Snow-capped Mitre Peak soars into sky at the entrance to Milford Sound.

Stunning Fiordland Park
Testifies to New Zealand’s Tumultuous Geology

Most Europeans and Americans tend to mention Australia and New Zealand in the same breath, almost as though the pair of antipodal lands are inseparable.

But nature begs to differ. There’s not only the 1,300 distance between the U.S.-sized Australian continent and its California-sized island neighbor to the southeast, there is the matter of geology.

For Australia, after the breakup of the great southern super-continent, Gondwanaland, some 60 million years ago, existence has been a rather placid ride north on a tectonic plate that settled down into geologic humdrummery ages ago. Earthquakes are virtually non-existent on earth’s oldest, flattest, second-driest (Antarctica’s numero uno) continent. The last volcanic flare-up was 5 million years ago.

Cataclysms in Australia tend to be weather-related (cyclones, catastrophic fires that consume hundreds of square miles at a time) and animal-generated (plagues of rabbits that have destroyed thousands of square miles of precious topsoil, and feral house cats that have pushed numerous native species to and beyond the brink of extinction. Not to mention the continent’s claim to having the world’s most poisonous snakes, fish and spiders). The lack of tectonic activity has denied Australia the soaring mountain ranges and plunging fiords you’d find in a geologically young place like British Columbia.

Not so New Zealand. While Australia rides snugly and serenely in the middle of its tectonic plate, its two-island satellite rides right on the eastern edge of it, constantly scraping and jousting with the Pacific Plate. These skirmishes have produced an abundance of volcanic eruptions and geological uplifting. The result is a mountainous, deeply indented landscape whose abundant geysers, earthquakes and occasionally rumbling volcanoes give testimony that New Zealand does not share Australia’s dozing geologic demeanor.

By far the most dramatic product of New Zealand’s internal rumblings is Fiordland National Park on the southwest coast of South Island. At 4,600 square miles, it is about the size of Yellowstone and Yosemite national parks combined, or about 60% the size of Wales.

Hikers on the Milford Track are rewarded with this spectacular view at McKinnon Pass.

The park preserves what many believe to be the most beautiful meetings of land and sea on earth. In Milford Sound, the area best known to the outside world, mile-high Mitre Peak, shaped like a bishop’s ceremonial headgear, thrusts skyward from a base thousands of feet under chill ocean waters. By itself, Mitre Peak would be remarkable. But it is the gatekeeper to Milford Sound, a deep, mountain-ringed fiord that cuts inland between steep cliffs and rushing waterfalls (some of the highest on earth) to a hinterland of lakes, virgin beech rainforests and a jumble of weather-chiseled peaks that looks like crumpled paper from above.

Some say the “tracks” (walking trails) around Milford Sound are the finest in the world. Certainly very few places elsewhere can combine its variety of dramatic seascapes: precipitous mountains, high waterfalls, unbroken rainforests, lakes and meadows.

Some say Doubtful Sound, deeper and longer than Milford, is Fiordland’s most beautiful defile.

But there’s more: Milford is one of only 14 sounds in the park, including lesser-known Doubtful Sound, every bit as beautiful as Milford and dotted with 365 islands. Other sounds, much more remote, are virtually unvisited and untouched. In fact, some parts of Fiordland have never been walked on by man. They’ve been scouted from above by satellite and airplane, but are so rugged and distant that they have managed to discourage even the bravest, buffest, best-equipped hikers.

There’s a price to pay, though, for such abundant beauty. The terrain is rugged, often made slick by the area’s stormy weather, and austral rainforests harbor notoriously dense, slippery undergrowth. The wet, temperate climate nurtures a thriving insect population that can be extremely distracting to the unprepared visitor.

On the other hand, despite its remoteness and small population, the area around Fiordland has many amenities. The lakeside town, Te Anau, nerve center of the region, is a place where it’s easy to find a fine meal of salmon or lamb, accompanied by a bottle of one of  New Zealand’s up-and-coming wines. Accommodations range from trailer parks to motels, to B&Bs, to resorts. There are many expert guides and outfitters available for hire, and air and road access to the area is well developed. — Patrick Totty