Day 4 - Te Anau

Day 4 promised to be a long day for we were travelling to Te Anau (lakeside town) and had to be in time for the cruise to Milford Sound. We had an early breakfast at 6 am, assembled at the lobby with our luggage at 6.45 am in order to leave Queenstown at precisely 7 am.  We were good and ready by 6.45 am, our luggage neatly tucked into the coach. Mr Beady-Eyes, was no where in sight. At 7 am, when he was still absent, Cindy (our Group Representative) called his room. No answer. She called his cell phone. No answer. Finally they knocked on his room door which was opened by a groggy face. We alighted the coach and waited patiently for him to catch up with us. This happened some ten to fifteen minutes later.

Frost on the ground near hotel

Upon alighting the coach after popping in his luggage, he announced, "Sorry I'm late. I was on the phone with the office to discuss this trip." It was about 7 am New Zealand time and back home, this phone conversation would have occurred at 3 am in the morning since there is a 4 hour difference.

More sheep

We looked at each other with raised eyebrow while Cindy confronted him with the issue, asking for names and detail, which put him in a tight spot.

Te Anau (lakeside town)

After about 2 hours driving, we reached Te Anau, a quiet little town almost devoid of life if not for the flow of tourists. Mr Beady-Eyes announced that Glen (Coach Captain) required a 20 minutes break for the long distance covered. He shot off to the pie shop to grab a pie (He missed the brekkie at the hotel, remember?) and was still chomping on the pie 20 minutes later

Te Anau

While Mr Beady-Eyes was feasting on his pie, we drifted among the gift shops collecting souvenirs and tea towels. I picked up some yarn (70% wool, 30% acrylic) from a craft shop.

The journey from Te Anau to Milford Sound along the Milford Road, an alpine highway, is 2 hours 30 minutes driving without allowing for photo stops.  It was a spectacular journey into the heart of the Fiordland National Park. Many magnificent sights dot this road.

EGLINTON VALLEY We came upon an awesome valley where we stopped to stretch our legs and snap some photos. Eglinton Valley

The valley is glaciated with steep sides and a flat floor and is between half a kilometers to 2 kilometers wide. It had a shingled riverbed floor which was constantly changed by the Eglinton River.

MIRROR LAKE Small tarns (mountain lakes) on the roadside provided outstanding mountain reflections in calm weather. Here, we were given a ten minutes leisurely walk along wooden platform with views of the Earl Mountains. Mirror Lake

Mirror Lake

MONKEY CREEK Mr Beady-Eyes suggested that we drink the water from the creek which was in his opinion, all kinds of wonderful. No one took his suggestion. The creek provided a good view of the upper Hollyford Valley and a good chance of spotting the kea. Monkey Creek

KEA There is a call for the kea to be made New Zealand's national bird. Smart, inventive, more than a little mischievous, the world's only alpine parrot is both hardy adventurer and 'clown of the mountains'. One kea may be dancing to entertain as another sneaks behind you and makes off with your stuff. We spotted one in front of our coach and gave it a wide berth. After Monkey Creek, the view was grandiloquent, for want of a better word. We passed lofty mountainous terrain, stark and majestic. No words could quite describe the awe sparkling in our eyes.

Kea

HOMER TUNNEL At an altitude of 945 meters above sea level and 1.2 kilometers in length, the unlined road tunnel allowed access through sheer rock to Milford Sound with a gradient of 1 in 10. Completed in 1953 , traffic lights control traffic flows through the tunnel and can create delay.

The tunnel work began with just five men using picks and wheelbarrows. They lived in canvas tents and makeshift buildings and were at the mercy of 'dry avalanches', noiseless falls, preceded by an extremely violent compressed air blast. Workers were killed, concrete shelters destroyed and tunnel entrances engulfed.

We made it through the tunnel now rendered modern and safe without any drama.

MILFORD SOUND A UNESCO World Heritage Site, once described by Rudyard Kipling as "The eighth wonder of the world" because of its beauty and grandeur. It held the distinction of being the wettest place in New Zealand.

Our tickets were issued for the 12.30 pm cruise. Bento lunches with free flowing green tea and coffee was provided. We were told that the viewing deck will get near the waterline. Rain coats were recommended at the Stirling Waterfall. The voyage of discovery took us out past the entrance of the fiord, into the Tasman sea, with breathtaking views in every direction.

Seal Rock

Days are spent basking and relaxing on rocks after nights diving for food. Nearly hunted into extinction in the 19th century, they were finally placed on the protected list in 1946.

