Real ales at last

Thu 28 Jan 2016 - Abel Tasman Park

 Last night we fell asleep to the the patter of rain on the van roof. It continued through the night and we awake to a wet and gloomy day - not at all like the forecast. Checking the latest forecast indicated it would improve later on so we took our time getting ready and driving the short distance to the entrance of Abel Tasman national park. 

 The park encompasses an area of coast with bush covered cliffs sheltering many sandy bays with the only means of access via a coastal footpath or the sea. We’d thought to hire a kayak for the day but with our late start and the fact we’d already kayaked in Fiordland we opted for the footpath. Our attempts to catch a water taxi along the coast failed so we set off on foot in the light rain wearing waterproofs, shorts and sandals.

 The easy, well formed track is VERY popular with tourists but it seemed as though the rain had deterred them today as we met very few others on the way. After rounding a headland we found a little track down to one of the beaches and walked along the shore around the next headland hoping we’d be able to find another way back to the track. Fortunately at the very end of the next beach, as it met a cliff, there was a small gap in the bush with just such a track. Lucky.

 As we proceeded further the rain stopped and the air started to warm so shedding our waterproofs we made our way down a steep track to another beach for lunch. In no particular hurry we tarried there a while before rejoining the main track.

 A short while later the clouds cleared and the sun came out and with the humidity now high we were glad to be in the shade of the bush. Rounding the next headland we saw a long sandy beach with two small islands just offshore, an inviting spot. We quickly made our way down there, shed our shirts and lay in the sun for what seemed like a short while. Checking our watch we found we’d been there quite some and now needed to get back quickly, as we’d called Glenn’s cousin David earlier to arrange to meet them in Nelson on the way through this evening.

 The sign said the return journey should take 1h 55m but we only had 1hr so we set off in a brisk march, something we’ve not done since retirement, with only brief stops to retake photos of some of the views in sunshine. Reaching the car in just over an hour we sped off on our way.

 With quick in/out showers we got to Nelson bang on time and set about finding The Free House, a real ale/craft beer pub converted from an old church. We drove up and down the road twice with no luck so parked the van and asked a passing girl, “100m on the right” she replied in a french accent. After a short way we met David and walked the short distance to the pub, which was set back from the road with just a small sandwich board sign to announce its presence - no wonder we’d missed it.

 The garden was full of picnic benches, all crammed with youngsters enjoying the sunshine. Inside the brightly coloured building were more packed tables and the place had a real buzz to it. Making our way to the bar we were faced with a large selection of beers, complete with tasting notes, even three real ales from pumps - heaven. A short while later Sarah joined us and we chatted about our day and enjoyed the beers. 

 We’d planned to take David and Sarah out for dinner however, it was decided to go back to their lovely home to make homemade pizza.  David is the NZ national coarse fishing champion (indeed 4 times no less!) and he educated us on the finer points of fishing whilst we admired his large collection of trophies.  Both Sarah and David are getting in to golf so over dinner we all shared golfing techniques and tips, except for Glenn that is.

 With the offer of the lovely comfortable bed and the prospect of a great shower in the morning, we didn’t resist and hot footed to “our room”.

 The view from the famous walkway

Drizzling but not at all cold

Kayaking is very popular way around the Golden Bay

Our run back in the sunshine 

The Freehouse pub

Sarah and David making the delicious pizzas for dinner

Springs and things

Wed 27 Jan 2016 - Golden Bay

Despite our plans of few days ago to not go to Abel Tasman we were persuaded by David and Sarah that we really should see the NW corner of the island so today we set for Golden Bay, the large bay held captive by the long sandy protuberance of Farewell Spit.

After enjoying real showers, ahh luxury, and saying our farewells to David and Sarah as they left for work we set off for The Resurgence, a last minute recommendation by Sarah as she was packing her lunch in the morning. David tantalised us with the house details of a property for sale nearby leaving the website photos open on his laptop for us to peruse. Of course it’s got us thinking (and you know what that means!). As David said last night, New Zealand gets into the skin of us Brits.

