Down Under- part XI

             Tuesday, April 8, 2014- Fjords National Park, Southwest coast of New Zealand

       During the evening hours, the great ship motored through the Fouveaux Strait and rounded the southern tip of New Zealand. On the sw coast, she entered the Fjords National Park. We were headed some 70 miles north up the coast to the Milford Sound, the largest and deepest of the fjords. This evening we would then set a course NNW, through the Tasman Sea, towards SE Australia.

       We had breakfast delivered to the room this morning, as we watches the massive shore side cliffs slide by our balcony. Towering limestone and granite, gorse and lichen-covered cliffs fronted the coast in this area. Small ribbon falls and the occasional ravine were sluiceways for the melting snows of spring and the continuing erosion of the glaciers atop the mountains. The entire area had seen five glaciations periods in the last fifteen thousand years. Huge glaciers covered the area then receded with warming periods over and over again. The mountains were wearing down.

       The ancient Maoris had called the land here “Atofina” or the shadow lands, due to the constantly changing patterns of shadows as the sun rose and set. They fished for seafood and mined for jade in the small inlets. The estimable globe-traversing sailor James Cook, with his two vessels Ranger and Resolution, had met Maoris here in 1760, recording his encounters for posterity.

        We have come across the landing places of this notable mariner in Anchorage, Alaska, Kauai, Hawaii, Bora Bora and Tahiti, in the Society Islands, and now in New Zealand. In a few days we would see evidence of his travels in Sydney, Australia. One wonders at the temerity of these early, hearty sailors traversing the wide Pacific in small wooden boats, surviving on what they could catch from the sea or barter for on the islands that they landed upon. I don’t think they make men like Cook any more.

       The Park area along the SW coast had been established in 1903. A single park ranger, Richard Henry, was assigned to manage the nation’s interests. There are two hundred days of rain that fall here every year. It comes down so heavily that they measure it in meters. (Nine meters per year on average)

        We watched the huge coastline, mesmerized by the shadows that reflected off its ominous walls. Then, we settled in to read our books as the ship motored northward. We sailed past “Doubtful Sound” where Spanish ships had anchored in 1793, looking for new lands. And then we sailed past Thompson Sound. The seas were speckled with lobster pots and fishing buoys. Seafood here is bountiful.

        It was late afternoon when the Princess veered into the narrow opening of Milford Sound, the deepest fjord on the coast. The water in the Fjord is 1300 feet deep and a dark jade green in color. The top three feet of the water here is fresh, so pods of dolphins, whales and other species often cavort in the Fjord. Gold had been discovered here in the 1880’s, so a brief rush of prospectors had traversed and carved out a road across the Southern Alps to the end of Milford Sound. Floatplanes and helicopters were flying overhead. Several small tour boats, full of vacationers, were also touring the fjord. It was evidence of a landing and small harbor ahead, with a road connection to civilization.

        The top decks of the Dawn Princess were peopled, rail to rail, with camera-clicking admirers. It was sunny, clear and in the 60’s (F) out. Everyone oohed and ahhed at the erose, glistening and tree-covered fjord walls. Cascades of water spilled from eroded ravines and sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Snow was still visible on the far mountaintops above and beyond us. It must have been a majestic sight for those who had first sailed here. The awesome sound of silence would have been pleasing to the ears. We took our pics and admired the late afternoon sun setting. It was changing the shapes of the high walls all around us. At the end of the fjord, we could see a small harbor with jetties and commercial activity. The huge ship slowly swung around, like a rope on a pivot, and headed back out towards the Tasman Sea.

       We cleaned up for dinner and made our way to the Venetian Doing Room for the 7:45 P.M. seating. George’s wife, Jeanette, had been released from her medical captivity. She joined us for dinner, still queasy from her illness. Lox, a Caesar salad, salmon filets with vegetables, and a chocolate torte with ice cream were all washed down with coffee and cabernet. Who wants to stop eating like this until they put you in the grounds weighing 800 pounds?