Far from being in mint condition (!) Fox Glacier, named in 1872 after the then new PM Sir William Fox, is rapidly diminishing and receding up its valley under a thick layer of ugly greywacke rock and shale. In its prime the ice river extended into the Tasman but now it is a mere 12 km long and by the time the tiny babies being carried on the chests of their parents up to the lookout are grown, it will be gone.
It can take 100 to 200 years for ice to flow down a glacier but here it only takes 30 years and we watched from our safe lookout as the creamy green water gushed from underneath the ice over the rocky riverbed eating away the ice river from underneath. The whole area is alarmingly unstable both on the surface and above when the weather is bad. In November 2015 6 tourists including couples from Cambridge and Hampshire UK were killed when their helicopter crashed into the glacier. All of the other helicopters had been grounded because of the bad weather.
On the day we were there a body was found on the glacier. The weather that weekend was too wet and misty to recover it. I Googled to see if it has been identified just to see how long it has been there, but there has been no confirmation yet.
Our friend Paul who we visited later at home in Hokitika believes it is a young local man he knew thirty years ago who went alone to the Glacier and never returned. The lad’s parents are both in the cemetery behind Paul’s house but his sister still lives. How odd it would be for her at the age of 71 to bury her brother aged 20 years.
It turns out the remains belonged to the wife of the Hampshire couple I mentioned above.
Rob and I were surprised at the risk people are prepared to take for some pictures. The last part of the hike up to the lookout is very steep and sheer sided and there are ‘no stopping’ signs at regular intervals, yet people were teetering on the edge posing and even going beyond the safety barrier for a better shot.
On a sunny day we imagined the glacier would look more blue and icy than the grey rocky surface we saw. It seemed amazing that this freezing giant exists in temperate and sub-tropical rainforest and we saw palm trees and giant ferns along the trail. We didn’t fancy a helicopter ride to the top for a ramble lasting a few minutes though there are enough of the machines operating. From 8.00am they start their engines and all around the camp we hear the thumping roar as they warm up for another days work.
When we first arrived it was cloudy and damp so we pitched the tent and at 4.00pm hit The White Pub, one of the oldest in town and tucked into squid rings in batter and fish bites with chips washed down with Speights bitter.
The Glacier region boomed when gold was discovered in the area in 1864 and with the burgeoning population came well-dressed visitors to the area exploring the ice garden in bowties and long dresses. Farming was also thriving on land recently cleared of trees.
We drove past some of these family owned farms on our way to Lake Matheson which is famous for the pictures of the snow-capped mountains reflected in the lake. No blue skies for us though and the photo is a library picture to give you the idea. As we supped coffee and shared a gargantuan slice of carrot cake in the lake cafe, we hoped that maybe tomorrow the sun would appear and we would see that view. But it was not to be. Never mind.
That evening in camp I caught up on razoring 483 photos so I could submit them to the blog and we loaned cutlery to a couple who had none, so they washed up for us as well as themselves. We went to sleep to the sound of a distant cuckoo and raindrops on the tent.
The Second of our Dramas, (the first being Vicky’s engine oil leak.)
Casey Ruth was originally from Colorado and has recently returned to NZ from a job in Antarctica. Deciding to have a short break before his next job in Christchurch he was motorcycling down to Invercargill to motor bike heaven as we left Fox Glacier heading north to Hokitika.
We were ascending a small hill towards a 25km bend when Casey came slowly around the opposite way on his bike as it toppled over and slid across the road infront of us. Rob read the situation in an instant and braked and steered us safely away from Casey. We rushed from the car and I signalled the traffic in both directions to stop while Rob went to Casey. Stop those first cars I thought and they will stop the ones behind.
