Milford Sound, bearing east.
Whilst in New Zealand visiting my family and friends, a road trip with an old friend and the beauty of southern New Zealand inspired me to write this account of our time together.
After spending the most part of last year in the company of people I had only known for a short time. Callum excluded.
Time was spent with old friends, in Nelson, for me one of the most idyllic places in New Zealand. Our short time together was littered with familiarity, openness and laughs. It was indeed quality time with special people.
Arrangements had been made to head south on a fishing trip with a very old friend from Napier, my old home in the north island.
It was great to see Rick, the plan was to head down the west coast to Milford Sound, a place I had never been.
After having not seen each other for twenty odd years, the front seats of his pickup were the platforms for great oratory during the whole trip to Lake. We had lots of gaps to paint for one another in our respective lives.
This we did in an animated, from the heart, honest way together, always mindful of each other’s opinions and differences. This kind of reunion and exchange is, for lack of a better description, so damn therapeutic, refreshing, fun and exciting.
Like restoring something full of memories to its former glory.
Driving provides such a relaxing dynamic environment for conversation. We literally never stopped talking for two days!
Our first night was spent camping at Lake Mahinapua, the next morning we went for a run around the perimeter of the kidney shaped lake.
The waters were stained dark with tannins from the heavy rain forest that surrounded the lake. The darkness of the lake enriched the reflections cast upon the mist shrouded body of water.
Only the gentle purr of the four stroke outboard stole anything from the beauty of all around us.
From here, we drove to Jacksons Bay, visiting the pancake rocks on the way. The day was text book fine. So much so that some kind of fish could be seen jumping from the Tasman Sea, a great distance from the viewing platforms above the uniquely layered rocks. They were not Dolphins.
The night was spent camping alongside the Arawhata river. The tent was set up in rain. Rain which continued unabated into the night. Earlier, we had checked the track into the area. The river had to rise about 1.5m before it was an issue. I said to Rick, “it’s cool” these rivers can cope with the heavy rains received here, anyway the riverbed was wide at this point.
Well, the rain never stopped, at about midnight Rick got up, donned his wet weather gear and inspected our exit. On returned, he said the river was lapping the road. We had to exit rapidly.
The rest of the night was spent sleeping in the car back on the main road.
The next day we drove all the way to Milford Sound.
This part of New Zealand is so much like parts of Patagonia, especially the Careterra
Austral. Beech forest, waterfalls, pristine rivers and abrupt ranges.
The Beech species here do not have that unique layering that defines the Patagonian beech forests.
A month ago, I had said to Callum “I had not seen so many waterfalls in one day”. Well, coming towards and through the Homer tunnel. I said this exact same thing to Rick.
We were lucky to see this spectacle of nature being bathed in rains and later, more fortunate to see the area reveal its other side in full sun.
Time here was spent fishing in Anita Bay near the ocean at the entrance to Milford Sound.
Rick provided edible species, catching Terakihi and Blue Cod, whilst my contribution was only increasing the species count with Barracuda and Dogfish among other bottom dwelling rock fish.
In the time we were here, we never had a moment without someone coming to chat to us, not for a minute or two but at great length.
We learnt about sailing the southern waters of NZ, the crayfishing industry, the salmon runs, fishing the sound, kayaking the sound, the weather, the Milford lifestyle and some great local gossip.
Like everywhere the people were so friendly, they made our time here just that much more rewarding and enjoyable.
One of the guys, in a gesture of supreme kindness in fishing terms, said we could lift his pots and take any crayfish within.
Milford Sound from the water was a place of captivating beauty, inescapable in its grandeur.
Like the many waterfalls that cascaded into the dark fresh water, layered sea, the fern and bush clad cliffs also fell into the watery abyss that floated our boat. Their contact with the water was made with less fanfare.
The only other passage to a fishing spot I know that rivals this spectacle is the journey out to the northern Pacific, to the salmon grounds from Sitka in Alaska.
My time here with an old friend, sleeping in makeshift accommodation, eating fresh fish, sharing yarns with locals and cooking food not unlike my South American cuisine on the road was an experience that will always be deeply etched in my memory.
This etching is silver edged, having experienced this remote part of NZ both in torrential rain and brilliant sunlight, between the two, fresh snow on the tops enhanced the richness of my minds image.
Our last night in Te Anau we slept in the car by the lake, the cops knocked on our window very early.
It was classic. She said "I know you have been sleeping here", as I spoke to her with the drivers door open, the back of the seat down on the rear seat and in my sleeping bag!! Rick was in his in the passenger seat.
All this as condensation was dripping from the windscreen.
Having arrived here late in the evening after a brilliant meal at the Blue Duck in Milford, we were unaware of our stopping almost under a sign prohibiting camping in this area.
For us, she was luckily in a good mood and waived the $200 fine for such vagrancy.
After she left, we both agreed it was a sharp observation on her behalf, that we had been sleeping there.
Having recalled this time here in NZ, some things just don’t change, comforting it is.
