Year of the Kiwi

It’s hard to convey the scale of things without posting all the pictures and telling all the stories. If I did that, I’d be on the computer all day instead of out enjoying this incredible country. Just remember that a single picture can represent a day, a single pixel can represent a mountain, and the space in between can feel like an eternity.

 

 

Back in Nelson for some civilization. For some reason, travelling alone through small towns was getting me a little down. I REALLY wanted to see a Starbucks for some reason. I know… horrible. This is the view from the center of New Zealand.

 

 

How convenient. Actually, the real geographical center is some 35km away.

 

 

I checked out the highest ranked BBH hostel in town and look who I ran into! Jana and Katherina from Dan’s flat in Wellington. They’d just arrive in the South Island and were travelling around as well. Unfortunately, they were leaving that afternoon for Abel Tasman and the hostel was booked.

 

 

Luckily the second highest ranked hostel, the Green Monkey, had vacancies. I immediately made myself a hot lunch then feasted on the FREE INTERNET. That’s like a backpacker’s holy grail. The fruit on the left is a Feijoa. I had a fruit drink with it once but never had a fresh one before that… to serve, you cut it in half and scoop out the insides which has pear-like texture and flavor..

 

 

Gradient map, vignette, film grain… photoshop formula to making a photo look old.

 

 

Christ Church Cathedral stands call in the center of town

 

 

A bumblebee having a snack.

 

 

The guy who runs the Green Monkey Hostel. Kudos for getting it right.

 

 

That’s Mario from Switzerland. He’s such a paragliding enthusiast that he brought is paraglide with him to NZ! We’re heading to the Montgomery Square Market to experience the sights, sounds, and tastes of this region.

 

 

This guy was selling "kiwiberries", small and hairless kiwi fruit you can pop in your mouth like grapes.

 

 

Unexpected!

 

 

Cool guy, unfortunately, he was headed north and I was headed south, so our paths only cross here.

 

 

What happens when I accidentally set my camera on "auto". Leaving Nelson, my next destination was a drive down the West Coast… The promise… sparsely populated and utterly beautiful..

 

 

A bright lights and rumbles of machinery made this mineral processing plant the liveliest thing I saw all night.

 

 

Waking up to the sounds of the river, I headed to the Buller Gorge Swingbridge for 110 meters of "Indy, cover your heart!" fun.

 

 

I’m not sure how I feel about the yarn and electrical tape.

 

 

On the other side of the swingbridge were numerous hikes, one leading to a giant white pine (this picture doesn’t do it any justice).

 

 

The West Coast became a land of dreams during the gold rush of the 1860’s. Many of the small towns today are shadows of their former glory. Remnants of different mining periods, like this old goldmine shaft, dot the entire coast.

 

 

A transformer fossil.

 

 

Peace and solitude.

 

 

This tree never knew which way was up.

 

 

Don’t look down!

 

 

The "housing projects" of Hobbit dwellings.

 

 

A hand washing installation so automated, you can’t help but feel slightly insulted.

 

 

Palmerston Street is the main drag down Westport, as well as one of the properties in Monopoly. But I realize now that it will be impossible to scavenger hunt all the locations since I missed so many in the North Island. This picture represents the last time I’ll make that effort.

 

 

An $8.50 Sunday roast special at a restaurant in town. There was no way to resist it, hadn’t had a big chunk of meat in days.

 

 

One of the many murals that pay tribute to the workers of that bygone era.

 

 

Naked looking sheep.

 

 

What are wekas?

 

 

A seal colony lies just south of Cape Foulwind.

 

 

The Tasman Sea rhythmically pounds against the rugged west coast.

 

 

Far from home.

 

 

South Island’s landscape is dominated by the Southern Alps. Being a fan of mountains and other big rocks, the driving has been surreal. Only problem is that being out in the middle of nowhere, there’s no radio signal, and Dave forgot to return the tape adaptor he borrowed at Rakaunui (thanks a lot Dave). So there was a lot crazy epic music going on in my head.

 

 

That’s a weka. They run funny.

 

 

Driving south from Westport, the major attraction are the pancake rocks at Punakaiki. These limestone rocks that have been pushed up from the seabed and eroded over millennia, revealing intriguing stratification.

 

 

Waves battering the rocky coast.

 

 

 

Waves gently washing over a sandy coast at sunset.

 

 

That night I arrived in Greymouth, the largest town on the West Coast (pop. 14,000). This train station serves as the Western terminus of the TranszAlpine, a scenic route between Greymouth and Christchurch crossing the Southern Alps. Wish I could afford the $200 roundtrip ticket.

 

 

Waking up to the sound of school bells.

 

 

I seriously considered driving to Christchurch instead of going down the west coast. The idea of being in a big city was really appealing at the moment. That’s the thing about having a car and travelling independently… no plan, no schedule, no hurries, no worries.

 

 

How can a city look so dreary on such a sunny day?

 

 

I decided to stay in the town anyway because I needed a break from driving and seriously needed a shower. Pulled out my trusty BBH guide and checked into the highest rated hostel in town (highest rated nationwide in group C medium sized hostel). The place was decorated with funky artifacts from around the world. It didn’t disappoint.

 

 

The only real tourist attraction in town is the Monteith’s brewery. Monteith’s has established itself as a kind of trendy boutique beer nationwide though its roots lie in satisfying the rough & tumble miners and pioneers of the west coast. It’s a tiny operation with only 10 or so full time employees.

