Milford Sound

Milford Sound

Bright Sun, Big Fun

We have spent the last four days in the Arrowtown/Queenstown area in central Otago. This the traditional access point for the Fiordland areas. The Fiordland refers to the coastal wilderness areas in the far southwest of the south island.
Arrowtown is a sleeping old gold rush town nestled in a valley surround by gorgeous peaks. The Arrow River yielded the richest gold haul in all of New Zealand. We used Arrowtown as a base for some winery visits we made which will be posted later.

We boarded the Real Journey’s Bus early this morning, and started the 292km trip (4 hrs.) to Milford, and the head of the sound. While Milford is only 38km as the Emu flies from Queenstown, in this country you cannot get there from here, directly that is.
Arriving at the small port of Milford we promptly boarded the Milford Mariner, our tour ship. A fairly large ship it seemed for the job, but with only about 125 other passengers on board there was plenty of room on deck. The sky was dazzling blue, the walls of the cliffs that form the Fiord, more on that in just a moment, were the most massive thing I have ever experienced in my life.




The term Milford sound is a misnomer. Its proper title is Milford Fiord . A Fiord is defined as a U-shaped valley caused by a glacier carving its way out to sea, with water filling the gap after the glacier had melted. A sound is a valley carved by a river and then filling with water with access to the sea. Well then, why still a sound? When captain Cook sailed up the west side of the south Island on his second voyage to the amazing land, the term Fiord was not a part of the English language, so a sound it was. In fact originally it was Milford haven, named after the port in Pembroke shire, Wales.
Out of respect to the good Captain, the term was retained.
I was hoping this little historical interlude would give me the opportunity to come up with a better way of articulating the Milford experience. I simply cannot describe the enormity of the space. The vaulting, nearly vertical walls that soar at places to 1.5km In height, then continued downward again nearly vertical to depths of 330m below sea level. That’s big deep. This allows ships of just about any size access to the sides of the peak at times as close as1-3 meters, because of this insane drop off.






To feel the spray of water coming from a waterfall almost 500 feet above you, to see the host of plants ferns and primitive life clinging to the granite because of this constant moisture.
This experience exceeds my vocabulary, the moment overwhelms my lens. Put the camera down, find a quiet place on the deck rail and just take it in. If you ever have the need to feel insignificant, this is the place to do it.
We sailed to the mouth of the sound, and out into the Tasman Sea. This was a brief trip into the sea as we are this point in the heart of the “Roaring Forties”, at 45° Latitude. Here the prevailing winds howl around Antarctica the next major landmass, and whip the southwestern coast of New Zealand.
As we re-entered the sound, we were met almost immediately by a group of Fur Seals basking on the rocks at waters edge. Being nocturnal feeders, they were recharging for a busy night ahead.
Also a group of bottle-nosed dolphins, all females, with a newborn was swimming in the vicinity as well.
The water is quiet interesting as well. The surface water is fresh cool water from the glacial runoff that despite its fresh quality is olive drab at best. Beneath is the warmer yet denser salt water that is remarkably blue-green. When the boats are maneuvering in the sound it stirs the water and momentarily separates the layers, and the colors are quiet interesting. The fresh water is also the reason why there is no kelp growing in this huge body of water.