John / Sunny and hot
07/05/2012, Migennes, France

Stumped by French floods.

With two weeks of solid April rain on top of a very wet winter, the rivers of Central France are high and the Yonne is in full flood. When we got to MIgennes to begin bringing Matilda home, we found the Yonne - which joins the Seine and is part of that route - foaming past the yard quay at a steady rate of knots. It was a dirty brown swirling mess of loose timber, runaway trees, and fast water.

The engineering work on Matilda seems to have been well done. It took a lot of custom work to manufacture new cutlass and intermediate bearings, lots of access issues due to furniture and added gear being in the way, all leading to higher than expected labour costs. Plus the external job of re-milling the shafts added thousands more, so my eyes did water at the bill.

But it is only money. The works been done well, and have to say she looks top notch. Our troubles in Migennes were not with Matilda but with the rivers.

We'd actually enjoyed a pretty seamless flight / cab / train trip from Southampton via Paris then Migennes.  We had no idea of what awaited us so were smiling broadly as we dragged our bags under Thursdays hot sun the 15 minutes down to the yard.

It was there we got both good news on the work, and bad news on the water levels.

The river was swollen, almost in full flood, and the VNF (French Waterway Authority) temporarily closed our section of the Yonne for navigation.  No boats were going no where for a while.

We hoped during the weekend that we might only be delayed a couple of days as the first closure notice said the river would be barred until Monday. So to better prepare for that late start, we cast off from the yard and navigated the river down to the junction with the Canal du Bourgogne, and turned in to get lifted though it's first lock into the canals basin by Migennes centre.

Matilda's 2 x 100hp engines handled the floodwater ok, but I suspect they'll not open the locks and rivers just for us.

Parked up in the basin on the canals flat water we could watch the Yonne rushing past below us. Migennes town is a pretty quiet place, but nicer than Simons muddy yard at least for a few days. We soon found we got lots of boating company in the basin and were certainly closer to the supermarket.... but that did seem to be the only place that opened. Local bars and restaurants always seemed closed just when we wanted them!

Friday and Saturday, we sat under more rain as more boat arrived down the canal to halt up in the basin. At times there were six or seven skippers standing morosely looking at the Yonne, all I guess wondering when they could move onward. Over the weekend and despite the VNF completely opening the river weirs adjacent to the locks below Migennes, the river levels did not drop........so it wasn't looking good.

But we hoped against hope if we did get away Monday, we could make up time by travelling non stop down the Yonne and Seine using the fast flowing rivers to speed us along and gain those lost days back............but then today (it's Monday) we got further bad news. More rain is expected, so the VNF thinks it is too dangerous to open. They'll review it all this coming Friday and possibly open then. But they stressed the 'possibly'.

So weighing it all up, we have decided our best option is to drop back down to Simons yard on the Yonne, re-park Matilda alongside some of his stationary barges, and fly back home for a furhter month. This new plan will ensure we'll be around for Scow Nationals early June, and then once we are sure the waterways are open, we will go back and get Matilda.

Its clear from the packed town quay in Migennes that we are not the only ones being inconvenienced.  There is a big boat hire centre down the swollen Yonne at Joiny and lots of their boats have been abandoned here in Migennes as they cannot get back to base.  Those that are att he base can't go anywhere.

There are other private barges arriving daily into Migennes down the Canal du Bourgogne, a few wanting to make Paris for an annual DBA barge rally.  Stuck here above the Yonne, the town quay is beginning to get full. If the river does not drop soon, this place is going to get overloaded.

Frustrating for us I know, plus expensive. Don't think we'll get a refund from our YOGAFF reservation.  Doubt we'll get a refund for the VNF Vignette we bought to cover the trip home.  We'll have to give away a boatload of provisions.  And two return plane / rail tickets to and from the UK will not come cheap!  All because of the bloody rain.  Seem funny, I never though a river boat would get stopped like a yacht, by inclement weather. But it clearly happens.

But there you go. Matilda looks great. All up and together, her engines purr and the serviced injectors means she smokes less. Thats all relative of course as other DAF engine owners can testify.

We've lots mpore to do with our lives so wasting a week sitting alongside one town quay in central rural France has knobs on it for me.  On. On. Next task. Speak soon.


John

Comments [1]

29/04/2012

Enjoyed our first race last Monday on the Scow, and Tuesday saw us down on Matilda in central France refitting doors and tidying her up below. It was so we could take pictures of her interior for boat adverts.