 

 

How’s this for personal service? Only one other person went on that tour, a guy from Invercargill travelling around the South Island on holiday. The following tour was booked out with 40 people. Let me guess… tour bus.

 

 

A vat of bubbly beery goodness.

 

 

After seeing how handcrafted beer was made, we got to sample all brews ourselves.

 

 

Eggs on sale at the hostel. Don’t quite know why the "our" is in "parenthesis". Are they really "fresh" eggs?

 

 

The Global Village Backpacker definitely lived up to its rating with free kayaks and bikes for guest use. Hiring a kayak for $50 is gonna feel like a big rip off now.

 

 

After enjoying the natural beauty of Greymouth, it didn’t seem like that bad of a town.

 

 

Looking south, the Southern Alps beckon me.

 

 

Shantytown is a recreation of a 19th century gold mining village. Touristy to the extreme!

 

 

One bridge, one lane, shared by both directions of traffic as well as trains. Cross at your own risk.

 

 

Just south of Greymouth is Hokitika, a town known for its crafts, especially those made from Pounamu (jade or greenstone) which is mined in this area. Most of the shops allow visitors to watch the artists at work. It was major China deja vu.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Sometimes one man’s trash is just trash. I found more of the latter here.

 

 

The main street in town.

 

 

A memorial to the ships that have perished off the shores of Hokitika.

 

 

Sunset at Sunset Point.

 

 

For a few precious moments on either side of a sunrise or sunset, a dream.

 

 

While out at night enjoying a brilliant display of glow worms in the Glow Worm Dell, there was a sound of rustling in the brush. I point my cell phone I’m using as a torch in the direction. A possum! These creatures are the bane of native bird life in New Zealand, bringing kiwi birds nearly to the point of extinction on the mainland. Make no effort to drive avoid them on the road. Possum road kill is good road kill.

 

 

My passenger seat.

 

 

Wish gold prices and petrol costs what they are today, I as almost tempted to make the $10 investment.

 

 

It’s a bit like a rest-stop that became an attraction all its own.

 

 

Possum pie. Tastes like chicken. Actually, the bits of possum meat were so scant, the onion pieces so overwhelming, and the sauce so man chowdery, it was just not a good choice for breakfast.

 

 

Awwwww

 

 

I’ve never run into as many Kiwi Experience and Magic busses in NZ as I have on the West Coast. It’s not that I have anything against big tour busses… okay, I’ll just stop there before I augment the lie.

 

 

No stop lights on the West Coast. Just stops.

 

 

Next stop was Franz Josef where I checked into a hostel to make myself a cheap and nasty lunch of instant noodles with eggs.

 

 

To call Franz Josef a small town would be an overstatement. A few motels, backpackers, restaurants, and glacier tour operations.

 

 

Wow… I’m sure glad I filled up in Greymouth. It was a "bargain" at 1.79 a liter there.

 

 

 

 

Getting my feet wet on an icy rocky river bed, little effort for a scenic shot compared to what I was about to go through the next day.

 

 

The town exists for one reason… the rare opportunity to explore a glacier, but you got to do it with a guided tour if you actually want to get on the ice.

 

 

 

 

That’s it. That’s it? As I mentioned in the beginning, The scale of things is impossible to convey and wrap your mind around… even as I stood there, looking at this river of ice, I couldn’t believe that I was staring at 10km of solid ice..

 

 

Exactly the same color legs… they must like, always go to the beach at like, the same time.

 

 

The guides told us that it rains most days here and it’s spectacular the way the water streams down from every rock face. I’ll take the gorgeous sunny day, thanks.

 

 

When I said goodbye to Jana and Katheria in Nelson, it wasn’t full of sentiment because I had a feeling I’d see them again. Just didn’t know it would be so soon!

 

 

That’s, Tex, our glacier hiking guide. Guess which US state he comes from.

 

 

As we were hiking up, Tex got an urgent message on his radio. We stayed put while he quickly ascended the glacier. Guides from groups behind us were in persuit. What was going on up top? A disaster? A collapse of a party into an icy grave? A short while later, Tex came down and told us one guy was having a seizure needed to be air-lifted out. Not something you see everyday.

 

 

A party doing the ice climbing activity.

 

 

That’s Dean from England. He in NZ as part of a round-the-world trip and rode elephants in Thailand… damn him.

 

 

Delicious water being born.

 

 

Beware, I’m hungry.

 

 

Okay, all better now.

 

 

Water downstream not so delicious now after I pissed in this hole… unless you’re into that sort of thing. The cramp-ons we wore were really neat. They gave incredible grip and you can scale up slopes of ice no problem. I almost felt like spiderman.

 

 

Why in god’s name are we wearing shorts? It really wasn’t THAT cold being at the same altitude as temperate rainforests.

 

 

Glaciers are in a constant state of change so guides have to create new routes for us to climb up.

 

 

Watch out below!

 

 

 

And while they work, we hang out and take pictures.

 

 

The cerulean blue glow of glacial ice is too beautiful for words.

 

 

The sun reflecting off the white ice up top is nearly blinding. To put the size in perspective, people who take the helicopter tour fly between those jagged little blocks of ice which are about the size of a 10 story buildings; imagine you’re looking at a city skyline. It’s hard to imagine… it was hard to imagine standing there.

 

 

As the clouds rolled in, we begin the descent.

 

 

A very very tight crevasse.