Sarah had described how to get to the Resurgence and we had found it marked on the road atlas but with no sign from the main road and, more importantly, no mention in the Lonely Planet the omens were good. Arriving at the car park our suspicions were confirmed; just a handful of locals and no tourists! The resurgence itself is where the river Riwaka emerges from a cliff wall after after its subterranean journey through the limestone landscape. Crystal clear, as most NZ water seems to be, it forms a deep, clear pool at the base of the cliff where the brave can jump in and swim into the cave system - not for us. We admired the site and tried to capture some good photographs then followed the water as it splashed its way through the bush back to the car park, stopping at some other deep pools in its course.

Next was the twisty road over the 700m Takaka pass that crosses the mountain ridge between Tasman Bay, in which lies Nelson, and Golden Bay. Admiring the views up and down both sides of this pass we wound our way along the broad valley that backs the bay to our next destination; Pupu springs.

This is an altogether more notable location with a large brown tourist sign and Lonely Planet recommendation so it was no surprise to find a large car park packed with cars and campervans. As it was early afternoon and with, what has now become quite a timely knack, we stopped for a cuppa and lo and behold when we set off on the short walk to the springs the place was empty.

The spring itself is a large pool, some 100m diameter issuing 1000’s of litres of some of the clearest water in the world. Although very deep in places it is so clear the bottom can be seen in amazing detail. With the underwater weeds gently swaying in the current and the sun shining down we had the place to ourselves for a long time whilst we enjoyed the tranquility of this delightful spot.

Returning to the van we then drove along the shore of Golden bay through some very sleepy villages heading for Whanganui Inlet, which is over a small hill range on the west coast. The inlet is a massive tidal basin of small weather worn sandstone cliffs fed by a few streams and, with the tide out, vast mudflats - utterly deserted. We drove along the gravel track that follows the shoreline for a few miles before deciding regrettably, it was time to start our return. This spot needs a return visit.

With our tummies rumbling we parked at the small settlement of Collingwood for dinner and reflected on the lovely meal we had enjoyed last night with David and Sarah. We watched the tide slowly fill its large estuary whilst the sun set then returned over the pass to find a stopping spot for the night. Tomorrow is an early start for our day in Abel Tasman park so we turned in early overlooking the twinkling lights of Nelson many miles across the bay.

The river Rawaka resurges from the cliffs

Crystal clear waters of pupu springs 

Tranquil Whanganui inlet 

Not a bad spot for dinner

Dinner with the Dixons

Tue 26 Jan 2016 - Nelson Lakes to Nelson

After yesterday’s exertions and with the sky overcast we had a really lazy morning then drove down to the lake to have lunch in the drizzle watching the Kiwis carrying on regardless. One family were jumping off the boat jetty into the lake, which, if yesterday’s stream water was anything to go by, would have been cold. The kids were having a right good time and eventually managed to convince mum to join them, which she did. As the Kiwis would say ‘good on her’.

Next a family arrived in the small fishing boat. Dad slowed the boat towards the shingle beach and eldest son, aged all of 8, stood on the bow timing his leap ashore to perfection to keep his feet dry then pulled the boat up with a rope.

As the drizzle eased a small coach arrived labelled ‘tours for matures’ and 15 or so silver seniors, all wearing name badges, slow disembarked, wandered to the end of the jetty, took some photos and wandered back.

With lunch finished we serviced the van then headed off to Nelson where we had a dinner date with Glenn’s cousin David and his wife Sarah. Once the water had heated we stopped for showers for a bit of a spruce up then called in for another cuppa at McDonalds to post the last four days of the blog.

Early in the evening we arrived at David and Sarah’s house, which is up a hillside overlooking Tasman bay and spent a very enjoyable night dining on the deck, drinking great NZ wine, admiring the views of the surrounding hillsides, watching the tide come in and catching up with each other’s lives and families. Once encourage inside by the insects we discussed the area and planned an itinerary for the next few days.

Dining with a view 

Real Kiwi tramping

Mon 25 Jan 2016 - Mt Robert, Nelson Lakes National Park 

Today we planned a challenging mountain hike to just short of the Angelus Hut involving a route of 12.2 km up to 1800m and then a further 11.2km home, so with a long day ahead of us (possibly 10+ hour hike) we got cracking early and drove the short  way to the car park at the head of trail. After eating a hearty breakfast, packing lunches, sunscreening and sorting rucsacs we were later starting than planned but still ok.

