Day 2: Routeburn Falls cabin - Lake Mackenzie cabin, 12 kilometer
 You don't get away easily from Routeburn Falls hut. First there is the view from the veranda of awakening mountains, the peaks still covered by clouds. Then, once packed and ready, you step onto the trail. Five meters from the front door you come above the tree line and the trail stops being easy. Climbing across rocks, past the hut for groups with a guide and the helipad. And finally, of course, there is that waterfall, the Routeburn Falls, which actually consists of two adjacent waterfalls. The one coarse and tough, a thin layer of water flowing across chunky rocks. The other a steady stream of water tumbling across the rocks from an unseen distance into a crystal-clear pool and throwing itself off the next rock. This is a wonderful start to the day. I continue climbing on my way to Lake Harris and Harris Saddle, both named after Otago's then superintendent, John Hyde Harris. A lack of creativity or a way to curry favor with the boss? Every now and then I notice the stones crunching under my mountain boots or lying half buried in the earth, waiting for me to clamber over them. Several are green and I secretly wonder if this is the jade, or pounamu in Maori, that makes this path exist. Since most of the jade was found on the west coast, this trail was the way from the inland villages at Lake Whakatipu and the Hollyford valley. The Europeans explored the route as early as 1860, but it got no further than tourists who were taken to the Routeburn Flats by horse and from there on foot to Harris Saddle from 1880. The trail as it stands today was started in 1909, but after the First World War it was not picked up again until 1960 and finally completed. A few climbs further, I look out over the next valley, a mosaic of gray stone and reddish brown grass that glows warmly in the sun, surrounded by awe-inspiring mountains. Not even because they are so high, but it is so wonderfully different from the flat Netherlands. The clouds are low and it’s cold. For the first time I am wearing everything, hiking shirt, sweater, jacket. Even the thin sports gloves that I never thought I would need. After a few hundred meters I get warm and the jersey is taken off. When the sun comes out, the jacket and gloves follow. The trail winds nicely, but does not climb too seriously. Below me the stream is on its way to the waterfalls I so admired an hour ago. Apart from the grass, there is not much green to be seen at this altitude. A few succulents, some careful yellow flowers, short mosses. Looking back in the direction of Routeburn Falls, the brook lights up in the morning sun as if the Milky Way has come to take a look on Earth. We pass a small building with a folding tent next to it. As a hiker you’re not allowed to camp here, but this is probably someone who belongs here. A little further on we are warned about the bad condition of the trail, although I see no difference with what we have had to put up with so far. A man is hacking into a rock with a chisel. It is not entirely clear to me how this should improve the trail, but I thank him for his work anyway, because the trail looks fine. After a gravel-filled wooden staircase I come across a wheelbarrow with tools next to the trail. How on earth did they get it here? A lake, Lake Harris, appears around the corner of a mountain. Small and elongated, enclosed by the stern rocks and with snowy peaks in the background. I hike along the lake until I reach Harris Shelter, a simple shelter where you can only stay overnight in emergencies. Here it is busy with hikers from both directions. I put my backpack in a corner, pack my water and my camera in a small backpack and then start the climb to Conical Hill, a viewpoint at 1,515 meters. This path is only 250 meters according to my Trailblazer guidebook, but it feels a lot longer. It’s not a path suitable for fast hiking. The start goes well enough and although the path rises considerably, I can move adequately with my trekking poles as support. But then there are also the parts where you have to scramble across the rocks, puzzle where you can put your feet without falling. A Frenchman descending assures me that the view is worth it and you can even see the Tasman Sea. I cover the last few meters with new energy. Then I'm at the top and the view is everything the Frenchman promised and more. I am looking for a place behind a rock to get out of the wind and quietly enjoy myself. I'm lucky. The clouds hold their breath for a moment and the view is beautiful. A whole chain of raw peaks and in the distance something that could be sea. I rarely have a fear of heights, but I still get a sick feeling in my stomach, while the land is sinking below me. It doesn't even descend very steeply, but the mountain continues into the valley. The wind ensures that I don't stay too long and on my way down, which certainly