The Sound of Silence: A Little Luxury and a Lot of Peace in Doubtful Sound

First, a boat.

We cross lovely Lake Manapouri in Fiordland National Park. It’s about 30 kilometers across and surrounded by glacially carved mountains.

Second, a bus.

This is the most touristy thing I’ve done so far in New Zealand: get on a large tour bus.

I could walk to Doubtful Sound, but it’s pretty far: 22 kilometers. So I endure the bus and the frequent stops as we all stand and wait and file off to get a photo and then stand and wait and file on and continue the journey. At least the bus driver’s humor builds the anticipation of our destination.

So does the ascent and descent of the Wilmot Pass and the views.

Finally, the Sound.

The second boat we board is THE boat. The one we’ll be on for the next 20 hours. It’s got three masts and is a lovely blue. Despite catering to 62 people and 8 staff, the design does it’s best to frame the boat as small and charming.

Inside, it reminds me of Annapolis, Maryland and other parts of the upper east coast: with it’s blues and whites and little lanterns–the decor is perfectly nautical.

As we set sail on the 42 kilometer sound, one of the bigger ones in Fiordland, I nose my way around the ship, claiming my bunk and finding the best view points. Over a snack, we get some Fiordland history that answers some of my burning questions. First, what is a sound and what is a fiord?

A sound is a valley carved by a river that is now partially submerged by the sea.

A fjord is a valley carved by a glacier that is now partially submerged by the sea.

Doubtful Sound is actually a fjord: it was glacially carved like much of New Zealand’s South Island. However, those who first arrived and gave the valley it’s name didn’t know the word for fjord. Later, when the Norwegians corrected them, they decided it was too late to change the names from Doubtful Sound and Milford Sound. So, to correct the error, they just named the whole area “Fiordland.” Of course, they spelled fjord wrong and now it’s stuck as Fiordland.

I love the idea of discovering something that your language/society doesn’t even have a name for.

First we cruised through the sound observing the steep peaks, the waterfalls, and some wildlife. Unfortunately, we didn’t get very close to the animal I most wanted to see: a Fiordland Crested Penguin. But I did get to see them–just from quite far away and with the sun in my eyes–oops!

We also saw dolphins and albatross (but no photos of the albatross – too far away).

Then, the skipper anchored the boat in a protected arm of Doubtful Sound and we hopped out to kayak.

And to swim!

The water is a bracing 9 degrees celsius or 48 degrees Fahrenheit. One of the interesting things about the sound (fjord) is that there is a layer of freshwater atop the saltwater of the ocean. Sometimes that freshwater layer can be 10 meters! However, when I jumped in, I tasted salt, so the layer wasn’t too thick while we were there.

Later, we sat down to a delicious buffet dinner and an after-dinner nature talk. By the time the sun set, it was almost 10pm and the boat was quieting down.

We were anchored in another narrow arm – Crooked Arm – so the water was perfectly still. With the generators running, it wasn’t quiet, but it was a low, soothing hum and I fell asleep instantly.

I woke at 5:30 and went up to the top deck with a cup of tea. The sun rise wasn’t particularly special: merely a lightening of the sky. But the water was so still that the reflection was almost a perfect mirror.

The scenery was lovely, the food delicious, the activities fun, and the wildlife spotting a nice bonus. But the true luxury of the 24-hour cruise was that I wasn’t in charge of anything.

There was this comforting sense of everything being taken care of, which I haven’t felt once since being in New Zealand because everything (EVERYTHING) on my journey relies on me making it happen. It was so luxurious to take a break from being the one responsible for everything. The activities, the meals, the after dinner entertainment, the suggested wake-up time… I showed up and followed the instructions, filled my plate, listened to the talk, enjoyed the silence.

I wouldn’t want to follow someone else’s agenda all the time (nor do I always want to be with a tourist herd), but it was a fantastic break to simply sit back and let the day unfold. I remember a similar feeling on my only previous boat cruise. (It was down the Danube River in eastern Europe and I’ve got two blog posts about it, pieced together from a journal I kept during the trip and then polished up when I first started this blog a couple years ago. If you want, you can read the first one here).

I was much younger on that boat cruise, but the feeling of having everything arranged for me, of being greeted with a cool drink upon returning to the boat, of not having to be anywhere because the boat was chugging down the river and all I was expected to do was relax and take in the views… I got the same feeling on my much shorter Doubtful Sound cruise. Again, I wouldn’t want that all the time, but it is nice every once in a while.

Another déjà vu sensation was the camaraderie on the boat. Perhaps, on my Danube Cruise, the camaraderie was so effortless because I was with my mom, my grandparents, and some of my grandparents’ friends, but I don’t think that was all of it. Even though I was a lot more shy back then, I remember talking to several people I didn’t know. I remember the friendly staff. I remember jokes and comfort and ease.

It was almost immediately like that in Doubtful Sound as well. Something about being on a small boat makes you instantly feel like you’re part of something together. Everyone seemed so eager to be kind and welcoming to everyone else. I met multiple nice people on the boat and bus ride over, and befriended several more during the kayaking and swimming portion of the trip. So, when I walked into the dining room after my shower, I already recognized at least 10 people out of the 61. Within five seconds, one of those people had spotted me and waved a hand, inviting me to sit with her and her two traveling companions for happy hour. Later, I joined another group for dinner, and the next morning, yet another friendly group for breakfast. I interacted with the staff, as well, most of whom were on working holiday visas too.

In 24 hours, almost half of the passengers and half of the staff were familiar to me on a first name basis. It was one of the first times in New Zealand that I really felt like I belonged with a group of people. The people on my cruise, for some reason or another, were far friendlier and more welcoming than the people in any in of the DOC huts I’ve stayed in. I don’t know if it’s because most were tourists or if I got lucky or if it’s something else. But I think it has something to do with being on an overnight boat trip, because the vibe instantly felt so similar to my memories of Easter Europe. So welcoming, inclusive, and relaxing.

While I found the scenery in Doubtful Sound beautiful, it rarely took my breath away, as I’d expected. Perhaps that is because the perspective is difficult to truly comprehend. The mountains are lovely, but they don’t seem particularly steep or tall (Milford’s mountains are taller and steeper). However, we did sail beside a cliff/peak that our nature-guide said rose 1km in vertical feet. To imagine that is extremely difficult, especially when the mountain did not look anywhere near that tall. So, perhaps because Doubtful Sound is much wider and bigger than Milford, the scale deceives the eye and pares down the impressiveness.

Either way, breath-taking moments aside, I don’t regret the trip for a moment. The warm welcome and the ability to completely and totally relax for 24 hours was absolutely worth every penny.

And so was being out here almost alone, drenched in the silence of a mirror-still Fiordland Sound.