The Sound Of Silence

The primordial stillness that reigns over New Zealand’s remote and pristine Dusky Sound makes an impression on seasoned traveller Victoria Burrows.

- Victoria Burrows

I consider myself a jaded tourist. Under my own compulsion and as a food and travel writer, I have travelled far and wide across the planet, in planes, trains, hovercrafts and hot air balloons, taking

In the most remarkable outputs of human civilisation and nature’s sublime beauty. all I have seen has influenced me in profound ways, for which I am extremely thankful. But the flipside of travelling so relentlessly is that you reach a point where it feels like you’ve seen it all before.

Every now and then, though, a place is so exquisite that it manages to wash away the fatigue, restoring a withered prune of a soul to a buxom plum. Dusky Sound, a rarely visited fiord on the remote southern tip of New Zealand, is such a place.

REACHING PARADISE

Getting to the fiord is a thrill in itself. We took the helicopter from just outside Queenstown, a charming town adored by adventure-sports enthusiasts on the banks of “S”-shaped Lake Wakatipu.

We had left the comforts of eichardt’s private hotel, with its giant beds and possum fur throws, in-room fireplaces and stunning sunset views, reluctantly at dawn, but all sulkiness evaporated when the helicopter noisily announced its arrival at the pick-up point. It swooped down to us, and we climbed into its snug interior with excitement.

Not entirely comfortable with heights, I felt a tightness in my stomach at the thought of being in a machine so small so high in the sky. But once we had lifted off, our pilot, Mark Deaker, head of aviation at alpine helicopters, and guide, Doug Beech, operations manager at Minaret Station – the remote, off-grid and helicopter access-only ranch further north at Lake Wanaka – distracted me from my fear.