From the End of Part One:
Needless to say, when we arrived at the lodge that second day after our 10-miler, we were drenched from head to foot. None of our waterproof gear, that is, our raincoat, rain pants, and boots worked in such heavy rain over several hours. But the great part about the lodges was that they had special heated rooms where you could dry things: one room for hanging your clothing, and another room for your gear. We learned however, that although things became moderately dry, it wouldn’t matter because the next day the wetness of your entire body would be replenished.
After an incredible hot shower, it was wonderful to join the other travelers (who hailed from various parts of the planet, but mostly from Australia, NZ, and the US) in the large gathering room to discuss the day’s adventure over a lovely glass of New Zealand pinot or beer (or two, or three). We also discussed the next day’s nine-mile adventure that switched-back up and then down a total of 2600 feet in elevation gain/loss—predicted to be in the pouring rain.
Part Two Begins:
Also that evening, one of the guides discussed some of the interesting history of the Milford Track, before and after Europeans came. She said that the next day’s hike, by all accounts the hardest day of all, was forecast to be primarily in the rain, and that we were all to leave between 7 and 7:15am. The trail condition was supposed to be fairly rocky and would potentially be slippery. Just three days earlier, they had opened up an area of that part of track, which had been washed out by an avalanche.
Also, for our safety, if there was too much rain and the river started flooding the track, we would be helicoptered to the next lodge if necessary. That kind of sobered us up.
As mentioned previously, all four of our guides were energetic twenty-somethings. They were mostly college-age kids who basically put college on hold so as to enjoy the great outdoors, and to get paid in the process. They also had to serve our dinners, and put up with some ornery customers, and make sure all of us made it to the next lodge in one piece. They all tried to make themselves available to everyone (all 49 of us) at one or more points along the way. They would chat a little, get a message on their walkie-talkie, and then run ahead to either take the lead, or fall back to be at the end. They had a lot of responsibility, and we appreciated them greatly.
The entire operation, I should say, was quite amazing. Ultimate Hikes, the company that runs this aspect of the track, with its three lodges and multiple guides, is experienced in the tourism field. They own other concessions to multi-day hikes, as well as hotels and transportation services in other parts of the country.
I asked the guides about the carbon footprint that was involved with the operation, how they dealt with sewerage, the logistics of getting all that food in, and how they did the laundry daily.
Apparently, once a week, helicopters bring in a week's worth of food and laundry to each of the lodges. And then as they fly back, they take out all the raw sewerage, garbage, and laundry. The wastewater from showers, etc. goes back into the river, but first passes through a filtration system. The electricity that was produced came from fossil fuel generators at each site. They would turn on the generators at about 6am, and turn them off by 10pm. Solar energy probably is futile because of so much daily cloud cover. They didn’t know the answer to my carbon footprint question, but I gathered it wasn’t insignificant.
The next day’s hike (Day 3) indeed started early. It was raining as we left, but as the guides would tell us, that was a good thing because it increased the number of waterfalls and cascades we would see along the route, and it would decrease the encounter of the dreaded sandflies and their bites.