We've got her now listed on several sites, TheYachtMarket ( http://www.theyachtmarket.com/boats_for_sale/314817/ ) , Apollo Duck ( http://apolloduck.net/246485 ) but if anyone wants a bigger folio of photos or more info, please email direct on mail(at)yachtswagman(dot)com, or phone us during our journey on +44 7930 345255.

We depart later this week back down to Migennes by plane and train so see her relaunched, engines trialled, then we will begin to bring her home up the swollen rivers and canals via Paris to Calais. I'm guessing it will take 3 weeks but it will depend upon lock opening times and of course, the weather when we get to the cross the English Channel. Like when we brought her over from Holland, we'll need to wait in Calais for a quiet day and motor her over and down to the Lymington River.

Fingers crossed, for if we can make it by 24th May, then we can enjoy the berth we've booked for the big annual YOGAFF party weekend on the Isle of Wight ( http://www.yarmoutholdgaffersfestival.co.uk/ ).

So.......if anyone has an interest in knowing more about a much loved gentlemans power boat, or know someone else who might also wish to know more, then go look at the adverts.

Cheers

JOHN

Comments [2]

John / Wet / 10C
18/04/2012, Lymington, UK

It's now a very wet and blustery spring here in the UK, and thats a shame. With a long, long list of jobs to complete, bad weathers not what I need.

The vintage Airstream has arrived OK. Safely delivered on the back of a tow truck from Southampton docks, its now parked up round the back of the house where it will sit whilst we're getting it weather-tight and towable.

The weather proofings been quite easy, removing all the old brittle window seals and sourcing a suitable profile to replace them. Happy to advise we found a seal supply company only 5 minutes aways, so now enjoy the perverse pleasure of sipping a cup of tea each time a shower thrashes down drumming onto the roof.... whilst eyeing up the daunting later work of interior refurb.

Re towability. The USA vintage towhitches are set for a US 2" ball, and the US towing electrics are of a completely different standard to whats allowed in the EU. And then whilst the Audi is more than powerful enough to pull the silver bullet - we've learnt does not have a tow bar strong enough to carry the 130 kg hitch load of our US van...............



So job two was trading up Sues Golf for a 3.2 litre SWB Shogun which a bit nuggety but also strong enough to pull the van PLUS carry the heavy hitch load. Sues not best pleased to loose her beloved Golf, but there you go...........

I've also hit the front A frame with a grinder to remove the original US hitch fitting which is still on in the photo above, and once off I had to straighten the front A frame girders to accomodate the new EU / UK hitch . It's made a a UK firm named Bradley, and hefty enough to take the loads on a 50mm ball, plus giving me a new heavy duty jockey wheel.

I'm in the process of bolting it on now but it will also be reinforced with welded plates top, front and bottom.......once I can tow it carefully to the welder.

To handle the electricals, I've also ordered up the EU spec 12v plugs and cables, and got the Shogun in a local garage having it fitted with a new electric brake controller. Once those jobs are all complete hopefully the van will be legally movable on British roads with care.

We then need to deliver it to a local panel man to not only weld up our bolted new hitch, but to also pull out the few dents and dings on her outside panels. Then, we will tow her back home and out will come my new polishinng machine for a real upper body workout..........

Polishing is a messy job but if I hire some scaffolding to be able to get over the roof etc, I'm hoping it won't take more than a week to get the mirror finish we desire.

I've also used the web to order a caravan mains electrical installation kit which I need to fit for basic 220v power input. The vans built to take only the US 110v spec, but the interior wiring is rated for 600 volts so hopefully (I do need to do a few more checks) we can continue to use some of the interior wiring for some new 220v sockets, and some other to continue carrying 110v to the aircon, battery charger, and water pumps. To do that from 220v input I also need to install the hefty step down converter that I ordered with the van from the USA.

Then, once all that is done I can then turn my eyeballing of the interior into a proper plan to rip out and replace some of the interior furniture. We do not aim to refub it back to the old standard, but rether use carbon effect laminates and bright red covers to give it a real jazzy 'art deco' look.

All thet, along with removal of the heavy but redundant gas furnace, polishing up and then bolting on a new horizontal outside front gas tank, and finally replacing the floor and adding chrome trim, should ensure it is very usable.

Phew!

So my pretty full chore list not been helped as we've been told Matilda is almost ready for us to refit doors and soft furnishings down in France. Its good news I've been waiting on for ages, so we've booked a ferry for next week and aim to speed off that next Tuesday with all the doors etc and get that all done before next weekend. If we're lucky we'll be able to remove her winter cover, replace the dinghy onto the davits, and tidy her up enough to take some interior photos.




The reasons? We've actually decided to sell Matilda!!

