Waving farewell to Punakaiki I travelled down to Franz Josef, the home town, though town is maybe stretching the point a little, for one of the famous glaciers which come down from the Southern Alps through the temperate rainforest to almost reach the coast. I had been recommended a day walk which offered spectacular views of the glacier from the hills opposite and although the weather was a bit murky with some blue sky visible I reckoned I'd give it a go and caught a shuttle bus to the start of the track. A well constructed gravel path led up the hill though deep forest of Rimu, Rata and Totara trees, then became a rougher track as it started to climb yet further up the hill. It was nice walking through the fresh greenery with vines and branches criss-crossing the way. Before long I got a little glimpse of the glacier through the trees. A big mass of bluey-greyish white it was certainly quite impressive looking and it was just like someone had pressed a pause button to stop the torrent of ice flowing down the hillside. Continuing up the zig-zag path ducking under thorny vines (yes, even I had to duck!) and clambering over fallen trees the rain started to get heavier. Fortunately the strong tree canopy was protecting me from the worst of the rain but I could hear the rapid patter and splatter all around. The power of the 7metres or so of rain this area gets each year was evident as I passed a couple of lanslips which had left scars on the hillside. Eventually I reached the clearing that was Christmas Lookout and I turned to view the glacier in great expectation. Well, I could see why it was called Christmas lookout: it was nothing but a great white expanse in front of me. Unfortunately it was of mist and low cloud, however, and there was no indication of a valley out there, let alone any mountains or, heaven forbid, a glacier! There was absolutely no point going further so I returned to the bottom of the track, noting that even the view from my first lookout had now disappeared aswell, and the rain got heavier and heavier still. I still had loads of time before the next shuttlebus was due so once back at the road I crossed over and went down another path until it reached a bouncing bridge over the river. I had been able to hear the raging torrent through the trees and stood on the bridge watching with awe the powerful force of the river racing by. It was an incedible pale grey, almost milky, colour as it washed its ice and gravel downstream. Biggish chunks of ice were hugging the riverbank like ice-cubes in a drink. The rain by this time was relentless and I squelched back to the road to await the bus. Luckily the driver took pity on me as she was heading up the hill and stopped to let me get on and drip all over her bus rather than make we wait for her downhill return! By the time I got back to the hostel I was never so glad to have a bowl of the watery and peppery, but hot, rice and veg soup they lay on each evening. The weather forecast for the next day was for more of the same so I moved on to try my luck in Fox Glacier about half an hour's drive further south. Still drizzling rain, but a lot better than it had been, and with a higher cloud base I got booked onto a Foxtrot (A guided glacier walk... you didn't really think me with my two left feet had gone dancing did you?!) Getting kitted out with waterproof jackets, trousers boots and crampons we were taken by bus from the settlement to the glacier car park. We trudged along the track then down onto the river bed beside the milky grey creek. Our guide, Matias tried to explain the phenomenon of glaciers (particularly the temperate ones of NZ) to us, and finally I think I'm getting the gist: The huge volume of precipitation coming from the Tasman Sea falls as snow in the high mountains of the Southern Alps (formed by two tectonic plates rubbing together - one sliding under the other pushing up the landmass). Huge bowls in the ranges allow for an enormous build up of snow which is compressed into ice as more and more snow layers fall on top of it. The force from the weight above, and the effects of gravity, means this mass of ice begins to be pushed down the valley helped by the lubrication of the river below it and the other creeks which feed into the valley meaning it moves relatively quickly. The front face of the glacier gradually crumbles and melts as it goes but continued snow deposits and build up from behind ensures the glacier itself remains pretty much a constant size. Dependant on climatic conditions sometimes the glaciers will be advancing and other times they'll be receding. Presently the NZ glaciers are advancing. They are pretty young and fast moving in geographical terms, the central ice being just a few hundred years old. As we neared the terminal face you could see it was full of caverns and caves and the upper surfaces were quite dirty in appearance thanks to the dust, grit and mud washed onto it on a daily basis. We trekked up the riverbed and across the little riverlets before starting on the ascent of the hillside and crossing onto the ice itself. we zig-zagged up a steep staircase of stone and wooden steps climbing about 200m above the valley floor. Once on it you appreciated better the massive size and expanse of ice and with lots of crevices and wind formed peaks it looked just like the icing