MINI-ME | The author (see arrow) looks out over Lake Harris, near the highest point on New Zealand’s Routeburn Track, in a photo taken by her husband. PHOTO: DAVID S. LEE
“HIKING IS JUST walking,” a friend assured me before I flew almost halfway around the globe with my husband, David, to embark on a three-day trek along the 20-mile Routeburn Track on New Zealand’s South Island.
David had already hiked Macchu Pichu and Malaysia’s Mount Kinabalu, but my experience was limited to the short and easy day-hike variety. Though the Routeburn’s highest point is only around 4,200 feet, it has some challenging, steady ascents, and I worried about carrying my food, clothing, water and sleeping bag—a 25-pound load—even after a conditioning routine of biking and extended sessions at the gym. I would also have to sleep in rooms filled with strangers and forgo showers, which no amount of conditioning could prepare me for.
The endangered bush canary, or mohua PHOTO:DEPARTMENT OF CONSERVATION/JAMES REARDON
New Zealand takes hiking—or “tramping,” as the Kiwis call it—very seriously. The country has nine designated “Great Walks,” ranging from 20 to 48 miles, which pass through some of its most scenic areas and are managed by the Department of Conservation (DOC). The DOC also maintains more than 8,700 miles of trails and a network of more than 950 basic accommodations for trampers to spend the night.
David and I first considered hiking the Milford Track, which is the country’s best known (and, consequently, the most difficult to book) Great Walk. But as we were only attempting one hike in New Zealand, we opted for diversity over popularity. The Routeburn Track, which passes through both Fiordland and Mount Aspiring national parks in the country’s Southern Alps, offers a little bit of everything: glacier-carved valleys; beech forests; still, glacial lakes; rushing streams and waterfalls; and craggy slopes that get an occasional dusting of snow. A number of endemic bird species, including the endangered bush canary and the kea, an alpine parrot said to eat an occasional sheep, are also found in the area. An added bonus for hiking newbies like me: The trail is about 13 miles shorter than the Milford Track, and about 17 miles shorter than the Kepler Track, another local option.
We started the hike at the Routeburn Shelter end of the trail, after a two-hour shuttle ride from our base in the South Island resort town of Queenstown. The first several miles on the trail felt like a walk in the park. We traveled on a well-maintained gravel path under the shade of ribbonwood, pepper and red beech trees, rising high above a carpet of lush ferns and soft mosses. Birdsong filled the canopy as we passed turquoise streams that swirled around massive gray boulders. Before long, the path opened up to a broad and grassy valley framed by snowy mountains and bathed in sunlight.
“This isn’t bad,” I said to David with growing confidence, as we paused to take in the scenery and gobble up a handful of trail mix. But after buckling my pack back on, I noticed an abrupt change in the trail ahead: It angled up sharply before disappearing into a tangle of trees. I had carefully studied the trail’s elevation profile back at home, but I was clearly not prepared to see that abstraction—a line on a piece of paper—translated into reality.
I began to notice that my pack’s straps were rubbing uncomfortably on my hips and shoulders. The load felt heavier the higher we climbed, and I mentally scanned its inventory for unnecessary ounces to shed. Though we were walking in the shade, the temperature no higher than the 60s, sweat soaked my shirt.
After a group of trampers in their 20s passed us and shadows started to lengthen, I became concerned we would run out of daylight before reaching the hut where we planned to spend the night. But I felt much more comfortable—and less worried—after David tightened some of my backpack straps so that it was snug against my back. My center of gravity restored, I pushed forward with a surprising new vigor until the welcome site of roof lines emerged through the trees. We had reached our stop for the night, the Routeburn Falls Hut, before dark.
Each year, hikers spend days at a time on New Zealand's "Great Walks." The treks offer gorgeous vistas of snow-capped peaks, crater lakes, and babbling brooks with water so clean, you can drink it.
That evening, as the temperature dropped into the 30s, about two dozen other hikers gathered in the dining hall to use the kitchen, play card games and enjoy the warmth of a wood-burning stove. While David heated up some water to make our measly meal of dehydrated lamb couscous edible, I looked longingly at the provisions more experienced (or at least better-prepared) hikers had brought: steaming cups of tea, fresh pasta and tasty-looking cheese with crusty bread.
By about 9 o’clock, weary hikers were climbing into their bunks and tucking themselves into their sleeping bags. Too tired even to care about sharing the room with a bunch of strangers, I zipped up my puffer jacket, popped in my ear plugs, curled up into a fetal position to stay warm and promptly fell asleep.
In the morning, we continued onward and upward, following the trail as trees gave way to shorter vegetation, like snow tussock and speargrass that pricked my calves through my pants. When I’d worked up a thirst, I dipped my travel cup into a clear, sparkling stream and gulped down the freshest water I have ever tasted.
TRAIL MIX | A weather shelter along the routePHOTO: ALAMY
By early afternoon, we’d made our way to the highest and most dramatic part of the Routeburn Track, near an alpine pass called Harris Saddle. There, standing on the crest of a ridge, I felt as if I had stepped into one of the Albert Bierstadt Rocky Mountain landscapes I’ve seen hanging at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. I’ve always found his hyper-romantic depictions of snow-capped peaks, crystalline lakes and luminous, cloud-filled skies a caricature of nature. But, looking down onto Lake Harris and up at the mountains, Mr. Bierstadt’s paintings suddenly seemed more true to me.
Though space restrictions at the DOC huts help keep the number of hikers in check, and we only occasionally saw others on the trail, we were joined by an Australian hiker at the top. “Will you take my photo?” he asked. “Otherwise no one’s going to believe this.”
I felt small under the endless sky. Mountains stretched to the horizon, with the shifting light dappling their slopes in gold, brown and green. And though we hiked on for miles more that day, I completely forgot about the weight of my pack.
THE LOWDOWN // HIKING NEW ZEALAND’S ROUTEBURN TRACK
The Hike: The Routeburn Track can be hiked in either direction and takes between two and four days to complete—depending on your pace and how many detours you take. Weather is best from November to late April.
Where to Stay: Reserve a spot with New Zealand’s Department of Conservation well in advance ($40 per adult per night in a hut and $13 per adult per night at a campsite, from late October to late April, booking.doc.govt.nz). For a more luxurious experience, Ultimate Hikes offers guided walks with private lodges and meals (from $1,100 per person for private accommodations, ultimatehikes.co.nz).
Getting There: Most international flights arrive in Queenstown via Auckland. Shuttle services including Info & Track(infotrack.co.nz) and Tracknet (www.tracknet.net) offer transport from Queenstown to and from either end of the trail. Trackhopper will drive your car from one end of the trail to the other, allowing you the flexibility to start whenever you like and finish at your own pace (about $190, trackhopper.co.nz).
What to Bring: A comfortable backpack, ear plugs, headlamp, layers of wool or synthetic clothing, hiking boots, cooking gear and food, a fire source, a portable battery and a three-season sleeping bag.
