July 21, 2008
All that can be said about Milford Sound is that it is ridiculous. Ridiculously beautiful, ridiculously lush, ridiculously ringed in snowcapped peaks and so on. The drive out to the sound was fraught with peril – first we were besieged by sheep. We were charmed to see a farmer? rancher? and his sheep dogs manipulating a large herd, until they “worked” them out into the road to move up to their next grazing field (I am making this up; I have no idea why they were being moved). Sheep are not very speedy animals and they lack the ability to focus on the task at hand. They scattered all along the roadside, stopping to snack on roadside hedges every few feet. There were sheep in front of us, bleating and baaahing to beat the band, sheep behind us, s
heep trotting alongside the van. Zada was in heaven. She loves sheep. She never tires of seeing them; she must have seen several million by now, yet at each new flock she exclaims, “LOOK! SHEEP!”
The next danger we faced were the spectacular vistas – glorious views extended as far as the eye could see for 360 degrees. It made paying any attention to the steep, winding track a near i
mpossibility. We gave ourselves 4 hours to complete the route that should take under 2 and we needed every minute as we had to pull over at every viewpoint (prior to the avalanche zone, where we virtuously did not stop at all despite tremendous provocation from magnificent photo ops). I took over 388 pictures and Brad took some horrific amount of video – all of which must now be pruned and edited. Zada, with greater restraint, took only 128 pictures. We stopped to photograph the myriad splendors at Te Anau flats, the Eglinton River (at several points) and most notably “The Chasm”.
At one stop, just before the Homer tunnel and the really hairy section of road, we got out to let Zada kick some snow around (and take some more photographs) when a kea flew up to check us out. They are the world’s only alpine parrot, and bigger than I expected. Keas have greenish-brown plumage and a wickedly curved beak – with which they like to rip off weather stripping from cars and generally tear things up. It was not in the least shy and was coming perilously close to the van when we were saved by a tour bus offering more scope for destructive tendencies.
The Homer tunnel is a somewhat terrifying construction. It is roughly hewn directly out of the mountain (the huge, icy mountain that seems like it must crush you as you enter the tunnel) and slopes downward – it also seemed to be rather full of water. I couldn’t help but think that it could easily become a giant ice rink if the temperature dropped just a degree or two. Once you clear the tunnel, the fun driving really begins – the road plunges and corkscrews down to the sound. The views are stunning, but you scarcely dare to look. I was having chest pains and palpitations until we reached the bottom.
The Chasm was a gorgeous waterfall? This seems a rather weak way to describe this extraordinary water feature. There certainly is a point, at which the water falls dramatically into
the stream below, but this is the least of it – the water has dug an incredible, elaborate obstacle course for itself through the boulders. It has bored holes through the middle of some enormous rocks, carved out the sides of others into serpentine arabesques, while undermining other mossy slabs by removing the base material they rest on. The water here, like everyplace else, is of a superb clarity. As it rushes it is an almost unearthly blue color under its froth of white foam, and here and there where it flows more quietly, you can see every detail on the bottom.
Yes, all that and I haven’t yet begun to drivel on about the sound itself, our cruise, the trip to the underwater observatory or all the rest of it.
The sound was gorgeous, of course. Mitre Peak is the single most photographed peak in all of NZ and we did our duty nobly to keep its numbers up. Sadly, again, I do not understand how to compensate for the light in this hemisphere! It is so piercingly brilliant, you can feel it burning your retinas out of your head. When you can stand to look, it shows everything around you with this kind of hyper-clarity. What you see is in glorious Technicolor and sharp as a razor; what you photograph is bleached-out and the radiance is transmuted into mist. Profoundly irritating for me, but probably lifesaving for most of you, as it is radically diminishing the number of pictures I will make you look at when we get back.