on a christmas cake! The range of colour was there too. Of course the ice was clear when you looked at a chink in isolation but at times it had that distinctive ice-blue hue and at other times just looked dirty brown. The texture varied a lot too - the fissures were absolutely smooth sided whereas the exposed faces were far more crystalised and in places slushy. We could also see where the heat absorbed by rocks and stones in the ice had cused a melting round about it leaving the stones sitting exposed on a pillar of ice. We wandered around for a while the guides using their axes to cut out little steps for us if it seemed to get too sheer and slidey, but finally we had to retrace our steps and make our way back to the valley floor. At the bottom some people were spotted way over directly under the face of the glacier, well away from the marked path and just where two tourists were killed by falling ice a few weeks previously, so the guides went racing over angrily to "give them a good talking to". We could hear the shouts as we continued walking back to the bus so I reckon they were left in no doubt of the stupidity of their actions. It was a great afternoon and Matias, who hails from Argentina, gave me info about a glacier in Patagonia to visit so hopefully I'll have another chance to do some icewalking in the not too distant future.
Leaving Fox behind as I headed to Wanaka the next day, the clouds finally disappeared allowing a quick glimpse of Mt Cook (New Zealand's tallest) as we travelled south and up and over the Haast Pass and its aquamarine river below before descending to the eastern side of the alps. It was instantly noticeable how much drier the east is compared to the west, sheltered as it is from the rains brought from the Tasman Sea. The hillsides were now bare dry grass rather than the temperate rainforest of before. Before long we reached the town of Wanaka which sits at the foot of the hills at the far end of the lake of the same name. My hostel sat a little bit up the hill and had great big picture windows which faced across the lake providing beautiful views on a sunny day. Most of the time I was there the weather wasn't brilliant but it was fine enough for general wanderings, and when the sun did come out it was a nice place to spend some time. The hills around the town are high and some have lovely corries and ridges on them, but, to me they were a peculiar looking colour. Most of the groundcover is grass based and it's been sun-baked over the summer to a strange washed out looking pale browny-green yellow shade. To my eyes that generally stopped them looking as magnificent as mountains can be. Having said that the morning I left they did look particularly nice: a bright clear day, a ribbon of white cloud hung along some of the hilltops draping down in front of others so that their peaks and crags stuck out above it and with nice reflections cast onto the lake. As I chatted with some people we watched as a paraglider was towed along the length of the lake and back. Dispatching his towrope as he approached the land again he circled a couple of times to lose height but he still soared across the marked landing area and road to land in the little park beyond. When the next one went up and came back dropping his tow-rope he seemed to circle really sharply and lost a lot of height then a second parachute opened but he still dropped quickly into the icy-cold lake. When the wee boat went to fetch him there was a whole lot of laughter coming floating across the lake towards all us spectators, but I don't think either of the flights would have done much to encourage anyone toying with the idea of having a go! I left them to it and went to catch my bus to Queenstown. En route we passed a lot of fruit orchards, several vinyards, old gold mining works, and Kawarau bridge - the original bungy jumping spot - and when we reached Queenstown I found a much prettier place than I imagined. Most people I'd met previously had said to spend only a short time in Queenstown, as it was so commercialised, and more time in Wanaka so thats what I did, however of the two I think I prefer Queenstown. I saw it on marvelously clear sunny days which helps, but the mountains stand out sharply and craggily over the town. The range is called the Remarkables and they live up to their name. Much rockier than the hills above Wanaka they definitely look like proper mountains! Lake Wakatipu is the huge body of water which the town hugs, and although its a busy place there is plenty of nice parkland and stonework around the town to give it a bit of character, and even though its the bungy jumping and thrill ride capital of NZ (if not the world), there is still plenty for non adrennalin junkies like myself to enjoy. Walking through the park later I unwittingly crossed the frisbee-golf course it contains! I might have given it a go but you have to bring your own frisbee and that's one thing I don't have with me. Instead I went to the otherside of the park peninsula and sat for a while admiring the views. The lake was lapping on the shore, and with dry grasses to the front, forest behind, high mountains and little wooded islets on the lake it was really picturesque and also reminded me of west coast Scotland. As the sun set there was a wonderful warm red tinge to all the colours - beautiful.