Having got back into the sailing scene via the little Lymington River Scow, we've now decided motor boating is not really for us and another sailing boat probably is.........but being sensible adults, we know we cannot run three boats.............so Matilda will needs a new loving home.

I'm pretty sure there are many past sailors looking to get into a gentlemans launch who'll find her appealing, but it will be easier to find that family from the UK, so when we do re-launch her we'll be bringing her back home across the Channel.

But first lets get those pictures, and get her ready. Regretfully we cannot spend too long in France next week as our Scow racing season starts next Monday with the first of an early series of evening races..........and we want to be back for the second a week later.............

Somehow before the Scow National in early June, we're going to also have to find another three weeks to go back down and motor her home. This time back up to Paris, then up to Calais, where she can sit if needed for the right weather window before making Dover, Eastbourne, and finally Lymington.

If we can do it, a bonus would be getting her home in time for YOGAFF - the Yarmouth Old Gaffers weekend - which starting 24th May is just too good a weekend to miss.

To meet all these deadline will involve us in doing Matildas engineering trials at Migenne tout suite so I need to chat with the engineers in Migenne next week. I'll keep you posted on what we do from there.

So what with Airstream, Scow and Matilda, we've quite a bit on right now...............so you'll excuse me if I don't find much time for the blog.

On on.

JOHN

Comments [3]

John / Sunny / Clear
21/03/2012, La Rosiere 1850, France

What a super way to end winter..............you can see there was lots of snow in the alps still ........looked good eh?




Sue and I drove down in the Audi carting the ski and babe gear whilst the rest of our party flew out. It meant we left mid morning on Friday, rolling off the Dover / Calais ferry just after lunch. Personally we always enjoy a cross channel ferry. It's the combination of the ports activity, the fog horns from the sea, the gulls screaching along our long wide wake with the white cliff receeding that make us feel like you are truly going on holiday. IMHO it is not quite the same shunting your car onto a train for the tunnel rail trip. Its also half the price.

Under glorious sun we sped off south down the french toll routes. With 3 babies on a snow holiday for the first time, we had everything from sledges to toys to food to carry cots - even everyones skis and boots. The cars back seats were down, and it plus the ski box were crammed full.

The French autoroutes have a 130 kph limit (about 85 mph) so it was a swift and enjoyable journey southwards through Frances wide open countryside. I love long distance continental driving. Maybe in my afterlife I'll come back as a bus or truck driver...........

We did not need to get to our chalet until the next day so having estimated it would get dark as we closed Dijon, I called ahead to book one of those cheapie motorway hotel. It was as black as when we swung off to find the hotel was actually over the other side of the service point, and acess was via a private locekd road and small bridge. It took a whilst phoning to get a young receptionist to drive to us along the dirt road and unlock the gate, so we could follow her back to the other side.

That back door route which also gave acess off the freeway, gave an unexpected bonus next day as we could not bother to wait for her to escort us back over to the other side with her key. It was easier to simply exit out the back of the services onto regular roads, take 5 minutes to refuel at non motorway prices, then take a new toll ticket and rejoin the autoroute at the next entry. What it meant was we could discount the 60 euro hotel bill by 30 euros saved by binning the toll ticket picked up near Paris, and another 20 euros we saved on fuel. Silly eh, the pleasures such small wins give.

The motorway service public area at the hotel was packed by French travellers heading north, and it had a superb small grill where we got a great local flavoured evening meal. Anyone know why the French can manage to make you feel served at a service station, with reasonable food and even offering a taster of your wine, when in Britain you feel lucky if motorway staff manage to throw the plate onto your tray without spilling the chips?

Saturday we got away 9am after refuelling under more sunshine, to complete the 700 odd miles south to the alps and then up the mountains to the resort of La Rosiere. We arrived just after midday.



The rest of our party who had left home at 5 am to fly, eventually rocked up on a transfer bus from the airport at 7pm local time. They all looked knackered. Seems it was the flight from hell as Georgina had picked up a virus and the plane was packed solid. It all vindicated our decision to drive.



La Rosiere 1850 is one of those purpose built French ski resorts plonked high up in the Alps to get the most snow and therefore the longest possible ski season. But unlike many other concrete French jobbies in the region, this resort was surprisingly attractive.

We had booked a four bedroom chalet with two hosties so we could enjoy a family holiday with Rob / Lou / grandkids William and Georgina, along with our pal Judith / her daughter Laurens family of Damian and grandson Hugo.

