Without a car, one has two options in experiencing the splendor of Fiordland National Park. One: hop on one of the seemingly thousands of giant tour buses that speed to the entrance to the fjord and cram its passengers into a giant cruise ship that puffs its way past all the "must-see" sights; or two: call one of the two kayak companies chartering kayak trips through the fjords, and experience it at your own pace from the level of the water itself. We opted for the latter.
Jenny and I caught an [very] early morning bus to Te Anau to later catch the bus to Milford Sound. Planning on staying the night in Te Anau after our kayak trip, we had booked the only hostel in town that still had room available, the Steamship. The hostel, about a mile away from central Te Anau along the lake, was shaped like a steamship. Also a campsite and holiday park and god knows what else, we beelined for the kitchen/laundry area to sanitize our terribly smelling clothing from the Ben Lomond track river adventure a few days prior. It was a valiant effort, but not wholly effective -- our fleece sweaters and our shoes made the bus absolutely reek.
But before that, while waiting for the Rosco's Kayak Company to pick us up, we were helped by a nice, elderly English couple in our attempts to consume basically the only food we ate for three days, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We had been getting along fine spreading the peanut butter and jelly with this plastic spoon we had picked up along the way and insisted on using over and over again, but our eyes were opened to the wonders of engineering when they gave us their old plastic knife to use. That moment when we dipped the knife in the peanut butter will forever live in my memory...
Rosco's kayak company did eventually pick us up, but not before we saw four Israeli girls hitchhiking in opposite directions, vowing to meet up in Queenstown. I wonder if they ever did. Anyway, we expected just a ride to the fjord where we were going to begin kayaking, but instead we got an intimate look at the wonders of Fiordland before we even glimpsed the water. The "bus" seated only 10, and there were just four of us in it, including two bubbly East German women. We stopped at the Mirror Lakes where one of the German girls walked directly into a tree while describing German cases and came away with a giant purple bump to prove it, at a forest where after the short Chasm hike we came upon a mini-waterfall of rainbows and small pools and crystal-clear water, at a giant, feathery waterfall just before the unfinished one-lane tunnel carved right through the mountain through which cars took turns driving in 15 minute intervals, and at the "town center" (the National Park office & restaurant) in whose bathrooms we nearly lost our food supply for the next two days. We ate lunch, picked up three more people, and then it was time to kayak. A quick lesson on shore in paddling and in putting on the oh-so-attractive kayaking gear, and then we were off in the taxi boat, our kayaks strapped to the top.
It was amazing. Breathtaking. Ridiculously gorgeous. And best of all, it was SUNNY. That's right, not a cloud in the sky. Our first sunny day in New Zealand, in one of the rainiest places on earth. And because it was absolutely pouring until 2 am the night before, we had the pleasure of myriads of gushing waterfalls without one drop of rain. I had to pinch myself, it was so unbelievable.
Experiencing it from the water was unmatched. The lush peaks of the fjord jutted above us into the sky as we alternated between following the coastline and kayaking in the open water. Only occasionally did we have the ride out the wake of the big cruise ships -- our late-afternoon start deliberately coincided with the end of the day's cruise ship schedule. We kayaked right under the 1695 meter high Mitre Peak abruptly rising from the water, we stopped felt the spray of Bowen Falls on our faces, and played the "spot that waterfall" game as each time we glanced at the sheer rock cliffs we saw yet another cascade of water. In short, it was spectacular.
After shoring up our kayaks and unfurling a sail to glide across an open stretch of water care of the wind, and stopping at a small, sandfly-infested bay for tea, we finally kayaked back to base. All in all, it was about four hours on the water, four amazing hours that I wouldn't trade for anything.
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