When the time came for me to leave for my next port of call - Te Anau - I was first to get picked up by the shuttlebus and somehow we got onto the topic of old cars and the driver said he'd just finished restoring three old Morris Minors. When I said I'd always wanted a Morris Traveller he really perked up and told me he had one of them too. By the time everyone was on board the minibus was full and after a lot of juggling of seating arrangements I somehow ended up crammed onto the front seat between the driver and a local guy getting a lift back with his bike to where he'd left his car when setting out on an 80km cycle run earlier in the day. It was really only a 3/4 size seat in the middle with not much legroom, even for me, so it was a bit of a squash all round especially as the cyclist had hurt his knee and was trying to stop it seizing up! He turned out to be really good company though and there was plenty of banter and laughter along the way, and he was certainly more communicative than the driver. He chatted quite a lot about the area we passed through - a twisty lakeside road as we climbed through the mountains and down the valleys and it reminded me a bit of the road back from Skye towards Invermoriston. We passed the most inland spot on the South Island (not that anywhere is far from the sea here), before going through Mossburn near where Kiwi guy farmed (3000 sheep, several hundred deer and a few hundred dairy cattle!) dropping him off soon afterwards. It was then just a short drive to Te Anau where getting off at my hostel the driver asked for my cellphone number. He was the wrong side of 60, no oil painting (Deirdre, think of some of our "polling day specials" and you'll have the gist!), and not even a Morris Traveller made him interesting!! I was more than happy to say I didn't have a phone... now if it had been the hunky cyclist it may have been a different story!
I had two great days out while there: a cruise on Doubtful Sound and Kayaking on Milford Sound. The road to Milford is a scenic one and passing through the Eglinton Valley as the sun rose the mountains looked lovely silhouetted in the distance. There's really three sections to the road: the farmed valley, then forests before crossing The Divide (that's the watersheed point crossing the Southern Alps), and finally the steep rocky and rugged mountains. When we got to Milford we met up with some more kayakers, got kitted out in thermals and waterproofs, allocated a paddle-mate and launched our boats. I was paired up with a Frenchman called Vlad and alonside us were his two mates and another couple who'd come through from Te Anau with our guide, Ollie, and me. Launched onto the virtually flat calm water we paddled out the channel into the fiord itself, round the edges of some of the little bays, across the sound and back along the coastline until coming back across the main boating channel and finishing up in the deep water basin from whence we'd started. The scenery was oustandingly beautiful and just as I've seen in pictures and postcards but didn't dare hope would be possible in reality. With such calm water and barely a cloud in the bright blue sky the mountains rose majestically and almost vertically from the sea. In every direction you looked there were more: tree clad on some faces, rugged grey rock faces and ridges on others, and snow and glaciers capping yet more. The 1692m Mitre Peak was the highest around the fiord, and very distinctively angular, it was impressive and beautiful looking from all directions and is classed as the second highest sea cliff in the world apparently. Around the shoreline of the fiord little creeks emptied into the bays and coves, and seals basked on the rocks or swam apparently also enjoying the fine day. As the tour boats chugged by their wake would gently buffet us, or Vlad would lurch around wildly in the boat trying to take photos seemingly unconcerned that each time he did that I had to lunge in the opposite direction to stop us going for an early bath! I'm sure the passengers on the boats must have been having a good laugh watching our antics. The only irritating aspect of the day were the numerous sightseeing planes buzzing overhead in a seemingly endless parade and breaking the peace and quiet we all enjoyed during the short lulls between flights. Heading back to shore we paused at the 164m high Bowen Falls before fighting the waves and spray racing to get back across the now choppy channel between boats entering or leaving the harbour. Back on dry land we started back to Te Anau stopping for sightseeing at a couple of points along the way including at "The Chasm" where a forest path allowed lovely views of the glacial mountain ranges on its way down to a raging torrent of water which was forced into a narrow gorge and down into a geep gully. The sound of the water was heard far before we saw it. After stopping at another pretty enough but not outstanding lake we made to set off again and the van wouldn't start - the battery was flat. After unhitching the trailer with the kayaks and a failed attempt to bumpstart it by rolling down the hill we set about trying to push it to see if we could have any luck, but no! By this time some other tourists stopped to help (only the 3 of us pushing the van was good exercise so their assistance was much welcomed!) and then Ollie tried to flag down another tourist bus but it barely slowed let alone stopped. With no phone reception one of the tourists gave the three of us a lift back to town and phoned from there for someone to go to help Ollie and the stranded bus. An eventful end to a brilliant day.