We took the “Encounter” expedition with the Red Boat company. This is a very small boat that doesn’t follow a set itinerary – they chase down the most interesting bits of natural whatever that happen to be going on that day. We were taken right up to the edge of the rock face in the sound and could practically touch the overhanging greenery. We learned a great deal about the fiordlands area – there are a visible series of “shelves” that show the gouging out process during different glacial events. The sound in its current incarnation is the result of five such events. The cliff faces and outcrops are covered in incredibly lush growth – even more incredible when you r
ealize that there is no soil layer at all. Extremely sturdy lichens provide a base for moss. The mosses allow ferns and various other small and undemanding plants to grow. This “carpet” then somehow is a sufficient support for trees. Some of these trees are enormous. It is impossible to believe that they are anchored to the rock only by the tenacity of some moss and lichens. We saw some “tree avalanche” scars. The trees’ roots eventually become the glue that binds a whole section of this rockbound plant life together. When the lead tree goes, it rips out everything attached to it and under it.
We also investigated a number of waterfalls. You could trace their circuitous paths back up to the snowy peaks above. They were absolutely gorgeous; some of the smaller falls were particularly lovely. We went in for a close look at the “Pixie” and the “Fairy” falls, so called because of the way they catch the light and create spectacular rainbows all around. We also went under a couple of waterfalls and enjoyed squealing and being completely soaked in freezing
water (the interior cabins were heated and hot coffee and tea flowed generously throughout the voyage).
The boat visited several outposts of young bachelor NZ fur seals and we were corrected about these animals – they are in fact small sea lions, not seals at all. We had wondered about their hopping around on those back flippers and now we know. One poor youngster had recently been bested in a turf war and had a huge chunk of hindquarter (or whatever you call the backside of a seal/sea lion) missing.
We were extraordinarily lucky to see yellow-crested penguins, normally they don’t return from their winter grounds for another month or two. This was our third type of penguin and was
tremendously exciting for all on board. Again, the captain of the vessel showed off the maneuvers of the Lady Bowen and practically landed the boat on the rock shore right next to the penguins.
After the penguins we landed at the underwater observatory. This is a floating, reverse aquarium – we are in the tank while the sea life swims around looking at us. This was a fascinating place! We were 7 meters under the sound in a floating box with 5 inch thick specialized $10,000.00 German plexi-glass windows all around. The special quality of the glass is it doesn’t distort at all, in spite of its tremendous bulk. We saw all sorts of sea stars, sea cucumbers, anemones and corals of every description. The mussels seemed to be having bad time of it with sea stars mobbing them and sucking them out of their shells. We walked round and round the tank in amazement; the views were incredible – the
water (yes, again about the water and how clear) was so clean that the visibility was phenomenal.
Well, that is pretty much it (not really, and no matter how much you think I go on and on and on in these postings, I assure you, I could go on a lot more and probably will next time I see you). We re-boarded the boat and journeyed back to Te Anau where we ate ourselves silly at a marvelous Italian place. I do not understand the trim, healthiness of the Kiwis at all. The food here is amazing – everything is delicious, portions are practically up to American standards and butter is all but a beverage. Their desserts! Well, I won’t go down that track, but believe me, if you never come here for the gorgeous, come for the food.
All that can be said about Milford Sound is that it is ridiculous. Ridiculously beautiful, ridiculously lush, ridiculously ringed in snowcapped peaks and so on. The drive out to the sound was fraught with peril – first we were besieged by sheep. We were charmed to see a farmer? rancher? and his sheep dogs manipulating a large herd, until they “worked” them out into the road to move up to their next grazing field (I am making this up; I have no idea why they were being moved). Sheep are not very speedy animals and they lack the ability to focus on the task at hand. They scattered all along the roadside, stopping to snack on roadside hedges every few feet. There were sheep in front of us, bleating and baaahing to beat the band, sheep behind us, s
heep trotting alongside the van. Zada was in heaven. She loves sheep. She never tires of seeing them; she must have seen several million by now, yet at each new flock she exclaims, “LOOK! SHEEP!”The next danger we faced were the spectacular vistas – glorious views extended as far as the eye could see for 360 degrees. It made paying any attention to the steep, winding track a near i
mpossibility. We gave ourselves 4 hours to complete the route that should take under 2 and we needed every minute as we had to pull over at every viewpoint (prior to the avalanche zone, where we virtuously did not stop at all despite tremendous provocation from magnificent photo ops). I took over 388 pictures and Brad took some horrific amount of video – all of which must now be pruned and edited. Zada, with greater restraint, took only 128 pictures. We stopped to photograph the myriad splendors at Te Anau flats, the Eglinton River (at several points) and most notably “The Chasm”.At one stop, just before the Homer tunnel and the really hairy section of road, we got out to let Zada kick some snow around (and take some more photographs) when a kea flew up to check us out. They are the world’s only alpine parrot, and bigger than I expected. Keas have greenish-brown plumage and a wickedly curved beak – with which they like to rip off weather stripping from cars and generally tear things up. It was not in the least shy and was coming perilously close to the van when we were saved by a tour bus offering more scope for destructive tendencies.
