Milford Track, those movie star waterfalls and one of the rarest ducks in the world
The kōwhiowhio blue duck showed off its whitewater skills at the world famous Sutherland Falls.
Kia ora adventure lovers and other interested parties!
This week, I’m writing to you from Invercargill, near the bottom of the south. It’s an interesting city, full of people, like those city places are. We’re using it as a refuelling stopover ahead of catching the boat to Rakiura/Stewart Island for - drumroll - the Rakiura Track. Yep, last minute booking! Moments before setting foot on the Milford Track, we checked and saw Rakiura was available right after. So, fatigued and smelly, here we go again!
So, how was the Milford Track? Everything as expected: expensive and excellent. It was 1908 when the London Spectator called the track ‘the finest walk in the world’ and, as a walker 115 years later, I can kinda see where they were coming from1.
The first part - the Clinton Valley - showed off the clear, emerald-tinted river at its best. The waterfalls were on, each marking the near-vertical, ice-carved valley walls, with their white spray streams.
It’s a surprisingly slow slog up the valley to the new Mintaro Hut. Zoe and I were both stoked when we arrived to find the brand new building, tucked neatly below the steep mountain and Ōmanui/McKinnon Pass. Next morning, we trekked swiftly up it and briefly paused on the pass to look at the monument, admire the cloud and remark on how bitterly cold the wind was.
We descended, via the ‘Emergency Track’ (no emergency, just a slight avalanche risk on the main track) and began our journey down the Arthur Valley to Milford Sound (not a sound, it’s a fiord). The gradient softened and we reached the valley floor, where a side track offers a return trip to Sutherland Falls.
Famous for its starring role in Mission: Impossible - Fallout, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey and Alien: Covenant, Sutherland Falls is New Zealand’s highest waterfall, tumbling a huge 580 metres from its outlet at Lake Quill, down to the valley below.
The spray and noise created by the water pounding the large rock conveniently placed at the bottom is captivating. The mist fills much of the air at the foot of the falls.
I stepped downstream, to fill up on water, and froze as I spotted a pair of some of New Zealand’s rarest birds: kōwhiowhio, or blue ducks. Beaks in the water, feeding, the pair easily swam upstream against the current. Occasionally, they would stand on a rock and leap up to the next boulder, slowly making their way towards the main waterfall pool. Zoe and I stood on the bank, excitedly willing them on.
They hopped up onto the big bank of boulders by the main pool and began slowly waddling and jumping across them. One halted and decided to mill about the rocks, but one remained steadfast. It was going for the main pool, where the falls were loudly smashing down.
We stood, glued to the scene, our cheering smothered by the raging falls. Little whio took the final leap and launched. Its grey body swiftly shot towards the down-pouring torrent, narrowly missing the main landing of the water. The current carried it straight past and the little bird continued its adventure down into the first rapids of the creek. It was gone!
Buoyed by what we just witnessed, we dashed back to the main track and quickly made our way to Dumpling Hut, for the final night of this adventure. Snow-capped mountains above the valley’s impossible-seeming steep sides all make for exceptional scenery, but the sight of the New Zealand blue duck enjoying its home rapids was hard to beat. We had won.
The next day, we clock-watched our way out, racing along the track in order to meet our 2pm boat. Such fun! We stopped briefly at Mackay Falls and saw another kōwhiowhio. Sadly, just one and not even surfing the lake below NZ’s highest waterfall - meh - it just couldn’t compete with the previous day’s events.
Still, the sun was out and it wasn’t raining, which seemed to be our story on this track. Apart from dodging a couple of light showers early on, we just didn’t see any of the heavy, prolonged downpours Fiordland is known for.
Right, bring on Rakiura Track!
Obviously, I haven’t done every walk in the world, so I’m open to corrections.