After spending the most part of last year in the company of people I had only known for a short time. Callum excluded.
Time was spent with old friends, in Nelson, for me one of the most idyllic places in New Zealand. Our short time together was littered with familiarity, openness and laughs. It was indeed quality time with special people.
Arrangements had been made to head south on a fishing trip with a very old friend from Napier, my old home in the north island.
It was great to see Rick, the plan was to head down the west coast to Milford Sound, a place I had never been.
After having not seen each other for twenty odd years, the front seats of his pickup were the platforms for great oratory during the whole trip to Lake. We had lots of gaps to paint for one another in our respective lives.
This we did in an animated, from the heart, honest way together, always mindful of each other’s opinions and differences. This kind of reunion and exchange is, for lack of a better description, so damn therapeutic, refreshing, fun and exciting.
Like restoring something full of memories to its former glory.
Driving provides such a relaxing dynamic environment for conversation. We literally never stopped talking for two days!
Our first night was spent camping at Lake Mahinapua, the next morning we went for a run around the perimeter of the kidney shaped lake.
The waters were stained dark with tannins from the heavy rain forest that surrounded the lake. The darkness of the lake enriched the reflections cast upon the mist shrouded body of water.
Only the gentle purr of the four stroke outboard stole anything from the beauty of all around us.
From here, we drove to Jacksons Bay, visiting the pancake rocks on the way. The day was text book fine. So much so that some kind of fish could be seen jumping from the Tasman Sea, a great distance from the viewing platforms above the uniquely layered rocks. They were not Dolphins.
The night was spent camping alongside the Arawhata river. The tent was set up in rain. Rain which continued unabated into the night. Earlier, we had checked the track into the area. The river had to rise about 1.5m before it was an issue. I said to Rick, “it’s cool” these rivers can cope with the heavy rains received here, anyway the riverbed was wide at this point.
Well, the rain never stopped, at about midnight Rick got up, donned his wet weather gear and inspected our exit. On returned, he said the river was lapping the road. We had to exit rapidly.
The rest of the night was spent sleeping in the car back on the main road.
The next day we drove all the way to Milford Sound.
This part of New Zealand is so much like parts of Patagonia, especially the Careterra
Austral. Beech forest, waterfalls, pristine rivers and abrupt ranges.
The Beech species here do not have that unique layering that defines the Patagonian beech forests.
A month ago, I had said to Callum “I had not seen so many waterfalls in one day”. Well, coming towards and through the Homer tunnel. I said this exact same thing to Rick.
We were lucky to see this spectacle of nature being bathed in rains and later, more fortunate to see the area reveal its other side in full sun.
Time here was spent fishing in Anita Bay near the ocean at the entrance to Milford Sound.
Rick provided edible species, catching Terakihi and Blue Cod, whilst my contribution was only increasing the species count with Barracuda and Dogfish among other bottom dwelling rock fish.
In the time we were here, we never had a moment without someone coming to chat to us, not for a minute or two but at great length.
We learnt about sailing the southern waters of NZ, the crayfishing industry, the salmon runs, fishing the sound, kayaking the sound, the weather, the Milford lifestyle and some great local gossip.
Like everywhere the people were so friendly, they made our time here just that much more rewarding and enjoyable.
One of the guys, in a gesture of supreme kindness in fishing terms, said we could lift his pots and take any crayfish within.
Milford Sound from the water was a place of captivating beauty, inescapable in its grandeur.
Like the many waterfalls that cascaded into the dark fresh water, layered sea, the fern and bush clad cliffs also fell into the watery abyss that floated our boat. Their contact with the water was made with less fanfare.
The only other passage to a fishing spot I know that rivals this spectacle is the journey out to the northern Pacific, to the salmon grounds from Sitka in Alaska.
My time here with an old friend, sleeping in makeshift accommodation, eating fresh fish, sharing yarns with locals and cooking food not unlike my South American cuisine on the road was an experience that will always be deeply etched in my memory.
This etching is silver edged, having experienced this remote part of NZ both in torrential rain and brilliant sunlight, between the two, fresh snow on the tops enhanced the richness of my minds image.
Our last night in Te Anau we slept in the car by the lake, the cops knocked on our window very early.
It was classic. She said "I know you have been sleeping here", as I spoke to her with the drivers door open, the back of the seat down on the rear seat and in my sleeping bag!! Rick was in his in the passenger seat.
All this as condensation was dripping from the windscreen.
Having arrived here late in the evening after a brilliant meal at the Blue Duck in Milford, we were unaware of our stopping almost under a sign prohibiting camping in this area.
For us, she was luckily in a good mood and waived the $200 fine for such vagrancy.
After she left, we both agreed it was a sharp observation on her behalf, that we had been sleeping there.
Having recalled this time here in NZ, some things just don’t change, comforting it is.
 Pancake rock area, west coast south island NZ
 Evening at the boat ramp
 Mitre Peak on the first evening
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 Lake Mahinapua
 Our fishing platform
 Talk about Patagonia all over in many respects
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