The cruise to Doubtful Sound was equally enjoyable but also very different. Transferred by bus to Manapouri it was then onto a little boat to be taken up the lake of the same name to its far end. Getting out it was back onto a bus again and a quick trip down a narrow 2km long twisting tunnel to a Hydroelectric power station before travel up and over Wilmott's Pass to Doubtful Sound. The powerstation detour was a bit strange and slightly out of context with the rest of the trip but I guess it was included as the sound is where the water from the scheme is pumped back into. It was just as we reached the very top of the pass that the cloud lifted, as if by magic, to leave a perfect blue sky and stupendous views down the legth of the sound, though as we were reminded it (like Milford Sound) is not really a sound at all but a Fiord! Whichever it was it looked magnificent. It twists in the middle, is relatively wide and bordered by tall mountains shaded mainly green but with some grey and snow capping to be seen. Reaching the bottom of the pass we transferred to our second boat of the day and spent the next few hours chugging round the Sound. The dark surface water is largely freshwater thanks partly to the outflow from the hydro scheme but also due to the volume of glacial freshwater flowing into it. As it gets deeper the salinity increases. Its a larger wider body of water than Milford and the mountains, though equally stunnungly beautiful, are much more rounded in appearance and don't rise as near vertically. The trees and ferns cling to the granite and hardstone rock hills at incredible angles - seeming to defy gravity! As we sailed we saw one of only three or four permanent waterfalls tumbling into the sea. The others come and go quickly after rainfall sometimes apparently forming spectacular curtains of water as it tumbles over the edges. We aso watched a huge colony of NZ Fur seals basking swimming and playing - seemingly performing for us as they rolled, tumbled and waved from the water. Turning into an arm of the fiord we reached one of the other permanent waterfalls. It cascaded in stages from way above us looking just like a piece of string in the distance before splitting into white torrents and then wide gentle sprays which, by the time we nosed in underneath, not only showered anyone not well undercover but made us appreciate just how tall and high the original fall was. Wonderfully beautiful and impressive. As we headed back at the end of the cruise we were joined by 4 or 5 dolphins which swam and surfed in the waves all around us. It was a super finale to a spectacular day. I certainly struck it very lucky on my visit to fiordland- seeing it in some of the best weather possible.