With the sun shining in a clear sky and not a breath of wind (neither mentioned in the weather forecast!) the Rotoiti lake below reflected the surrounding mountains making a beautiful sight. The first part of the path was a steady, unrelenting slog of a zig zag track up the face of Mt Robert and we made good progress with our timings and were both down to our base layer of clothing. As we climbed higher it dipped in and out of the trees affording us some respite from the sun.

At last we reached the tree line and rounded into the plateau of Mt Roberts and a fantastic 360 degree vista. From here is was a short and easy stroll up a steady incline to the summit of Julius Summit, 1794m high, and more great views.

After stopping for first lunch and Yvonne taking some photos for a couple of German girls we set off along a long broad ridge with more views on either side. The trail follows the ridgeline for about 3.5 miles and we could see it winding ahead of us - some challenging looking sections to come. On the way we were overtaken by a young Dutch guy and an Italian girl who were marching with eagerness of the young to finish and get to the hut. Shame you don’t realise it is so much more enjoyable to take your time and enjoy it.

As expected the ridge became steeper with some rocky sections and several scree crossings that were loose underfoot so we took our time placing our feet with care. The wind was getting up and out of the sun it was chilly and we weren’t working hard uphill anymore, time for layering. At the junction of a side ridge we met some young French guys, turning out to be quite a European adventure, coming the other way and we asked them how far away from the hut we were heading for was. They told us it had taken them 2hrs but they had walked the start really slowly because they had a girl with them!

The final section traversed across a very steep section with loose rock in places and boulder fields in others making progress slow and tiring but eventually we came to a col  where our return path joined. Stopping for a final selfie the new camera sustained its first damage when it blew over in the wind - at least we have a great photo of the blue sky and clouds!

With the steep, challenging but thoroughly enjoyable ridge behind us we were expecting the track down to be a sedate scenic romp. The map (well, tourist brochure) showed it followed a small stream down a gully until it joined the main river route in the forest, which we would then follow home. Oh boy were we wrong! The start was pleasant enough and reminded us a lot of the walking we do in Britain and we were joyously reminiscing of hikes back home but eventually we reached the bottom of a huge scree field and spent the next hour negotiating loose rocks on a 45 deg incline, then crossing the fast stream to fight through the native bush struggling to see the next marker pole before crossing the stream again to repeat the progress, again and again... We lost count of the number stream crossings, each one made after surveying the area before choosing the right sequence of rocks to hop across. The bush was a mixture of shoulder height grass, knee height scratching shrubs and huge clumps of flax with sharp leaves and unbending stalks that whacked you as you passed. By the end we felt like Bear Grylls on a bad day. 

Eventually we joined the mud path, crossed over the stream bridge and sat on the bank dipping our feet into the icy water for as long as we could, eating some more sugary snacks and laughing about our adventures. We now calculated there was only a 3.5 mile stroll along a steady woodland trail, right? Oh no, The trail started pleasantly enough with the dense beech forest providing shade from the powerful late afternoon sun but within a short while it became an obstacle course of tangled tree roots, small energy sapping undulations and more river crossings - all of which took their toll on our energy sapped bodies. Some way in we came to the bank of the, now quite large, river and met a sign pointing up a steep embankment labelled ‘flood route’. Although the river was not in flood the path around the edge looked tenuous at best - but the flood route looked steep. What to do?

We were too tired for the scramble up and, after an exploratory look, Glenn thought he could see a possible way around the bank so we set off. Scrambling up and down and stepping on slippery rocks in the river we made steady progress until we reached a section where it had undercut a steep slope. There did look a sort of way round but Yvonne suggested boulder hopping to an island in the middle of the river then crossing a fallen tree which laid over the river with it’s roots on the bank to where the path restarted its track through the trees. So that’s what we did. The crossing to the island went quite well but the fallen tree was quite high above the ground and we were too tired to climb on to it, so we decided to boulder hop the other channel. This didn’t go quite as well and we both ended up with wet feet especially Yvonne who slipped off a rock, and, loosing the will to live, just waded the remainder in the river, calf deep.

It was a relatively short distance back to the car park from here but the climb out of the river valley was just what we didn’t need. We had to just get on with it. A tree marked with a small sign of “10 mins” didn’t even muster a response. We arrived back at the van hot, tired, smelly, scratched, soggy footed but weirdly, exhilarated. It had been an awesome trek.