Ironically the very first vehicle was being driven by retired nurse Ruth, out on their 30th annual trekking holiday with four friends and she came and examined poor Casey. He was in shock of course so blankets were whisked from Vicky’s back seats and wrapped around him as he sat off the road. His left shoulder and ribs were giving him hell but like all devoted motor cyclists he was more concerned about his KTM with its off-road tyres. By this time other motorists had helped get the bike off the road and parked on its stand. So he could relax.
Half an hour later the incident had collected a paramedic, an ambulance and two police cars. We left our details with a friendly cop and made our way north beneath high tree clad mountains and over almost dry river beds. Rock and tree falls cleared to the road sides reminded us that this whole area is constantly on the move.
We were on the West Coast Highway that took nearly one hundred years to build and on our left the Tasman looked beautiful as it broke along the shore creating a crest of white froth. Our next town on route was Ross – Gold Town, surrounded by rainforest and nestling between the Southern Alps and the wild coast and the site of the first gold find in the Totara Region.
There are many historic buildings and relics in this town to help tell the story of the gold rush but the town is by no means a ghost town. It is alive and well and gold mining is still one of the industries. Rob and I set off on the Gold Walkway and had a quick fossick in Jones Creek which revealed a nice palm sized piece of quartz with gold flecks in it which looks quite impressive when it is wet.
Jane’s ancestors, with the surname Ford, arrived in Ross and opened a butcher’s shop. A nearby creek is named after Mr Ford, probably because he made a fortune engineering water to the mines, which among other things was used to blast rock loose on terraces and wash gold infused rock down wooden chutes.
Some of the pit heads were tiny with the remains of wooden ladders disappearing into the gloom and lock boards in the water leats still in place. An old miners cabin was a window through time showing an austere life of struggle and, more often than not, short-lived gain.
After booking into the Hokitika Holiday Park we went to have a look around the old quayside which was once a thriving shipping area importing anything to do with goldmining, settlement and farming and exporting timber, greenstone (jade or Pounamu in Maori) and numerous other products. There were even three opera houses along the foreshore on Revell Street.
Rob went to look around the replica of a wreck in the car park and I wandered along the quayside to read some history boards. I sensed someone was behind me and when I turned I was not at all surprised to see Ian whom we had met on the Doubtful Sound Cruise. “What did I say, we’d meet again” I exclaimed to a highly amused Ian. It transpired they like us had been filtered down the Holiday Park list, finding three of the four sites in the town closed and the fourth full, no surprise there. So we were on the same brand new site just down the road, a happy coincidence since they needed some help to finish a few half bottles of wine before their flight to Australia the next day.
“We’re just going to get some food and then we’ll be back,” I said as we parted. You may wonder why I am going to tell you about a trip to the supermarket when there was much more interesting stuff going on.
Good question, so here goes. We were in New World Supermarket and had wandered from one end to the other, and were just about to leave when I remembered we needed potatoes. Back we go through the shop, unaware that fate was working away. Turning down the veggy aisle Rob suddenly stopped, stared and said, “Hello Graham, what are you doing here?” Graham Baines is the same age as Rob and was in the same class at school back in Oakham.
He was on holiday in NZ for a month or so and was doubly amazed at the coincidence because mutual friend Julie Munday had told him before he left to look out for Rob as we are somewhere in NZ. What chance, he thought, of coming face to face with Rob in NZ with a population of 4.5 million which doubles in the summer months. What chance indeed.
An amazing day of Casey’s fallen motorbike, striking gold and a double coincidence. Phew, we needed a drink….
A High Time in the Bush
Twenty metres high in fact and we were walking the Australian made walkway amongst trees, lichens, mosses and ferns that have evolved here in isolation since New Zealand (Aotearoa in Maori) broke away from the fabulously named Gondwana landmass 65 million years ago. This land was once part of our friends in Hokitika, Jane and Paul’s, dairy farm.
In the distance to the east are the majestic mountains of Arthurs Pass National park in the Southern Alps range and between the forest and the coast is Lake Mahinapua. Before the West Coast Highway was opened it was a convenient means of travelling from the busy ports of Hokitika and Greymouth to the goldfields around Ross.
