The day after our trip to Port Douglas, Australia, Chris and I caught the first flight out of Sydney to Queenstown, New Zealand. I’d been eager to see this small town with a reputation for big adventures. With only a weekend to spare, hiking the Routeburn Track was the main event, though we squeezed in a bit of sightseeing on Friday before an early start the next morning. Even from that brief introduction, I knew this was a place I’d want to return to.
Day 1 – The Divide to Mackenzie Lodge
Distance: ~12 km (~7.5 miles)
Time: ~6 hours
Elevation: Steady gain from The Divide towards Key Summit (about 450 meters), then moderate up and down to the lodge
We departed the Ultimate Hikes office around 8 a.m. for the two-hour drive to the start of the track.
As Queenstown receded in the rearview mirror and we approached The Divide, the patchy blue skies gave way to darker clouds. By the time we officially began hiking at 11 a.m., it was already drizzling. The rain persisted for most of the day—sometimes easing to a mist, sometimes intensifying—occasionally pausing just long enough to offer a brief reprieve.
I have never seen so much water in one place. Waterfalls tumbled down rock faces, rivulets coursed straight down the middle of the trail, and narrow drainage channels had swollen into fast-moving streams. One particularly impressive cascade, Earland Falls, was running so powerfully that we had to take a steep detour around it.
At the 3.5-kilometer mark we stopped for lunch at Lake Howden Shelter. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that our packed sandwiches came from Fergburger, a Queenstown institution. We had already sampled their savory pies from Ferg Bakery earlier that morning, eaten on the bus as breakfast.
Still hiking below the tree line, we were enveloped in fog, which clung to the forest and lent the landscape a distinctly magical quality. This being New Zealand, I half expected a hobbit or fairy to emerge from behind one of the moss-covered trees.
About ten minutes from the lodge, our lead guide hurried past and warned us to prepare for an upcoming water crossing. Up until that point, I had somehow managed to keep the insides of my shoes dry, despite several unbridged stream crossings. I thought I might make it through the day unscathed—but when I saw the river raging in front of me, I knew there was no avoiding it. In I went, water instantly gushing into my shoes.
When I finally caught sight of Lake Mackenzie Lodge, my pace quickened. I was more than ready to escape the wet and cold. We had a private room with an ensuite bathroom—a luxury that felt especially worthwhile in these conditions.
I was thrilled by the simple comforts: heat in the room and a hot shower. The lodge also had a drying room, essentially a walk-in dryer. I had never encountered one before, but quickly understood its necessity. Our sodden clothes and shoes dried in no time.
After a three-course gourmet dinner, we were told during the evening briefing to expect a possible helicopter ride the following day. A short section of trail just past Harris Saddle was still heavily snow-covered and considered high risk for avalanches. In preparation, everyone was weighed so the guides could determine how to group us for the roughly one-minute flight over the hazardous area. We joked that they should have weighed us before dinner, not after.
We turned in early that night, hopeful that Day Two would bring better weather.
Day 2 – Mackenzie Lodge to Routeburn Falls Lodge (with short heli ride )
Distance: ~11 km (~7 mi)
Time: ~5 hours
Elevation: About 400 meters to Harris Saddle Shelter, then descent to Routeburn Falls Lodge
What a glorious day. I woke to broken clouds and, for the first time, could see the snow-capped peaks framed by the window of our room. It was the view I’d been waiting for all along.
The morning unfolded at an unhurried pace: a continental breakfast and sandwich-making at 7:45, followed by a hot breakfast at 8:15 (yes—two breakfasts), and then out of the lodge by 9:15. Our group walked down to the edge of Lake Mackenzie, past the Trail Closed sign—a perk of hiking with the company that holds the concession for this track—for a quick photo stop. After lingering over the views, we set off.
The climb took us steadily upward for about three hours, first beyond the tree line, then across the Hollyford Face, and finally to Harris Saddle Shelter. The air was crisp and clean, and with each step the scenery expanded: sweeping alpine valleys, golden tussock flats, and distant snow-dusted peaks emerging in every direction.
Inside the cozy shelter, we ate our sandwiches and waited to see if the much-anticipated helicopter ride would be confirmed. Some people stretched out in the sun, savoring the warmth. Around 1:30 p.m., the news came through: the flight was on. We were divided into six groups. Chris and I were assigned to the third group, flying the roughly 500 meters from the saddle to just beyond Lake Harris. Lucky me—I snagged the front seat.
The helicopter lifted off and, less than two minutes later, set us down on a boggy patch of ground past Lake Harris. From the air, the landscape was breathtaking: jagged ridgelines, alpine lakes, and valleys stitched together like a patchwork quilt. It was a thrilling way to bypass the avalanche-risk section—and a welcome rest for tired legs.
From there, it was another hour’s hike down to the lodge, where we ended the day with dry boots, tired muscles, and grateful hearts.
Day 3 – Routeburn Falls Lodge to End of Track
Distance: ~9 km (~5.7mi)
Time: ~4 hours
Elevation: Negligible.
Day Three brought rain again—pouring rain. Not the gentle drizzle of Day 1, but a steady, soaking downpour. Fortunately, it was also our shortest and easiest day on the track.
We stopped for a morning coffee and tea break at the Routeburn Flats Shelter. At that point, my boots were still dry, and I felt quietly triumphant. I was fairly sure our lead guide had mentioned an early water crossing that would soak our shoes—something like ten minutes into the hike. It had already been more than an hour since we’d left the lodge, so I figured I must have misheard.
I hadn’t.
Not long after leaving the shelter, we waded ankle-deep into a swirling river, and my shoes were instantly flooded. From there, I walked another two hours with soaked socks, water sloshing inside my waterproof boots—a feature that works remarkably well right up until water gets in.
I didn’t stop to take many photos on this last day. My focus had narrowed to one thing: reaching the end of the trail and escaping my wet shoes. Still, timing has a sense of humor. As we made our way through the interpretative trail and neared the end, the rain had mostly stopped and patches of blue sky were beginning to appear in the distance.
At the large shelter near the bus stop, I happily peeled off my soggy boots and pulled on clean, dry socks—an underrated pleasure. We marked the end of the hike with a celebratory drink and a plate of chips at the Glenorchy pub before continuing the final forty-five minutes back to Queenstown.
Final Thoughts
In the end, the Routeburn wasn’t defined by distance or difficulty, but by contrast: rain and clarity, discomfort and beauty, effort and reward. The weather stripped the experience down to its essentials, sharpening my awareness of small comforts—a drying room, a hot shower, dry socks—and magnifying the moments of awe when the landscape finally revealed itself. Hiking the track with Ultimate Hikes meant moving through this wild place with care, competence, and a surprising amount of comfort, but the mountains still had the final say. I finished tired, thoroughly soaked, and deeply grateful—for roaring waterfalls, brief windows of blue sky, and a reminder that some of the best journeys are the ones that unfold on nature’s terms.