This was the day to hit Milford Sound. No, this is the day for effing Milford effing Sound. It was one of the first landmarks I fell in love with, thinking, “Oh, the places I’ll go!” throughout New Zealand. What attracted me to Milford Sound? Was it the distance? Was it the grandeur of the mountains? Was it its allure as one of the end-of-the-earth places? Was it the crown jewel of Fiordland National Park?
It was all of them. This was the place to stretch for. As one of the rainiest places in the world, I didn’t know what to expect. There is tension. There is mystery. There is curiosity. There is uncertainty about what the next 240 kilometers means in the journey. As I looked out the window, I saw sun. That glorious ball was starting to peek out over the horizon, dramatically lighting the landscape with long shadows and warm light around me. Whatever comes, this is going to be an effing epic day. This segment is what I am here to do: Milford effing Sound – the eighth wonder of the world.
The guide made it clear in no uncertain terms that I needed to be on the road at 7:45 AM to make the boat at 10:45 AM. If I’m on the road this early, I want to soak in everything around me, take pictures, and experience small moments. As I let out the clutch with Lake Te Anau to my left, I was on the road and ready for whatever New Zealand would bring me.
It was the first time of the trip that I needed to wear my Gerbing heated vest. The bike was reporting 55°F —not cold enough to need electricity, but definitely more than a long-sleeved T-shirt. Every time I put that jacket on, I’m surprised by how warm it is even without power. I was more than comfortable with the jacket by itself—even getting a touch warm by the time I touched down into Milford Sound.
The first 45 minutes of the ride were simply continuing the wide open spaces of yesterday. Only the western edge of Southland encompasses the dramatic landscape all of us want to see from The Lord of the Rings. I wound through open country, ranchland, and wide open spaces. I still wanted to stop and soak in the moments with my camera.
About 45 minutes into the ride, I came upon Mirror Lakes. It’s a well-documented stop on the journey between Te Anau and Milford Sound. I realize I only have so much bandwidth to stop for photos, but the light is great, and I want to take in the moments. The softness of morning light makes photographs all the more special, rewarding photographers for getting up early. The water on Mirror Lakes is still, creating a glassy surface creating an image of the mountain’s grandeur. Neither single photos nor panoramas really capture the beauty of this place. Separating myself from the onslaught of tourists, cars, and buses, Mirror Lakes is an excellent preamble for what is yet to come.
Realizing that time is slipping away, I slide my camera into the top case on the motorcycle and continue heading west. Highway 94 is a lot like California Highway 88 in its honesty. It’s well paved, with good sightlines and wide open sweepers, making for good frolics throughout the morning. I was making great time and wondered why it took a full two hours to ride 110 km?
As I approached Homer Tunnel, I now understood why. Right in the middle of this fantastic piece of asphalt is a giant, single-lane tunnel metered by a long red light. I just missed the signal, so it was 15 minutes before the light switched in my favor. The NZ Transport Agency here is quite good – the tunnel had a monitor indicating the amount of wait before we would get a green light. So, I could put the bike in first gear, stop the motor on a hilly road, and soak in what was around: beautiful mountains, fresh air, great pavement – all just 10,000 km away from home.
Once I cleared the tunnel, the character of the road changed. With all of the traffic I found at Mirror Lakes, it was a slow, winding descent. Lane splitting is very much frowned upon here, so it wasn’t worth trying to irritate the locals to save a few minutes here and there. I was doing okay on time, so it was a bit of an exercise in patience to get to the end.
Upon arriving in Milford Sound, it looked every bit as cool as it did online from home. The fjord is severe, unapologetic, raw, and humbling. It reminded me of my time in Norway. It was a juxtaposition of everything that I thought was alpine right at sea level. The parking lot was a 15-minute walk from the ferry terminal. I’m sure I looked comical, hauling all my gear, helmet, and carry-ons onto the boat. Motorcycle travel is not always convenient – and this is one of these moments. The hassle was all for a good cause. It was my first (and only paid) tourist excursion on the trip. It was well worth the time off the bike.
Once on the boat with 100 of my best friends, I could take a step back and appreciate how far I had come and the experience that was all around me. Riding a motorcycle is different in many ways. I’m focused on the road, the hazards, the destination—it’s all a very active process. Here, on the boat, I can just be. That difference was significant to me.
I wanted to soak in everything that Milford Sound had to offer. The slopes of the mountain were severe and unrelenting. Every piece of vegetation around clung for its life. Rock slides into the sound below were common, indicating the geologic activity of the area. I was lucky that this was a calm day. The sun doesn’t often shine here. Milford Sound is the wettest inhabited place in New Zealand and one of the wettest places on earth, with an average of 182 rainy days per year. I am lucky to have a sunny and dry day, but the grandeur of Milford Sound comes out in the rain.
