April Adventures, Part 1

Yes, I'm still here. I almost posted a blog entry back at the beginning of April, but I'd barely gotten halfway through when I realized I had to head to the airport to pick up Mike and our rental car. After that, April stormed by in a whirlwind of crazy adventures and I haven't had time since. A thorough, detailed account of everything we did would prove too taxing for me to write and too long for you to read, so instead I'll try to summarize our trip keeping to three to four paragraphs per city/area.

Here we go.

Doubtful Sound

Before Mike arrived, Alexa and I took an overnight trip to marvelous Doubtful Sound. The trip started with a three hour coach ride to Manapouri, a small town on a large lake called, cleverly enough, Lake Manapouri. From there we rode a shuttle boat across Lake Manapouri to the Manapouri Power Station. It's a hydroelectric plant where all the action takes place underground in large tunnels. Another set of coaches were waiting for us at the power station, and these took us over the mountains to the Doubtful Sound Wharf and our vessel, the Doubtful Sound Navigator. The Navigator is a decent-sized ship with sleeping room for about 70 plus crew, several observation decks, a large dining room, and an array of tender craft and kayaks for exploration.

After cruising around for a while in the rain (this is Fiordland National Park, where it rains 200 days a year), we stopped in one of the sound's three arms for activities. Alexa choose to go out on one of the tender craft, but I went kayaking instead. Although I've canoed plenty of times, I've never kayaked before and it was quite different. I'm not sure if I was paddling correctly, but I was moving in a generally forward direction. That's a plus, right? We explored for an hour and then rejoined the boat for one final activity: swimming. Only four of the seventy passengers braved the 11 degree Celsius (which in American means really, really cold) water. Who would be so stupid, you ask? The same person who bungy jumped three times in two days, probably.

We spent the rest of the day sight-seeing around the sound, eventually coming to the Tasman Sea and two massive seal colonies. Anyone who reads this blog knows how many times we've seen god damn fur seals, and so can imagine our excitement. But wait! This time it was in the evening, which is apparently when fur seals get off their lazy butts to hunt, so they were moving. We were able to see them in all their splashing, barking, flopping glory. Awesome!

The day ended with a huge dinner and dessert buffet. This included one of New Zealand's many gifts to the world, pavlova. Pavlova is a meringue-like dessert covered in whipped cream and fresh fruit (strawberry, kiwifruit, and mandarins in this case), named after Anna Pavlova for her airy lightness. Australia tries to take credit for the dessert's invention, but keep in the mind the Aussies also try to claim Peter Jackson and Lord of the Rings. Plus, how can you trust the descendants of convicts?

After dinner there was an interesting nature talk, the highlight of which was the discussion of Moose Man. Apparently moose were once introduced to Fiordland National Park but they died out shortly after. Unless, of course, you ask Moose Man who is convinced moose still roam the park and devotes his life to searching for evidence--fur, droppings, footprints, whatever--to prove they still exist. After that craziness it was off to bed. We woke early the next morning to gloriously clear weather and explored the sound for a few hours before returning to the wharf and being shuttled all the way back to Queenstown the same way we came. And because I made a promise, here's a plug: Real Journeys is an awesome tour company, and if you ever find yourself in the south of New Zealand, choose them as your guides for Milford and Doubtful Sounds and beyond! Seriously. It was pouring rain back in Queenstown, so the coach driver took Alexa and I all the way to our flat. It's pretty far out of the way and I don't think many other coach companies would've been so generous.

Anyway, here's a few shots of the sound in her many moods:

Mike's Arrival/Queenstown

My good friend Mike arrived in Queenstown on Tuesday the 14th, jet lagged and as short as ever. I grabbed him and the rental car from the airport, then we headed back to Queenstown. Over the next two days we plowed through as many of Queenstown's touristy offerings as possible, making trips to the luge, Deer Park Heights, Fergburger, several bars, and Fresh Choice. So incredibly exciting. Alexa and I also had to hunker down and do some cleaning. Apart from wanting our bond (deposit) back, we really liked our landlady and wanted to leave the flat just as nice as we'd found it. And so after a fond farewell, we packed our car to the brim, leaving just enough space for Mike to squeeze into the back seat, and drove northward to Franz Josef.

The only worthwhile shot from Queenstown. Our racing turned a little aggressive on the luge, with plenty of side-to-side slamming in a fierce competition for first place. As we came towards the photo finish, we both ignored the "slow down" signs and yelled loudly. Me, yelling in triumph, and Mike in the anguish of defeat. A little kid was in front of us, but fortunately we made it past without incident. I think he was a bit startled, though. The resulting picture, with his head turned back to see what's coming/just went past, is priceless.

Franz Josef Glacier

The drive started off on a strange note. Just outside of Queenstown we were passed by sign-yielding trucks telling us "PULL OVER, WIDE LOAD." And they meant it. Soon after we pulled over, a truck pulling an entire house came chugging down the road:

Crazy.

