DREAMING OUT LOUD -
Although the contents of this blog all took place during a New Zealand winter, my first full day in Franz Josef was a dreamy day of sunshine and clear, blue skies, so much so that it looked like summer. In case you didn't know, this area can receive 5000mm of rain over the course of roughly 170 rain days! I got suited and booted in order to shake up life; I felt cool and I looked 'cool' too (!!)
Franz Josef descends from the Southern Alps and with our cheerful, engaging guides, Zac and Ellie we were taken to the Glacier Valley while they answered all questions and made the roamings more pleasant. There was a Canadian lass with rainbow hair with us and each time I caught a look, all that went through my head was McFly's song 'that weirdo with 5 colours in her hair.'
The glacier is named after the Austrian Emperor by Julius von Haast, an explorer and geologist. It extends 12,000 metres in length and it's just so cool. The scenery of icy white and blue hues is a glittering, glacial landscape that changes daily. The temperate rainforest wreathing this region flourishes with lush, leafy trees that are intense in their greenness. Vivid blue colouration in the ice is thought to be caused by refraction as it passes through ice crystals.
Zac and Ellie led us off the beaten track, through bush (only guided groups can do this), where the air is pure and the beauty is boundless. I didn't know this is the 'world's steepest and fastest flowing, commercially guided glacier'; it seemed a lot easier to trek than Fox as it has more of a level surface but the terminal face is far too dangerous to approach. Sadly, it is rapidly retreating and is set to lose 38% of the total mass by 2100 according to scientists. This shrinking can be attributed to global warming.
It's quite amazing to see glimpses of wildlife somewhere like this; we chanced upon a rare, black robin and came across possum scratch marks on a tree trunk. The guides gave lots of commentary on the flora and fauna of the nature around us, Maori stories and facts that did not bore at all. Franz Josef's name in Maori is Ka Roimate o Hine Hukatere which translates to 'The frozen tears of the ice maiden' as Hinehukatere's tears of love were frozen into the glacier by Gods when her partner was killed in an avalanche while climbing.
Christmas Falls showering to the ground was beautiful; it was named after a massive rock fall at what used to be a car park several years ago. Luckily, nobody was hurt. A fragmented rainbow peeked out flamboyantly! Trident Creek Falls is equally impressive alongside the rocky path, falling 35 metres in height. We had no complaints during a phenomenally, mellow walk through the valley. I sipped crystal, glacial water directly from a stream of the Waiho River which terminates 12 miles from the Tasman Sea. Splintered rivers and signs warn us of dangers of flooding; the riverbed downstream is thought to have risen over 30 metres and filled with rocks torn off the mountain.
In true explorer fashion, we frolicked over very rocky terrain, treading through the river in our waterproof boots. Franz is fed by a '20sq km large snowfield of high altitude, it exhibits a cyclic pattern of advance and retreat... driven by differences between volume of meltwater at the foot of the glacier and volume of snowfall feeding the neve.' On a hot choc break, we surveyed the approximately 7000 year old remnant of a much larger and older glacier. I'd never have guessed that Zac was in training and this was only his 3rd guided tour; he was confident in the domain and ruled us well in the glacial kingdom as we followed him as though he were the Pied Piper and we, the rats.
At the spicy conclusion of our walk, where we chewed a pepper plant that had tongue numbing properties similar to the Sichuan peppercorns I had tasted in Chinese hotpots; a kind father from Switzerland was kind enough to drop me off at the start of a track to save my legs. I dashed off impetuously to search out Lake Wombat.
Lake Wombat is considerably charming and naturally, I had to visit this romantic setting, purely because it's named after my favourite animal. Duh, there were NOT any furry marsupials there but it fires prettiness in all cylinders. It has been denominated after Jack Irwin's alias, Wombat Jack - he sluiced for gold in these parts in the 1800's. A loved up couple interrupted my 5 measly, contemplative and solitary minutes.
Birds sang melodious refrains sweetly and chirpily from the treetops. It is a reflective, kettle lake that formed 9 centuries ago when a large block of ice thawed. The fern-lined track through rimu forest was easy and a short, gentle hike of 3.8kilometres return. It was paramount for me to be out of the woods by sundown so that I wouldn't be lost in the dark. On the way back to Glow Worm Cottages, I stopped often on the main street as a prettiful, sunset shone brightly along the Waiho River. My whole body was screaming for me to stop walking but there was more to see like Our Lady of the Alps Church. Aside from Tekapo's Church of the Good Shepherd, this may well be one of the cutest locations for a place of worship.
The Swiss family had been worried sick about me as they hadn't noticed me return and I'd been out for a chicken jalfrezi at a local restaurant which is one of the only local ones in miles where Indian food can be ordered, or so I'm told. They'd asked the guy on reception to check up on me and I appreciated these caring strangers looking out for my welfare.
