For some reason Fiordland trips play on my mind more than other big trips, something about the legend of the place I suppose.  Anyway, the last thing I wanted at 7am on a Monday morning on the boat across Manapōuri to West Arm was a wind-up Canadian toy bouncing around screeching in my ear.   “You guys off to hike the Dusky that is so ...

I'm lying upside down with my legs in the air. My pack is jammed against the slippery log I had been standing on five seconds earlier.  I stand up wincing and kicking myself for rushing. Up ahead I can hear Quentin burrowing into another thicket. The boat is only 10 minutes behind us but may as well be on the other side of Lake Te Anau. A few ...