How does Milford Track compare to our own Hiking Trails? - By John Hely-Hutchinson

What makes a seventy-eight year old man travel halfway round the world, in order to hike a sixty km trail and clamber over a thousand metre mountain in the company of strangers?
Allison and I had given ourselves a trip to New Zealand as a golden wedding present, and, since we were there anyway, I applied to tramp the Milford Track, one of the most famous hiking trails in the world, which is enjoyed by 14 000 walkers every year.
Its fame rests partly on history. It lies near the southern tip of New Zealand, which contains scenery grand enough to form a backdrop to the film ‘Lord of the Rings’. The northern end of the track is barren, but contains greenstone, which was used by the Maoris hundreds of years ago for making ornaments. At the southern end, lies a fertile plain inhabited by craftsmen who carved the stone. The stone could not be conveyed to the craftsmen round the coast by sea, because the roaring forties made the waves too rough for even the most seaworthy Maori canoes, so a route had to be found through the intervening mountains. Luckily, volcanic action had split the mountains open into deep canyons, giving glaciers and rivers a chance to level the valley floors. The chosen route, which was further developed by Scotsmen in the early twentieth century, follows two of the canyons, which are separated by a high watershed.
The scenery, which includes the canyons, the watershed and the final view of Milford Sound, is grand, but much of it tends to be veiled in cloud. What are always visible are some fine waterfalls, one of them nearly 600 m tall, which pour down impressive rock faces and splash into refreshing swimming holes. Rain is frequent, and avalanches and wash-a-ways occur several times a year, which adds to the excitement. New Zealand is further south than we are, so the weather is cooler, but it is also nearer the ozone hole over the south pole, so sunscreen is essential.
The route is lined with trees. Unfortunately the track lies too far south to see the magnificent kauris, but at the southern end there is a dense beech-forest, which merges into alpine scrub as the ground rises, while towards the northern end, there are miles of tree-ferns. These are New Zealand’s national plants, which look like our own Cycads, although they are not biologically related. There are also sprays of mountain buttercups growing out of the barren ground at the edge of the track, like spring flowers in the Karoo.
Bird Life
Birds abound. One couldn’t see the Kiwi, New Zealand's national bird, because it moves at night. And the track is too far south for the stunning black swan. But the chicken-sized Pekas will walk up to hikers almost near enough to be touched. Apparently they are very good to eat, but luckily hikers are not primarily interested in gourmet cooking. On the other hand, the Kea parrots are destructive. They will attack unattended packs with gusto. They are particularly fond of boots, which they rip to pieces. So gear has to be hung up, in the same way as we ourselves hang up our hiking gear to discourage baboons. The only noticeable insects are sand-flies, which bite and have to be warned off with sprays. We saw no reptiles, not even the attractive lizards and there are no snakes, so perhaps St Patrick visited the country long before the Maoris. The only wild mammals we saw during our entire trip to New Zealand live in the sea namely seals, dolphins and a whale.
New Zealanders are essentially democratic, so the Milford track has been prepared for everyone, including those who have never donned a pack before. The path underfoot is less rocky than the trails we are used to hiking in the Cape. The bridges over the streams are well-made, and their wood flooring is covered with netting to prevent slipping. The overnight huts are as good as the Cape huts, with the additional advantages that cooking fires are provided, as well as game wardens who highlight points of interest and forecast the weather.
A local touring company offers an easy luxury tour of the track, on which hot food, laundry and bedding are provided. But the cost is beyond the budget of most South Africans. As a hiker on the standard tour, I prepared myself thoroughly, walking my boots in for a year beforehand and choosing my kit on the advice of a friend who had done it before. As an individual hiker, I had to cater for every eventuality. However, after a lot of economies, I reduced my pack weight to only 7 kg, including dehydrated food for morning and evening. Over the previous two months I had practiced hiking with a full pack for an hour most days.
Although the track itself is too narrow to walk more than one abreast, there was a lot of chat at the passing—and at beauty-spots. One common question was “How old are you?” When I told them, they said: “You’re doing well”. When I asked one of them how old he was, he replied “Thirty-five and struggling”, so I countered: “Then you’ve got a lot of adventure ahead of you.” He went on: “I thought I’d try this before I got too old, but looking at you, I’ve got plenty more years of tramping ahead of me”. To which I replied “If your wife looks after you as well as mine has over the past fifty years, you should have no trouble”.
At the huts, talk was general and it was hard to make oneself heard. The whole world was turned upside down in these discussions. No-one escaped unscathed: Barrack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Al Gore, as well as science, religion, global warming and democracy—they all took a knock. Even South Africa did not escape scot-free. During the conversations, single trampers like myself would be welcomed into a group, and permanent friendships were built up.
Comparing the scenery with our local trails, Milford Sound itself is stunning and there is no equivalent here. But one sees it only for a few minutes. The canyons are cooler and smoother than for instance our Fish River and the valley floors are covered with trees. The watershed is nowhere near as spectacular as the Drakensberg or even the Langeberg summits and one certainly misses our Kruisarende. The waterfalls are comparable to ours. Much of the scenery is softer, and in a way more European. The Scottish pioneers no doubt felt very much at home there.The route itself is not all that strenuous. This means that ordinary folk, with no experience of hiking, can enjoy it. The presence of these first-timers makes it a rather civilized experience. Some folk feel such a sense of achievement at the end of the trail that they leave their boots hanging on the sign at the exit. For them, first-time is last-time. But on the route itself, they interact closely with each other—a closeness which melds with the scenery and effort into a warm fellowship, a fellowship I wouldn't have missed for all the world.