STIRLING FALLS (Wai Mananu) Named after Captain Stirling of the HMS Cleo.

This was the highlight of the cruise. The wind was strong in these parts and one had to be careful not to be blown away into the cold water. Hats and shawls should be removed before venturing out into the viewing deck. Sprays from the Stirling Falls showered the avid photographer who went too close.

Stirling Falls

On the return journey to Te Anau, Mr Beady-Eyes announced that the coach ride will take four hours with no washroom breaks in between. Those who "had to go" would just have to make do in the bushes. This insensitivity incensed us for two among us were down with diarrhea and stomach flu. After several rapid fire exchanges, it was established that the journey will only take 2 hours or thereabout and that we would reach Te Anau by 4 pm with a washroom break in between.  Our approval ratings for Mr Beady-Eyes dropped by several more notches.

Dinner was a quick "gobble them down" at a restaurant near the Distinction Hotel. As it was Cindy and Lee's birthday, we celebrated with a carrot loaf cake from a nearby bakery. Mr Beady-Eyes received a long distance call from "the office." We looked at each other, searching for the tell-tale gleam lurking behind our eyes.

TE ANAU GLOWWORM CAVE The journey to the caves began after dinner at 7 pm with a scenic cruise across Lake Te Anau, on board the catamaran, The Luminosa. We were in the Fiordland of New Zealand.

For many years, these caves were lost in legend. Their presence was hinted at, only by the ancient Maori names for the area - Te Ana-au - which means 'caves with a current of swirling water'. They remained hidden until their rediscovery by explorer Lawson Burrows in 1948. The caves make up just part of the legendary Aurora Cave System, sprawling 6.7 kilometers into the surrounding Murchison Mountains.

We disembarked at the lake's western shores and was led to a waiting room where a video presentation explained the life cycle of the glowworm. This was a nasty experience in view of my irrational fear for squirming worms.

After the presentation, specialist Nature Guides took us through the caves in small groups by paths provided with hand rails. The current of swirling water roared below us in the darkness. Somewhere in the immediate vicinity, underground waterfalls were making themselves heard. Several parts of the cave entrance were low and we were required to stoop as far as one meter just to pass through. As we proceeded along this path, the Guide repeatedly advised us to remain on the walkway and to not climb on the hand rail. I wondered which nincompoop would avail him or herself with such folly.

Deep inside the caves, beyond the rumble of the water, hundreds of glowworms inhabit a silent hidden grotto. In the subterranean darkness, they produce a glittering display that is nothing short of creepy. While those among us stooped near the cave walls to study the worms, I kept myself at a safe distance, worried that the occasional drops of water falling on my hat might carry with it, a worm or two. As I brushed the drops of water from my hat, I cannot envision what might happen if my fingers were to brush ever so lightly upon anything soft and squiggly Under those circumstances, hysteria might become me. It wouldn't be the first time.

The walk finally came to a close when we reached a little 8-seat boat moored to the edge of the underground cave river.

GLOWWORM GROTTO The little boat slid silently through the river in the cave in complete darkness. It was so dark you could not see your hands. All in the boat were asked to remain silent for the worms were sensitive to light and noise. The roar of the underground current in my opinion, was deafening but no one seemed to mind. No cameras were allowed. By geological standards the caves were very young, only 12000 years old. They were still being carved out by the force of the river that flowed through them. The result is a twisting network of limestone passages filled with sculpted rock, whirlpools and a roaring underground waterfall.

Yikes! Those glittering lights up there are worms!

The total darkness closed in on me while the shimmering glowworms on the cave walls morphed into the hideous monster in my head. Drops of water falling on my head each probably carrying a worm or two, warnings not to startle the glowworms with loud noises, the swift flowing water beneath me, the worms over and above me.

A picture appeared in my head. The school kids in Thailand trapped in a flooded underground cave. Their terrified faces transformed into mine, trapped in a flooded underground cave, water everywhere, darkness, worms!

Hours, days, months spent inside the caves in the total darkness, the water, the WORMS creeping slowly towards me! The emotional tide within swelled and my reservoir broke. Tears flooded my eyes and anguished sobs sent quivers down my spine. I wept until my nerves were steadied, and then wept some more. The shivering ceased. The boat stopped. I clambered out of it with renewed energy, all set for a quick exit.

My boat mates knew. Some of them had nerves frayed by the experience but they managed to keep it together. I was deep in thoughts all that night wondering if facing my demons will make any difference.

I wonder still ...

The kumara (sweet potato) does not speak of its own sweetness .....Maori proverb