Blenheim, South Island, New Zealand

Lunch stop at Lake Rotoiti

After clocking hundreds of kilometers up the West Coast and through Greymouth, we continued to follow the deep forested roads along the base of the Southern Alps. It was a foggy afternoon so we couldn't see much other than the road in front of us. However eventually, after passing over the mountain ridges, we found the other side was painted a vibrant blue.

As per our plan we made a lunch stop at Lake Rotoiti. 

A large ice-blue lake surrounded by dense beech forest. Although, it has since been found that the lake was formed by glacial erosion the lake is fabled in a fascinating ancient story. 

Crystal clarity at Lake Rotoiti

Looking along the stony shore front

Maori legend tells that there was a powerful chief and sorcerer named Rakaihaitu. Long long ago, before the great migration of the canoes, he came to New Zealand in his canoe, and journeyed around the South Island. But when he landed near Nelson, at the top of the South Island Rakaihaitu decided to find a way overland through the rugged heart of the country.

He, along with his followers, set off across the flat plains and reached the beautiful wild country of the Buller region. The chief took his great Ko, his digging stick and began to dig enormous holes in the ground. He worked long and hard, and eventually the hole filled with water, and became the known as Lake Rotoiti. Rakaihaitu then continued his journey South digging and naming all the great lakes of the South Island. (Adapted from an online version).

Following the glacial rivers into Marlborough 

Although in Maori mythology, the Nelson Lakes were built by Maori, they were never settled by the Maori people. Rather, the lakes and rivers of the area were popular fishing grounds, rich with eels, fresh water mussels and were stopover points for parties travelling en route from Tasman Bay to Canterbury or the West Coast to gather Greenstone. Just like what we were doing, except for the hunting part, because we came prepared bringing our lunch with us! 

We frolicked around a little, throwing stones into the water and watching birds dive for fish. The water was too cold to go for a swim so we just dabbled our toes in a little.

Enter wine district 

Too soon we were on the road again and on our way to Blenheim, the beating heart of the Marlborough wine country.

Synonymous for its grape growing, Marlborough is now New Zealand's largest wine producing region, receiving worldwide recognition for its sav blanc and pinot wines. With one of New Zealand's sunniest climates, it's somewhat sheltered in a flat valley and bordered by mountains. 

Clos Henri Cellar door chapel

Mountains behind the vines

True to its reputation, there are approximately 60 wineries in a 14x7km radius making it a wine lover's paradise! There's certainly no shortage of wine for the amateur connoisseur.

Marlborough landscape

So, puttering our way forth, we made a short stop at French wine specialist Clos Henri and the neighbouring Fromm Winery in order to keep ourselves fresh and hydrated before arriving into Blenheim. 

Both vineyards were marvellous, offering a selection of their wines for tasting. 

They were extremely accommodating, even when Kara tripped on the door step on her way in! Clos Henri offered their tastings in a quaint old chapel that overlooked their vineyards, so we sat inside the little church staring out amongst the lush vines.

Blenheim certainly went all out for us! The sun was shining and the sky was blue. With rounds of tasting before us we were determined to keep ourselves very busy! 

We stayed overnight in Blenheim's top ten campground but we didn't spend much time within Blenheim township itself, flittering ourselves out to the local vineyards. 

Kara at Wairau River winery

Tasting at Forrest winery

We visited some of the big names and smaller humble family-run cellars such as Wairau river, Hunters, Hans Herzog, Forrest and Georges Michel.

Flight tasting in the early morning!

Some of the Wairau River range

Each vineyard was unique but they all had equally delicious wine. 

We really enjoyed the wine flights and food matches that were offered at the cellar doors but most of all the enthusiasm and pride the door staff had in their produce. 

We had a wonderful day sipping sav and spent our day away tasting the local wine. The weather held out and it was warm and sunny. 

Goodies at Georges Michel winery

Heading back to Picton later in the evening we stopped for one further tasting plate at Johanneshof cellars then, wrapping up our South Island tiki tour, we drove onto the boat that took us over the cook straight.

As with all wrap-ups a tinge of sadnesses rocked us as we came to terms with leaving. Tomorrow we will depart New Zealand and with such an open itinerary we're not sure when we will be back. Until then, we will always be "blowing on the pie". 

Tot siens,

John and Kara

Greymouth to Punakkaiki, West Coast, New Zealand

Welcome to Ross town! 

The physical exhaustion from heaving ourselves around on the ice all afternoon, kept us quiet, but our minds were alert, anticipating our move and next nice warm meal as we left the Franz Joseph Glacier carpark. Watching out for the deadly Kea, we jumped back in the Austin Powers van and set off North towards the little town of Ross. Yes the Ross's were going to Ross town!

We arrived not long after sunset. Much to our dismay the town had shut down for the night. The street lights were almost all off, stores bolted closed and the local petrol station was even out of meat pies. There were only small yellow glows coming from the kitchen windows of homes tucked along the roadside. Disheartened we had little choice but to open a can of cold chickpeas and some dehydrated beans mixing them with sweet and sour wok sauce for dinner. What a shame. As we parked up in the street a little grumpy at our misfortune, we plotted our next move.

