The Road to Paradise

Monday, May 5, 2008
Rudyard Kipling once called Milford Sound the eighth wonder of the world. He was right.

This day has been filled with so many stolen wonders, I don’t even know where to start. But let me give you just a few highlights.

Fiords. Venison pie. A sheep crossing. Seeing the real life Milky Way constellation so close in the sky you could eat it. Lakes that look like mirrors. Kayaking. Standing under a waterfall. Crossing the exact point halfway between the equator and the South Pole. A chasm. Watching a school of dolphins rise up from the waters.

And, of course, a seal attack on Shalini.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We get picked up at 8:45 this morning at our hotel by the coach bus for Real Journeys, the travel company through which we have booked our overnight trip to Milford Sound. Skip, our driver and guide, greets us warmly. We are the last in the group to be picked up, and the drive to Milford will take us most of the day. At around 3:30, we will climb aboard the Milford Mariner, a boat that accommodates 60 people, and enjoy the night on the waters.

Our bus is FREEZING the entire way. This will set the pace for what it will be like at the Sound. Skip, who wears shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt and fleece vest, is completely unphased by the cold. Everyone in New Zealand seems this way. Hardy people, those Kiwis.

We quickly nickname Skip “the Grim Reaper” because he seems to be obsessed with two things: animal slaughter and different ways you can die. His elaborate, microphoned commentary on the road to Milford is littered with tales of deer being hunted by New Zealand pioneers, Maori legends (the Kiwi native peoples—kind of like Australia’s Aborigines) and copious road kill. Also, he loves to tell us how many an ignorant tourist has met his/her demise along the road to Milford Sound over the years. But he is really knowledgeable about nature and Kiwi history. We actually learn a lot on the drive. The drive, of course, takes us through more incredible countryside. I can’t even go into how beautiful it is. After about 30 minutes, we are lucky enough to see a sheep crossing in the road. A snow truck with a sheep icon on its massive shovel scurries along the road, chasing the sheep into dutiful formation. It is such a treat to watch. I want to take one home with me.





We stop for lunch in Te Anau, a popular summer resort town on the lake. I insist that we have to try one of the pies from Miles’ Pies, a shop famous for its gourmet venison and steak pies. I try the venison, but quickly recoil from my choice after a few bites. Not that it’s not edible, but seeing pasture upon pasture of quietly grazing deer on the road has made me queasy about being a carnivore for the first time in my life. I can’t take another bite of Bambi. I’m overcome with shame. Shalini was smart to get the chicken pie. I feel like I’ve eaten Soylet Green.

One of the highlights on the road to Milford is the Chasm--a forest-cloaked paradise filled with moss-covered boulders and trees, engorged waterfalls and rocks that create a deep chasm and a natural rock bridge. We stop the bus and get off to walk fifteen minutes to get to the Chasm. It is well worth the detour traveling through the bridge-littered forest. When we get to the Chasm, a look down reveals gaping black holes in the rocks that look like monster faces. This is Skip’s cue for the macabre. Danger lurks. Skip, breath of sunshine that he is, recounts the story of a Canadian who just last year crawled under the prohibitive fencing on the chasm and tried to get a little too close to get the right camera shot. She lost her footing and slipped into the chasm. It took a rescue team 3 hours to get her out. But she was lucky…the person who fell in before her actually died.

The Chasm



We finally arrive at the Homer Tunnel, which was built through the mountain to reach the Sound. We travel in darkness for about five minutes. It’s very dramatic. What awaits us on the other side is a treasure trove of greatness: the cove of Milford Sound.

The dock is crowded with about five or six ships. Ours is the prettiest one, and probably the most expensive. Our twin cabin is actually quite comfortable, complete with a private bath and shower. Worth every penny. This is probably our most expensive excursion on the trip, setting us back about $300 American. But the overnight cruise includes all meals and magnificent views of the Sound. Also, this is a really good time to go, since it’s off-season and not nearly as crowded. They say in the summer months of January and February, Milford Sound’s unforgettable cove can get crowded with as many as 30 or so cruise liners. But we’re the only one tonight!









Unfortunately, the Milford Mariner is not the Love Boat for us. We’ve had to take the Mariner instead of the Milford Wanderer like we had originally planned because the Wanderer’s season ends in April (we didn’t know that). The Mariner is: A) more expensive than the Wanderer; and B) caters to a much older crowd. Lots of old people and couples. In fact, Shalini and I are two of only a handful of “younger” people (mid-30s) on the boat. Everyone kind of keeps to themselves for the most part. I had hoped the boat would be a rollicking mess of fun people getting drunk and carrying on, but it’s pretty staid. Not that everyone isn’t pleasant. It’s just a different kind of vibe than I had hoped it would be.

