Although I have been living in Wanaka since June, the journey through New Zealand did not really start until early September. Winter in Wanaka was hit and miss as far as the snowboarding went. I enjoyed my time riding my bike around the lake and getting into a little trouble but it had come time to get out and see what this country has to offer. I mentioned to some friends I was leaving and my friend Cat expressed that she also was looking to get out and see the country, so with her as copilot on the expedition we rented a car from Queenstown and geared up to get going. We were able to get a good deal on the car through a relocation deal the with the rental company. When you take the car back to Auckland on the North Island they pay the cost of the car on the ferry. This made it feasible with our limited budget.
So on the 9th of September Cat, Jen, and myself hitched a ride to Queenstown to pick up the Mitsubishi Lancer. We parted ways with Jen and got the car and picked up the necessary supplies. We hit up the Salvation Army where we scored a chilly bin (cooler) and some bedding, which included a white comforter with some questionable yellow stains on it. The white comforter would be used as the base layer and would not touch our skin at all costs. To save money we would be sleeping in the back of the Lancer until we made it to Whangamata (fung-a-mata), where I will be spending the rest of my time in New Zealand with my friend Adam and his family.
After doing all we needed to do, we drove back over the Crown range to Wanaka to spend one more night out on the town with the crew. I dropped Cat off at her place to collect her things while I packed all my worldly belongings in the Lancer. At this point my worldly belongings consisted of a bag of cloths, my skateboard, and my camera gear. I had sold all my snowboard gear and would use the money to purchase a surfboard once I made it to the Pacific. I scrapped the idea of packing the car as it started to get late and just piled everything into the living room. Packing could wait until the morning.
I had a few beers with the roommates and then shot over to the house to meet up with Eric, Jen, Mez, and Cat. We rallied a few drinks and got on the hike down to town, arriving to shooters in time to sign up for the last night of karaoke. Much of the night spent in Shooters consisted of numerous jugs and singing mixed in with high fives and a healthy dose of fancy footwork. As things started to get late we migrated outside and down the street to the pie shop. Somewhat under the influence, we made our way to the playground down by the lake to expend the rest of our energy. On a side note, the Wanaka playground was fully designed for big kids as well as little ones. Complete with a full size dinosaur slide and various spinning contraptions great for re-injuring previous snowboard injuries. We threw ourselves around the playground until my good friend Eric made the suggestion that we should go for a swim. Mind you it is winter here in the southern hemisphere and lake Wanaka maintains a balmy 7 degrees Celsius. We ploughed headfirst into the frigid water. Although my BAC, I am sure, never fluctuated I went into that water drunk as… but when I came out I was sober as the pope. I remember vividly the moment my head went underwater and the crushing cold assaulted my senses were assaulted in such a way that cannot be described in the English language. It was a fairly cold night but after being in the lake, the air temperature felt tropical. Although we felt warm we had enough sense to realize it was in our best interest to get home and get dry so gathering our gear we headed up the hill out of town. Along the way we split up a bit, Jen and Mez I think moved on ahead of us and made there way home while Cat and Eric were a bit ahead of me as I swerved my way in the direction of home. At some point, roughly around the bike jump park that Eric and I had shredded earlier, we ran into a lively Brit that was on his way home also. The four of us took a brief detour to see how many people we could fit on the flying fox before getting back to the house, minus the Brit whose name I definitely do not recall. Shortly after returning to the house I made the short trip down the street back to my house to get some sleep before our “early” departure.
The planed departure sate was 10 AM. Needless to say this was not going to happen. Although I was up and moving by 8, the moving was slow. In hindsight jumping in the lake was actually a good idea because the sober affects it had, I believe, contributed to the fact I was not very hung over that morning. It did not take too long to pack the car but for some reason it still took me a long time to get out of the house. After pulling out of the driveway once and realizing I had forgotten stuff I finally drove away from 11 Lindsay Place.
After loading Cats gear in to the Lancer (and wondering if we would have enough room to sleep in it) we decided that we should probably get some breakfast and coffee with Mez and Eric as a last goodbye. Cat climbed onto Eric in the back while Mez rode shotgun. Lago was the place to go with its fresh made sandwiches and excellent coffee. I finished up a bit ahead of the others so I took off to sort out a few last things in town. Once that was all accomplished we dropped Eric and Mez off and punched it out of town. The West coast was our destination and despite getting on the road at about 11:30 we still had plenty of time.
