John and Susan in New Zealand

West Coast Sojourn Jan. 08, 2007 Day One, Monday

Left home early afternoon, heading toward Murchison. Enjoyed the lovely drive through the Buller River Valley, home to herds of sheep, cows and deer. Reminded me of the whole Kiwi deer adventure which had helicopter pilots first carrying live animals out of the high country to valley farms that wanted to establish their own herds, then carrying the dead animals that hunters had shot. Just another business that seemed to have promise (fresh venison on everyone’s world-wide table), but belly-flopped, with just a few deer farms in operation now. They also tried it with Boysenberries, thinking that would be their ticket. Alas, as you know… boysenberry never gained much popularity, although we love them!

Anyway, back to our trip. First stop was the famous Swingbridge just outside Murchison, the longest cable bridge in this wonderful country. Many tourists lined up for the crossing, got a bit too intimate passing on the narrow bridge. Nice short walk through bush on other shoreline, wood walkways, signs and evidence of 1929 earthquake, 7.8 on the richter scale.

Continued on following the Buller river, collecting tributaries along the way to the coast, the wild West Coast! Huge breakers pounding the big, dark rocks and steep beaches. We stopped at a roadside tearoom for sandwiches and …. Duh, tea. Then another tourist treadmill to view a seal colony at Cape Foulwind. Nice name. Captain Cook perceived ill winds off the coast and lots of ships ran afoul of the treacherous waters and rocky headlands. From the pathway above them, we could see seals sunbathing, some rather noisily; all seemed to be awaiting the high tide to get off of their high perches.

Searching for a campsite, we discovered a nice little gravel road down to a confluence of two rivers that turned out be buggy, but beautiful. Set up camp at the river’s edge and explored the waterway on foot,

wading through the rocky, strong current, knee-deep in our water shoes and, in my case, socks and long pants to combat the sand flies. Crossed over and up a road along the ridge between the two rivers. Climbed pretty high, lots of water puddling on the road and running down the slopes. Not too cold water, and fun. Took some great pictures.

John put together a great campfire which we enjoyed right through the dusk. The first stars peeked at us through the cloud cover and as we turned in to our tent, the sky remained cloudy and sort of glowing all night long. Drifted off to the sound of the rapids and the last of the bird song.

Day Two, Tuesday

Woke to a drizzle of rain, just a few wet spots inside the tent, but still warm and comfy. Birds singing like crazy over the babble of the rivers. Struck camp after giving up on sun to dry the tent. Tea and cereal and then we hit the road. Stopped at several scenic views of the coast, getting even more rugged as we moved south.

On a whim, stopped at a canoe rental and got a couple kayaks to explore some river… didn’t catch the name. Just beautiful! Donned wet suits, packed a lunch and the camera and climbed into our little plastic Minnows. Struggled a bit against a strong current, but the dramatic scenery made the effort worthwhile. At places, the water was too swift or too shallow to paddle, so we disembarked to walk the slippery rocks, towing the boats, sometimes over big rocks and logs. The ride back down was heavenly, and exciting with the fast current carrying us along.Filled a water bottle from

the center of the river, some of the best water I have ever tasted. Took lots of great photos, we both agreed it was highlight of the trip so far.

Downside, sort of, was the steady drizzle all through the day. Not a problem while boating, but had a tough time finding and setting up camp late afternoon. After several aborted attempts to find a spot on the shoreline down gravel roads, we set up next to the start of a bush walk leading to a wild and deserted beach. Dinner of steak and salads, then walk down the pretty path through native rainforest teeming with moss, ferns, vines, trees of every imaginable green color and texture. There must have been thousands of different species of plants growing on every surface. Even the trunks and branches of the big trees had dozens of different ferns and moss growing right on them. I expected Treebeard to pop up around every corner. It isn’t just the pounding surf that makes the West Coast wild. We figure Nelson woods will seem pretty tame compared to this.

John made a fire on the beach, which we enjoyed through the drizzle of continuing rain. Back down the trail to camp to download pics off camera and write this, and to bed in a steady, heavy rain.

