Australia and New Zealand

Three days across one of New Zealand’s Great Walks—and somehow every mile felt different.

We began in rain and mist, climbing out of dense rainforest in Fiordland National Park, where tree trunks were thick with green and rust-colored moss, dripping softly in the constant damp. Birdsong filled the forest, waterfalls surged from the rain, and bright pack covers—orange and red—moved slowly across the trail like small flags of determination.

The climb toward Harris Saddle was steep and rocky, but the stone itself was beautiful—greens, golds, and purples underfoot. Clouds would part just long enough to reveal jagged, snow-capped peaks before closing again. At the saddle, the guides surprised us with hot tea and cocoa (Milo, of course), a small kindness that felt enormous in the cold wind.

Above the tree line, the landscape opened into alpine drama: misty lakes, hillsides dotted with giant alpine daisies, and roaring waterfalls swollen with rain. We crossed swinging suspension bridges over deep river gorges and walked boardwalks through fragile wetlands. Tall grasses bent in the wind, and spaniard plants—spiky and sculptural—stood crowned with yellow flower stalks that bloom only every 10–30 years. Seeing them in bloom felt like being let in on a secret.

Somewhere along the way, we crossed an invisible line—leaving Fiordland and entering Mount Aspiring National Park. The forest slowly changed. Moss thinned. Beech trees grew taller. Light began to filter through the canopy instead of dripping down from it.

The final day brought sun. A New Zealand robin nearly landed on my head, as if to send us off properly. We walked through golden light and wide valleys, stopping for lunch beside the clear blue-green water of the Routeburn River, watching kids and adults jump into the icy swimming holes and float briefly downstream, laughing.

At night, the contrast was just as memorable: warm lodges, drying rooms packed with steaming clothes, fires crackling in the lounge, puzzles on the tables, cheese and crackers, wine, and long conversations with Australians, Kiwis, and fellow travelers who looked refreshingly normal—not elite athletes, just people willing to put in the effort for something beautiful.

The Routeburn gave us rain and sun, mist and clarity, exhaustion and deep rest. It reminded me how good it feels to move slowly through wild places, to watch where you place your feet, and to end a hard day warm, fed, and grateful.Læs mere