The chalet was one of several in a joined up building block, but nicely set up and cosy enough inside. Our two hosties Emma and Camilla proved to be great cooks and better company. You can see from the photo that the chalet was close by the slopes, but the hot weather meant whilst we could (well almost) ski right back into the boot room, we had a tiresome 100 metre trudge each morning up that bit of tarmac outside to reach the snow slopes.



It doesn't sound much, and I thought we were reasonably fit - but you know what it feels like every morning. Cramming feet into cold boots when bent over covered with padded ski kit on a big breakfast always leaves me feeling bloated and puffed, so then any trudge clunking up a hill carrying kit before you can don skis is something I like to avoid.

No chance with this location. But it does make you realise how soft we've become, eh? How did they survive 50 years back when they had to walk all the way to the top of the mountain for just a single ski down...........

Our ski area was more than adequate, running up as it up towards the peaked border between France and Italy, filled with mainly red but some black and blue runs. It had an awesome speed course which we all enjoyed crashing on...........

The lifts and runs allowed us to ski both sides of the mountain - up in France, and down the other side into Italy.



With even the off piste areas hard and crusty, we dodged over from run to run enjoying what we had under lovely hot sun. And not to many bowl outs!

With lots of pistes and hardly anyone else on the slopes, we had few queues for lifts, but seems you can't have it all. The hot hot sun which had prevented new recent snow falls, meant it was very slushy later each day. But it made sledge runs with the kids a lot more fun.



The high temps and slush gave good rationale for long lazy lunches in the sun. As you can see, I invariably had to work hard to keep William away from my chips.



It was all good. What with a few stolen snoozes in sun filled bedrooms late arvo, and enjoying the kids company. They seemed to take to the terraces and ski kit like locals.



Of course we wanted to share the grandies so a rota allowed us all time to ski and walk / play alternate days. It worked well, and we cannot wait until the kids are big enough to get up on skis. They say they can start as young as 3 y.o. In the meantime they always enjoyed an afternoon outing and snooze in the strollers.



We got a bonus midweek when elder son Alex dropped over the mountain top on his board. He is a production foreman building America's Cup boats and currently working in Bergamo, and managed to nick a day away to come see his mum. He drove early to La Tuile on the Italian side of the mountain, and got a ski lift up to link up with us for a long French lunch.

Sue was well chuffed - its not often she has both sons with us at the same time.



The rest of our week flashed by pretty quick, and we were soon waving the bus transfer off before repacking the car with even more gear (meaning they all had even less to carry on the plane) we drove further south for a night out and a top hotel in Chamberey, and then on to Grenoble and catching up with some some old sailing pals.

Eveylene and Gerard are French sailors we met in Turkey back in 2006 and have built a friendship since. Lovely people.

Evy cooked us a great meal, and Gerard raided his wine cellar for a few great bottles, and we relaxed through a peaceful evening at their home and a deep sleep, before pointing the car back north on Monday morning, and storming our way back home.

Not a bad home run either. Seven hundred and fifty five miles from Grenoble to Sway including an hour on the ferry, saw us home and turning on the central heating in a chilly UK........

So winter sports done now, it's on, on for the rest of the spring and summer..............

Cheers
JOHN

Comments [1]

John / F2 - S'ly / Variable - 12c
29/02/2012, Lymington, UK

............and whilst its not yet time to call it a day, its time to get back to reality in the UK.

But what a great winter break, culminating with five days in Perth and Fremantle partying hard with a lot of old pals.

Being honest, those last six days we had in New Zealand after we'd done the hard yakka of the Milford Trek did drag out. Once we'd had that highspot we felt ready to move onward, but daft though it sounds we found it tough to make flight changes to advance our schedule. The travel agency back in the UK kept telling us only Qantas could do it, and Qantas kept reverting us to the agent. It got all too hard. Easier still to remain chilled and get out and about around Christchurch, learning and sampling lots of the regional wines from pinot grapes. My education came over pinot gris, the grey variety of grape I always called grigio. But slap my hand for being such a dummy - I now know its original french name, which is what the kiwis use also. Anyway, nice drop. Along with the pinot noirs. And the beers not bad either.



We had slowly wound our way across the central highlands from Queenstown to Christchurch - again it was all stunning open grasslands and dairy farms - giving us an insight into one part of Otago's rural scene.

After we dropped down onto the eastern coast and booked into a Christchurch campsite, we spent our remaining Kiwi days exploring Christchurch city and nearby Akaroa, a clapperboard seaside town set into a safe anchorage inlet 70 km south.



It was all very middle earth. Almost like Walt Disney had built it for some movie. And despite its distance from Christchirch, its war memorial had still suffered structural damage from the quake.

