Day Five: Wrapping Up a Great Time

Okay, if Minnesota had mountains, this is what it would look like today. We've had three days of nonstop snow to take us up to a guaranteed white Christmas. I hope all of you who were on the Track with me, have a lovely holiday this year and start planning your next treks for the New Year over the appropriate glasses full of merriment.

I wanted to start this last posting with this photo because it makes you want to look at the detail of each of those jagged peaks and at the lines of the ridges with great care so you get it all. What a photo! Two members of the Milford 6 (I believe they were Number #2 and Number #4) took a helicopter back to Queenstown after our Sound cruise and made sure to take photos while hanging out at great heights. They were both giggling wildly before departing, so I'm sure there was a devilish plan to swing out under the chopper on a bungie or something - all the while taking photos (New Zealand is the land of extreme adventures, after all).

Of course it's far too soon to imagine that our journey has come to its end. Some trekkers have a relieved look, some (after our evening at the pub) are looking FOR relief, while still others have an afterglow (for whatever reason, but what goes on in New Zealand, stays in New Zealand) and I myself would be counted in the afterglow demographic.

We boarded the boat for our Milford Sound cruise after breakfast and our final purchases of Track souveniers at Mitre Peak Lodge. The Sound is rainy with a gray mist that creates lines of depth on the landscape. As we cruise by waterfalls, bays and a rock full of seals, we are alternately chased inside by cold winds and rain or brought back outside on deck by a view that cannot stand to have a window in the way.

The people-watching is fantastic, since we are no longer looking at all the same faces we've seen for the last five days. (And I'm not saying I minded any of those faces in the least, I'm only noting the addition of other faces). I truly enjoy people. I think people are fascinating - whatever their country of origin. I enjoy watching the little groups or families gather at the railing of our boat for their photos to be remembered a long way from here. The waterfalls were volumnous and thundering down the sides of the fjords as a backdrop to these photos.

We near the Tasman Sea and our boat begins to pitch with the larger strength of big water. I love the excitement of being tossed around by the ocean, but it is proving a bit more than most of the passengers would prefer and we turn around for the return to the ferry dock and our stop at the airport for those flying today.

All too quickly we have waved good bye to those flying and are on the narrow, breathtaking mountain roads, speeding past the many miles of sheep and deer farms, the broom and red cossack dotting the land, enjoying spoken commentary from the driver and a promised delivery of an original rap by our "most improved" trip member. (I'm not so sure it was as spontaneous as our Do-Re-Mi rap on the trail, but it had a more exciting story line...)

We drop off two of our guides in Te Anau to join up with their next group for whom - in front of their bus - we act up our various injuries, aches and pains for a show. We say good byes to our guide friends, without groping (as requested) and all too quickly, we are in Queenstown, picking up our packs from the cargo hold of the bus and heading off in many different directions, no longer Group #12 in present tense.

Thanks for the fun, everyone. I'm not saying good bye, I'm looking for you on the next trail...