Waitai Lodge, Fiordland

The pitch of the rotors increases as the chopper eases off the ground, expanding my view of one of the most famous waterways in New Zealand. Milford Sound unfurls as the raindrops scatter across the windscreen. Below is deep inky ocean, silver waterfalls and wreaths of mist. 

I note the change in geography as we fly north up the coast: from sheer granite cliffs to the broccoli stalks of podocarp forest. After 15 minutes, the chopper touches down in deer-cropped meadow next to a safari tent where lunch is waiting for us. It’s a delectable taste of things to come for the next two days. Our small group of six tucks into flaked salmon with beetroot, chargrilled courgettes on coconut yogurt, nectarine and prosciutto salad, all prepared by the lodge’s on-site chef. 

And then we walk. Jack, our enthusiastic young guide offers options: do we want to take a cruisy stroll, or something more intrepid? Everyone is up for a challenge, and so we forge a path up the coast, following gravel riverbeds, crashing through thick undergrowth where Jack’s axe comes in handy, and eventually boulder-hopping and pushing through enormous flax bushes to meet some of the locals. Here, lounging fat and furry on the rocks live kekeno, New Zealand fur seals. The longer we watch, the more we spot. Jack explains that they come ashore when the afternoon sea breeze protects them from the other prevalent wildlife here: sandflies.

As we scuff along the stodgy white sand of Martins Bay the shower that has been gathering offshore rolls in. Rain trickles down my hands and drips off the brim of my cap, the roar of the surf muffled by my hood. But I am warm and content, breathing briny air, soaking up this remote place.

At the edge of the lagoon, Andy one of the lodge’s five staff members, waits to ferry us in the lodge’s jet boat. A technicolour triple rainbow marks the spot; our accommodation a pot of gold.

Waitai Lodge is a treasure. We arrive to the sweet smell of woodsmoke from the hot tubs the staff have prepared. I peel off my wet clothes and slip gratefully into warm water, wearing a fetching mesh head net. Like an elasticated widow’s veil, it’s designed to keep the ferocious sandflies at bay. It looks ridiculous, but it works.

Our group reconvenes in regular clothes by the crackling fire; picking at a pre-dinner cheese platter, sipping Pinot noir and reflecting on a magical first day. 

Everything is so comfortable and stylish it’s astonishing to think that every single item – from furniture to food, the hot tubs and even the lodge’s tractor – was flown in by helicopter.

The next morning dawns crisp and clear. I scuttle up to the lodge in my pyjamas for a first coffee, leaving a trail of bare footprints on the dewy boardwalk.

Fuelled with fruit and yogurt, scrambled eggs and more coffee, Andy takes us by jet boat to the head of Lake McKerrow. In the distance the snowy tip of Mount Tautoko gleams against the blue sky.

Stepping ashore, we follow Jack into the most pristine native forest I’ve ever experienced. We stand beneath enormous rimu wrapped in huge rātā vines. The growth is so symbiotic it’s hard to tell what main tree is. Jack points out the oldest tree in the area: an 850-year-old granddaddy bearded with epiphytes, as well as tiny fragrant Easter orchids that flower for one month each year. He hands us samples of edible natives: including piney miro berries and supplejack shoots that taste like asparagus. Overhead, Kākā creak, korimako chime their bell song and kakariki flit past in a flash of green.

Our time in this magical place is too short. Soon, we’re whisked away by the chopper, soaring above razor-like granite ridgelines and turquoise alpine lakes.

We approach Milford Sound over a shoulder of hill, spotting streaks of white from tour boats, yellow kayaks and air traffic jostling for space. It’s a bluebird day and the dissonance between the staggeringly beautiful natural environment and the infrastructure set up for people to enjoy it is strong. 

From the helicopter we navigate the bustling ferry terminal for the last part of our adventure: exploring Milford Sound by boat. The Fiordland Jewel noses out into the black water as deep as the surrounding mountains are high. We marvel at Mitre Peak in all its glory. It’s the highest sea cliff in world at a staggering 1,683m with another 300m below the surface of the water. 

As we cruise the sparkling waterway, past sheer cliffs and tumbling waterfalls, we dine on a restaurant-quality lunch, a fillet of blue cod with beurre blanc sauce; I savour a white chocolate pannacotta at the foot of the 163m Stirling Falls and spot a fur seal diving into the froth, foraging for its own lunch.  

Soaked in sunshine, satiated with seafood, and enriched by the majesty of this special place, we climb into the van for the drive back to Queenstown.