We got up early to drive into Milford Sound, see the sights and go on a kayaking tour that included a 1-hour hike on the last couple miles of the Milford Track.  The tour, through Rosco’s Kayaks, was worth every penny.  Kayaking the sound is so much nicer than seeing it from a tourist cruise boat with 100 strangers all clambering from one side to the other to view the sights described 10 times in 10 different languages over the PA system.  Unfortunately, a recent spat of rainy weather had caused some sizable landslides in the area which meant the road from Te Anau to Milford Sound was closed.  What we didn’t know is that even though the road is closed, the block is located near the very end just before the Homer Tunnel leading into the sound.  This means you can still drive all the way to the tunnel, complete dozens of hikes and see plenty of sights between Te Anau and Homer Tunnel.  Unfortunately, when we asked about hikes in the sound, our hotel’s manager (filling in at reception) replied that there aren’t any aside from the 4-day Milford Track, which requires a permit.  Technically, he was correct, but he completely missed the point.  As tourists unfamiliar with the area, we were looking for outdoor activities, and there are literally dozens of hikes ranging from 15-minute strolls to multiple-day treks all along the road leading up to the entrance to the sound itself.  Luckily, the the owner of Miles Better Pies set us straight, and we sped off toward the sound with the intention of hiking until it was time for our tour.

We made it to the top, and it was cold!

We made it to the top, and it was cold!

Strapped for time, we decided to turn an uphill hike on the Routeburn Track into an uphill death march.  Our map advised that the hike takes three hours round-trip, but we somehow managed to conquer the numerous switchbacks to arrive at Key Summit in just about an hour.  The day was rather nasty with rain and wind which meant the trail was muddy and the winds on top of the summit were fierce and cold.  Exposed parts of the track were too cold to bear in short sleeves, so take a jacket even in the peak of summer.

Continuing toward the tunnel, we joined a gathering of cars at a mountain lookout known as Pop’s View (named for “Pops,” who apparently died in a 1983 avalanche) to admire a group of Keas. The Kea is an incredibly smart but incredibly naughty green parrot. In addition to stealing valuables (including snatching a poor bloke’s passport in a recent, infamous incident), Keas have a reputation for destruction, completely shredding items just for the fun of it. Three Keas were wandering around on the gravel when we pulled up. Worried they might fly away, Her jumped from the car, telephoto lens pointed in their direction. She soon wished, however, she had opted for the wide angle. Unlike the anti-social pasture sheep of the day before, these cheeky avians approached us, waddling at great speed in our direction. We watched with amused delight as they hopped onto the roof and trunk of our car but quickly grew alarmed when they set about ripping the rubber lining from the windows. When Her opened the passenger door to grab the videocamera, one of the birds nearly jumped in after her.

“Close the door! Close the door!” I shouted, imagining a horrific scenario in which Keas flopped around the rental, refusing to alight until we fed them. Despite Her’s best efforts, however, that scenario did not play out, and we were able to continue on our way to the tunnel.

Bad Kea!

Bad Kea!

Although the wet weather had made navigating Key Summit a tad difficult, it also gifted us with an incredible spectacle of waterfalls when we emerged from the tunnel. Everywhere we looked, water was cascading from the craggy cliffs to the valley floor or into the sound.

At Milford Lodge, we were greeted by Christchurch native Emily, our bubbly, loquacious guide. We had assumed the trip would be a group tour and were pleasantly surprised to learn our party consisted of just us three. Emily, in a single kayak, led Her and I, in a double kayak, from the quiet local fishing docks across the sound to Sandfly Point, the end of the 54-kilometer Milford Track. From there, we hiked for about an hour to Lake Ada, Emily chatting away about the track’s history and identifying the flora we passed. She even managed to persuade us to drink straight from a stream by sharing the fascinating (albeit disgusting) fact that New York City’s drinking water typically goes through seven people before it reaches a Manhattanite’s mouth. The stream water we drank, however, came straight from the snow capped peaks we could see in the distance. Definitely go with Rosco’s if you decide to kayak the sound.  They are the original Milford kayaking outfit and, by my extremely biased and uninformed opinion, the best.

After a long day of kayaking, we cruised back to shore with about 5 minutes to spare before the tunnel closed for the evening at 7 p.m. We snapped some photos of Paper Sis, dragged ourselves into our now quite filthy rental car and put the pedal to metal to get back up the hill and through the tunnel.

After an exhausting three-day stretch to get us to Milford Sound, Her and I bid farewell to the southern latitudes and the lupins and

Paper Sis wanted a photo in front of Mitre Peak

Paper Sis wanted a photo in front of Mitre Peak

started making our way back north toward our Christmas destination, Abel Tasman National Park.  This time we decided to take things easy, stop and see some sights and make our way leisurely up the west coast.  JUST KIDDING!  In our typical fashion, we stretched ourselves as thin as possible to see everything we could on our 1,000-kilometer journey before rolling, completely spent, into our pre-booked lodge in Abel Tasman park.