in the beginning hardly goes faster than on my way up it’s my turn to encourage and motivate the hikers. Soon I am back at the shelter, where a group has heated up more water than they need. Gratefully, I take a few cups for the noodles I've been carrying for a few days now. After this delicious lunch I continue on. The route continues to follow the valley and the silence is only occasionally interrupted by the sound of a small propeller plane taking a scenic flight or the helicopters supplying material for the trail's maintenance. Here and there are those large square plastic bags along the path, filled with gravel. I thought there were enough stones on the trail in the mountains naturally, but apparently that is not the case. There are also numerous stoat traps along the trail, some with an egg for bait. I wonder if the scent of so many people might scare off the predators, but when I meet a DOC employee who tends to the traps, it turns out not to be the case. Just like for humans, the trail is the easiest way to get around. Unfortunately he hasn't caught anything today. The trail becomes a lot greener, with a wide variety of sturdy plants that can handle the cold at this height. A number of roots or branches lie across a rock, leading to a few tufts of prickly green. I wonder if this is a shrub or a tree that has settled under the influence of the wind. A little further on, an arrow points down into the valley at an impossible angle. This must be Deadman's Track, down to the bottom of the Hollyford Valley. Try as I might, I cannot discover a path and the name is not really encouraging. I stay on the Routeburn Track and only enjoy the view of the Hollyford River below. Every now and then water flows across, along or through the path. Dry stream beds have been conquered by short wooden bridges, no suspension bridges this time fortunately. Only the Potters Creek flows exuberantly and beautifully down. I already have so many pictures of waterfalls, but every time it remains a miracle of nature where I cannot resist grabbing my camera. An hour later I need a break and I follow the footsteps of other hikers who left the path to a set of rocks, where I lie in the sun with my head on a clump of grass. I keep it up for half an hour, until the sun disappears behind the clouds just too often and it gets chilly again. Further then. Another corner, yet another valley. And there, in the depths, is Lake Mackenzie. I can see the hut on the banks and it seems a beautiful location to spend the night again. Yet it still takes a long time before I reach the hut. The trail slowly zigzags down. On a rock there’s a plaque commemorating two 13-year-old children, Bryan and Heather Anne, who died in a storm here in 1963. I wonder what they were doing here, alone on a mountain in bad weather. Perhaps New Zealand children learn to hike from an early age, just like Dutch children learn to cycle? Or had they slipped away together, looking for an adventure that seemed so much more fun than homework? It does make you wonder. The path gently zigzags further down to the tree line and below. It’s wonderful to be in the greenery again. The trees are covered with a light green moss. This gives each tree a distinct character, as if they could spring to life in an instant. In a horror movie, of course. The path never gets easy. I continue to puzzle across the rocks. I find myself getting tired and looking forward to the end of this day. And then I come out of the forest and suddenly there is the hut, right in front of me. I claim a mattress, register and hike to the lake to cool off my warm feet. However, the water is so cold that I cannot leave them in for too long. Still, I am rested. On the way to the lake, I also saw a sign pointing to another trail, the Split Rock Track, which promises another hour of hiking fun. Since it is still early and I have energy left, I follow the trail along the other side of the lake to the campsite, in the middle of the forest. For a moment I'm jealous that I didn't bring a tent, forgetting that my backpack is heavy enough without that extra weight. The trail continues and becomes less polished. Tree trunks, stones, a clear brook that willingly plunges into the lake. And then I come to a rock, a huge rock that is indeed split in two. A narrow passage allows sunlight to pass through from the other side. A mother and son from Auckland have followed the same path and she has been here before. You can walk through the opening, she knows. Clambering is a better description, but I follow her son into the dark. He illuminates us with the flashlight app on his cell phone and we need that too. Halfway up, a boulder hangs just above our heads and we crawl under it. To get back to the forest, some more climbing is needed, but eventually all three of us are back in the trees. What a cool adventure and what a wonderful end to this second hiking day!