Day Three, Wednesday

Still raining when we awoke. Stayed fairly dry even though the floor of the tent was puddled with water. Thanks to John’s purchase of a large airbed mattress, we remained pretty dry, although the tent, fly, tarp and mattress were hopelessly wet; packed them up as they were. A cup we had left outside had 1 ½ inches of rainwater in it. We took off without any tea or food, but found a nice bar/café open. Nice folks cooked us up plates of bacon (ham), eggs (sunnyside up happily enthroned on two pieces of toast), sausages (bangers), fried tomatoes(red), toast on the side (cold) and tea. A feast for wet and weary travelers for just $20 (Kiwi money).

Thus fortified, we headed for the Franz Josef glacier (pronounced as though it contained more “glass” than another: glassier). The rain had stopped, and we joined the throng of tourists on the path to the face of the mighty ice shelf. Interesting to listen to the tourists and try to guess from where they hail – we heard Hebrew, Lebanese, Japanese, Chinese, Flemish, German, French, American and British English and a few we just couldn’t place. With so many non-Kiwis, you never knew whether to stick to the left side of the walking trail or the right.

Steep and tricky walk through rainforest bush up the valley into a canyon which had been cut by the heavy ice over the past couple hundred years. A cold, damp wind blew off the ice and down onto us as we picked our way along the rocky valley floor. Despite ducking under several ropes and past some “Danger” signs we weren’t able to get close enough to touch the glacier, but viewed it over the rushing river flowing out from underneath. To tell the truth, it reminded me of dirty parking-lot snow, but hints of aqua-green peeked through in places.

We watched a bit enviously as those who had paid a fee were herded like docile sheep (in matching blue parkas, red fannypacks and black rubber boots) up an aluminium (that’s how they pronounce it here: al you MIN ium) ladder and onto the ice, up a switchback pathway. Found a girl to take our photo together, and I even found some small chunks of ice floating at the water’s edge.

Of course we just had to taste it,
mmmmm..., thats good glacier!

The walk back was mostly downhill and warmer with the cold wind at our backs. In fact, I got too warm even with my jacket off, but had only to turn around for a fresh face-full of glacier wind. All told, we were gone for 2 ½ hours, most of that walking.

Another half-hour of driving up and down, snaking our way along highway 6, we arrived at the village of Fox Glacier (tourist traps everywhere you looked) and debated. If you have seen one glacier, have you seen them all? No, we decided, and were glad we did. Way better than the first one! Fewer people, shorter and smoother walk, plus we were able to get right up to the ice!

Climbing around on the rocks/ice was chilly but thrilling. I saw one large bunch of boulders shift a bit which was enough for my life to start flashing by. But we got some nice photos and made our way out satisfied.

Hotels/lodges around the village all had "no vacancy" signs up but John spotted a farmyard a few miles down the road but still in the middle of nowhere with a "motel" sign. We wound up actually in a lovely little cabin with charming Kiwi furnishings including a kitchen and a big car port where we hung our tent to dry. So, here we are: warm, dry, showered, fed... and we get TWO stations on the TV, what more could we ask for? Right outside our window is a very charming horse tethered to crop the grass down and a herd of deer across the road.
The farm owners placed a fresh pitcher of milk in the fridge, but I’m not sure a venison steak is included for our $70.

Day Four, Thursday

Rained all through the night, pattering on the roof and puddling in the yard. SO glad we were safe and dry in our little cabin; had pancakes and fresh raspberries for breakfast and headed south along the coast in a steady drizzle.

Our first stop, we broke out the rain ponchos and headed down a junglesque track. There are not enough adjectives to do it justice, and I’m afraid the photos don’t either, but I’ll just say we were enchanted --- wet but enchanted. Actually the rain seemed fitting in this lush rainforest, dripping from the leaves above onto our heads. The track was very wet, sometimes more like a creek, and the priority switched from trying to keep our shoes dry, to avoiding the sometimes-slippery rocks and tree roots.

After an hour or so, we heard the sound of falling water, and discovered a hidden cave waterfall down in the valley below the track. The trip down through the jungle was a struggle, and we gave up any attempt to stay clean and dry, just managing not to plummet down to the rocky, log-strewn stream bed below. Following the deep musical cadence of echoing water, we finally ascended the stream bed into the cave, big enough to stand in with vines and water trickling down from above our heads to the floor and over the brink. Cool. And we had this walk to ourselves; never saw another soul. Guess the rain is good for something.