We equally found Christchurch not just a beautiful place, but a very brave city. On the day we flew out we joined thousands who stood silently for 2 minutes at 12.51 on 22nd February to honour those who died in the earthquake just one year back. I supect its going to take the people many years more to recover from the experiences.



Many houses have been damamged or destroyed and it seemed pot luck. Sometimes you'd have one house untouched, the next cracked from foundations to roof tiles. Many set on the clifftops in the beach suburb of Sumner are now half hanging out into open space.

What was the City Mall took a real pounding. Despite all the crane activity one can see many locals are still a bit stunned by what happened. Almost like going through the motions of rebuilding and showing you around with lots of positive smiles, but for whatever the reasons, not showing they are sure what the future might bring.

With a lot of the city centre buildings rated unsafe and still awaiting demolition, business activity has mostly relocated itself to the suburbs and surviving. But lots ask if the successful ones will ever return to the CBD, knowing it now has the risk of further quakes...........



Some of the shops have set up temporary outlets in whats called 'container city' - steel 40 foot containers stacked up and painted up on city centre cleared land with flower beds and repaved areas all around. But with visitor numbers right down and locals who've begun to receipt government compensation choosing often to rebuild a new home in another safer city, one wonders what Christchurch might look like in a decades time.

For sure, nothing like what it is today, or what it once was.



The upside (if there is one) is that the building inspection tags sprayed onto empty shop windows remind everyone that when help was required, it flooded in from all over the globe. We identified tags for work done by inspectors from not only other NZ regions, but also Australia, France, America......



After spending three days saying our goodbyes, we flew out of NZ feeling humbled by the bravery we think most locals have shown. Maybe it just demonstrates what tough people Kiwis are, strong attitudes that equal their arms. Maybe both a by-product of their ancestors? But we also left with warm feelings towards this nation for the harmony they do have despite racial and cultural differences, and especially for the hospitality they show to all their visitors - us included.

Who knows - you might even see me barrack for the All Blacks in some future game. Providing of course they're not playing the Wallabies.

For sure, we'll be going back and helping in the easiest way we know how by spending tourist dollars. We just need to work out when.

After that sobering experience, we expected our entry home to Australia would have felt pretty good. But sadly not.

The officials on border control at Sydney quickly blew away any warm feelings. They were not offensive to me personally, simply indifferently arrogant. But they we for sure, very rude to many of the others who were arriving in Australia for the first time, and looking a bit bewildered by the treatment.

I could not help comparing it with what we'd experienced in Thailand and NZ, or even what we've seen from the UK Border guys...........Auastralia did not even come close.

It was only Sue holding me back, warning I might invite a rubber glove welcome, that stopped me saying more at the time.

But apart from those uniformed assholes, Australia, Perth and Freo welcomed us back with wide open sun burned arms.

Tired as we were after the flights, we had pals who'd waited up to tap us on the shoulder at reception in Freos trendy Esplanade Hotel, holding up chilled wine glasses and waving frosted bottles under our noses.

They'd obviously didn't want us to delay getting into party mode, so it would have been rude to let them down............'Sod bed, the drinking has to get started'.........

The architecture around Freo's cafe strip hasn't changed a lot. Our last home here was one floor up in a converted biscuit factory right in the middle of the cafe strip. I always did love all the cast ironwork they've kept around the town.



It was really easy to slip back into the local routine of life under the sun, even though it was a lot busier than when we departed 17 years ago. With a population increase of maybe 30% over the period and apparently lots of new money in circulation, the State of WA is truly pumping.

The minerals sector has always been Western Australia's money maker, but with China buying almost everything they can dig out of the ground right now, BOOM is hardly sufficient to describe what's happening today.

The huge influx of workers required to mine so much material and the wealth created has seen property prices soar so now they exceeed Sydney costs. And as unskilled wages up north paying often $250,000 pa for two weeks on two weeks off regime, those high prices are being met.




It would appear to have created a dual economy with odd results. Many pals we caught up with now enjoyed homes worth more than a million, and others enjoyed owning several properties which are rented out for £2,000 a WEEK or more. But this scenario makes it harder today for regular office workers to even buy their first home......or indeed for those on a regular Perth income to think about what they can get for their investment / rental dollars.

Cafe and pub prices have also increased. One young couple complained to us that they could easily blow $600 on a night out! And their home had just been valued at $4M plus.

But all that aside it is still a wonderful place to live, especially to bring up kids. Here is Sue alongside Royal Perth YC Freo Annex on the Indian Ocean, where we used to moor Diva, our Adams 40 yacht.




