Pictures: Lyle Such

Writing: Thu Buu

Camera: Canon 5D MkIV

Routeburn Track Day 1

We met up with Anh Vu at the airport in Queenstown and hopped on a shuttle to get us down to Te Anau. Early the next morning, we retrieved our wilderness pass and caught the shuttle to the trailhead for our first backpacking trek. It was raining off-and-on during the whole shuttle ride. But once again, as we began our hike, the skies cleared, and the sun smiled gently down on us for the rest of the day.

Minutes into the hike we were already astounded by the bounty of natural beauty bestowed upon us. All around, the sights and sounds of wilderness softened our souls and lightened our steps.

Surely these ancient trees do talk if we listened hard enough with all our hearts. And surely they must be the Entwives that Treebeard and his fellow Ents had lost so long ago. The Entwives had found refuge against the evils of man and orcs, here in this protected forest.

The detour up to Key Summit was well worth the extra ascent. It was our first 360 degree view of the area, and it was simply gorgeous. We were surrounded by chains of mountains on all sides. Deep down in the valleys, the river shimmered in sparkling delight as it wound its way around the mountains. Hidden within a thick canopy of overgown trees, we even spotted a tourquoise alpine lake.

We don’t remember ever seeing so much undisturbed forest on mountainsides where trees grew layers upon thick layers without evidence of human intervention. We applaud New Zealand’s stringent environmental protection policies.

Here and there, we’d find small, shallow ponds of clear blue water in the middle of verdant carpets of moss. In this small patch of heaven resides all the different shades of green there ever exist.

The sun was at the perfect height in the sky by the time we got back on the main trail. Rays of sunbeams streamed through the trees and dazzled our senses. We wanted to make good time, but it was a struggle to resist stopping and staring. We easily gave in. The further we went, the more surreal it seemed. Around every bend, there was something new and inspiring to breathe in. Nature at her greatest.

Of all the treks and hikes we went on in New Zealand, the Routeburn Track was by far my favorite. The landscape kept changing and so too did our views. We were never in one ecological environment long enough to find it mundane and commonplace. In fact, the opposite was true. We had to continuously remind ourselves that we had many more miles to go and that we must not spend so much time in one place.

A few hours into the hike we started feeling hungry and were in need of a short rest. Luckily, as if on cue, we walked into the perfect place to stop for lunch. This wall of waterfall extended across the whole side of a giant cliff. The water tumbled into a large clear pool.

I was taking Lyle’s picture when a little mosquito-like insect landed on my tricep. In a flash, a burning sensation shot up my arm and within seconds, a patch of hot, red, swollen skin the size of my hand had formed around the puncture point. For weeks afterwards, the itchiness would flare up off-and-on accompanied by a sharp pain, which would induce an urgency to scratch that was irresistible. Nasty little thing. I wonder if it were one of those notorious New Zealand sandflies.

The great thing about New Zealand forests is that we didn’t have to worry about bears. We read about the abundant bugs, gnats, sand flies, and mosquitos that swarm the area, but luckily we didn’t experience much of those either. We did find these beautiful butterflies fluttering around the shrubs.

Our destination for the night was nothing short of idyllic. We pitched our tents on raised platforms made of some foam-like material surrounded by hedges of giant ferns just a short stroll from this tranquil alpine lake. There were a few other backpackers at the campground, but this lake was all ours to enjoy. After a quick cold, cleansing dip, we dried ourselves on the white rocks while waiting for dinner to cook.

Routeburn Track Day 2

Day 2 began hours before sunrise as we knew that an afternoon storm was in the forecast, and we also wanted to reach a good lookout point to observe the sunrise. Dawn was indeed spectacular that morning, a swirl of fiery reds and oranges intermingled with shadowy clouds. Sauron’s Eye was angrily searching for us! On our way through the forested section, we came upon a tent crammed right in the middle of the small path. Whoever it was, was probably so tired they had no idea we even stepped over them.

Pictures are beautiful, but they really cannot capture the whole essence of a place or the experience. In this picture, everything seems so quiet and gentle, but in reality, we were barraged by such strong gusts of icy wind from all sides that it was hard to keep still. The clouds were definitely having a riot, boiling around and continuously shifting as the winds whipped them into a flurry. It was so loud that we had to practically scream to hear one another. Despite the challenging conditions, our view was truly captivating. We must have spent over half an hour just being bystanders, witnessing the interplay of the elements before the storm.