Now thoroughly soaked, we got back on the road with all the other tourists in their cars, bikes, motorcycles, campervans and buses and stopped at a few more spots, including one with a wicked long cable bridge (my favorite… NOT) leading to the Blue Pools all the time wishing that the clouds would clear so we could see the mountains we knew were all around us. And wishing for an end to the damn sandflies!!!!

Pulled into Haast township to buy some gas and supplies. Asked a clerk about the weather and she said, “we don’t get weather reports here.” I don’t know. Anyway, we just kept on going, passing great lakes and rivers, but every time we stopped, the sandflies were brutal! We despaired an evening of camping with rain and bugs, but just then we pulled into a campground at a lake and sighed with relief.

Not only a picture postcard view of clear, deep water surrounded by snow-capped mountains, but a stiff breeze blowing off the water to get rid of the bugs…. Nirvana!!
In the next couple of hours, the clouds blew by and the sun came out and found us in a lovely camp site right on the water, a fire roaring, full tummies, a dry tent and warm sleeping bags all set…. Perfect. We even had a nice conversation with a couple also touring the island. He, English, she, Swiss, but living in Portugal. Quite the adventure they are on here. We invited them to call us when they are in Nelson, so hopefully we will see them again.

Day Five, Friday

Very good sleeping, but woke to find the wind had died and the sandflies were back in force. Everyone in the place started to pack up, except for one couple who went skinny dipping in the cold lake water. Looked like fun, so we lagged behind after everyone cleared out and went for it. Slippery stones and shallow water made it pretty difficult to get in and we suddenly realized a tour bus had pulled up and we had quite a little audience. Oh well… I’m sure our performance made their vacation. Plus, they probably thought we were European.

Spent a good part of the day making our way over toward Mount Cook National Park. Surprisingly easy drive through the big, flat mountain valleys around to the south, over and up again. In most areas, both sides of the road were covered with lupine – I counted at least 8 different colors. It looked like candy. Around one corner, there appeared a huge lake of the strangest color, a bright blue-green that reminded me of a swimming pool. Turned out it was a cold, deep lake of high mountain ice melt that ran down the valley in wide, flat streams. Strangely, our photos don’t show the color at all, and we never did get close down to the water, although the highway followed the shoreline for several miles. No houses or boats or any activity until the end (the mountain lakes are long and thin) where several sheep/cow farms were situated. We thought the lakes here would be crowded and busy, but that hasn’t been the case. Some of the lakes have communities or camp grounds, but otherwise they are quiet.

Pulled into the village of Mount Cook, which is really just lodges and hotels, cafes and restaurants and information services. You could hire (rent) a devise that would send out an electronic signal if you got lost in the mountains, so the rescuers could find you. Picked up some map brochures and found a spot at a nearby campground – quite a busy place. Had a nice restful evening that included an hour walk to a view of the snow and ice-covered mountain peaks.

Sitting there watching the setting sun throw light up onto the ice, we could hear booms of avalanching snow above us behind the clouds. On the way back to the camp, we saw a dark cloud of rain moving up the valley toward us.

Got our ponchos on just in time and enjoyed the light misting until bed time.

Day 6, Saturday

Woke early and John packed up while I cooked breakfast of bacon, eggs, bread, tea and juice. By 8:30, we were on the Hooker Valley track leading up, again, toward the base of the big mountains. We thought we would beat the crowds, but there were a few more couples making the 3-hour walk.

Mostly hilly, but not too steep terrain with native bushes, grasses and the beautiful big Alpine daisy. The rocky environment was just being reclaimed by the vegetation after the whole glacier/landslide thing, and there were no trees. What started out as a fairly cloudy morning cleared to a brilliant blue sky and bright sunshine, so that we even got to see an almost completely uncovered Mt. Cook!