The Homer tunnel is a somewhat terrifying construction. It is roughly hewn directly out of the mountain (the huge, icy mountain that seems like it must crush you as you enter the tunnel) and slopes downward – it also seemed to be rather full of water. I couldn’t help but think that it could easily become a giant ice rink if the temperature dropped just a degree or two. Once you clear the tunnel, the fun driving really begins – the road plunges and corkscrews down to the sound. The views are stunning, but you scarcely dare to look. I was having chest pains and palpitations until we reached the bottom.
The Chasm was a gorgeous waterfall? This seems a rather weak way to describe this extraordinary water feature. There certainly is a point, at which the water falls dramatically into
the stream below, but this is the least of it – the water has dug an incredible, elaborate obstacle course for itself through the boulders. It has bored holes through the middle of some enormous rocks, carved out the sides of others into serpentine arabesques, while undermining other mossy slabs by removing the base material they rest on. The water here, like everyplace else, is of a superb clarity. As it rushes it is an almost unearthly blue color under its froth of white foam, and here and there where it flows more quietly, you can see every detail on the bottom.Yes, all that and I haven’t yet begun to drivel on about the sound itself, our cruise, the trip to the underwater observatory or all the rest of it.
The sound was gorgeous, of course. Mitre Peak is the single most photographed peak in all of NZ and we did our duty nobly to keep its numbers up. Sadly, again, I do not understand how to compensate for the light in this hemisphere! It is so piercingly brilliant, you can feel it burning your retinas out of your head. When you can stand to look, it shows everything around you with this kind of hyper-clarity. What you see is in glorious Technicolor and sharp as a razor; what you photograph is bleached-out and the radiance is transmuted into mist. Profoundly irritating for me, but probably lifesaving for most of you, as it is radically diminishing the number of pictures I will make you look at when we get back.
We took the “Encounter” expedition with the Red Boat company. This is a very small boat that doesn’t follow a set itinerary – they chase down the most interesting bits of natural whatever that happen to be going on that day. We were taken right up to the edge of the rock face in the sound and could practically touch the overhanging greenery. We learned a great deal about the fiordlands area – there are a visible series of “shelves” that show the gouging out process during different glacial events. The sound in its current incarnation is the result of five such events. The cliff faces and outcrops are covered in incredibly lush growth – even more incredible when you r
ealize that there is no soil layer at all. Extremely sturdy lichens provide a base for moss. The mosses allow ferns and various other small and undemanding plants to grow. This “carpet” then somehow is a sufficient support for trees. Some of these trees are enormous. It is impossible to believe that they are anchored to the rock only by the tenacity of some moss and lichens. We saw some “tree avalanche” scars. The trees’ roots eventually become the glue that binds a whole section of this rockbound plant life together. When the lead tree goes, it rips out everything attached to it and under it.We also investigated a number of waterfalls. You could trace their circuitous paths back up to the snowy peaks above. They were absolutely gorgeous; some of the smaller falls were particularly lovely. We went in for a close look at the “Pixie” and the “Fairy” falls, so called because of the way they catch the light and create spectacular rainbows all around. We also went under a couple of waterfalls and enjoyed squealing and being completely soaked in freezing
water (the interior cabins were heated and hot coffee and tea flowed generously throughout the voyage).The boat visited several outposts of young bachelor NZ fur seals and we were corrected about these animals – they are in fact small sea lions, not seals at all. We had wondered about their hopping around on those back flippers and now we know. One poor youngster had recently been bested in a turf war and had a huge chunk of hindquarter (or whatever you call the backside of a seal/sea lion) missing.