The drive back, the best showers ever and dinner all passed in a blur and we soon settled into to bed for a well earned, and well needed, sleep. What a day!

Note- New Zealand distance measurement

We’ve noticed in our tramps that it always takes us longer to complete the indicated distances than expected - in some cases a lot longer - and we’ve come up with some possible reasons:

1. The kiwis measure trail distances using crude map measurements that don’t allow for all twists turns and ups and downs.
2. When the kiwis went metric to save costs they just put a ‘k’ in front of all the signs so 10 m (miles) became 10 km (not 16km).
3. They have there own unit, the kiwi mile (km) that consists of 2000m.
4. We’re old farts that are just unfit - highly unlikely!

Lake Rotoiti like a mirror

The gentle walk to the summit of Mount Robert

First lunch. Our route is the ridge behind us.

Negotiating one of the scree fields

Second attempt at a selfie. The ridge we've just completed is behind us.

Bush walking!

Yvonne donning socks after the icy dip

The 'easy' (not) forest walk home.

Fleeing the sandflies

Sun 24 Jan 2016 - Buller Gorge and Nelson Lakes

Terrible night. We both slept fitfully due to the heat and awoke to look at a cloud of sandflies trying their hardest to get through the mesh bug screen on the roof hatch. With that threat we got up sharpish and drove along the scenic Lower Buller Gorge, carved out of the limestone by the powerful Buller river, to a parking spot higher up for breakfast. We were planning a white rafting trip on the river as it’s reputedly very good but as we had no phone signal to call the operators we drove on to the town of Murchison, home of all the action in these parts.

Murchison is an old gold mining town and looks like something out of the wild west. Remote, sleepy but on the main road it offers many activities for the passing tourists as well as cafes and shops. It was here we sat down with the map and planned our last few weeks in New Zealand.

We had been heading for Abel Tasman national park, home of beautiful beaches, walking trails and many water based activities but with the inclement weather and the realisation that we can’t fit everything in that we want. Having decided to abandon the rafting and the trip to Abel Tasman we set off for Nelson Lakes national park and some beloved mountains.

Following the ever diminishing Buller River all the way to it’s source at St Arnaud we went straight to the visitor centre to look at the weather forecast and hiking options. As the weather was looking good for tomorrow and it was already mid afternoon now we selected a 5hr trek to the top of the ridge at the side of the valley.

A short drive and quick change of clothing got us on the track at 1500. For the next 2.5hrs we climbed ever upwards through the ever thinning beech forest until we broke the tree line and were afforded superb views of lake Rototiri and the surrounding mountains and valleys. Tired from the climb we enjoyed the scenery with a snack and assessing the last push to the ridge. As it was getting late, we were tired and we have big day planned for tomorrow we chose to return to the van.

Another short drive got us to the freedom camping site we learned of at the tourist office and we found a good spot, showered and dined before turning in for the night.

The might Buller river in it's lower gorge 

Lake Rototiri

Across the lake to Mount Robert (which we will climb tomorrow) from where we stopped walking.

Another view across the lake to Mount Robert this time from the shoreline.

Underneath the arches

Sat 23 Jan 2016 - Karamea and the Oparara Basin

Sunshine! We awoke to a beautiful, warm morning with the sun in a cloudless sky, so pleasant that Glenn had his breakfast outside whilst Yvonne stayed in the safety of the van avoiding more sandfly bites. We’d planned for an early start but, not wanting to waste the weather, took a short stroll along the beach, which went on as far as the eye could see with a couple of locals watching to catch the waves on their surf boards.

Once packed we drove the short distance to the village/town of Karamea. It is a tiny, quaint, end of the road (literally) sort of place with a short main street hosting an eclectic selection of shops and, for today, a small ‘market’ (think tabletop sale with seven tables) with locals selling various wares, where we bought some courgettes and and some courgette cake - interesting.

Then it was off to the place we’d travelled to see, the Oparara Basin - another ‘don’t miss’ in the Lonely Planet, he’s on his last chance!