We visited all three of the clubs we'd been members of over our time in WA, and felt pleased to be recognised and remembered at each. We enjoyed what time we had and packed our diary to link up with as many old pals as we could. With the cafe strip close to hand plus a hire car, we tended to breakfast out most mornings either in Freo or alongside the Swan River, lunch at some beach front hotel or bistro overlooking the Ocean, and party hard each evening with those different groups of past mates.

All lovely stuff.



It went quickly, and proived a great way to wrap up a super winter holiday. To tell you a secret, I felt some relief to climb back onto a Qantas flight for our final leg to the UK, but only because we could then refuse a drink without offense............

We owe thanks to pals (in no particular order) who helped us have such a lovely time. Especially Sue & Robbie, Adrian, Ian and Madelaine, Des and Anne, Guy and Jodie, Alan and Joel, Josh and Claire, John, Roxy and Bellie, and everyone else we met with (and who I've missed off - sorry).

So now we're really home home.

With the bonus of grandies seemingly remembering who we are and giving us lots of hugs and kisses, and us trying to sort out the washing and repacking for what comes next.

Fortunately for us it's a week away in a French chalet skiing ......... but thats another blog entry.

See you later.

JOHN xx

Comments [0]

John / Hot / Sunny
16/02/2012, Te Anua to Milford Sound

This 55 km / 33.5 mile tramp (the kiwi word for trek) is a vacation high spot in more ways than one.

It's one of NZ's 'Great Walks' that traverses the heart of New Zealand's wild fiord country, and has been described elsewhere as 'the best walk in the world'. We were told about it last year when walking in Chile, and decided then to give it a go - sometime. Back then we didn't think we'd be doing it so soon but have to say, it's met all our expectations.

For us its been a five day expedition but taking a day to get in, and a day on the way out, leaving only three days of solid walking to do the tramp from its start on Lake Te Anau up over Mackinnon Pass and down to it's end at Milford Sound.

This is a shot from just below the clouds at the highest point we climbed to half way over. Those high level clouds stayed around the pass for the whole of our five days but we enjoyed sunny weather every day whilst lower down the valleys.



Our adventure began with us having to pick our clothes and gear carefully, taking care to load our packs with the absolute minimum required for five days. Even banana skins carried in must be carried out and it's only you doing the carrying, so both volume and weight is critical. We've got to take along clothing to handle all weather options, and even at this time of year that usually includes torrential rain. We didn't get that, but were told we'd been the exception.

Somehow got all we selected into one 35 litre pack (for me) and another 30 litre (for Sue). Most of the other intrepid trampers had 40 litre company packs, but the lot were loaded together onto the bus for the 3 hour drive from Queenstown to our jump off point. Most of the others were around our age, and about half were Japanese, the rest a mixture of Americans, Australians, Poms and Kiwis. Here's Haruka the young lady leading the Japanese trekkers with Otsuka. He was a bit of a character. She was a cutie. And no they are not large black / pink Kiwi tattoos on Harukas legs.



The bus took us from Queenstown heading south alongside the Remarkable Mountains to the town of Te Anau on the lake of same name. There 20 km north of town where the road cuts in to abut the lake, was a small jetty and our 70 foot aluminium catamaran ferry. It carried us (along with 30 'free walkers') to the head of the lake where the trail actually starts. It is impossible to get on or off the trail by road, it's either boat or helicopter. But they can obviously get sign makers in there ok.



The 'free walkers' do it tougher than us. They carry in all their kit and sleep over in basic bunk houses cooking own foods, whilst we 'guided walkers' enjoy the luxury of lodges with alchohol, served meals, and significantly - showers. Its why the skipper whp picked us all up afterwards calls us 'softies' and the other group 'smellies'.



Interested in all things nautical, naturally I found a way onto the bridge with the skipper. Nice sociable guy. Seems the boat was fabricated back in our home territory of Fremantle, Western Australia, so we easily lost ourselves chatting on about boat building for most of the 70 km trip. The shoreline views from up front were also pretty special.



After we slid off the plane to our trail head jetty, we helfted our packs the mile or up to our first nights stoppover at Glade House. The smellies had another hours walk to theirs.

Each of our luxy lodges has a staff or 4 or 5 who work six weeks on with then one week helicoptered out. The 4 guides for our trip also pitch in each evening acting as waiters, bar people, just generally helping look after the 50 guests that make up each group. A good business for someone, as one new group starts every day, and at $1,500 per person you can do the sums yourself.............