We were extraordinarily lucky to see yellow-crested penguins, normally they don’t return from their winter grounds for another month or two. This was our third type of penguin and was
tremendously exciting for all on board. Again, the captain of the vessel showed off the maneuvers of the Lady Bowen and practically landed the boat on the rock shore right next to the penguins.After the penguins we landed at the underwater observatory. This is a floating, reverse aquarium – we are in the tank while the sea life swims around looking at us. This was a fascinating place! We were 7 meters under the sound in a floating box with 5 inch thick specialized $10,000.00 German plexi-glass windows all around. The special quality of the glass is it doesn’t distort at all, in spite of its tremendous bulk. We saw all sorts of sea stars, sea cucumbers, anemones and corals of every description. The mussels seemed to be having bad time of it with sea stars mobbing them and sucking them out of their shells. We walked round and round the tank in amazement; the views were incredible – the
water (yes, again about the water and how clear) was so clean that the visibility was phenomenal.Well, that is pretty much it (not really, and no matter how much you think I go on and on and on in these postings, I assure you, I could go on a lot more and probably will next time I see you). We re-boarded the boat and journeyed back to Te Anau where we ate ourselves silly at a marvelous Italian place. I do not understand the trim, healthiness of the Kiwis at all. The food here is amazing – everything is delicious, portions are practically up to American standards and butter is all but a beverage. Their desserts! Well, I won’t go down that track, but believe me, if you never come here for the gorgeous, come for the food.
7/22/08
We visited Queenstown today – the physical location of the city is amazing. It sits in a bay of the gloriously lovely Lake Wakatipu and looks across the pristine water onto the aptly named “Remakables” mountain range. The best view of the city is to be had from on high, so we took the gondola up and were rewarded for the expenditure. It is indeed a beautiful city. The luge was one of many options to entertain yourself after tiring of the view. There was also the
ubiquitous bungee jumping and other adrenaline enhancing activities. I don’t know if we’ve mentioned yet that the whole nation is madly addicted to extreme sports and throwing themselves off of precipices and the like. Every hamlet has it bungee, sky swing, paragliding and jet boat action adventure center. Why walk or drive when you can helijump/ski/hike? Why look at the waterfall when you can jet boat over/through/under it?We tamely came back down the mountain in the sedate gondola and went on our way to Wanaka. Wanaka is our jumping off point for a series of short hikes in Mt. Aspiring National Park. En route we passed our first LOTR filming site. Zada was ecstatic. The touring guide map book we have shows all the various locations from the movies – we passed the “river Anduin and the site of the “Pillars of the Kings”. It was indeed a gorgeous river and you can, in fact, bungee jump from huge iron trestles over it in two different locations.
Wanaka is also home to Puzzlingworld. As their advertising says, “a truly unique attraction”. The
first thing we did was The Great Maze. After entering the maze in the middle the object is to get to the color coded towers in the 4 corners. There are about 1.5km of passages in the maze. There are a number of dead ends and it is possible to go in circles. There is also a second story to the maze which does not allow you to plan your route through the bottom floor as easily as you might think. We found our way to the first 3 towers in about 15 minutes, the green tower proved very difficult to get to. In the end we managed to find the tower and get to the exit in exactly 30 minutes which is the low end of average according to the signs.Puzzlingworld also has Illusion Rooms. This starts with a series of holographic pictures, many of which change if you shift the angle from which you look. Next you enter an octagonal room in which you are gazed upon by 168 famous faces. There are relief carvings of Winston Churchill, Mother Teresa, Einstein, Nelson Mandela, Beethoven, Lincoln, and van Gogh. There are 2 illusions at work here. One, the faces all appear to be looking at you, no matter where you stand and that some of the faces are 10 feet up the wall. Two, the faces are relief carvings (concave, bent inwards, like a spoon) but they appear to be sticking out from the wall. Next, there is an Ames Room. This is a room that from a certain vantage point appears to be a normal room. However, when you go in you find that it is terrifically slanted. The illusion it creates for the viewer is that Zada appears to bumping her head on the ceiling while Brad can’t touch the ceiling even if he leaps for it. This is possible because the back wall is not parallel to the front, it slopes down and away. Finally, you enter a room in which the floor is tilted and water appears to flow uphill, balls roll up hill, and generally everything is off center. A very enjoyable diversion.