It was incredible to witness stars shimmering fantastically like gold dust beneath the milky way. They couldn't have twinkled any more prettily and such a STARtling sight sang to my soul as indeed it always does. That evening, I was all on my lonesome in a 6 bed dorm but I was enjoying the solitude and glad that I got to be in Glacier County for a small part of my child-like, reckless tomfoolery-filled expedition.
Wiki states that Hokitika is 'one of the wettest places in NZ'; it was also at the centre of the Gold rush on the west coast. Jade/green stone factories are in abundance as the precious pounamu can be sought out by fossickers. Hokitika considers itself a 'cool, little town' and I would agree wholeheartedly! The beach of bronzed sand is strewn with driftwood; as I looked out to Tasman Sea, I was feeling feelings of love for the township.
At Greymouth's, Global Village Backpackers (THE most artistic hostel I have stayed in - with unique works of pretty art from exotic lands in each room), I met Veronique from the Netherlands and we set off to become acquainted with South Island's largest, west coast town. We headed down to Blaketown beach to look for jade among the rocks as it is reputed to be a greenstone beach but we didn't hit the gem jackpot or spot any Hector's dolphins.
While Greymouth itself may only be moderately cool, it's sunsets are stupendous! The deepest shade of peach, dropped along the horizon as waves crashed against rocks in fury and there's something soothing about that. As I posed for pictures, the tempestuous tide came dangerously towards me and all my hopping about awakened my appetite; Speights Ale House 'the pride of the South' satiated my belly with a chicken, Thai green curry. The only thing green about it were the beans! The dish wasn't enough to amaze me because the flavours were rather uninteresting but I had good company.
It was a very cold walk back to the Backpackers as the nippy air stabbed at my limbs through my layers of clothing and thermals; not the nonsense we wanted to put up with! Veronique and I watched A Night at the Museum and I didn't hate it despite Ben Stiller's starring role. I merely found myself entertained and a chuckle or two burst forth from my mouth! Ricky Gervais wasn't entirely detestable in the silly story either.
Then it was goodbye to a new friend as I embarked on what is regarded as one of the world's greatest, train journeys aboard the Tranzalpine. The train ride takes almost 5 hours through 223 kilometres, 16 tunnels and 4 viaducts from the West Coast to East Coast of Christchurch. Passengers are transported overlooking farmland, forests and over the snowy, Southern Alps where the scenery is overwhelmingly beautiful. Each carriage has roof skylights and panoramic windows for unobscured prettiness.
Unfortunately, I was allocated an aisle seat, not the window seat I'd have preferred and what made matters worse is that the woman next to me slept straight away, clearly uninterested in gawping at the scenery she'd paid bucket loads of money to see. What's more, her bag was blocking the plug sockets so I couldn't charge my appliances when necessary. Furthermore, what made matters worse yet was a screaming child, throwing a terrible tanty in the aisle; the boy couldn't be silenced and it was frustrating for his parents and all around.
Eventually, I swapped to a single, vacant chair at the back of Carriage 5, after considerately checking with all around me that it was truly unoccupied. I was constantly in and out of the chilly, viewing carriage attempting to take greater photographs as we were bumped and shaken over the train tracks. Icy wind pierced through every layer of my outfit and blew my hair all over my face which just made me like the ride more.
Lake Brunner was a beaut on a bright blue, vibrant day and made me wish we could have hopped off momentarily as it looked so peaceful. We passed through 16 tunnels, the longest being the Otira tunnel which is 5.3 miles in length and 4 viaducts over deep gorges and grassy fields. Thankfully I was dense to being 246ft high on the Staircase Viaduct or I would have been terrified.
Imagine the beauty in any of these pictures multiplied by a thousand in real life as we rode between the heart of the Southern Alps. Mist-laden mountains, 750 metres of elevation above sea level and surrounded by beech forest while 'wide, braided rivers straddle the main divide and are the back bone of the South Island. It was a treat to have taken a trip across some of New Zealand's most spectacular countryside.
A shuttle picked me up at the other end in Christchurch and took me directly to YHA Rolleston House. It's a historic building which means they can get away with it being shabby, not up to code and horrifying. I hated everything about it from the poor maintenance, limited internet and downstairs bathroom faaaaar from my room; it was shoddy compared to the higher quality hostels I've been accustomed to on this South Island mid-winter vacay. Knowing that waffle time is always a win, I sought out Orleans for fried chicken and maple syrup drizzled waffles. I promise you, life as you know it will never be the same. The sweet and savoury marriage of ingredients is one your belly will thank me for.
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