Each lodge has some shared rooms with outer facilities, as well as some ensuite doubles for which you pay extra. All rustically basic, but comfortable. Glade House was set on the grassy valley floor alongside the Clinton River. That river is as clear as Bombay Sapphire Gin - meaning you can easily see its full of trout and eels!



The bar at Glade House along with its contents helped us to get to know one another that first evening. Did not take long to work out who were the most social in our group. Lots of nervous laughter as we compared the few who had done adequate prep and the majority who hadn't. The guides of course were all young, fit, and equally up for a laugh. The three girls being Nicole, Colette and a favourite, Midori.

The food right throughout was great. You had a limited choice for evening meals, made your own sarnies for lunch, and always had cooked breakfast options. I guess the calories we were burning helped raise our appreciation levels, but it was all top 'restaurant quality' stuff.

The hand laundry washing facilities with blocks of sunlight soap and mangles to squeeze out moisture were a bit more basic. But all very effective, especially so the super heated 'drying rooms' designed to toast your washing in 40 minutes. Seriously, you could not leave boots inside as it was hot enough to melt the soles off. Here's new kiwi mate Hester scrubbing her clothes outside at Glade House.



Most of us carried thermals, two sets of T's, shirts, and pants. So washing one set each evening was a must.

The lodge bar costs were high, but then so is helicopter fuel. We ran a tab and paid at the end. Ours was $400! Bar opening was usually at 5 pm, dinner usually at 7, and it was heads down and lights out always at 10 when they switched off the generator.

If you needed the loo after, it was a torch jobbie. If you know what I mean.

We were all invariably woken with a start as our unswitched off lamps came back on when the generators kicked in at 6.30 am. The daily regime was to jump up wide eyed to make your own sandwiches with an early cuppa before 7 am, then a rush back to shower and dress and pack, ram down breakfast over a weather update, usually after hearing it back to the room to re-dress and repack, then heaving on backpacks we'd all stumble onto the track between 7.30 and 8am.

Despite the apparent push to get you out each morning, it proved a relaxed but challenging hike. Everyone just walked at their own pace and some were fast, some slow. We were about average - didn't see much point in rushing. Lots to see stop and ooh and aah at every day. And good opportunities to get your breath back.

With one of the four guides blazing the trail up front and setting up lunch spots early to brew tea, another always sweeping up the rear for stragglers, and two acting like informative social butterflies zipping up and down the line, keeping us all enthralled with info on local flora and fauna as it changed when we oved from rainforest to alpine and back.

It's surprising how quick the line of walkers thins out and tended to disappear either ahead or behind. Usually once we got going for the day we'd only bump into others if we stopped ourselves for a break.

The first real days march was the 10 mile hike from Glade House up to Pampolona Lodge. The trail took us over the first of many wobbly wire bridges - this being the first across the Cinton River.



You'd not believe how clear the Clinton River water is. Only place we've been to where its 100% ok to drink unfiltered. Biggest glacier fed Evian tap I've ever found, and that means you can top up water bottles rather than carry the 4 litres or so we drank every day. Most of it got sweated out pretty quick.



Guess Sue and I were covering the ground at about 1.5 miles per hour, what with stops and all. This valley floor was hot and humid, and the early morning chilly clothes layers were invariably peeled off and back to reveal T shirts and shorts before 9.

Took a peek inside one of the smellies huts we passed. Pretty basic, but they scrubbed it up well before they left this day We bumped into the same group of smellies about the same time most days. Nice bunch of guys and gals, most younger than we were.......and the girls said they were doing it tough, with Savignon Blanc withdrawal symptoms.......



The rainforest flora was pretty speccy, but afraid the photos can't capture how good.




It's all soft and gentle with mosses and grasses covering the trees, and existing in a symbiotic way. No nasty snake or spider biters of any kind in this bit of paradise, except of course the vicious little sandfly which with or without any repellant were a pest.

Local folk law says the early god who created this too beautiful a place close by Milford Sound with his digging stick, added the sandfly so as to stop people like us staying too long. It works, as they only go for you when you pause and not when you're walking.

Pampolona Lodge is perched high on the side of a densely wooded hillside. The previous lodge was set down the slope got washed away in a flood, so this was a LOT higher. It was on multiple levels at the top of the forest line, almost in alpine territory. It looked and felt like Arboria from Flash Gordon - I always wanted to sleep a night in a treehouse.  The local Alpine Keas - like big parakeets - first visited us here.



They are really cheeky intelligent birds.  Often one comes down to dance around in front of you whilst his / her mates creep up behind to try and undo your backpack and nibble your sarnies.

