Masako Shinagawa has walked the Milford Track 188 times. I think. My eyes glazed over when she got to the "one hundred and eighty ..."
Doesn't much matter, anyway: it will be more than 190 by the time you read this, 200 if you read slowly.
She's a slip of a thing, with elegant ankles as slim as a doe's, and the pack she was carrying on the 54km walk from the head of Lake Te Anau to Milford Sound was almost as big as she is. But it didn't deaden her jolly swagger through the four-day walk.
One of four guides who accompanied our large group, Masako put me in mind of the piwakawaka (fantails) that fluttered ahead and behind, watching for juicy insects stirred up by walkers' boots. Assigned responsibility for the middle of the group (one guide leads, another brings up the rear and the other two spread good cheer along the line), she flitted up and down the line and her smile gladdened the heart of this city slicker as he laboured along somewhat more ploddingly than he likes to admit.
She was just behind me when I was at the back of the pack, predicting a 4pm arrival at the night's lodgings and regaling me with stories of people who'd arrived at 1.30am or later. I am sure she was just trying to make me feel better about being so slow.
I spent too little of my childhood in the great outdoors. My parents never took us kids into the back country and I was raised to be, as Woody Allen put it, at two with nature.
As an adult, I've heaved a pack over the Tongariro Crossing (three times), and walked the Kaimanawas and Ureweras. But I had never set foot on a track in the South Island and the Milford, widely acclaimed as the finest walk in the world, seemed a great place to start.
As a gesture of respect to my mature years, I took the glamping option, disdaining freeze-dried curries and powdered milk in the morning cuppa in favour of a few comforts.
There were serious upsides to this course of action. Since the franchise operator, Ultimate Hikes, provides beds, bedding, meals, and hot showers, my backpack for the walk weighed about 7kg. Washing facilities and drying rooms at the lodges (trampers stay in huts; glampers stay in lodges) make it possible to wash and dry the clothes you walk in each night, so you don't need spare kit. My burden consisted of some clothing for the evening, a toothbrush, a copy of The Luminaries (on an e-reader, of course) and a packed lunch.
I was particularly grateful for this around two-thirds of the way up the zig-zagging track leading to the track's high point, the Mackinnon Pass, 1154m above sea level.
My training regime, which had consisted mainly of repeatedly labouring up a steep hill near my home, equipped the thighs for the ascent, but pausing at each corner and gazing up at the next zig or zag takes a serious toll on the soul. Masako made it easier, though, gaily chanting the zig and zag numbers as we knocked the bastards off.
The track goes through country so beautiful it beggars words. The Mackay Falls, which served as a backdrop for one of those contentious "100% Pure" campaigns, lives up to the hype. You can drink the water, something I grew up to view as a birthright, because didymo and giardia have not taken hold.
This was my first experience of a guided tour of any sort - normally my toes curl with distaste at the very words - and I was very impressed by the performance of the guides. It occurred to me that such people occupy the shop window of our country; they're the Kiwis tourists go home and tell their mates about.
I felt proud that such a spectacularly beautiful corner of the world is part of the country I call home, but prouder still that in Korea and the US and Australia, they will be talking about Masako and her colleagues for some time to come.
In a discussion about poor wages in the tourism sector, one of them remarked that "you don't work in outdoor pursuits for the money". It seemed sad to me: whether urging lawyers from Florida or journalists from Auckland along the Milford Track, these folks are doing a great job on behalf of all of us.
On the web:
ultimatehikes.co.nz