July 23, 2008
We drove through Mt. Aspiring National Park today on our way to Fox Glacier (our glacier walk is set for tomorrow morning at 9:00!). The park was lovely with the standard issue gorgeous mountains, lush old growth native forest, pristine creeks, rivers and lakes, spectacular waterfalls crashing down the cliff faces every 20 feet or so. We stopped off at several of the walking trails to gawk and take thousands of photographs.
The first stop we made was the extremely enjoyable walk to the Blue Pools. These pools are reached via an easy track through cool, mossy, fern draped forest and a highly traumatizing (for one member of the party) walk over a swing bridge. Certain seven-year olds rendered the crossing considerably more horrific by skipping and clip-clopping over like the biggest Billy Goat Gruff, setting the bridge to undulating and wildly swinging over the rock filled river.
Once over the bridge, the pools were beautiful (although Zada took serious issue with the nomenclature, “the pools look GREEN, not BLUE.”) The pools (which indeed looked more green than blue) were spectacularly clear; the excellent visibility allowing us to easily spot the monster trout who live here.
This place was a rock-hound paradise. There were amazing specimens of greenstone among other beauties and we were itching to collect some (we both want a set-up like they had at Te Papa, a huge basin with an enormous hunk of raw greenstone and the bottom filled with gravel and grit. Patrons are invited to scoop up a handful of the sediment and polish the rock. It would
be a wonderful classroom center and I wonder how many years worth of classes we’d go through before the rock was smooth and glowing green?). However, all the greenstone is the property of the Ngai Tahu (as we learned at Te Papa) and its removal is prohibited. We contented ourselves with photographs and throwing hundreds of rocks into the pool.We stopped to view several waterfalls – the Fantail Fall, Thundering Falls and “Roaring Billy” falls. Each of these was reached at the end of a short forest walk and was …fill in all the usual overworked adjectives here. It was all of that. There were more enormous hunks of greenstone, more crystal, clear water rushing by, and more general loveliness.
After we left Mt. Aspiring we stopped for a snack break at Paringa Lake, this was a serious mistake as we had to eat and run to avoid the swarms of dive-bombing fantails. They were all over us! Once the bird plague abated it was time for the sand flies to move in. it was lovely, but apparently best enjoyed from the interior of the campervan.
The Tasman Sea providing a stunning backdrop for a good bit of our drive – a backdrop that moved to the foreground at certain points! The surf was insane, HUGE, monstrous, immense, enormous breakers were smashing into the shore. At one point there was rubble all over the road from where the sea kept crashing over it! Very exciting!We arrived at Fox Glacier Township and confirmed our hike for tomorrow. This should be thrilling! We’ve explored glaciers before; in Alberta and Alaska, but not like this.
July 24, 2008
The glacier hike was incredible. Exhausting, but incredible! We were booked on the sissy tour; called the “Fox Trot” it is a half day hike with an hour exploring the glacier – no ice climbing, no prior experience needed – suitable (by NZ standards) for elderly heart patients and infants in arms. Those Kiwis are psychotically fit. I had to check out a walking stick to get through the
bush walk portion. I want to say right here and now how very proud of my knees and ankles I am. Miraculously, everything held together and I got all the way up and back, without any sort of airlift or emergency rescue operation. We have noticed that the Kiwis are a remarkably direct nation on occasion; they are super-scathing about “stupid tourists” not following local advice or warning signs and getting themselves lost or injured. They’ll pull out all the stops to save you, but make it pretty clear they don’t appreciate having had to.Our guides explained the route, track conditions and checked everyone’s shoes for crampon compatibility. They had extra warm layers, extra waterproof layers, extra boots, socks and even extra backpacks if yours wouldn’t hold
everything. We had to check out one of these bags, which was disappointing as we were so excited about having crammed everything into just one small pack (we forgot we’d have to carry the crampons and need a place to store extra layers of clothing). They warned us that there were 600 stairs to climb during the bush walk, no railings over a 100m drop, log bridges and small creek fords on the way up and that we’d have to come back the same way.Once everyone had their crampons and other gear we were loaded on to a bus and driven from the town to the glacier. When we arrived the two guides divided the group in to 2 groups of 14 and away we went. We only walked to the end of the “car park” (which is Kiwi for parking lot) before stopping. Our guide Simon pointed out the various features of the valley, the steep sides, the horizontal gouges caused by the scrapping of ice and rock, and the piles of till showing where the old terminal faces had been. He also pointed
out the NZ Works (like the Department of Transportation) trucks. He explained that they are trying to shore up the car park as it is sinking. About 120 years ago a land slide buried a 500 meter long sheet of ice and detached it from the glacier. Now it’s about 15 meters underground and melting slowly, taking the car park with it.The first portion of the hike was fairly level through increasingly thick bush. When we stopped again we had an excellent view of the cave out of which flows the river of glacial melt water. Rivers flowing out from under glaciers have a milky color. This is caused by “rock flour”, the finely ground bits of rock that have been pulverized by their time under the glacier. We also saw a pool that had been cut off from the river by shifting currents. This was not milky like the river but blue green like many of the other rivers we’ve seen. After the rock flour settles out of the water the dissolved minerals give the water this color.