We left Wanaka via Lake Hawea on Hwy 6. The highway hugs the lake for about twenty miles with a backdrop of the rugged Southern Alps providing breathtaking vistas all around. This was also a time for me to get a hang of our sweet new whip and driving on the other side of the road. I had driven a handful of times but just around town. Now I was able to push the Lancer and see what it had. I must say I was very impressed with the cornering and acceleration of the car and if you have ever seen the roads on the South Island you would know what I mean. With plenty of camper vans plodding along these winding 2 lane roads being able to accelerate to pass them was an imperative quality the cars must posses if you would like to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. After Hawea the road comes around and hits the very end of lake Wanaka for a bit where we I was able to get one last look at the lake and Mountains that had been my home for the last few months. But I was ready for this so I punched the accelerator and got moving into the subtropical rain forests that would envelope us for the rest of our time on the South Island.
Earlier in the season and friend of mine and I drove out to check out a natural wonder know as the Blue Pools. But when we arrived the trailhead was closed with a sign simply stating that the bridge was out. So unfortunately we did not make it out that time, but this time the trailhead was open and there were cars in the parking area so we pulled over and grabbed our cameras. It was a 30-minute walk that we accomplished in 15 up to the new swing bride that must have only been weeks old. The bridge was a cool experience in itself, comparable to how it feels to walk around after having a bottle of wine with lunch. After crossing the bridge and another 4 minutes walking through the rain forest we came upon the pools. Although not vast they are spectacular. They are not standalone pools but a point where the water coming down from the mountains and collects before moving on into the river several hundred yards bellow. To say the water is crystal clear is an understatement, as it is clear but also posses a iridescent blue quality that you can not exactly pinpoint. It is only blue in the peripherals and clear where you are looking directly into it. The water comes down rolling down out of a gorge, obviously recently cut by the powerful natural forces that have shaped the primal landscape of New Zealand. We explored a bit as we shot different angles trying to capture the essence of the scene, I got knee deep in the frigid waters trying to get that perfect shot (I think all I accomplished was numb feet). There were other trails to explore but we wanted to make it to the first waypoint before dark so we double-timed it back to the Lancer to get back on the road with Haast beach and the Tasman Sea a little over an hour ahead of us.
As you descend out of the Southern Alps the road winds down through native bush punctuated by spindly waterfalls cascading down from the sheer faces of the mountains that jut up out of the earth. Crystal clear rivers lay pristine on the valley floor that must be crossed by one lane bridges no wider that wing mirrors of the car. Many of these bridges ay a head of us where it was a game of chicken as to who had the right of way (there actually were signs but it sounds more exciting that way). Upon reaching the flats you begin to see the difference in the clouds and smell a hint of sea on the air. Not long after we reached Hasst and the Tassman Sea lay before us. As we had both been to Haast before we decided to bypass it and continue north to the Fox and Fanz-Gosef Glacier. As we came to the end of the incredibly long one lane bridge out of hast we reached the point where we both had not been farther. From that point on it was all unknown and the Adventure had truly began.
The weather that afternoon was not especially nice. There was a mild storm front rolling in off the sea that spattered us with the occasional rain shower but brought out the lushness of the landscape. This added a moody quality to the rugged coastline. The road wound up the West Coast occasionally shooting inland past cleared sections of land where sheep with newborn lambs and cows grazed. The remoteness of the land and how exposed to nature it was really says something about the people who farm and live here. One can only imagine how tough yet rewarding and beautiful a life here must be. We stopped several times to take photos and munch on our homemade pasta salad. Several hours later, but with still a bit of sunlight left, we came into the township of Fox where, up in the hills, the Fox Glacier descended into the valley. To say it was a town is a bit of a overstatement, it was simply a turn off on a dirt road that wound through the lush vegetation with periodic glimpses up the valley to the cloud-enveloped glacier.
Several kilometers up the dirt road we came to a parking area pushed up out of the rock debris left by the retreating glacier. Sheer cliffs rose on both sides of the valley with the telltale scars left from the ice as it sculpted this valley along its lumbering progression down from the mountains. The moody weather contributed to the power of the landscape. We dismounted from the Lancer and sat at the base of the cliffs by the river that poured out from the bowls of the mass of ice. Here we took a few pulls from the whisky bottle to fortify ourselves against the elements and had another bite of pasta. We then proceeded up the marked trails to the overlooks. Each vantage point revealed different aspects of the scene that we both made attempts to capture with our photo equipment. More blue pools and mountain tops shrouded in clouds made for a breathtaking experience. Most of the time was spent in silent contemplation of what this world is and how it got to be this way. One cannot help but feel that they are getting to glace upon nature, as it once was, powerful and raw. As we descended a light rain began to fall prompting us to pick up the pace and make it to Franz-Josef before dark.