Along the trail, we crossed two long swing bridges over the wild Hooker River, milky and ice cold with glacier run-off. Eventually, we reached the lake to find floating chunks of ice broken off the face of the glacier at the head of the lake. On the way back to the car, we must have passed 60-odd people. Little knots of Japanese tourists who took pictures of everything (including gravel), families with babies and noisy youngsters, older folks who walked with fancy summer “ski” poles for balance, and ordinary ones like us from all over the place. We experimented murmuring “caio” or “guten morgan” as they passed, but it was just for our amusement. We are bad. It did start to mist and the rest of the day turned pretty wet and dark, but never poured down rain. We drove back along the green lake and around toward the east coast and then up toward Arthur Pass that would take us back west. Passed a few tiny towns and lots and lots of sheep, all in the drizzly, grey light. Finally stopped here in Springfield where we found a room in an old brick hotel. We got the honeymoon suite, which we thought amusing as we have to share a bathroom. It has a funky canopy over the bed and an old clock in the fireplace. Guess they thought we’d be too busy to watch TV. Too bad, because being pretty close to Christchurch, they probably get 3 or 4 channels. They have a bar/restaurant downstairs, but we went across the street for dinner, straining through the foggy drizzle for traffic on the highway. The café we visited had good food, but not great service. John ordered tea; I said I’d just have water. The woman poured hot water in a tea cup for me. I apologized and said cold water would be great. She said, “Oh, you don’t want to drink our water cold.” Well, ok. She also glanced out the front door, sighed and said it was so depressing that they hadn’t seen the sun all week. It was pretty sad. But the lasagna was good. They also had a very nice cat sleeping on a couch in the corner of the café (a couch COVERED in cat hair, by the way). John called it “a cat and a half” because it was so fat and sleepy.

So here we are, cozy in our honeymoon room almost ready to drift off and see what awaits us tomorrow.

Day Seven, Sunday

On Saturday evening, I had called a horse trekking place and set up a time for us to take a ride Sunday morning. We were worried about the weather, but the morning dawned so bright and clear, it was like a miracle. Of course we had brought that sunshine with us. Through the whole trip, when we really needed good clear weather, it appeared. We are so lucky.

Just a few kilometers back into the hills, we found Rubicon Valley Farm. A neat one-story brick farm house surrounded by colorful gardens and neatly trimmed lawns, paddocks of beautiful horses, a dozen or so Alpacas and hundreds of sheep. We also discovered a shop displaying Alpaca fiber and deep soft “blankets” of the fir, like lambskins, but, we later learned, made on a machine that embeds the soft fiber in a backing fabric that is then covered with a synthetic suede. Fantastic use of technology to make a great product without killing the animal – the softest, thickest I have ever felt. The woman of the farm, Del, came out and we started talking about the Alpaca, which are cute, well-behaved and easier to deal with than sheep. They seem the ideal animal, and each baby sells for several thousand dollars!

Pretty soon, here comes the man of the farm, Chris, leading two horses saddled and ready to go. Then he brought his horse out, a giant of a thing. Appropriate, considering the man himself was way over 6 feet tall. Ours were more petite, Lulu was for me and John got paired up with Tim, who, despite his small size, was the leader of the herd.

We mounted, had a short refresher course, and headed off down the road, across a few sheep paddocks, through some woods and up and down a path overlooking the river far below. The sheepdog, Tess, accompanied us to our delight, and it was great fun to watch her interacting with the sheep in the paddock. She never chased them, of course, being VERY well trained, but she stared them down and they rarely turned their backs on her. Once I saw a rather large ewe stand up to her, and Tess made a wide circle around her. Wow… a sheep with backbone!

Along the way we had interesting conversation with Chris, about his business and family. Just into their second year on the farm, after Chris’ career as a police officer, the family also performed daily at a farm show (demonstrating shearing and sheep handling with the help of Tess the Wonderdog) and had jet boat rides available as well. I think the more successful Kiwis have learned to diversify to make the most of their resources.

Lulu seemed a bit stubborn and Tim kept stealing grass to eat along the way, but otherwise it was great. An hour’s ride was just right. My butt was not quite completely numb. After wiping down our horses and purchasing a big bag of black Alpaca fiber from a yearling called “Memphis” for just $10 (a HUGE bargain), we said goodbye and headed out.

Didn’t take long before, sure enough, the rain and fog were back with a vengeance. We soon knew camping was out of the question, so we did the calculations and realized we could be home by 8 pm if we drove straight through. Rain and traffic and wicked slopes and curves in Arthur’s Pass, we speeded through by 7, glad to be home in our Nelson flat. By the way… it was sunny and beautiful.