The book does describe the road there as rough, narrow and steep - he got that bit very right. The ‘road’,built by loggers, was 10 miles of undulating, twisty, bumpy dirt road that had the van skipping around as the rear wheels lost and regained traction on the washboard surface. By the time we got to the carpark Yvonne was a nervous wreck and needed a cuppa as we had no vodka to hand.

Once recovered we set off for the star attraction, Oparara Arch. A natural limestone arch 200m long and 37m high, with the Oparara river which is whisky coloured, flowing sedately beneath it. More like a massive tunnel than an arch it is difficult to believe it has been carved by the river. Looking up we could see the dripping of water forming stalactites and the roots of the trees above dangling over the edge. It is an impressive place and we dawdled a while feeling very small.

Back to the van for a spot of lunch then off on the next walk to Mirror Tarn and Moria Gate, another smaller arch. The tarn was something and nothing. It did mirror but with nothing much to reflect except the trees on the far shore the effect wasn’t exactly stunning. Moria Gate, however, was another story. After a walk alongside the river through the moss clad bush, a testament to the 6m (~230”) of rainfall this area receives a year, we came to the Moria Gate viewpoint and thought “ok, pretty enough but not as good as the other one”. Then - the path crossed over the top of the arch and led to a small aperture in the rock that we could climb down and end up on a beach beneath the arch. Brilliant place. Walking along a shelf of rock that is covered when the river is in flood were able to walk through and under the whole arch. At one end many rough looking stalactites had formed and were beginning to form stalagmites on the floor, some 10m below. At the other end a large fallen tree had become trapped in the rocks by flood water and behind it a cave with lots of water worn shapes stretched back some 20m into the rock, which we were able to explore with the aid of the small torch we’d brought with us. We spent some time watching the whisky coloured water, caused by the tanins from rotten vegetation, flow past and just enjoying the water hewn ambience of the place but eventually we climbed back out blinking in the sunshine and returned to the van for a cuppa. 

As with most DOC sites there was a picnic area with lots of information boards and it was fascinating learning about the limestone scenery, the historic logging activities and the 18 month construction of one of the footpaths undertaken by a DOC team of five blokes that camped up here each week, rain or shine, only returning to Karamea at weekends. What a hardy bunch.

Following another 1.5 miles further along the road we came to our final adventure - two ‘open’ caves that we could explore with our torches. The first, Crazy Paving, had a funky floor created by the mud drying out into cracked slabs that looked, as the name suggests, like crazy paving. As we progressed into the cave, looking for long legged spiders and beetles, the passage become lower and lower until it fizzled out.

The second cave, Box Canyon, was much larger with massive water eroded features along the roof and walls. It ended in a large chamber that our puny torches we barely able to illuminate so we had to shine them on the floor to move then stand still while we looked around.

After finding no beetles and only the nests of the spiders hanging by threads from the ceiling we returned to the van to face the wild road back to civilisation. A truly great day out was wrapped up by returning back along the coast ride and over the high passes in the sunshine so we could appreciate the views. We serviced and refuelled the van at Westport then pushed on a short way inland and up the Lower Buller Gorge until we found a turnoff that we could spend the night. As it was late we dined by van light and went straight to bed.

Our lovely beach side cmapsite 

Oporara Arch (this photo does really give the scale of this place) 

Bush

Moria gate. The becah area is under the arch on the right.

Yvonne beneath the arch with the Stalactites

Under Moria Gate, you can just make out Yvonne in the centre to the left.

Yvonne check out one of the rock formations in Box Canyon

Pancake rocks!

Fri 22 Jan 2016 - Pancake rocks and the coastal highway. 

As we were only 1km from Pancake Rocks we had a leisurely start then moved along to join the arriving tour buses at the main car park. Starting our walk at 10.00 we were spot on for high tide, just as planned last night.

The rocks themselves as are a series of naturally sculpted headlands supposedly looking like thin pancakes stacked on top of each other. Not sure if that’s a good analogy - you decide from the pictures. That said it is a pretty neat area and the weathered limestone cliffs provided plenty of fun looking at the weird formations and watching the waves crash in and around the surge pools and blow holes. Glenn arrived at the main blow hole just as it fired an impressive jet into the area that he was able to catch in a photo. He then spent the next 15 mins watching for big waves rolling in then starting the video camera in an attempt to record the next blow - without success. Ah well, the vagaries of nature. 