My luck with the weather ran out as I travelled south and across to Stewart Island. I'm glad I'm a reasonable sailor because the Foveaux Strait was windy as we made our way across on the little ferry and as we lurched about in the rolling waves, spray battering against the windows, it was all to much for many on board! When we did reach the settlement of Oban I was happy to find that the tarpaulins, which cover the crates of luggage carried on the open rear deck, were obviously in good nick and the bags were still dry! I'd had plans of doing lots of walking and kiwi spotting while on the island but the wet, cold and windy weather somewhat curtailed my exploits, limiting me to a few short walks and so not venturing as far from the main settlement as I first intended. What I did see reminded me very much of Scotland: the rugged coast, the little bays and hills, rough grazing along the shore and croft-like smallholdings. I also had a laugh to myself at one point when I rounded a corner to find an old old bakelite type phone nailed to a tree with a phone directory hanging from another nail beside it, a wooden garden bench underneath and a piece of corrugated tin tacked over the whole lot to provide a bit of shelter - modern communication very much Stewart Island style! Deciding not to go on a cold and wet nighttime search for kiwis, I found a trip to the fish and chip cart a far more satisfying option! The blue cod I had was fantastic - really moist, fleshy and tasty. Picking from their menu I'd noticed they even offered oysters but, Jackie, Douglas, somehow I wasn't convinced that battered oysters'n'chips would be as good as those we'd enjoyed(?) in Glasgow so gave them a miss! When it came time to leave the island the weather was even wetter and windier than on the way across. Halfmoon Bay was choppy so I knew the strait would be worse. A little late as the staff battled the elements to load the boad we headed out and hadn't gone far before we really started getting buffeted about and the boat engulfed bu waves and spray. It was a real roller-coaster feeling as we rose and dropped into the troughs. The young skipper was good though and was obviously steering us through the worst of it as best he could - turning us this way and that to minimise the pummelling. Needless to say it was all to much for half the passengers and the usual placitudes of "just look at the horizon" didn't help much when you couldn't find a horizon though the walls of water! There were lots of relieved looking faces when we reached dry land again and caught the transfer bus back to Invercargill.
I had a bus journey to Dunedin booked which went through the Catlins - another scenic area of the south-east, but with the rain and mistiness it was a wee bit of a wash-out! However, we did still manage to spot a lone yellow-eyed penguin, a couple of sealions, lots of seals, some petrified trees and stopped at a fast flowing waterfall so all was not lost. With so much rain the waterfall was more like an overflowing cappuccino it was so muddy brown thanks to all the mud and tannins in the river. By the time I arrived in Dunedin at the hostel - called Howartz - I was cold, tired and still a bit wet. As soon as I got inside and found it warm, comfy and friendly though I knew it was a magical place. No sorting hat was required for the allocation of room in this spacious rambling building, but as my corridor was painted scarlet and gold I reckon I got the right one nonetheless!
Dunedin didn't generally feel as overtly Scottish to me as it's billed. Maybe its different for non-scots but it still felt very much like New Zealand to me, although certainly going just by the streeet names it could have been mistaken for Edinburgh. I visited my now customary haunts when reaching a different city ie a museum and botanic gardens and enjoyed both. Our visits coinciding, I also managed to meet up with Maureen and Helen which was brilliant. Meeting at their hotel we wandered along Princes Street towards the central octogen and found the new intake of Otago University students assembling for the party finale of their orientation week. Not dressed in the obligatory togas of the students we opted for a lovely meal in a nearby bar instead! We certainly made the right choice as apparently the toga party descended into chaos, trouble and controversy. Meanwhile, not only did we have a lovely meal (roast lamb, kumara (a type of NZ sweet potato) and salad for me, and Salmon for M & H with a super Hokey-pokey cheesecake shared between us for pudding (hokey-pokey being a bit on a NZ institution and kind of a cross between toffee-fudge and crunchie)), we also had a great blether, and needless to say a few laughs too. It was lovely to catch up and I really enjoyed the evening. Thank you both, it was great to see you. We managed to reconvene the next morning for part two before the ladies carried on to the next point of call on their tour and I joined what was a fantasic wildlife watching trip. Collected from Hogwartz we made our way out of Dunedin towards the Otago peninsula and stopped at a lookout on the hill above the harbour, getting great views down to Dunedin city, across to Port Chalmers (the deep water port for the city)and out towards the ocean. The rolling green hillsides were ro reminiscent of Scotland it