As we continued on towards the pass, rainclouds started to amass over the valley and were quickly rolling our way. Even so, we couldn’t help but stop to admire the little details on the ground, the brightened patches of light on the mountain across the valley, and the big colorful rainbow spanning the skies above.

And just like that, we were in the storm. Luckily, the shelter was just thirty minutes away. At first, we tried waiting out the storm outside the shelter, but it got too cold. We squeezed our way into the steamy shelter, dropped our bags neatly in the back, hung our jackets and tried to make ourselves as comfortable and dry as possible. From our research, we knew the storm would relent in a couple of hours, and we were ready to wait it out. Within that time, we saw others coming in drenched from head to toe, even with rain gear on. People dumped water out of their boots and wrung their stinky socks right onto the middle of the floor. Others stripped almost naked trying to get out of soaking clothes. These were not pretty sights nor smells forced upon us. Perhaps when one gets so tired, so discouraged and so beaten by the elements, there’s no room left for thoughts of courtesy.

Many groups came in after us, strategized with other refugees about the best course of action, and then impatiently left braving the storm again. We helped another hiker repair his broken down boots, but he kept returning, each fix failing shortly after he departed the shelter.

We waited for over two hours, and when we finally decided to carry on, the storm

had subsided.

In less than ten minutes from leaving the shelter, the sun was once again beaming, giving color back to the landscape. Over a dozen shimmering waterfalls cheerfully coursed into this lake, one of the main attractions on this trek. Had we been impatient, we would not have been gifted with such a picturesque landscape. But it’s the feelings of joy and renewed life that come with sunshine after a storm that leave me with fond memories of this special spot.

Our timing was impeccable. We were among the first few people on this part of the trail after the storm and were able to enjoy this moment in tranquility before noise of tramping boots and chattering caught up to us.

However, the peace was intermittently disrupted by helicopters transporting luxury day hikers and probably supplies to the next hut, which was just down the mountain. That gave us a good sense of what the hike might have sounded like had drones been allowed in this area. And so, we were thankful it was a no drone zone.

Past the lake, we followed this roaring river down the mountain. And as we merrily made our descent, we recognized many of the day hikers who had taken refuge at the shelter but whose impatience had forced them into the storm in a hurry to get to the next hut climbing back up the mountain to get back to the lake, now that the sun was out and shining brightly. It was slightly comical as we listened to them rationalize their actions.

On this part of the trail, we had a clear view of the Humbolt Mountains due to a landslide that wiped away a huge swath of forest on the mountainside. Down there, on the near bank of that river was our campground for the night.

Once again, the terrain changed drastically and so too did the vegetation. We were back in the beech tree forest. This time, it was noticeably a different species of beech, perhaps red beech.

We were accompanied by these friendly little birds, the South Island Tomtit. They were so cute and round and totally not afraid of people.

As usual, the first order of business was to pitch our tents. This time, the second order of business was to lay out whatever was wet to maximize the limited amount of sunlight we had left. Thankfully, it was quite windy, which sped up the drying process. After that, we headed to the shelter to cook dinner. Only after a long day on the trail does freeze-dried food sound appealing. After dinner, even before darkness fell, Lyle was already fast asleep. Anh Vu, who was battling a nasty flu should have been the first to fall asleep, but instead, he was socializing with other hikers until the stars came out.

Routeburn Track Day 3

Up and packed to go before dawn. There’s something so deeply calming when one walks in the dark. Perhaps it’s because our most dominant senses are rendered mostly mute, and so we naturally focus inward and be present with our breath as walk.

This last section of the trail was marked by many swaying bridges. At the entrance of each bridge, there’s a sign declaring the maximum occupancy at a single time. Some of the narrower ones only allowed 2 people at a time. It was a little tricky but fun walking on a swaying bridge with a heavy pack.

One of the best things about an early start is seeing the sun rise above the horizon and witnessing the metamorphosis of each tree and each leaf glowing with life at the slightest touch of the sun’s rays. Similarly, within myself, the first rays of light always send a renewed jolt of energy and hope and happiness through my body and my mind. It is a spiritual moment to be a part of nature at sunrise.

After a couple hours worth of hiking, we arrived at the shuttle stop just in time to take shelter from the rain. What an impressive grand promenade. We loved every step of it, all 32 km of tramping wonderfulness.