But big deal, we’re at Milford Sound! The Mariner starts moving, and the air is filled with excitement. It’s also filled with extremely frigid winds. There’s a huge difference when the boat, she’s a moving, and when we just sit calmly on the waters. But everyone is eager to get in all the photo opps they can. We cruise the sound and everyone is simply awestruck. Nobody can speak in the midst of this mind-boggling grandeur.

A quick history lesson: Milford Sound is actually a series of fiords that form a private cove set off (actually, virtually hidden) from the open waters of the Tasman Sea. Fiords are ice-carved valleys that have been flooded by the sea after glaciers have retreated and advanced over and over through the years. Back in the ice ages, the Sound was filled with ice. But as the weather changed, the glaciers retreated and advanced, carving out more of the land each time. You can actually see fractures in the steep mountains of the Sound where the glaciers have moved back and forth. The result is quite spectacular and it leaves you with true awe for the amazing force that is nature. There are also countless huge waterfalls that mark the Sound. When it rains in this area, which is about 50% of the time, the rain creates raging torrents of temporary waterfalls that descend down the fiords like crooked fingers. Milford gets an average of 6m of rain per year (record has been 12m!), but today it is picture-perfect sunny. This makes it great for the soaring views, but the downside is no eerie mist and crooked fingers. In fact, it hasn’t rained for about five days—virtually unheard of in the Sound. It’s reaching drought conditions in these parts! Still, we can hardly complain. The rough waters of the Tasman Sea have poured into the Sound into stillness and unmatched beauty. The spectacular 1692 meter high Mitre Peak (the most photographed mountain in New Zealand, apparently) rises in the distance.











We’re on the water for about 20 minutes when they announce that a family of dolphins has been sighted. Everyone crowds over to one side of the boat to get as close as possible. Cameras are out. Mouths are open and dry. Nobody blinks, for fear of missing something. Dolphin sightings are fairly rare in the Sound. So this is our lucky day!. The boat quickly chugs over to an area close to the shoreline against the rocks. It’s actually a rather large school of dolphin gracefully moving through the surface in elegant formation. They rise and fall so effortlessly and gracefully. I am torn between trying to get a shot of them and putting my camera down and just enjoying this wondrous moment. Coming to this corner of the world is worth anything you must do to make it happen. Beg, borrow or steal. The beauty of Milford Sound will haunt you forever.

Dolphins in the water (look closely)



It’s around 4:30 now, and it’s time to go kayaking. A team of deckhands prepare the oars and kayak boats for any takers who want to kayak out onto the waters for a spell. Shalini has never kayaked before and is nervous about it, but I assure her that she will be a pro. We hesitate for a second in these frigid temps, but it actually feels warmer once we get on the bottom deck to get outfitted in life jackets. She and I are the last ones to get in line, so we have to wait a little bit to get our kayaks. As we’re waiting, one of the passengers strips to his Speedo and jumps in the water. I’m not kidding. Everyone moans that he must have a little mad cow disease, but he calls out from the waters that it feels “exhilarating” and keeps swimming. We are all non-plussed by his bravery. It’s fucking freezing in that water.





Just to give you an idea of the temperature, the water is about 18 degrees. What is unique about the Sound is that the extensive rains form a superficial layer of fresh water that only partially mixes with the regular Tasman Sea salt water. It’s a 2-3 meter band of “top” water that is stained the color of weak tea (it’s this color because the water has collected debris and such before spilling out into the Sound). Because it’s darker water, it filters out the sun, allowing marine life that usually lives much closer to the ocean floor to live about 40 meters below or closer to the surface of the water. Cool, right? We have learned so much cool stuff today.

But back to the kayaking. We finally get our boats and slip into the kayaks and start roaming the Sound. Shalini catches on quickly. We try to circle the shore lines against the mountains. I am obsessed with the different moss and lichen that cling to the rocks like frost. It is so peaceful and still. The sun is setting over the fiords. I try to remember a world where petty office politics bother me, but can’t even seem to remember what it is I do for work in the States. I look behind me. Shalini is off in her own world, as well. It’s glorious.



Next up: When good seals go bad
I return back to the ship before Shalini and stand on the platform deck and wait for her to paddle back to the boat. As I’m waiting, I watch the other returning passengers try to inelegantly maneuver out of their kayaks back onto the boat. There is a deck hand waiting on a flat stretch of deck that is level with the water so the kayaks can easily butt up flush against the end of the boat and people can just step out into their kayaks. But a lot of people are fucking this up. I’m enjoying watching it. I can’t lie. But something even more riveting soon catches my attention. Suddenly, in between more kayaks approaching, a shadowy figure rising up out of the water by the takeoff deck. It’s a seal! As if by magic, the seal suddenly jumps out of the water and lands right on the deck in one jump. If I blink it will be over. He is so cute and frolicsome, with his little whiskers and wet, velvety slick skin. According to the crew, seals will sometimes jump on the back of the boat to sleep at night because it is warmer for them. So cute! Before I can grab him to take home with me, one of the deck hands shoes the seal back into the water. But he’s not finished with us yet. Shalini approaches in her kayak just as the seal jumps back in. He dives straight for her kayak. Now he looks just like a little predator in the water and he keeps circling her kayak a few time.