As we were returning to the car park we had a real surprise. Walking along the path towards us was the young German girl who stayed at the same B&B as us in Turangi  - many weeks ago in the North Island. We swapped travel tales before wishing her well and wondering at the chances of that happening.

The clouds were once again low around the mountains, which come right down to the shore here, making the coastal views very moody but not terribly easy to capture on camera but we had a go. After a surprisingly long time we left and drove a short way along the spectacular coastal road that winds its way around the mountains until we found a spot for lunch. Actually two stops as at the first the van seemed precariously perched near the edge of the crumbly rock.

We ate watching the waves crash against the shore and looking up at the never ending trees disappearing into the mist.

Next stop was Westport, a small town primarily a centre for the surrounding coal mining industry. Despite that it had a certain charm and we learned that the library offered free internet access so we hot footed there to publish the last four blog days and generally catch up with the rest of the world. The intenet room was full of travellers, locals and four noisy young boys all playing some online game. Eventually, despite some reproachful looks, their racket became so bad a fellow surfer walked up and gently reminded them they were in a library so should be quiet. The young boys, particularly the older ones, took night and tried to keep the noise down but eventually their voices grew loud once again. During this time a large, scruffy looking man had joined us sitting amongst the boys on the libraries computers. He gave them a surly look and snarled with menace in his voice “shut up”, which seemed to do the trick. Just goes to show the good parenting books are not always right!

Two hours and a cup of tea later we left for the supermarket to resupply in readiness for a visit to the rather remote north west corner of the South Island and with the weather showing signs of brightening we set off on highway 67 to the ‘end of the road’ town of Karamea. The first few miles we sped over flat open pasture land through an occasional town that had seen better days until the highway rejoined its embrace with the cliffs. If the sun had been out we would doubtless have stopped many times for photos but as it was we contented ourselves enjoying the scenery the best we could. 

Abruptly the road made a sharp turn inland along the bank of a river until it crossed a very rickety old bridge. With nothing but forested slopes in sight we noticed a faint diagonal line high up across a distant mountainside and joked that that’s where we were heading. Turns out that’s where we were heading via the most windy road we've ever been on. Following every contour of the mountains, it twisted slowly up with never more than a 50m straight stretch before another sharp turn around a promontory or gully. Finally a sign indicated the 500m summit then it was more twists and turns down the other side. We passed creeks with names such as Glass eye and Chatterbox. It’s becoming an obsession with Yvonne to remember all of these names.

Eventually we joined another river bank that took us seaward  to the tiny hamlet of Little Wanganui where Yvonne had found us a freedom camping site at the end of Wharf Road. The bumpy sandy track took us to the end of a long spit at the mouth of the river and a beautiful spot with 360 degree views; a small, driftwood strewn beach of fine sand; and only the call of birds to disturb the tranquility. Even the clouds started to break and we caught a few moments of evening sunshine before it disappeared over the headland and the moon came out in a clear evening sky.

Wonderful location, tasty lamb chops and the sound of the incoming waves. The perfect end to the day.

Stack of pancakes

Surge pool

Blow hole

Pancakes and wild coastline

The great coast road

Glaciers

Thu 21 Jan 2016 - Glaciers and the Hokitika Gorge

A much better day today. We awoke from our campervan township to brighter skies and no rain - in fact we could even see some of the summits. After the usual morning routine we headed off for the Fox Glacier, just a few miles away, and we arrived nice and early at the car park, which had been made from a stones and rocks piled into an embankment at the side of the valley floor. 

As the retreating glacier had left a steep sided valley behind with just the meltwater stream flowing through it, the only route was along the river bed. Heeding the many warning signs of flash floods, rock and and ice falls we set off on the short walk to the glacier face, initially along a raised causeway made of the same stones and rocks as the carpark and then along the riverbed itself. By this time the clouds had descended to cover the surrounding peaks but we still had dramatic views along the valley and the waterfalls at every side emptying into the river. 