Walking on we entered the bush proper which is exceedingly lush. This is a temperate rainforest receiving about 7 meters of rain a year. Everything is encrusted in moss, lichen, and other plants. Most of the trees seem to be hosting at least 50 other species of growing things. We crossed a few streams on stepping stones and a few on log bridges. Then the steps began. We thought that when the guides said 600 steps that they meant figuratively. Alas, they really meant 600 steps, each with a rise of about 2 feet. Clearly the designer of the steps was channeling the ancient Mayan pyramid builders. The stairs in places resembled the winding stairs into Mordor that Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up, that steep with that kind of fall if you slip. One portion had a safety chain which we were ordered to hold at all times.
At last we arrived glacier-side. This, we were told, is the coldest part of the valley due to the wind caused by the very cold glacier in the relatively warm rainforest. Here we strapped on our crampons and were issued an alpenstock (a meter long stick with a point metal end to help keep your feet on the ice) and set off. Fox Glacier Guiding sends a crew out to the ice daily to maintain the pathways on the glacier. They cut steps and fill in cracks. Without the constant maintenance the paths would disappear after just a few days due to melting and evaporation.
Our walk took us over ridges and through crevasses. The ice in a glacier is primarily blue because all of the air has been squeezed out, rendering the ice super-dense. The ice we walked over was probably about 80-100 years old. That is about how long it takes for any one snowflake to get from the neve (the top of the glacier where the snow goes in) to the terminal face (the bottom where the ice stops). We peered into an ice cave that disappeared into the depths of the glacier. We walked under a dripping ice arch and up a steep set of steps where it was necessary to haul oneself up on a rope. It was impossible to photograph enough. Taking all of our photos together one could probably assemble a flip book of our hike.
Our time on the ice flew by and Zada was especially incensed when the hour was up. We wound our way back to the place where we began and removed our crampons. There we began our bush walk back down to the car park. The steps were no more enjoyable going down than they were going up. Everyone’s knees held up and we made it to the car park intact. Zada had to be asked several time not to hop down the steps and skip across the log bridges. She and the guide were the only ones not looking just a bit worked by the hike. When she heard he’d be going back out for another 4 hour glacier hike after lunch, she asked if she could also go again.
Back in town we loaded up the Beast and set our sights on Hokitika.
July 25, 2008
We are delighted to be in Hokitika – one of the primary arts and crafts capitols of NZ. Everyplace else we’ve been, when you pick up this or that little charmingly made piece of kiwiana, it turns out to have been made in Hokitika. We had particularly set our hearts on this place called “Bonz and Stonz”. The proprietor lets you design your own piece and then teaches you how to produce it in paua, bone or greenstone. We were really excited about getting hands-on with the traditional art forms. Unfortunately, this place was closed. We did very much enjoy visiting a glassblowing studio, several jade workshops, a paua shell workshop and a local artists’
cooperative, where we saw amazing work in wood, bone, shell, wool and stone. The artists were very generous with their time and knowledge.After examining every piece in the entire village, we hit the road for Paparoa National Park to view the “Pancake” rocks. This name comes from the extraordinary arrangement of the layers of rock here on the coast. The park has a very nice track that leads you through a veritable flax forest out to spectacular view of the rocks, the Tasman Sea and the range of snow capped peaks in the distance. It was a glorious day, with more of that impossibly bright southern light glistening off of everything. The view we had was what prompted the Maori to name this land Aotearoa – the “Land of the Long White Cloud”. That was exactly what it looked like, the white peaks seeming to hover above the landscape.
