Milford Sound

Nothing can really prepare you for the visual dynamite that is Milford Sound. Driving through a flat, straight valley, you suddenly begin heading down a short, twisting road. A minute later and you are completely dwarfed by huge rock faces towering straight overhead. The ever increasing signs warning of avalanches doesn’t conjure up any warm fuzzy feelings, and when you stop at a lookout and see a plaque on a huge boulder commiserating a local who died in an avalanche back in 1983, well, you gain the sense that as an individual your quite insignificant.

And then you arrive at the tunnel. Holy crap! This tunnel, 1.2 kilometers long, dropping down at least 300 meters, gives the impression that you are heading into a place that man was not supposed to go. There are no concrete walls or ceilings in that Earthly orifice; just cold, dark, grinded rock that probably hasn’t changed much since it was dug out by some dedicated men some 80 years prior.

Your breath slows down once you exit the tunnel, and you continue your descent into a glacier grinded valley that is simply ferocious looking. Gigantic boulders litter the surrounding streams and woods. More avalanche signs remind you that these humongous rocks (some the size of cars) could reduce you quite quickly to being on the bottom end of the food chain.

I don’t know if I have ever felt so vastly insignificant in my life. Milford Sound is a place that just kicks you straight in the cojones and takes your breath away. I’ve seen plenty of beautiful places in my short time on this Earth, but I’ve never seen such a terrifyingly gorgeous place. It really is beyond my simple vocabulary to describe.

We arrived at the Milford Lodge right before dinner, and right before the rain. After being blessed with perfect sunny days throughout our time on the notoriously rainy South Island, I was beginning to wonder whether Veronica and I were in the midst of an incredible weather winning streak. Milford really took the wind out of that one.

Actually, the wind was practically gale force that night in our campervan. Veronica and I didn’t sleep a wink because our van shook back and forth the entire night like it was going through an eternal high-speed car wash. I checked that morning with the front desk to see if our all day kayaking trip had been cancelled. There was no answer at the kayak office, but the reception guy said he doubted the kayaking trip would continue as scheduled. I looked back outside and noticed that the rain was blowing in sideways, and I began praying that it would be canceled. There was no way I wanted to be out in those conditions!

When we finally got word it was cancelled I was relieved, but nonetheless bummed. Kayaking Milford Sound was the one thing I had planned on the South Island that I really wanted to do. In the end we had to take a two-hour cruise with families and retired couples. Instead of sweating and getting bit by sand flies in a kayak, we took in the sites whilst drinking coffee and eating snacks in comfort.

The one good thing about the rain was getting to witness all of the new waterfalls plummeting off the cliffs. But the bummer is all the pictures turned out quite grey. What can you do?