Eau so Fresh.

We have had 2 days of rain.

I can almost hear people's eyes rolling all the way up in Vancouver.

If you knew what rain is like here, you would know that two days of rainfall here is like 2 weeks of rainfall back home.

New Zealand doesn't mess around with its precipitation. When it rains, it pours.

But now, as I sit and type this, there's lots of blue sky and that gorgeous golden light that seems especially golden in those late summer evenings. We're heading into Indian Summer with the coming month (as March is the Southern Hemisphere's September).

But back to rain. A place famous for its rainfall is Milford Sound. Scotty and I didn't see a drop of it while we were there, but it boasts an annual rainfall of 20 feet (Vancouver doesn't even get 4 feet annually). Scotty and I were reading some of the random facts about the rainfall in Milford and how the residents don't say it's raining unless the rain is averaging close to an inch an hour (no joke, the fiordlands are known to get up to 10 inches of rain in a 24 hour period, and they consider it a drought if it doesn't rain for four days as many of the waterfalls begin to dry up). The ocean ecosystem in the fiord is very unique due to this heavy rainfall- it actually has a layer of freshwater (up to 20 feet) laying on top of the salt water.

A SUMMER EVENING IN MILFORD SOUND

NOTICE HOW THE GRANDEUR OF THE MOUNTAIN DWARFS THE SIZEABLE BOAT BELOW

WE LOOKED INTO GOING OUT ON KYAKS, BUT A FEW HOUR RENTAL WOULD HAVE SET US BACK A FEW HUNDRED DOLLARS... I'M OK WITH LOOKING.

We didn't have any flash flood rains, but we did have our very first sand fly experience.

Holy hell.

I have never been one to willingly crush an insect (just today I had a heart-sink moment when I thought I had vacuumed up a live moth followed by jubilation when I found him to be uninjured on the floor... serious ear-to-ear grin as I put him outside), but I found that even my bleeding heart can run dry.

Mosquitos have nothing on the sandfly. Sandfly's are tiny, fast and they swarm. They will find that one inch of skin you failed to put repellant on and feast on it. Each individual fly can and will bite you over and over and over again. Their bites instantly itch- you feel a tiny pinch as they bite into your skin, and then you are riddled with that bite for 2 weeks. They don't stick to dawn/dusk hours or shady spots. They are present everywhere.all.day.long.

And they bite through clothes.

TWO LAYERS OF CLOTHES IN THE HEAT- TRYING TO AVOID THE SANDFLY BITES. YOU EAT YOUR MEAL ON FOOT SO YOU CAN RUN BETWEEN BITES. SCOTTY WAS ANGRY WITH ME FOR TAKING THIS PICTURE BECAUSE HE SAID HE WILL NEVER WANT TO REMEMBER THIS MOMENT (THE ONLY PANTS AND LONG SLEEVES HE PACKED WERE BLACK... IT WAS IN THE HIGH 20'S). 

The presence of sandflies made Scotty and I turn on each other on more than one occasion.

Survival of the fittest.

MOST OF THE CAMPGROUNDS IN NZ HAVE KITCHENS WITH MULTIPLE HOT PLATES AND ALL THE DISHES  YOU NEED. WE LIKED THE COMMUNITY FEEL OF THE SHARED KITCHEN, DINING HALL AND LIVING ROOM SPACES. THAT AND THE FACT THAT THE SCREEN DOORS KEPT THE SAND FLYS AWAY.

YOU'RE WELCOME NEW ZEALAND... IN THE EARLY 1900'S DEER, ELK AND MOOSE WERE IMPORTED FROM CANADA (THEY ARE NOT NATIVE TO NZ) TO THE FIORDLANDS. 

GUNNS CAMP (WHERE WE STAYED) HAD A LITTLE MUSEUM ATTACHED. IT WAS WHERE THE WORKERS STAYED WHILE THEY WERE DIGGING HOMER TUNNEL WHICH STARTED IN 1935 USING PICK AXES AND WHEELBARROWS. 

We spent an entire day tramping. First we did Key Summit and then we drove 15 minutes down the road to the next trailhead leading up to Lake Marian which is nestled in between two mountain peaks.

Key Summit delivered 360 views of towering mountains. Sigh. We spotted Lake Marian across the canyon. Maybe it's just my imagination, but the sky looks so much bluer here (maybe it's the lack of ozone and the fact that we're in the middle of the ocean far from the big cities of the world?).

HOW PRETTY IS THAT?

DUE TO TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR, THE GROUND CAN QUICKLY TURN INTO A LAKE, SO THERE WERE BOARD-WALKS EVERYWHERE IT WAS FLAT.

I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, LAKE MARIAN

WE'LL SEE YOU SOON

We wandered around on a self-guided tour (there were little laminated cards that you could borrow when you reached the summit- they told you what you were seeing, what vegetation you walked by and the history of the land). On the way back down, Scotty and I decided to run the better portion of it. So many stink eyes from other trampers- the serious types who walk with giant packs, hiking boots and walking ski-poles- they don't like people like Scotty and I who wear our gym clothes and drink coke zeros on the same hike as them, it's as if we're making a mockery of it. We're funny- us humans love to make everything serious and centered around the "gear" (just look at yoga- do the Indian yogis really use/wear all that stuff?).

SILVER BIRCH FOREST

THE MOST ROMANTIC OUTHOUSE EXPERIENCE EVER

MOUNTAIN WIND.

The tramp up to Lake Marian was a bit of a trollop. There was no running. No coke zero. Lot's of climbing over large rocks. There was one section that lead through a giant rock slide. It was marked by a sign that said something like, "Very Unstable Rocks, No stopping for 200m"- very comforting. We came out of the tree-line into this huge "river" of ugly, jagged grey rocks. It made me think of the boneyard in The Land Before Time. On our way to the lake, I scuttled across it as fast as I could go. On the way back I had lost most of my will to survive (6 hours of hiking later) and dragged my aching knees across it and muttered angrily over how I signed up to hike in a forest not a rock quarry. Clearly, I had reached my tramp quota.

THE START OF LAKE MARIAN TRAMP

THE FORESTS ARE THICK

But the lake was beautiful. We stayed until the sun disappeared over the edge of the mountain before heading back. So much raw beauty, such beautiful colours, this is New Zealand.

SIGH. 

SO IDEAL

We got back to the campsite and devoured our Chickpea Masala. With our lungs full of fresh mountain air, we passed out in our tent by 9:30. Being outdoorsy is exhausting.

A SUMMER NIGHT, TUCKED INTO THE MOUNTAINS, AT GUNNS CAMP