Franz-Josef is a bit more of a town compared to Fox. Upon entering town we decided it was prudent to find a place to park the car rather than try to see the glacier. We had about an hour of sunlight left and we were starting to feel tired from the day’s travels. In the center of town there is a parking area down behind a lot of trees that allows overnight parking for car campers. We took note and drove to the gas station (about 300 yards away) to organize the car under the shelter offered by the awning over the pumps. At this point the town was dead but a small restaurant remained open so we both purchased a coffee and perused the souvenir shop that also was open next door. We then proceeded to our spot in the parking area as the rain really began to pick up. It did not take too much to stuff all our belongings into the front seats and spread our beds out in the back. It would be tight and maybe not so comfortable but it would be free. The rain beat down heavily on the roof providing a lullaby that combined with a few more pulls from the whisky made our situation just comfortable enough to fall asleep.
As the morning came I no longer heard the fall of rain but saw that it was still gloomy out, all though it did show signs that the sun would show through the cloud cover if we were lucky. We went back into town to grab a coffee and wash up at the public toilets before heading to the base of the Franz-Josef Glacier. The Valley of the Franz-Josef was different from the Fox. It was more expansive and not framed by the formidable cliffs, but instead was flanked by lush mountains covered with hundreds of waterfalls that cut deep chasms into the sides. The valley floor was covered with the debris of the glacier interspersed with boulders the size of houses that sat randomly as if they were a giant child’s forgotten play things. We hiked past numerous tour groups gathered around random features, opting instead to explore this place on our own, developing our own storyline of how this scene came to be. For me personally this glacier, although grand in every sense of the word, was not as impressive as the fox. Although it did afford one thing the fox did not, the viewing area extended almost to the base of the glacier. The different blues of the ice were revealed as the sun occasionally broke through the low clouds. Occasionally large chunks of ice dislodged by a DOC worker high on the glacier came tumbling down, sending a eerie echo through the glacier valley lending to the raw power that was on display before us. We sat for a while again in quiet contemplation until one of the tour groups finally caught up with us. We decided to retreat at this point not wanting to surrender to fact that this natural wonder was not just ours to enjoy. We made our way back to parking area, commenting along the way on the visitors now streaming in. Groups of older folks obviously on tour busses (we both agreed that would never be our preferred mode of travel) and families with little ones in tow. Some of them screaming as they were carried by there parents, some of them running around indulging in the land, immersed in the fantasy of childhood. I do look forward to the time when I will be shepherding my young through life experiences such as this. But not yet…
So after seeing what there see on a poor mans budget around the glaciers we got back on the road with Punakaki and the pancake rocks as our next destination. With more pasta to eat along with some salt and vinegar chips we rallied the Lancer onward as we went from winding costal vistas that rose over sheer passes via the many switchbacks. Occasionally we wound our way inland past the lush farmland butted up against impressive snow capped ranges that disappeared into the clouds. Several hours and a couple pit stops later we arrived in Punakai, which is the home of the pancake rocks. The town is nothing more than a cluster of 2 coffee shops and a small souvenir shop that double as an art gallery showcasing some local artisans work. On the other side of the road from the shops was the well-maintained pathway leading out to the rocks. Several information boards highlighted the fact that no one really knows how the rocks formed the intricate layered formations we now see. Several Ideas have are presented but the actual origin is a mystery. The walk out meandered through thick growth of flax and other native bush. It was damp that afternoon and our company consisted of hidden songbirds and a handful of other tourists. Out on the horizon the clouds had broke which gave the stormy sea an ethereal quality that lent itself to the drama of the rocks being pounded by the angry sea. The rocks have taken on interesting shapes as the sea has waged a siege against them for millennia. Even the walkway itself has parts cut into the rock that over the years of foot traffic has worn smooth taking on the appearance of scales of a dragons entombed below your feet. We took our time to explore and photograph, occasionally straying from the path to explore hidden tracks leading into the dense flax. When we returned to the trailhead we decided it was a good moment to go into the coffee shop and make use of the Internet that was available. Cat had originally planned to travel as far as Nelson on the south island where I would drop her at the bus station before I drove to Picton to catch the ferry north, but she had noticed that a plane ticket back to Christchuch would be less expensive than the bus and made the call to continue with me north to Auckland. Along with the use of the Internet we were also able to look at a map and sort out a few more things to do while we were still in Punakaki. About 2 Km’s down the road the map showed a cave that could be explored and a little further along another bushwalk down to a secluded beach that was said to be something one should not miss. After another short meal of the pasta (that was starting to get a bit old) we jumped in the Lancer to check out these other spots.
