day.
When I arrived at the hut I dropped off my pack and sat by the gentle
rapids of the river. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander
wherever it felt like wandering. I didn’t do a
whole lot for the
rest of the day. I just relaxed and walked a bit, but mostly
I
relaxed.
Day Five
There wasn’t anything on tap today, except for
relaxing. If I
felt like walking, I would walk. If I felt like sitting, I
would,
well, you know what I did. I spent a fair amount of time
sitting
by the water. The skies were a bit overcast and there was a
gentle breeze. The breeze was nice as it kept the sandflies
down. When the breeze stopped, it was best to take a walk or
go
back
to the hut as the sandflies would come out. I walked up the
track
a ways towards the Thomson hut, but walking wasn’t the real
focus of
the day.
There were some old hunting magazines from 1953 in the hut. I
paged through them and noticed how things have changed over the
years. One advertisement described a hunter in the forest,
how he
“stalked the mighty beast that could tear me limb from
limb” and told
of the heroic battle the hunter was engaged in. It describes
how
the hunter finally got a clean shot with his Ruger .44 and
“drilled the
beast straight through the chest.” The ad had a
picture of the
“beast” spread-eagled and hanging from a
tree. The hunter had
killed a mountain gorilla. It’s probably not the
sort of ad you
would see today.
Come
nightfall I brought out my candles and wrote some letters and read a
book. I really like this part of the night. It's
peaceful
and the candles give off a pleasant light. The only
sound was the gentle ripples in the water and the only light was from
candlelight and the stars above. It’s pretty
simple. I
can’t
begin to tell you how comfortable I was after crawling into my sleeping
bag. I lay there, listening to the perfect silence of one of
the
most amazing places in the world and slowly drifted to sleep.
Day Six
Today was the day the boat would come to pick me up. I
probably should have arranged to stay a few more days to sit and
relax. As time goes on, I learn a lot more about how I like
to
travel. I do allow for a fair amount of time to wander and do
nothing, but even more time to do nothing is even better.
However, that is hindsight and I’ll have to wait for the
future to put
it into place. I spent the day sitting along the water and
enjoying the scenery and the feeling I got from being there.
I
drank plenty of that delicious Fiordlands water that day, just because
it tasted so good.
The skies were overcast and I thought it might rain today. It
had
rained some last night, but it didn’t rain at all during the
daytime. That was pretty surprising for this area, though it
had
stormed a great deal just before I arrived. I think of rain
to be
a part of the environment, but considering the terrain that had to be
crossed, it could have been unpleasant (or even impossible) if it had
thunderstormed a lot. In some ways I like to experience an
area
in all its moods, but sometimes it’s good to have those moods
tempered
somewhat.
Eventually Vern came to pick me up. As we were about to
leave, I
filled up my bottles with water, just so I could I could have some of
the stream water after I had left. It may be hard to believe
that
water can taste that good and one might think I’m overcome
with
nostalgia. That may well be the case, but at the time I was
there, I thought the same thing and drank the water simply because it
was so good. If you were to ask me at this moment, what would
you
like to drink? I would have to say a glassful of water from
the
streams of Fiordlands.
We
motored across the lake. It was a strange feeling to hear an
artificial sound after six days of nature. I looked up at the
mist-covered peaks that surrounded Lake Hankinson. A large
slip
led from the top of the mountains down into the waters. The
weather must have been something terrible in the last weeks.
We
got to the trail that led to Lake Te Anau and his boat that would lead
back to the rest of the world.
The clouds played among the peaks that surrounded Lake Te
Anau. I
looked around and knew that I would miss this area terribly.
As
we
crossed the lake, I stood looking back at the mountains. At
the
time, I knew
the George Sound Track would be one of the highlights of my
trip.
I didn’t know it would be one of the highlights of my
whole life.