We and the rest of our family were in Southland for our eldest son Jason’s wedding to Rosa, a good Winton girl.
Jason entered this column a long time ago as a small four-year-old boy.
He was born in Waipukurau and follows the previous four generations of London-born fellows to marry New Zealand South Island women. We know where to find the best women in the world and assist in keeping the gene pool well mixed at the same time.
The wedding, of course, was a great success with two families and their friends mixing and getting to know each other through the union of this young couple.
Following the big event Jane and I took the opportunity to have several days break from the farm.
Neither of us had been to Fiordland, which, in retrospect, seems a terrible oversight but it’s not on the way to anywhere so is a genuine destination and, as we were to discover, is fiendishly expensive, which is another disincentive.
However, I’m not telling the many of you who have been to these parts anything you don’t already know.
Other than the incredibly impressive scenery, the other impressive facet of this visit is the well-oiled machine that is the Fiordland tourism organisation.
There are large and, I imagine, very profitable tourism companies I was completely unaware of doing a roaring trade being very slick at giving the customers a good and well-managed experience then returning them only to do it time and time again.
We made our way to Te Anau where our company collected us in a bus and took us to Manapouri then on a flash ferry to the terminal next to the Manapouri power station. This was a big news story when I was growing up with the building of it and the resulting campaign to prevent the lake being raised, which was eventually successful and the natural lake level was preserved but with a still decent hydro-generating scheme completed.
Then another bus took us over the only piece of isolated road that traverses the Wilmott Pass. This was also one of the most expensive roads to build in the country.
We couldn’t see much landscape because of the rain but we were soon to realise this was a bonus as the sheer mountain sides of Doubtful Sound cascaded with myriad waterfalls and the rivers were roaring.
Our boat took us all the way down this fiord to the opening into the Tasman Sea but, just as James Cook, who had described a possible crossing from the other side as Doubtful, our captain took the prudent step of giving us a good look out into the ocean before turning around and heading to our anchorage in Precipice Cove for the night.
About a third of the 70 on board went for a kayak, which was a wonderful experience, then Jane and I joined half a dozen younger ones for a plunge off the side into the 10C water and a fast swim back to the ladder.
A great meal accompanied by very expensive drinks followed. It was a good chance to learn a bit about the lives of some of our shipmates.
We were the only Kiwis among the passengers so treated as a novelty in our own land.
We made the return trip with greatly improved views as the sun was now out and the following day walked a few hours on the Kepler Track before the unbelievably scenic drive on the Te Anau to Milford road.
We stopped at the entrance to the 1200-metre Homer tunnel and found the plaque that marks the life and death of Jane’s father’s cousin who was killed by an avalanche in 1936 during the early construction period. His death was followed two years later by those of two other men, also by avalanche.
Milford Sound was equally as impressive as Doubtful and we did the full tourist cruise again.
Last year nearly a million tourists visited, having doubled from just a few years earlier.
The sheer scale and grandeur of the vertical mountains carved by ancient glaciers is truly awe-inspiring.
We are now leaving this magical world and heading back to our usual life greatly enhanced by the experience.