The cave was pretty neat, although it would have been better to have a flash light as apposed to using the flashes on our point and shoots for light. We were able to navigate around to the exit that came out slightly higher than where we came in allowing for an exciting climb back down to the grove that concealed the entrance. Proceeding a bit further down the road we found the entrance to the beach walk and got to it. Again our only companions were the birds in the trees and a dead rat we noticed in one of the many rat traps aimed at controlling the invasive pest that is harming the population of the many ground nesting birds. As we rounded the last bend in the path we came out of the bush above a small sheltered beach with crashing waves that screamed for us to descend and put or feet in the frigid waters. As soon as we were down and our shoes were off we were assaulted full force by marauding sand flies with a thirst for blood. At the time we thought little of it until days later when the itching persisted keeping us up at night unable to stop tearing at the red bumps all over our legs and feet. Despite the sand flies the beach was to beautiful the retreat so we got our feet wet and climbed around on the rocks until our stomachs told us we should probably get going again. Upon reaching the car we had a bit more to eat then got going to try and make it as far as we could before the sun fell into the sea.
The next planned stop would be Westport where we would stop for another night in the Lancer. A little before we reached Westport we came across a turn off for Cape Foulwind. With a name like that we could not pass up opportunity so we took the detour out to the cape. The parking area was on the northern tip of a large bay and on the way in we noticed a sign for a seal colony. The path out of the parking rose up and came out on top of the bluff that overlook the seal colony and a small island about 500 yards out. Before we saw the seal we (or should I say I since Cat was still a little stuffed up from the swine flue that had been going around Wanaka) could smell the unique odor of the seals. I would liken the stench to something between rotten fish and shit, a smell that gets into your gut. I would assume this is how the cape got its name. Anyhow the baby seals were all that were left on the rocks, as the adults must have been out to sea fishing. The seals that were left lazily looked back at us, unconcerned with our presence. We followed the track up until we realized it would keep going and not lead us back to the car. We got back on the road in the direction of Westport as the sun began to sink. Before we hit the town we found a side road that lead to a parking area bellow a lighthouse that oversaw the rugged coastline. It also revealed itself to be where he track we had previously been on terminated. We decided this was as good a place as any and parked up with the Tasman sea visible through the windscreen and settled in for another night in the trusty Lancer. This evening we resorted to the Macbook to proved a little entertainment in the form of a Zack Galifinakcus (or however its spelled) live at the Purple Onion stand up paired with a little more of the Jameson. With the weather not getting any better it was another cold and uncomfortable, yet somehow peaceful, night on the West Coast.
Much to our delight, we awoke to sunny skies and an awesome view of the sea crashing in on the beach bellow. At this stage all I could think about was the life that awaited me on the Coromandal Peninsula and the Pacific Ocean. Again we transferred all the gear back into the boot of the lancer and got going north on Hwy 6 towards Nelson. The drive took us inland through a spectacular river gorge and past more farmland that defines the staple industry of this region. Upon reaching the port city of Nelson we drove around a bit having a look at the small city that possessed a Southern California vibe. With much of the day still left we agreed that we should head north to the farewell spit and have a look. The Farewell Spit is a seemingly endless sandbar that sticks off the northern most tip of the South Island creating a boundary between the Tasman sea and Golden Bay. The drive out of Nelson took us over the top of, what the Kiwis called a hill, but was nothing short of a mountain that had the gnarliest switchbacks we had seen up to this point. From the top the views of Golden Bay were magnificent and really cannot be put into words. After descending into the valley it was about and hour and forty-five along a road that kept getting narrower and narrower until it terminated at a shottey bridge and dirt track that lead out to the spit. We did not go much further than the trail head since it had taken us longer than we thought to reach the spit and we wanted to make it back to Nelson so that would could make the Picton-Wellington ferry the next day. We did stay long enough to read an information sign stating the spit was still growing and whales had a tendency to occasionally beach themselves there. I got behind the wheel and hightailed it back to Nelson, milking every last bit of HP out of the Lancer. On the way back we both made the call to stay at a campground with facilities since we were both were in need of a shower and a place to recharge our electronics. Cat, via cell phone, arranged a camping spot with a place in Nelson that also offered a small shop and mini golf. We pulled in just after sunset and both went straight for the showers. After we both had cleaned up and felt like humans again we decided that the pasta was done and that it was about time for a real dinner. Up to this point we had done a good job of not spending any money on food along the way other than coffee and a bit of chocolate. That night we feasted at a local pub on fresh caught fish and chips and delicious lamb shank with potato wedges. Made sleepy by the large Stella’s we had to drink we drove back to camp and crashed out as soon as our beds were made.