I don’t often link to other people’s content, but if you have read this far, I encourage you to watch this video full screen to see Milford Sound in the rain and why I focus so much on Milford Sound. It is that good. It’s a top experience for me across many continents.
If you are enjoying the trip – I’d really encourage you to give the video a watch. Milford Sound is amazing.
I’m glad the rain held off one more day than forecasted. Seeing the pictures and video of Milford Sound in the rain, it looks truly outstanding. However, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it nearly as much as I did in the sun. I was able to be present today without worrying about distance, rain, tire traction, the camera getting wet, and all the different things that show up in wet-weather riding.
So thank you, universe, for the experience today. It is noted and appreciated.
With this amazing experience behind me, it’s now time to head back north. I remember keeping an eye on Mossburn the self-proclaimed “venison capital of New Zealand.” I love venison in the States and wanted to take full opportunity to consume the national meat by people who truly know how to cook it. Alas, I was foiled. At 2 PM there wasn’t anyone walking around and I couldn’t find a restaurant that might have a tasty deer burger!
I remember on the way in seeing a valley that begged me to stop. The dead, yellow grass reminded me of California’s Eastern Central Valley in the late summer. It was begging for water to come back to life. I’m guessing the mountains ahead of me prevented a lot of the rain that came through Milford Sound to get this far east. I’m viewing one of the most beautiful places in the world only through one pane of glass – the late summer. I can only imagine how varied the landscape looks with snow-covered mountains in the winter and early spring.
I ran into another traveler in this valley who was willing to take a photograph. I don’t know if it’s technology or modern but seemingly archaic technology, or maybe it’s just not a phone – but I always giggle as people try to figure out how to use a modern SLR camera. Out of the few photos, I’m lucky if I get one.
I rolled back into Te Anau at 3 p.m. I got patrol to get me the rest of the journey and was hoping to find a bathroom. I asked the gas station attendant if I could use the bathroom. He gave me a quizzical look and said it was outside, down the street. I’m sure I shot him an equally quizzical look, but she shrugged my shoulders and started walking down the street.
Sure enough, a large bathroom serves the needs of residents and tourists visiting Lake Te Anau. There is even changing rooms and showers. This restroom is not like the sketchy side of the road rest stops you sometimes find in the United States. It’s clean, modern, and staffed with somebody full-time. Dare I say it’s government that truly works? One of the things I enjoy about Commonwealth countries is that they generally have higher quantities of more effective government than we do in the United States, where it often seems a race to the bottom. The infrastructure is quite good here. Other than New Zealand’s lack of shoulders, there are places to pull out on the side of the road to photograph the beautiful country. But hey, you can have everything!
As the clock ticks towards 4 o’clock, I can celebrate my accomplishment of 240 km. However, I still have 180 km to go—and that includes that squiggly technical section I had at the end of yesterday. I didn’t want to get caught in the same predicament of the wall technical section at the end of a long technical day. Always ride hard when you’re fresh.
I remember seeing advertisements for Devil’s Staircase in this area. I even took this section slowly to make sure I found it, and it turned up empty-handed. It turns out the staircase is only accessible traveling north. It took the opportunity to stop, stretch, and photograph. While not necessarily universally loved by Yelp reviewers, it’s a good start for a motorcycle, seeing beautiful mountains, lakes, and squiggles into Queenstown.
The clock reminds me to keep going, as my arrival time in Queenstown is quickly starting to expire. I need to be in the restaurant by 7:30 if I want to get fed. 410 km later, I’m pulling into town to check into the hotel. Let’s say I was not pleased walking out of registration. I’d had a long day, paid pretty good fees to be on this tour, and the registration desk was not at all willing to accommodate the bike on a MOTORCYCLE tour! The best I’d got was “street parking.” In 300,000 kilometers of riding, I’d never been denied help, guidance, tips on how to keep the bike in a good spot. Why does this bug me so much?
- The bike tour should have handled those logistics. Parking is part of the experience.
- Motorcycles have lots of gear and little bags to move in and out to get settled.
- It was going to rain my day of departure and I don’t want my stuff to start out wet.
- The hotel was at the top of the hill. As big, heavy, and tall as this bike is, I did have some concern if I was going to be able to lift it when it was parked down slope.
Not much anyone could or was willing to do (not even parking under an awning near the hotel). I found parking 2 or so blocks away. Meh, we’ll call it grit. The long day was getting to me more than I’d anticipated.
For now, I will take a fantastic local, low-carb beer in hand and celebrate a great day, a great ride, and adding Milford effing Sound to my memory book! Tomorrow I’m off the bike!
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