A short while later we rounded a corner and there it was, the face of the glacier. Like most NZ glaciers, at this altitude, it is not the pristine white of text books but dirty and grey from the eroded rubble brought onto to it by the streams along its length. Also unlike the Tasman Glacier glacier, we’d seen weeks ago in Mt Cook park, the face was not sheer, as it does not terminate in a lake, but rather a slope of slowly melting, broken and crevassed ice. Big and spectacular all the same. It was very strange to see this ice river flowing amongst tree lined hills. Glaciers are normally confined to high altitude, cold mountain sides but the face of the Fox is the lowest and closest to the sea at this altitude, thanks to the heavy precipitation of this area, and it flows very fast. Even so there were markers all the way along the valley, including the entrance road, showing where the glacier had reached in the past. Indeed a photo taken just six years ago showed significant signs of its retreat. More evidence of global warming.

Returning to the van we set off the few miles for the Franz Josef Glacier (FJG), Fox’s big and more popular brother. On the way out of the Fox township - little more than a row of eateries, shops and helicopter flight providers - we noticed a couple of young hitch-hikers at the side of the road with large rucsacs, who were also going to FJG, so we pulled over to pick them up. They were from Colorado and had been travelling around NZ for 5 months, Yvonne was pleased to have someone new to chat to and kept herself busy on the short journey.

At FJG we said farewell to our young friends and they walked off to the face carrying their large bags, we felt for them. After quick showers we also set of on the slightly longer walk along another spectacular, and larger, valley. Like the Fox the path was basically along the bed of the old glacier but the meltwater river was much larger and roared alongside us the whole way. Even from distance the glacier looked more impressive and at the final viewpoint we could see the large sloping face with its main body stretching up into the mist. As the FLG moves at 1- 8m per day we hung around to see if any of the ice fell off the face. It didn’t but after a long wait the clouds parted momentarily and our patience was rewarded with a view of the cleaner ice of the main flow disappearing up the mountainside. 

Leaving the glacier we headed out through the township, which also a larger version of Fox, and once again found the same young Americans looking for a lift so we picked them up and took them a couple of hours north to their campsite at Hokitika. After dropping them off we travelled the twenty odd miles to the Hokitika Gorge, where we planned to spend the night. 

The car park was labelled ‘no camping’ with the symbol of a tent struck through. Did this also mean campervans? We weren't sure. Either way we were very hungry so we had dinner and discussed our options. Our next destination, the Pancake rocks at Punakaiki, were some distance away and high tide, when the blow holes are at their best, was at 1030 the next morning so we decided to view the gorge now and drive straight there. Stepping out of the van Glenn discovered it was another sandfly haven so Yvonne stayed inside settling for a look at the photos on his return.

The gorge turned out to only be a short boardwalk away and the turquoise water a slow moving river rather than the raging torrent we’d been expecting. Pretty and colourful all the same Glenn took some bite damage at the waterside while taking photos, despite wearing long sleeves and trousers. Good job Yvonne stayed home.

With dusk approaching we set off for, what turned out to be, quite a long journey eventually arriving in darkness and going straight to bed.

Yvonne sets off across the causeway to the Fox glacier

Yes, beneath all that sand and rock is a bona fida glacier.

The young hitch-hikers from Colorado

Approaching Franz Josef glacier

Worth waiting for the clouds to momentarily lift. The glacier in all its glory.

The peaceful, turquoise waters of the Hokitika river flowing through its gorge.

There and back for fish and chips.

Wed 20 Jan 2016 - Haast and Glacier Country

Looking out of the window this morning it was wet and cloudy, very cloudy. Keen to make an early start we got up early and drove the last few km to Haast alongside the widening riverbed littered with tree trunks left there by flood water. Since hearing of the death of David Bowie, we are now singing a medley of his songs every morning as our memorial to him. Glenn does a terrible imitation of him singing Changes.

Haast is famed for its dramatic landscapes situated alongside Mt Aspiring National Park so we were hoping the drive today would be full of wows. A short way further and we found the DOC visitor centre where we spent a long time looking at the exhibits and learning about rainforests, soil types and the local speciality of whitebait fishing. Unlike what we know as whitebait, the kiwi version are small fish that travel upriver in their millions every spring tide to spawn. The locals just dangle a net in the river to catch thousands of them.