We followed the track, exclaiming at every bend, “They REALLY look like pancakes here!” Until we gave ourselves over entirely to the art of videotaping a blowhole; the sea roars alarmingly and the waters swirl and crash menacingly. You are sure this swell is the one that will send the water erupting up in a spectacular spay and turn the camera on, okay, the next one, no, the one after is really big – keep rolling, if you stop the camera it will take too long to come back on and you’ll miss it! So we have really long series of video of us staring down into various holes in the rock. It was quite exciting when it did happen (which I do not believe we actually caught on time). Anyhow, it was a very attractive park with lots of interesting geological features.In addition to the “Pancake” rocks the coastline itself bears the unmistakable scars of living next to the sea. The massive breakers are wearing away and sculpting the enormous stands of rock into quite fantastic shapes.
July 26, 2008
Our astounding run of weather luck finally broke today. We beat the odds for a good long time – we haven’t been shut out of almost anything or anyplace we wanted to see. We might have had to curtail or temper activities a time or two, but we always got to do something everywhere we’ve been – until today. After some of the worst roads of the entire trip we fetched up in Abel Tasman National Park to be told we’d missed the day’s last water taxi and all activities, tours and rentals for tomorrow were looking pretty grim. A huge weather system had been smacking around the North Island, flooding and washing out roads and bridges, suspending the ferry and air travel. Now it was moving south. They had seen swells of 4 meters and weren’t about to gives us their kayaks to destroy in the Tasman Bay.
This was a serious disappointment – the whole area is stunning – golden (not yellow, not tan or cream, really GOLDEN) beaches lapped by sparkling turquoise water. Well, let’s give the day its due and carry on a bit about the horrific driving. We were desperate to escape the West Coast, which was costing us a fortune. The consummate artistry of the craftpeople (whether working in glass, stone, bone, shell, wool or a decadent selection of native timbers [all reclaimed or from dead wood]) in this area was impossible to withstand. Somehow I neglected to set up a taonga (treasure) budget and most of you know how precious my spreadsheets are to me. It has been a struggle. Most shops had the workrooms open and the artisans were happy to discuss their craft, the significance (traditional and contemporary, cultural and political) of the medium they worked in and the process by which they transformed the raw materials. The materials themselves are so very beautiful and we were lucky enough to be able to purchase some of these un-worked bits and pieces for the NZ study kits we are assembling for our schools.
Anyhow, we drove, and drove and drove on and up the sides of impossibly steep cliffs, as intricately curved and twisted as Celtic knotwork. Then we drove down, down, down at ever steeper angles off the impossibly steep cliffs into the lovely river valleys/bays/whatever type of water course, again switchbacking and hairpin turning every 20 feet or so. Repeat 5,000,000 x infinity. This was all rendered more challenging than usual by the large preponderance of rockfalls and washouts. You are frequently warned of these hazards, but the roads are so well policed and maintained on the whole that usually it has all been swept up and patched. Not today! Brad loathes the reliance on one-lane bridges here. I disagreed, but have to join with him in condemning the one lane mountain road! Yes, we drove this heart-stopping phenomena 3 times on this road. One was on a completely blind curve and they had set up those dinky shoplifting mirrors you see in convenience stores as your only guide. Sadly, some vandal had broken out the mirrors in both directions so it was really a supreme test of faith, rather than a road hazard.
Well, that for several hours, capped by the bad news at Abel Tasman - followed by more wretched road – about 120km – to retreat to Nelson (where we found everything closed when we arrived)was making for a sad bunch of Texans. However, the sun (in the guise of a local Indian place) shone on us again – figuratively- and we basked in the rosy glow of warm samosas, pakoras and malai kofta. We are now restored and ready for tomorrow, when we hope to cross the Cook Strait.
July 27, 2008
We got up and out very early as we had 134km of fun road to cover to catch the ferry at Picton. I enjoyed the views of the gorgeous Tasman Bay (when my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes). We made good time and although we were cautioned that the seas were extremely “heavy” and the vessel running behind, it should still be making the afternoon crossing. Here goes!
No comments:
Post a Comment