The Routeburn Track

Loosing track of time here all I know is that it's not enough. There are so many things we want to see and do and just so little time (oh, and did we mention that it all costs a fortune or two?!).

Having your complete attention we'd like to apologize to anyone and everyone who's been trying to reach us and failed, but as you can see from the pictures below we're pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so reception for the phone is just a vague hallucination on the horizon.
So, this is going to be mainly about our latest adventure: The Routeburn Track, listed by National Geographic as one of the 11 best tracks of the world. It truly was.

We started out from Kinloch, a small place consisting only of the hostel where we stayed with its adjacent restaurant. The weather wasn't very promising for two days prior to our take off, but we decided to be brave. Even in fog the place was magical.

The first day (of four, three nights in the bush) gave us a bit of a drizzle as we made our way up the mountain to the first hut. But as already said: even in fog and low clouds... The river is the Route Burn, once the easiest way to cross the mountains of Fiordland to the Tasman Sea.

No kidding it's loose - anyone could see that!

As a matter of fact there were quite a few places where we crossed earlier landslides, and given the wet weather we occasionally threw a wary eye up the slopes next to us.

After only three hours hiking we reached the first hut at the Routeburn Falls. We avoided the heaviest rain that fell after we were safe indoor. A good warm up for coming days.

Day two started cold, but with a clear blue sky above, and we continued our climb up towards Harris Saddle. In a region with 220 rainy days per year we considered ourselves lucky to get to climb the Southern Alps in such a fantastic sunshine.

At the saddle we took a little side trip up Conical hill, and given it was a day just after rain we had the clearest view possible - we could see all the way to the sea. Roi is here forming his own version of Lord of the Rings with the correct snowy mountains in the background, the Darrans.

Defying my fear of heights I too stepped close to the edge to get a good picture of the Hollyford valley stretching towards the Tasman Sea. Whatever climb we had done, and whatever weather these grand mountains might throw at us later, it was all worth it for these views. The track contains the most beautiful views I have ever seen, not exaggerating, and I find it heartbreaking to not be able to just print them on the inside of my eyelids for the future.

Third day, likewise, started cold, with frost covering the ground around McKenzie hut. We had a long day ahead so we started early, heading for Howden at the end of the Routeburn Track, and then on to Upper Caples hut on the Track with the same name. Connecting these two tracks gave us the opportunity to go in a loop and get back to Kinloch and our car.

In between this picture (which is the fantastic beech forest that most of the Caples Track stayed in) and the one above we had one of the hardest tracks ever. It was a 500 metre ascent up an almost vertical wall (might be slightly exaggerated) covered in rainforest with hysterical slippery roots. We literally used our whole body to climb, pull, push, crawl, swing and drag ourselves with backpacks up this slope to McKellar Saddle. Not being as popular as the Routeburn it was also not as taken care of, and therefore much harder. At the hut we were devastated from sore feet, knees, thighs and hunger. But we made it. The last day was harsh since we had residues of the previous tiredness, but nothing that a shower, a meal at the restaurant (I had lamb rump steak, Roi venison filet) and a Laphroaig couldn't cure.

Today we are resting our poor legs. We've driven from Kinloch, via Queenstown and the best hamburger in the world (it's a lot of superlatives today), to Te Anau and Manapouri where we're staying for two nights. The day is as pretty as can be and the only bad thing is that my feet are a nightmare after having served at least 200 sandflies a feast the last night on the tracks... But we're dealing with them too. We are after all, as a woman in a visitor centre put it, "swedish machines that can take anything".

And hey, by the way, we do appreciate any proof that you guys are actually reading this, so please give us more comments!

Lots of love!