Before we knew it it was nearly lunchtime so we set off down the southern most road to the remote settlement of Jackson Bay. The Lonely Planet had recommended this lengthy side trip with a ‘must see’ fish and chip eatery at the end. It may have been the gloomy weather or maybe we’re becoming immune to the routine beauty but we found very little of interest. Jackson Bay turned out to be a collection of ramshackle fishing buildings clustered around a driftwood littered stony beach and the quaint fish and chip caravan had clearly received a boost in revenues thanks to the Lonely Planet recommendation and was now a thriving eatery in a recently renovated, brightly painted mobile home type structure complete with outside picnic benches and umbrellas. Thinking our money would be better spent somewhere more needy we returned to our first stop this morning in Haast and had takeaway Hoki and Chips in the back of our van.

After lunch we set off north along the west coast highway, famed for its beauty. The mountains wore a mantle of thick cloud and the road was largely lined with thick rain forest so we actually saw very little. Even the couple of stops we made were brief because of the dreaded sandflies.

Pushing on to the township of Fox Glacier we found a DOC car park at Lake Matheson and joined several other campervans for the night hoping that tomorrow the weather will improve and the Fox glacier will meet our expectations. Fingers crossed.

The tree grave yard

Jackson Bay - would it have been less disappointing in the sunshine?

One of the many river crossings that could have been different without the clouds.

The bush lined road.

Fishing gantries used by locals to catch the whitebait.

Another view that would have looked so spectacular in the sun.

Camp for the night.

Wanaka rocks!

Tue 19th January 2016 - Wanaka and the Haast Pass Highway

Well everything went to plan! We drove into Wanaka to shower and have breakfast then whilst Yvonne went to the hairdresser to have her locks shorn Glenn fuelled and serviced the van and collected the new camera from the post office. By 1230 we were all done and on our way out of town. At least Wanaka was a great place to spend more time.

After retracing the road from yesterday (and the day before!) we made further progress along the Haast Pass highway. Our first stop was the blue pools. Not really pools but the confluence of a stream with a river. Both very blue, granted, and where the stream ran through a narrow neck it formed a basin that a few crazy kiwis were jumping into from the suspension bridge some 10m above. The water must have been very cold because they were getting out of it as soon as possible. Also present there were the dreaded sand flies and Glenn was bitten many times, although the bites don’t seem to affect him.

Next up was Fantail Falls. It is a beautiful spot but, to be honest, we are getting a little waterfalled out now. Yvonne was more enamoured with the dozens of stone piles that had been left by visitors, however, as the stones along the river edge were very flat, she learned to skim stones from an old pro.

At the head of the pass we climbed up to a lookout point and enjoyed the first bit of bright weather of the day - well we are heading into the famously very wet west side of the south island. Looking  across the valley we could see the headwaters of the Haast and Makarora rivers the flow down either side of the pass down to Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean respectively. Actually, the Makarora starting here flows through to outlet at the Pacific at the point where we saw our first lot of seals on the South East Coast.

The west of the pass is much more rugged and the road twists and turns hugging the contours of the valley and crossing numerous creeks, with amusing names, (e.g. Dead Horse, Boggy, Imp Grotto, Crikey, Bishop's Folly and Frolic Brook) that run down into the river. This road is a relatively new achievement being completed only in the 60’s after much hard work and only sealed in 1995. Apparently it costs a lot of money to keep it open now but without it the south western tip of civilisation is very isolated and where would the tourists go!

One more waterfall to go and it’s a biggy measuring 28m high. Roaring Thunder is another misnomer as, although high, it's more a graceful trickle. Maybe on a rainy day its complexion changes.

A short way further on we found a roadside pull off and spent the night on the banks of the, by now very wide, Haast river watching the sandflies landing on the window and glad we were tucked up in our van with no need to venture outside. Some youngsters arrived later in a smaller van and promptly performed the sandfly charleston as they cooked outside desperately trying to keep the flies away. 

Throughout the day Glenn was busy learning some of the features on the new camera with copious clicking and squeals of delight. Meanwhile Yvonne discovered the old camera seemed to be ok now…

Yvonne sporting her new look.

One of the locals jumping from the bridge to the Blue Pool

The viewpoint at the Haast Pass lookout 

The piles of stones at Fantail Falls 

The rapids at the gates of Haast

Roaring Thunder falls - hardly roaring.

Our campsite on the Haast road.