The Anzacs are Australian and New Zealand army corps that served in the First World War against the Turks and again in Vietnam. Unfortunately, the morning I awake in Te Anau to resupply for the Milford Trek is a national holiday in recognition of the Anzacs. I walk through the small town ghostly still in the damp morning mist, and as I dread because of Anzac Day the supermarket is closed when I arrive. Thoughts of abandoning my trek play in my head as I walk back through the town towards the lake to arrive at the only open food outlet and it specializes in pies. I ask the girl at the counter to supply me with pies and sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next 4 days. She thinks I am joking but when she realizes my predicament her lady coworker emerges from the kitchen and volunteers to drive home to bring me non-perishable food for the trek. I am not really in a position to refuse and so I accept her selfless kind gesture. I still buy about 2 days worth of pies and sandwiches before I return to the hostel to pack and then checkout by 10am.
I have about 4 hours before my 30 minute bus ride to Te Anau Downs but I am glad to spend some of the time at the hotel reception because of the friendly diminutive but attractive German receptionist whose blue eyes I admire - Manja. From her, I learn that the bus company is literally next door and I can catch the bus from there. Rather than continually distract her from her duties, I go sit in the waiting room next door and read.
I notice the bus arrive and Mervin gets down to stand beside the bus and enjoy the sunshine. I gather my backpack then pounce upon him giving him a good scare. We board the bus to Te Anau Downs where the trekkers are ferried to the start of the Milford trek. The boat ride offers great views of the mountains straddling Lake Te Anau. It is good to feel the camaraderie and excitement of two friends embarking on a common trekking adventure, we both are pumped knowing that the Milford Trek is the highlight of our trip to New Zealand.
The first day of the Milford trek leads us from the lakeshore along the banks of the Clinton river for about 3 miles until we arrive at Clinton hut. The trail is exquisitely maintained and the only sounds apart from the trekkers are the calling of the birds along the river. As we approach the hut we are startled to see an extremely tall elderly man wielding an axe and walking in our direction. He passes us with a smile and Mervin and I both look at each other then comment how he looks like a character out of Lord of the Rings, we figure Gandalf. The man has extremely long legs.
That night the trekkers gather in the meal room for dinner. For Mervin and myself, there is no cooking needed, we simply munch on our cold pies. A man joins our table, he has been busy frying himself a juicy steak with steamed vegetable and rice. He cuts into his steak then munches loudly exclaiming "Mmmmm! Delicious!", I don't know about Mervin but I almost want to punch the man.
The tall warden introduces himself, gives us the standard safety procedures and rules, then regales us with humorous anecdotes of his encounters with the mischievous Keas, of the DOCs efforts to trap stoats and rats to preserve the native blue duck numbers. His talk is very lengthy, at one point he speaks of the weather in the area: "to determine the weather, you look in that direction and if you can see Mackinnon Pass then it means that rain is coming. If you however, CANNOT see Mackinnon Pass then that means it IS raining." I smile to myself, I had heard the same joke from the warden on the Routeburn trek, a testament to how much rain this area gets. "About 5 years ago, there was so much rain that trekkers were not allowed on the Milford Trek because the river overflowed past safe levels."
During the night, I am awakened by the sound of rain pelting the roof with a fury.
Along the Clinton river
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