In the shadow of densely rain-forested mountains that get doused in snow much of the year, Te Anau is the postcard-perfect launch pad to Fiordland National Park. Photo / Tim Roxborogh
Te Anau, with its many merits, is worth spending a little extra time than you originally allocated, writes Tim Roxborogh.
I knew Fiordland National Park was big, but bigger than Jamaica, Vanuatu, Lebanon, Cyprus, and Puerto Rico? A full four-and-a-half times the size of Samoa? Seventeen times the size of Singapore? And sure, size isn't everything, but everything I've experienced of New Zealand's largest national park would have it easily qualify as one of the most spellbinding places on Planet Earth.
Fiordland National Park is 12,607sq km of untouched rainforest, of snow-capped peaks that shoot up from the seafloor, and of deep freshwater lakes. It's so huge and so relentlessly world-beating that it's long struck me as slightly odd that many tourists have tended to rush in and rush out. I wrote about this in the early days of the pandemic and upset a few tour operators who felt it unfair to criticise those cash-cow, 12-hour Queenstown to Milford Sound return trips, but that was never the intention.
No, the intention had been to draw attention to why you should linger longer in Milford Sound. If Rudyard Kipling's late 1800s pronouncement that it was the eighth Wonder of the World still stands - and it would be a brave or foolish person to ever suggest it doesn't - why only go there for a couple of hours?
But as much as Milford Sound is the star attraction of Fiordland, I was also thinking of Te Anau, which had Queenstown not existed, might just have been the South Island's premier tourist town.
Sitting right on the boundary of that country-sized national park, Te Anau (population 3000) was always one of those places I couldn't believe I'd never been. Two hours from Queenstown and for decades the traditional lunch-stop for tourists en route to Milford Sound a further two hours away, I knew it was guaranteed to be so much more than just a scenic spot for a pie and a coffee. Even so, I was still taken aback.
A lakeside town lying in the shadow of densely rainforested mountains that get doused in snow much of the year, Te Anau is the postcard-perfect launch pad to Fiordland National Park. Everything from fishing to hiking to cycling to jet-boating to scenic flights is on offer, and there are also some excellent restaurant and accommodation options. Speaking of which, we found ourselves hunkering down in a quirky old convent-turned-luxury-lodge, which was both surprising as well as surprisingly affordable.
What's now known as Te Anau Lodge was built in 1936 in the tiny dot of a settlement that is Nightcaps, 100km south of Te Anau. The Sisters of Mercy Convent - as it was called until its closure in the late 1980s - was a large two-storey home that had everything from a chapel to a confessional. Sensationally, these features remain, even with the convent having been put on the back of a truck some decades ago and driven up the road to Te Anau.
With the convent closed and the nuns relocated, the building became the best nun-themed boutique hotel I can recall staying at. Granted, that's a fairly shallow pool, but with rooms with private spas and views out across the Murchison Mountains, it would be hard to go wrong. Add to that suites with names like "The Vestry", "The Baptistry" and my favourite, "Mother Superior's Room", not to mention that old confessional that's been converted into a baggage lift, and there's a strong sense of fun as well as comfort at Te Anau Lodge.
The hotel's library and fireplace are also great spots to swap travel stories because if you stay in Te Anau for any length of time, you're going to hear a few. We met fellow travellers who'd rounded a corner of the Kepler Track and come rapidly to a halt when a kiwi was right in their path.
We weren't quite so lucky, but I'll still never forget the sheer beauty of catching a water taxi across the 344sq km Lake Te Anau - New Zealand's second-largest lake after Taupō - and landing on a beach seemingly with no visible entry point to the forest. Luckily we had a guide. We were then swallowed by the moss-draped beech trees and ferns, hiking a section of the 60km Kepler Track, one of New Zealand's 10 official Great Walks.
Opting to cheat the several-day walk due to time constraints, we did one afternoon of hiking before returning to the water taxi, knowing that the next day would involve a helicopter. There are scenic flights, and then there's flying over the Jurassic-looking forest islands of Lake Te Anau on the way up to Luxmore Hut at an altitude of 1085m.
When I visited earlier this year, heavy snow had recently fallen and there was something beguiling about seeing picnic tables buried in inches of snow so smooth it looked carved by man. The views beyond those icy tables were pretty outrageous too. It made sense that it was in these hills - specifically the Murchison Mountains - that the native takahē was rediscovered in 1948, having been thought to be extinct for more than 50 years.
If anywhere in New Zealand was going to be the last refuge of a bird species dangling on the precipice of survival and extinction, it would be here in Fiordland National Park. At 12,607sq km, I'm certain there are more secrets yet to be revealed.
For more things to see and do in the region, go to fiordland.org.nz
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