So there you are, having travelled nearly the full length of New Zealand north to south, arriving at Queenstown or Te Anau with just one day left of your holiday. What, apart from cursing your stupidity at not having allowed yourself more time, are you going to do with it?

Being of a contrary nature, I chose not to go to Milford Sound. Instead, I spent my final full day in New Zealand seeing Doubtful Sound, which lies about fifty miles further south. Doubtful's reputation for natural beauty does not quite match that of Milford, but the map made it clear that Doubtful is longer and more varied, with more subsidiary channels branching off it and more islands.

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The Maori called the fjord Patea, but this name was superseded when Captain Cook, exploring this coastline in 1770, declined to risk sailing in on the grounds that he was "doubtful" as to whether he would ever be able to sail out again. Later navigators were less sceptical, but Doubtful Sound remained accessible only by sea until as late as 1959, and since then only by a private track. The track was laid to facilitate construction of a hydro-electric project designed to harness the power of water flowing from inland Lake Manapouri to the glacial valley that descends into Doubtful Sound.

There is rather more sign of them as the visitor approaches from the other side of the mountains that surround the Sound, by cruiser across Lake Manapouri on the first leg of the journey, although only during the last few minutes of the crossing and even here they do little to intrude on the beauty of the lake.

By the time the cruiser had left the jetty at Manapouri first light was silhouetting the surrounding peaks. Despite the early morning chill and the constant churn of the engines, I spent most of the fifty-minute crossing standing outside at the stern of the boat, watching the mist clear from the lakeshore, the steely surface reflect the early morning light and the sombre slopes turn green with trees.

The works of nature don't come much better than the vista that greets the visitor on the descent from Wilmot Pass when the Sound first comes into sight (see photo at the top of this review). By now, apart from the track itself, all trace of human habitation has been left behind and there is nothing but the mountains, forests, waterfalls and the deep trench of the fjord ahead to be seen.

It was still early morning, and the eastern bank was in black shadow while sunlight slanted its way down to illuminate the slopes opposite. Both banks are precipitous, climbing straight up out of the water, so that necks and cameras are constantly craned back to take in their scale. If I describe the scenery in detail it will sound repetitive: torrents tumbling down rockfaces, dark patches of dense forest in the clefts, distant snow-capped peaks. Again and again. The words would be the identical, but the reality as seen from the water is infinitely varied and exhilarating to behold.

If you take this trip, try to find a corner of the upper deck where you can brace yourself against the guardrails and keep your footing while the boat rolls to and fro. Also, be sure to wear a sturdy anorak against the wind and spray. And the rain. We were lucky not to meet any; in this area, there is rain on at least 200 days a year. It's a good idea not to be prone to sea-sickness, too.

Pictures of Doubtful Sound

Across the Lake Manapouri at dawn

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An hour later we are back at Deep Cove. Here we meet the only other vessel we have encountered during the entire voyage, the larger Fiordland Navigator, that undertakes overnight cruises, also organised by RealJourneys. Two hours later, having paused on the way up Wilmot Pass to stretch our legs and take in the panorama from above, we are back at the Visitor Centre near the power station. Three hours later, by mid-afternoon, we are sitting on the beach beside the lake near Manapouri, eating a belated picnic lunch and reflecting on what we have seen.

Why go? Doubtful Sound is a spectacular scenic experience, but in a land of spectacular scenic experiences perhaps it is not that exceptional. It is remote and untouched, but because of its very remoteness it's very difficult to reach except on one of Real Journey's organised tours. This means you are likely see it from the windows of a coach on the approach, or the crowded deck of a cruiser once there, with the chatter of your fellow-tourists and the noise of diesel engines in your ears. When you are not there it doubtless lives up to its reputation as "The Sound of Silence", but not much while you are.

Even the way we did it, though, I believe our visit to Doubtful Sound was more than worthwhile, because it is an extraordinary place in an extraordinary part of the world.

Nowhere was it more brought home to me what a wonderful job that country has done in keeping its natural splendours natural. It has kept its paradise unpaved and unencumbered by parking lots, let alone pink hotels and swinging hot spots. This is partly the result of the strenuous efforts of the Ministry for the Environment, which, unlike its UK counterpart is actually concerned with preserving the environment, and the Department of Conservation. This has a role that is taken seriously in New Zealand. It is no coincidence that the current Prime Minister, Helen Clark, was at one time Minister of Conservation. Here such a job would be a backwater for a political nonentity; there it is a viable step on the career-path of a rising star.

© torr 2005