At first all seems quiet in the tree tops as we started our walk with just one other couple a short distance behind us. Then a Kereru pigeon cannot escape notice with its noisy wing beat as it flies past. It is the only bird big enough to eat the big red fruit of the Miro tree and pass it whole so it can then germinate.
The tallest trees around us are mature Podocarps including the Rimu Trees which grow tall and straight. Now protected the Rimu was much sought after by loggers for building and export. It was like standing on a terrace in a football stadium filled to capacity with trees instead of fans of all sizes.
Amongst the young growing versions of podocarps, at six to fifteen metres are broadleaf trees such as the Kamahi and giant ferns that look so perfect and lacy from above.
I remember once watching a programme with David Attenborough hoisted up to the tree canopy in some tropical rainforest to see all around him a vast garden filled with brightly coloured flowers. It was quite a surprise, I had never realised that trees flowered in profusion at their summits. Since then I have always wanted to see trees from above, so this was a priceless experience for me.
Beautiful little orchids hung harmlessly from their mighty hosts, soaking up the sun. I learned on a visit to the Orchid House at Kew Gardens that orchids grow in the clefts of trees and we have seen it in all the tropical and sub-tropical forests we have visited, but here it was high up, close and very pretty.
Being so close to the moisture laden air off the Tasman Sea this area gets high rainfall, 18.4 metres in 1997 was recorded just 30km inland from here. The wet air is forced upwards when it hits the slopes of the Alps cooling it so the moisture is released as rain, giving this area a soaking from both sides.
I love the way in these forests rotting and dying trees are left untouched and unruly because they then provide a home for a myriad of bugs which in turn are fodder to birds, remember the cute kiwi with its very long beak and nostrils at the pointy end, and the similar but more practical Weka. So many people think they’ve seen a kiwi when they have really seen a Weka.
Our bird tally included the Kereru in the photo, a Sacred Kingfisher and fantails with their delicate trill.
Then we were off for a 24 hour interlude up to Greymouth to meet with Sue and Chris from Larry, whom we had met in the Spanish Rias at the start of our journey. They were on a whistle stop tour of the South Island and we had worked hard mentally to find a time and a place where our routes would coincide. They were to arrive by car the next day having crossed Arthur’s Pass from Christchurch to change to a camper van and head north for Abel Tasman and some trekking.
When they booked the scenic train was still running, but then the forest fire damaged the track and the train was parked in the tunnel to protect it from the fire. So that mode of travel was replaced with a car they were effectively returning to its base for the hire company. Since they were doing the company a favour they were only charged $4 for the hire.
We pitched our tent on almost exactly the same site as on our previous visit and went for a walk along the Greymouth beach. Walking back along the path that leads right into town via the Blaketown Breakwater we crossed a tiny stream. Back in the early gold rush days before licences were allocated for panning, two brothers and their friend from Aussie panned for just a few months of sieving gold in various shapes and sizes from the flowing water of this little stream. When they returned home they sold the gold for $3.4 million at today’s value. Not bad for a few months back breaking work.
The day dawned misty and grey so we went to see if Richard was at the end of the harbour wall with his coffee and waffles in a lifeboat, but he wasn’t there. Maybe it was his day off or he’s finally bought the boat of his dreams.
We spent over two happy hours chatting with Sue and Chris while having lunch in Speights Brewery Ale House right opposite the station and parted with the aim of seeing them next when they arrived for a charter holiday in Vavau, Tonga in October. Loose plans are always the best as situations can change things and Rob and I know the importance of being flexible.
By now we were looking forward to returning to Zoonie and although we did not want to hurry the last part of our land trip we felt a sense of needing to move on fairly briskly as if the timing of our journey had some higher importance as yet unbeknown to us. But not before spending a couple of days staying with Jane and Paul in Hokitika who had just returned from Nora J in Havelock.