The story goes that when the Gods were handing out colours to all the birds in Gondawana time, these drab green Keas pushed in front and grabbed the bright orange feathers, tucking them under their wings before scuttling away.  As a lesson all the other birds banned the Keas from the regular forest floor, leaving them to frequent the Alpine regions.  They remain drab green all over, but somehow kept hold of those orange underpits.

We saw more Keas as we climbed on day two from Pampolona up the mountain steep face towards Mackinnon Pass.  When they swoop around, they dont seem small at all. Duck sized really. With talons.



It was a long second day of walking. Day three in the adventure. Away at 7 am and still only midday as we ascended towards the clouds swirling around the monument marking the pass. It was a long long series of zigs and zags. Maybe 3 hours just climbing up and up, at some stages stumbling across 300 metre wide avalanche risk areas in which halts are prohibited.

You can see how steep and how high the cliff climb was from this shot taken in a break in the clouds.



Seems the mainly beech trees spread wide shallow roots over the cliff faces, and interlink them with other trees. Sometimes a really big tree topples, and because of the interlinking, brings down a complete cliff face of trees.

I was so sweat soaked at the end of that cliff climb you could ring out my T shirt and see the moisture drip away. Despite the gusty cold wind It was worth stripping to a dry shirt before donning a wet jacket so as to keep down the wind chill. You can see why we needed the range of kit carried, for if it were raining this day, then we would have walked through snow. Some incredible temperature change in such a short time and distance.



A quick sarnie and tea at the ranger hut just over the top, and then back out into the clouds. I'd like to say the climb down was easier than the hike up, but it wasn't.  The first part out of the cloud was easy, but later we covered miles
along narrow cliff paths with slippery rocks - and long long drops down below. And you know what I think about heights.



We got to the end of what was actually only a 9 mile day by mid-arvo, but then we all added 3 more by trotting up from the lodge to the longest drop falls in NZ, the Sutherland Falls, the reason this track was originally opened.



Then a scamper back for bar opening in Quinton Lodge.  Getting boots off that day never felt so good...........

Our third days walking was the longest stretch at 13.5 miles but it was probably the most scenic section too.  We steadily dropped back down into the rain forest and meandered out alongside the Arthur River.  



Several other waterfalls add to the volume of water that builds up flooding down towards Milford Sound. Here's Sues expression at one when she waded in barefoot and got two ice frozen tootsies.



Ran into several pairs of Wekas. Like a woodhen, and daft as. They start squalling loudly and run in circles when they see you, but if you stand still, inside 20 seconds they assume you are a tree, and get back to doing whatever they were doing when you arrived.

Twice we had to shuffle them aside to get down the trail, once they'd accepted us as trees they simply could not see us. If the Keas got extra brains, the Gods must have stolen some from the Wekas.

We've been really lucky with our weather, the only rain being overnight day two.  It was good to swop the boots for the thongs at the end marker. Gave the sandflies something tasty to nibble.




The trek officially ends 200 yards on when you reach Sandfly Point where an ancient 50 foot ferry boat picks hikers up on the hour, carrying us all across to either cars or like us, to the Mitre Point Lodge on the side of Milford Sound.  



Here's Midori hanging over the side of the boat to disturb one of my shots.................




Location. Location. Location. The huge airy wooden lodge which seemed deserted with only us in it. It used to be a government owned station. But as you can see, the views from the rooms speak for themselves.



There's nothing at Milford Sound apart from the lodge, the scenery, some seals, some dolphins, some penguins, the occasional whale, and tourist boats. They run from a small harbour which docks six or seven biggish tour boats and at least one boutique mini liner anchored out in the sound.

We had a pretty good evening once it was all over down in the lodge. Late night as no generator to switch off, but up again early so we could all spend the morning out on one of those tour boats. Again, managed to get onto the bridge. I'll make a crewman yet.





We all agreed as we lazed in the big wood clad lodge lounges, that it seemed a lot longer than a 33.5 mile trek, but guess that's our age doing that thinking. We did it at the right pace and reality was we could have continued walking for another week had it been required.

The trek proved a great deviation from the camper van, gave us some great exercise and added to the bronzie (except around the sandfly bites) but with a bonus of making some new mates to link up with some future time.




For sure well be back next year to take up some invites from kiwi pals we've made, plus allow us to do some things we've no longer time to include in this trip.  

Like a 5 day sea kayak / camping expedition down Doubtful Sound, or the 4 day mountain bike route across the Otago Plains, or the Alpine Railway journey from Greymouth to Christchurch.........so much to do.  So little time.

On on.

John

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