Waking to another sunny day, we got on the road a bit early having been told it would take us about an hour to get to Piction but allowing for time to check out the views of the fiords as we drove out. We took the self proclaimed scenic route and were not disappointed with the panoramas afforded from the tops of the hills. Earlier I stated that the pass we took the day before had the most intense switchbacks of the trip, well the ones we were driving on this time made those pale in comparison. It was crazy to come across the tiny towns along the roads and think how they got supplies in. I believe they must come in by sea, as there is no way anything much larger than the Lancer could negotiate these roads. Getting pretty close to the time of departure we rounded the last few turns and arrived in Piction with the ferry sitting at the dock. Before we departed the camping area earlier I emptied my bag leaving only my wetsuit in the bottom to make it a bit more comfortable. Now as we waited in line to board the ship it was time for Cat to officially become a stowaway. Lucky for us the tinted windows of the Lancer concealed her as she slipped into the bag and pulled a few loose clothing articles over the top. Getting through the checkpoint was a breeze and honestly we could have just thrown the pee-stained comforter over Cat and not had a problem. Something say that she still would have chosen the bag if given the option. After departing the scenic fiords the ferry ride was pretty chill. I met an old Maori man who told me the story of his ancestors who chassed a giant octopus to NZ and settled in the bay where they finally killed it.
Roughly three ours after leaving Picton we arrived in Wellington. From the sea Wellington looked to be a cool city to explore. The way it wrapped around the harbor and crawled up the seaside hills gave it more character than your average sprawling city. Unfortunately we were now running out of time to explore and did not stop to check out the city. Our new game plan was to make it as fast as we could to Whangamata as to have a little time to explore the Coromandal before returning the care. We drove until about 9 or so and stopped only when I was starting to feel the affects of the road. We came to a stop in a rest area somewhere along the Desert Road. A barren landscape inhabited by no one other than those assigned to the New Zealand army base that practiced maneuvers out in the desert. One thing we did not take into account was how cold it would be up there with the only thing on the horizon being the dormant volcano of Mt Ruapehu covered in snow. Also on my mind that night was the movie Wolf Creek, the true story of backpackers being kidnapped and tortured in the Australian outback. Scenarios of how I would fight and escape attackers played out in my mind as I listened to the wind whip around outside as I fell asleep. The morning really brought with it the cold that the desert is know for. I had no other choice but to run the car until we both thawed out enough to get up and transfer the gear out of the front seats. The morning also brought clear skies and revealed where we had chosen to stay. It looked as if it was a favorite party spot of the local youth, a burnt out couch and trash had “raging party” written all over it. Despite all of that it was still beautiful spot a situated bellow the volcano next to a picturesque stream… Not a bad place for a party.
As we descended from the high desert we started to notice the signs that spring was happening on the north island. Also the change in vegetation was apparent, the lushness of the West Coast of the South Island was now replaced with an endless sea of pine forests and different sub-tropical plant species. We came upon lake Taupo around midday greeted by its calm blue water that stretched out towards the horizon. Continuing up along the coast we drove on through the day stopping briefly in Rotorua for petrol and a coffee. Rotorua is a geothermal hotspot smelling of rotten eggs with steam rising all around the town. Although we did not stop from what I hear this is an excellent example of New Zealand’s primal roots. Fortunately we were getting close to the end of the journey and returning to further explore this area will be an easy day trip.
Not much further we were greeted by Tauranga and Mount Mounganui signaling the trip was almost complete. About an hour later we pulled up to the beach in Whangamata, walked down to put our feet in the water. That was when it really sunk in that my New Zealand had just really began…
After checking out the Coromandal the next day Cat and I drove out to Auckland where we returned the car and jammed around the city for a bit. I scored a sweet deal on a surfboard before Cat headed to the airport and I met up with Adam and Jay for a lift back to Whangamata, completing this chapter of the New Zealand adventure. Check back as there will be more to come as the adventure continues…