was bizarre. Leaving there we drove across to, and around, Hooters Inlet spotting harriers, pukeko, stilts and very striking yellow faced plovers along the way before coming to Taiaro Head and the only mainland breeding colony of Royal Albatross in the world. Going into the centre we saw a short film and got little talk about the birds. One of the (if not the)largest, but not heaviest, of all flighted birds the albotross can be up to 1.2m in length with a wingspan of well over 3m. The egg weighs about 0.5kg and is abouth the size of a couple of tennis balls. After being incubated for about 11 weeks the chick will take several days to pip out the egg. Once hatched the parents will take it in turn to feed and guard it as it grows: by 2 weeks old it'll weigh about 2kg, 3kg by three weeks, and can grow up to about 9kg before it fledges. The parents would then feed it less and make it walk about more so that it tones up as it loses its down and develops its feathers to fledge at 7 or 8 months. For the next 5 or 6 years it will remain at sea until it returns to land to breed. Albotross are generally life pairers and can live for 50 or 69 years. Currently at Taiaroa there are c160 birds and this year there have been 20 chicks. With all that info imparted we went up to the observation room to watch them. As we went up some came soaring overhead - silent and graceful. They soar, rarely flapping their enormous wings, at usually no more than c30m above water or land. Swooping around the hillside like hanggliders they were mesmerising. By the time we got to the obs room we could see 3 or 4 nest sights with the parents carefully guarding their chicks. Their faces seemed to have smiley expressions and in flight they even look aerodynamic. It was wonderful watching them but after a while we had to move on. Crossing very Scottish looking grassy farmland we got to Papanui beach. I'd thought our driver looked like a slightly younger Gordie and when we reached our private viewing beach and he got out to open the gate I realised even his gait and stature was similar. So Gordie, if ever you discover you've a long lost NZ cousin I can tell you he's living in Dunedin! Anyway, we wandered down to just above the rocky shoreline and saw dozens and dozens of fur seals dozing, feeding their young, frolicking in the pools and swimming and cavorting about. It was lovely to watch them - the young enjoying their playgroup and the mums keeping watch from the sides! We moved round to the sandy bay further round the corner and almost immediately saw some yellow-eyed penguin on the beach. One of the rarest of the 18 breeds of penguin they swim and feed all day then come ashore late afternoon waddling up onto the grassy flaxen banks to nest and rest. W saw at least 20 parading around, preening and resting on the sand before making their way up the hillside. The recent rain had washed out little sand creeks with "cliff" edges and it was funny watching as they tried to jump up the sand banks rather than walk just a little further to the flatter areas: being creatures of habit they like to use the same routes each day rather than adapting to the conditions! Once on the hillside some of the plder chicks were trying to find parents to feed them but not having much success - the parents were adamant they were big enough to fend for themselves now and needed no more from them. it was fun viewing. Also on the beach were about 6 sealions: 1 female (very unusual to see); 1 adult male with a youngster beside him, and 3 other males two of which were much smaller than the huge dominant lion king strutting his stuff after waking from his slumbers. Another super sight we watched as they slept, scratched and stretched and had a little bit of a posturing scrap amongst themselves. A growl from "big=daddy" soon shut the youngsters up though! It was a fantastic few hours of very varied wildlife viewing and a fantastic trip. As darkness fell we returned to the city a happy and contented bunch.
Before leaving the south I just had time to go up Baldwin Street which is apparently the steepest residential street in the world according to the guiness book of records. NZ people and places do like to claim the worlds longest largest smallest, most ... quite a lot however with the same claim then being made somewhere else so who knows. It was very steep though so its certainly possible. I was extremely grateful of the seat and drinking fountain at the top - definitely the best placed in NZ! The walk down was definitely less exhausting than the climb up but not much easier overall as I struggled to keep my balance on the steep decline. I definitely wouldn't want to drive up or down it on an icy day.
And with that my trip round the South Island was just about complete. I left the next day and headed straight back to Picton, with an overnight stop in Christchurch along the way, to await my ferry back to the North Island. It was a quick two months in the South Island, and yet again really enjoyable. I really can't believe the good fortune I've been having on this journey - a number of folk have asked if I've had any problems, disappointments or horrible places and I really can't think of any. I just keep my fingers crossed, flip Andy and Isobel's lucky penny, and hope that that happy state can continue as long as I can!