I call out to her that a seal is coming her way, but she doesn’t believe me. Good thing, too, because when it finally sinks in that there is something in the water near her, Shalini looks like Jaws has come for her. She can’t get back on the boat fast enough. It’s hilarious. She doesn’t think it’s as funny. But once she is back on dry deck, she loves it. We make a pact to tell people back in Chicago that the seal stalked her for at least 20 minutes and took one of her fingers.

At dinner, we are the last to arrive. We slip into a booth with two Kiwi men from Christchurch who have just finished hiking the world-famous Milford Track for three days, where you can only stay in huts. It’s impressive because our new friends have to be at least in their mid-50s. They look like sun-scorched fishermen. Real men’s men. They ask us lots of questions about Chicago and the States. At first they are shy, but then we get them talking about New Zealand and traveling. They tell us how they’ve slept in huts on the Track for the last few days tramping through the heavily forested trails. But then one of them starts getting a little sloshed and talks about his love for all songs by Glen Campbell. He rambles on a little too long. Shalini is wearing her “this man is a lune” face, but a good time is had by all.

The buffet is surprisingly good, with lots of variety---carved meals, Greek dolmas, seafood salad, stuffed chicken, steamed mussels. I hoard all the mussels in the seafood salad. Then I pile on some lamb with mint jelly.

A word about the food here: it’s been kind of disappointing in general. Most meals have been mediocre at best, with a few stand-outs, but nothing to write home about. The seafood has probably been the best part. Shalini and I could eat seafood forever. Bluff oysters and mussels rule.

After dinner, everyone wanders around the deck. It is pitch black at night. I’ve never seen such darkness—certainly not anywhere close to Chicago. When we first walk out on deck, we can’t see a thing. It is the creepiest feeling in the world. But also so cool. After a couple of minutes, our eyes adjust to a whole new wondrous world. The silhouettes of the mountains snuggle up to each other like sleeping giants against the starry night. The sky is filled with the most stars I’ve ever seen. Then, as if in slow motion, we spot the Milky Way in all its glory. It leaves me completely breathless and gasping for air. I cannot stand it. I’m in a real-life planetarium. God, I never knew the world was so starry. Is this for real? It is CRAZY. It’s a star bonanza. This Milky Way is creamy and emblazoned with light. I feel like it’s so close I can reach up and touch it. It’s really the Milky Way! And it’s so vivid I want to cry. Shalini and I lie on our backs on the flat benches and look up at the stars. If it weren’t so freezing outside, I would stay out here forever. I kind of wish Shalini were a dude right now so we could make out. I mean, the setting couldn’t be more romantic.

We look out onto the water. It is so still. Then something kind of scares us. It’s a whiter-than-white seagull that is circling the ship. We soon surmise that it is using the light from the ship to hunt the waters below for food. Shalini takes some amazing photos of the bird in flight. Its white wings are such a stark contrast against the black night. This is going to make an incredible series of photographs for her back home. She captures the bird with the stealth of a professional photographer. The seagull nosedives into the water a few times, but seems to come up empty. On many occasions, he comes flying directly at us with such intensity we feel like Tippi Hendren.

As we’re transfixed by the bird, we suddenly hear another noise in the water. It sounds like a shuddering exhale. Like an exhilarated, playful snore. The water against the boat stirs in frothy bubbles. Shalini whispers, “It’s the seal coming to get me.” We laugh for a moment, but she is half right! It’s actually a beautiful, magical dolphin coming up for air. He jumps out of the water and we grab onto each other in delight. For the next hour, Shalini is devoted to capturing the dolphin on camera. I egg her on. He rises and falls in the water, making a sound we have never heard in person in our lives. He breathes out and spurts up water. He is playful and majestic. Just like the seals, the dolphins swarm the boat for light and warmth. Damn, that water must be so cold for him. They say that this is the southernmost region that these dolphins can survive. They’ve adapted to these cold temperatures, but this is where the buck stops. If the water were any colder, they wouldn’t be able to survive.

We finally return back to the main inside deck, which has cleared out quite a bit. Shalin and Ii start playing a raging game of cards and talk trash while a few of the other passengers sip their wine. The cash bar has closed at 10pm, so there is nothing left for people to do but go to bed. We retire to our room some time around 11. It’s been an unbelievable feast of a day.

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On the next episode of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive”:
Shalini and Nadine make it back to Queenstown from Milford in one piece and enjoy an afternoon of shopping before stumbling upon a seafood hut on the water that offers a dozen Bluff oysters for $25—a steal in these parts. Shalini orders the scallops and amazing mussels and I order a dozen oysters for myself. I can’t believe I’m having them again. I am in heaven. I can’t come home.