Day 3: Lake Mackenzie cabin - The Divide – 12 km  
The first hikers leave while the sunlight is barely coming over the mountainside. I wait for dusk to give way to morning before taking my first steps on the trail. The sunlight lights up the snowy peaks, but here in the shade it is still quite chilly. Again I am happy with my fleece sweater and thin gloves. The trail is challenging, with stones that make you wonder where to put your feet and my trekking poles help keep my balance. Numerous streams flow through the path. They sound like a solid waterfall as they plunge into the green depth to the right of the trail. Pretty soon after I leave the hut, the trail starts to climb again until I approach the tree line. I thought we would be done climbing by now. But, as an Auckland hiker puts it: “This is New Zealand. You are never done climbing here ”. The trees here are green from top to bottom, their trunks covered with dark green moss, while light green moss hangs down from their branches like an old man's untidy beard. It gives the forest a very dense look. I still don't hear birds much, but flies all the more. They are those big, fat blowflies and their hum is easily in my top ten of most annoying sounds. I notice that it makes me aggressive and hike on quickly. Then I come to the Orchard, a campsite where gnarled old fruit trees save their fruit for birds. Near the latrine I discover a kea, busily destroying a wooden DOC post with its beak. When I get closer, it turns out to be more than one. A second one appears in the branches of a mossy birch, while at the latrine itself three more keas are playing. The birds, with their typical parrot body and strong, curved beak, are not shy at all. They are so curious that one approaches me up to 30 cm. And that's a good thing, because the camera I bought in Taupo after my other one broke, is suitable for emergencies, but not great. When the kea fly up, I see that they hide their colors underneath their wings. Their back feathers are dark green, underneath their wings I notice a rust-brown spot and even a bit of blue. I watch the birds fascinated, when they give short, grinning cries and pick up a leaf or stone with their beaks. I have never seen birds so intelligent that they love to play, use and investigate objects. What a privilege to see these animals up close. Two Israeli female hikers also enjoy the antics. But when the birds return to the trees after fifteen minutes, I keep hiking. The trail awaits and at the end I have an appointment with a taxi van to take me to Te Anau. I have plenty of time, but I don't want to hang around. I move on, but it’s not long before I come to a stop again. This time for the 174 meter high Earland Falls. This is by far the highest waterfall I have seen so far and the water falls across the rocks like a fragile curtain. I wonder where all that water comes from. There’s no glacier nearby. Has it really rained this much the last few days? In any case, it remains very special. Slowly I arrive at a mountainside lit by the sun and although I am still hiking in the shade of the trees, it’s immediately a lot warmer. Slowly the trail starts to descend until I arrive at Howden hut, again located on such an idyllic lake, surrounded by beautiful mountains against which a single cloud floats halfway up the top. Here I put down my backpack and enjoy the sun. More and more hikers arrive, including a group with a guide who quickly proceed to Key Summit, a viewpoint at 919 meters. I skip it myself when I continue the Routeburn track a little later. According to the guidebook, the trail to the top is steep and it takes an hour that I just don't have in me anymore. I keep hiking to the end, although I wish the trail would go on for days. The only downside to the Great Walks is that they are way too short. Even more than the sign indicating that The Divide is only 45 minutes away, the sound of a braking truck heralds the end of this trail. As I descend further, I also start to hear cars and a little later I see the road. Not even a gravel road, on which you only drive with the necessary persistence and without regard to the paint of your car. It is a real asphalt road, full of people in a hurry on their way to their destinations. I enjoy the forest for a while, for as long as it lasts. Day hikers meet me and also a few people with heavily loaded backpacks who are hiking the route in the opposite direction. And then it turns out that I don't have to descend any further. The road goes up and the forest spits me out into a parking lot. It is over. And like every time, I briefly mourn the farewell to trail as a bus takes me back to civilization.

View my pictures of this hike here.