Mighty Franz Josef Glacier dwarfs its visitors in the foreground
That night after finishing the Routeburn-Greenstone Track I pampered myself with a couple of cold beers in the local pub, chatting away to a fellow tramper I'd met in the caravan park, Tim, who was full of stories of grizzly bears in North America and the desolation of Alaska. The next day, Friday 17th, was pretty desolate too, as I headed off to Wanaka over the highest road in New Zealand, 1121m above sea level at the highest point. Unfortunately it's also one of the most corrugated and disastrously steep roads I've ever driven on, so the stunning views and pretty little settlement of Cardrona were less memorable than the struggle to avoid falling off the cliffs... still, it was a worthy detour, and got me in the mood for a little driving.
I shot through Wanaka, another picturesque town on another glacial lake, and kept driving over the Haast Pass to the wild west coast, stopping off at various stunning sights such as Knight's Point (with its beautiful views up and down the rugged coast to places like Arnott Point) and the glacial lakes of the interior. There were loads of waterfalls and forest walks along the way, but after the Fiordland tramps, the last thing I wanted was more bloody rainforest and falling water, so I just drove and drove until I found a little DOC campsite at Lake Paringa, another picturesque glacial lake (complete with the usual sandflies and masses of forest). It was pretty and wild, but, to be honest, wearing a little thin after the overdose I'd had in the wilderness. And that's where the glaciers came in.
Fox Glacier
Fox Glacier winding its way down from the Southern Alps
On Saturday 18th I put my foot down and headed north to Fox Glacier, a tiny tourist settlement at the end of – you guessed it – the Fox Glacier. The weather was miserable, so I booked into the local caravan park, set up my tent in the howling rain, and drove off to have a look at the glacier. I managed the walk up to the glacier terminal – a very big affair that differed from the Hooker and Tasman Glaciers by having no terminal lake, meaning you could get right up to the ice wall – but the weather was truly dismal, so I headed back to the relative comfort of the campsite.
As I was walking towards the communal kitchen, I thought I recognised the Jim Morrison haircut sitting by the window. Then I recognised the jacket. Then the person... and who should be sitting in the kitchen but Ben and Mira, with whom I'd gone climbing in Mt Cook. The irony was that here we were again, looking at Mt Cook and not being able to see it as the weather was so dismal, but this time we were looking from the other side: Fox Glacier is another glacier that flows from the Mt Cook range. We nattered the night away, making friends in the way people do when it's raining and there's precious else to do.
Steps cut into the face of Franz Josef Glacier for tourists to climb
The next day the weather cleared, as it tends to do on the coast (changeable isn't the word for the weather I've been enjoying), so we made the most of it to go to Lake Matheson, a beautiful lake that reflects a view of the Southern Alps that has to be seen to be believed. It wasn't perfect weather, but it was breathtaking, and when we got back to the campsite I took most of Ben and Mira's bike bags (to make their bikes lighter) and arranged to meet them in the next town, Franz Josef. Meanwhile I did a quick walk up to a view of Fox Glacier, to the site of an old chalet where you could see right up the glacier to its starting point in the mountains, quite a stunning view. And then it was back in the car to drive to Franz Josef.
Franz Josef Glacier and Okarito
The pancake rocks at Punakaiki
Ben and Mira had made excellent time without their baggage weighing down their bikes, and we walked all round the Franz Josef Glacier together, soaking up the sun, and later we walked to the Tatare Tunnels, a collection of strange man-made tunnels into the mountains that are half full with water, and are about as spooky as Tunnel Creek (though considerably less so with Ben and Mira tagging along). Before long we'd headed off to a little settlement called Okarito right on the west coast, where we set up camp and made a quick dash to the top of the Okarito Trig Point.
Okarito is amazing. It's a tiny little village right on the edge of the wild Tasman Sea, and it's real frontier stuff. There's a beautiful lagoon right next to the village, home to some extremely rare bird life, and the view from the Trig Point is probably as good as it gets. You can see all along the coast, and right into the Southern Alps range as it spreads out in front of you. Mt Cook and Mt Tasman are huge peaks on the horizon, with the other peaks of the area, like the Minarets, clearly visible in the distance.
Another outcrop of pancake rock
We caught it as the sun was going down, and I've never seen anything like it. Okarito is the home town of Keri Hulme, author of The Bone People, and it's easy to see how such a setting can bring out the artist in you. That night we drank a couple of beers that Ben bought in thanks for me carting their stuff around – hardly difficult, I must say – and in the morning we were truly sad to leave, them on bicycle and me by car. I thought I'd never see Ben and Mira again1, but I really wished I would.
Yet again I was in a driving mood, probably not that surprising after the amount of foot travel I've been doing. I drove straight up to Greymouth, and after a quick lunch stop I drove north to Punakaiki, home of the eccentric Pancake Rocks, a coastal formation that defies belief. The rocks are made up of layers that make them look like piles of pancakes, and if it wasn't for the immense popularity and accessibility of the area – and hence the huge numbers of tourists – it would be truly magnificent. Instead it's a wee bit commercial, but well worth the visit.