After an hour of sunshine and beautiful scenery the weather turned to complete shit and we spent the next four hours navigating through heavy rain and dense fog. As an added bonus, the rental car's CD player didn't work (it would only play the first 2:49 of the first track) and the radio wouldn't pick up a station for more than five minutes at a time.

The morning after we arrived in Franz Josef, however, the sky had cleared just in time for our full day glacier hike. We started off at the Franz Josef Glacier Guides office in town, stuffing ourselves into waterproof trousers, wool socks, boots, jackets, and red bags containing crampons, hats, and mittens for later on. After a quick bus ride and a brief tramp through the woods, we came upon our first view of the glacier.

The glacier is currently about 11 km long, and this view only shows about 6 km of it. Also, Franz Josef is unique in that it's currently in a cycle of advancing/retreating (growing/shrinking), unlike most other glaciers which are currently only retreating.

It took us about 45 minutes of hiking across the rocks, and then up through the bush and back down again, to get to the bottom of the glacier. Here we were broken up into groups of ten and given a chance to spike-ify our feet by strapping on crampons. Here's Mike and I showing off our sweet new footwear:

For the next six hours we climbed up steep "staircases" carved out by our fearless guide Daniel, shuffled down icy banks, and slid through neon-blue ice tunnels. For now we'll go into storybook mode and I'll let the pictures guide you along. You don't need me to tell you how beautiful it was when you can see it for yourself, right?

A cave where the water is flowing out from under the glacier terminus:


Here I am climbing out of one of first ice caves, with Mike peering creepily over my shoulder:


Mike and I climbing up an ice "staircase" carved out by Daniel. This was one of the steeper climbs, hence the rope.


Alexa passing through one of the beautifully-blue ice caves.


And now she's climbing up and out the other side of the cave:



Mike's small stature paid off in this tight tunnel we had to crawl/slide through on hands and knees:

Alexa swears this picture is a coincidence, but I think it looks like she's contemplating our guide's butt. What do you think?


As you can see, hiking Franz Josef was a spectacular experience filled with beautiful sights. And it really made us feel pretty adventurous, too. Several of the cracks we had to step or jump across surely could've lead to serious injury if we've lost our footing, and even with the crampons and ice staircases, a few of the climbs were a little scary. Not to mention the omnipresent threat that chunks of the glacier could collapse at any given moment. Lastly, our guide may have been slightly insane. He had a soft spot for randomly destroying things. Towards the end of the hike he noticed this arch:



Apparently part of it was in danger of collapsing, so he climbed to the top and proceeded to hack away at the thing he was standing on with his pick-axe. Later, as we were descending the glacier, he wandered about twenty feet off the track and lay on his back beside a large boulder. Just as we began to wonder what he was doing, he rolled back, lifted his legs, and kicked the boulder down a hill. Bear in mind this was nowhere near the track. Lastly, he stopped right in the middle of the track and chucked a few random stones off to the side before resuming the hike without comment. Was there a method to his madness, was it all for show, or was he just crazy? The world may never know.

Eventually we made it down off the glacier, removed the crampons from our sore feet, and hiked back to the bus. About eight hours after we left, we were back at the Glacier Guides office in Franz Josef and duly exhausted. Unfortunately there's no rest for the wicked, and we had to pile back into the car to continue along to our next destination. We hadn't been on the road for five minutes when the rain started again. I guess we should be grateful that it held off during our hike.

Greymouth

The rain lead the way to Greymouth, "The Dark Hole," as it's known for its horrible weather. We checked into our hostel, had a quick but replenishing dinner, and were in bed by 9:00. After all, we needed our rest for the next morning's awesome activity.

Drinking in the morning!

Uh, I mean the Monteith's Brewery tour.

Monteith's is kind of like the Sam Adams of New Zealand, in that it's a high-end, flavorful beer with several different varieties. Except that it's better than Sam Adams, and it's cheaper. Monteith's is my favorite beer and is one of the many things I'll miss dearly when Alexa drags me kicking and screaming back to the States in a few months. Although the guide told us they've started exporting to a few cities in California because it's popular there, so maybe the east coast will catch wise and start importing as well.

The tour was brief, but it was cool because beer was actually brewing that day so we saw more than just empty vats. They do their own bottling, so we also had a look at the bottling line, which was pretty neat. But who am I kidding? The real reason we went was for the samples, of course. And they gave us plenty. Unlike other brewery tours, Monteith's seemed intent on getting visitors drunk. After sampling half-glasses of all seven varieties, we each poured one final beer of our choosing from the tap and downed that as well. Fortunately for Mike, Alexa doesn't really like beer and I had to drive soon, so he got most of Alexa's beers as well as those I'd already tried.

Oh, and check this out. Keg urinals.

After a quick lunch at Greymouth's very own Fresh Choice, we crammed back into the car and headed northward to Marahau, starting point for our three-day trek on the Abel Tasman Coastal Track.

I'm afraid I'll have to leave you in suspense for now, though. This entry is way too long despite my best efforts to keep each section to a few paragraphs. Next time I'll pick up where we left off with the Abel Tasman Coastal Track, our journey to and through the north island, and what Alexa and I have been up to for the past week.