Other states, other lives, other souls

New Zealand is a popular destination on many peoples’ bucket lists, and no area as sought-after as the Milford Sound Track. It is a challenging trail that skirts along the top of the heights surrounding the Sound, with splendid views throughout.  Since I am not the kind of traveler who plans a year in advance or even has a bucket list, tramping the Milford Sound track, as they call multiday hiking in Kiwiland , was not on our itinerary for our two plus weeks on the south island in 2016.

In looking over the tramp options I stumbled onto one called Routeburn Track.  It was near the same area, would take three days and was a hut-to-hut tramp.  One could go alone or be part of a guided tour where someone else carries the food and cooks it.  Boo! to number 2! Since my husband is a serious backpacking light hiker, having clocked 100 miles in 10 days already, it was my turn for a stretch goal.

It was early fall when we planned to be on the trail; pretty chilly at night.  The beauty of the hut-to-hut plan is that we would bunk in a dorm, unheated but many degrees warmer than a tent.  Plus, each hut had a great room where there were a series of stainless steel sinks and propane stoves set up for cooking and cleaning. No tent and no stove cut the carrying load by 3-5 pounds.  There was also a big stone fireplace, where wet clothes could dry, and a lecture on the area by the park ranger after dinner.

You must sign up many months ahead and pay higher nightly fees than we Americans are used to. Still, the huts are in splendid condition, with nice bathrooms.  The area is kept pristine, all of which makes it well worth it.

I had backpacked for 5 days or more in my twenties, but had gradually, post children, moved on to canoe camping and car camping. Day hikes were my thing. Getting where I wanted to go in New Zealand was not possible unless I was willing to hoof it, carrying everything I needed.  Ending my seventh decade and recovered from a colon cancer scare and surgery, it was time for backpacking again. No excuses.

My pack was less than 20 pounds, thanks to all the miracle camping products that shave many ounces off of everything. Nothing like the behemoth I carried in Yosemite in the 70s. The Routeburn area was pretty wet this time of year, so we had to carry rain gear in case of downpour. And downpour it did! But not all the time. I managed to lose my new rain pants on the first day, leaving them drying on a hook in the lunchtime shelter.

If you have hiked much lately in the US, especially in the national parks, you may have noticed that the hardest trails are filled with non-American tourists.  After the first mile, the number of Americans thins out and the Germans, Japanese, Brazilians, Indians, Dutch, and French take over.  In New Zealand, the number of countries and languages represented on the trails multiplies exponentially.  A fun exercise led by the ranger on our first night was to ask us all to identify as many of the languages written on a quilt indicating people who had stayed in the hut. We broke into teams with people from different countries in each.  You can imagine how badly we Americans did, compared to those from Europe and Asia.

On our trail were two young Chinese girls. They had less fancy equipment and wore polka dot raincoats, carried umbrellas, and toted shopping bags. Nevertheless, they kept up. When we reached the end of the loop where our rental car was waiting they were there, looking to hitch a ride to the nearest town. We offered them our back seat and any of the fresh fruit we had picked up at a little market on the way to the trail.  “No thank you,” they both said quickly.  As we chatted on the way into town, we learned that they were both on the one year work visas that New Zealand and Australia offer young adventurers. Their jobs? Fruit picking!

The one quickly called her mother in China, now that there was cell coverage, to say she was all right. The other one laughed at her and explained to us that the caller was from a one-child family, while she was from a two child family.  “I only need to call every few months, to let them know I am still alive.”

I highly recommend this tramp.

During our three days we covered an amazing range of ecosystems, from treeless alpine, swooping down into fairy forests, to pristine lakes and constant waterfalls where we could drink the water with no filtration necessary.  Shifting weather and dramatic clouds; gasping ups and rocky tumbling downs. Me, bad lungs but great knees and thighs. Hubby, patience and encouragement. Gotta love that man.