A single ray of sun between the clouds

It was early the next morning when we were back on the road again with the intention of driving forward to Blenheim. In order to get there, we had a lot of road in front of us. So as the spring fog still lingered across the wet paddocks, we were off! It was a grey, wet morning, the air outside was cold and the ongoing drizzle of rain had formed condensation on the inside of the van, which was occasionally dripping on our heads. 

Everything felt humid and opening the windows made little difference. We hadn't slept well on the uncomfortable seats and this morning our stiff joints and sore muscles weren't cooperating with us at all. As we drove, stretching as much as we could in the limited space, we passed cyclists making their way along the road, wet and bothered. The road was boarded by the ocean to our left and beautiful, lush green forest to our right.

One way bridge WITH a train track in the middle! 

We made our first stop along the west coast road at Greymouth, which was unsurprising on this wet morning pretty bleaking ‘grey’. However it wasn't the weather that the town gets its name from but actually the river Grey, which runs down through the town and out to sea. 

and it's closed.... 

On closer inspection the river was pretty dark almost black so it couldn't have been named for its colour. Greymouth is the largest town on the West Coast with a population of around 9,800 and sits on the narrow coastal plains under the snow-capped southern alps. 

Getting there wasn't easy with nerve-wracking oneway bridges and plenty of busted traffic lights and today we couldn't see a thing as the clouds hung so low. Surely on a clear day, the harbour town must be stunning!

Like many other big settlements in the South, local Maori tribes lived in the area for a considerable time before European settlement, and called the area Māwhera. As a short history, it was later in 1846, that the first Europeans arrived and discovered coal and gold. 

Coal mining became a major factor in the town's early European history and supplied work to most of the town inhabitants. The town today still mines and also has a local brewery, Monteith's, which has produced beer since 1868, now world famous in New Zealand of course! That was our first stop, a bit of apple cider would go down a treat. Pulling in, our mouths were already dry in anticipation but well, we were far too early! It was only 8.30am on a weekday morning and they hadn't yet opened for the day. Hoping to return for a tour in the future we fluffed around a little looking for a public toilet and were soon back on the road, ready to clock up some more kilometers. Our next stop for the morning was Paparoa National Park to see the famous pancake rocks! 

Paparoa Park

Following the highway

The famous pancake rocks and blowholes just out of the township Punakaiki are just a short drive from Greymouth, give or take, forty five minutes. Looking like stacked giant pancakes the curious heavily eroded limestone formations were formed 30 million years ago.

Stacked like pancakes

Unusual rock formations, Punakaiki

Made up from minute fragments of dead marine creatures and plants which landed on the seabed about 2 km below the surface. Immense water pressure caused the fragments to solidify in hard and soft layers. Gradually seismic action lifted the limestone above the seabed. Mildly acidic rain, wind and seawater sculpted the unusual rocks into the strangely unsatisfying pancakes we could see!

There she blows!

Anyone have some chocolate sauce for these pancakes?

Enjoying the fresh air! 

After parking up, we walked over to the rocks hoping to see some great blowhole action! There are supposed to be areas where the sea bursts through several vertical holes during high tides. Luckily for us, it was high tide and as it was a little wet and stormy we could see bits of the salty spray splashing up! It was very cold out on the viewing platform, beautiful in the strange sea mist but cold!

Can you spot the faces?

Looking between the rocks

Wet, wild and misty coastline

So after following the boardwalks through the scrub we returned to the visitors centre to read up on the formations and warm up a little!

Sizing up the weka bird

Exploring the pancake rocks

Wild Coastline, Tasman sea

After another toilet stop we made our way back to the van and were suddenly approached by two weka birds or woodhens. A flightless bird, native to New Zealand, that looks far more menacing than they actually are.

A little nervous at their bold curiosity, we watched the cheeky birds come closer, looking for food. Shame we didn't have anything to share and after our run-in last night with the Kea we didn't particularly want to wait around to see how a hungry weka bird behaves!

Deciding to aim for a late lunch at Lake Rotoiti we set off 'on the road again!' Intending to arrive by 1pm we had to really pull finger out and so taking state highway six we were off! 

Tot siens,

John and Kara

Fox Glacier, West Coast, NZ

Early morning on Lake Hawea

We set off early this morning as to not arouse suspicion. We had been camping out in a gravel parking lot on the side of the road that we had pulled into late last night. 

It seemed like a good location at the time, dark, outside of suburban Wanaka and close to the main road. But we hadn't slept well with the many large trucks barreling through all night so we set off eager to reach the Fox Glacier by 2pm. 

We decided we would stop for breakfast on the way and began our hike (figuratively) across the jaw-droppingly beautiful Mount Aspiring National Park. The drive was stunning, the morning sun just making its way over the snow-capped mountains coloured the sky in soft pinks and ice blues. The grass next to the road was green and damp from the morning dew and our breaths left behind a puff of white air. It was beautiful, a mixture of remote wilderness, high mountains and beautiful river valleys. It was so quiet and the road was clear as we set off through the park.

Lake Hawea

Mount Aspiring National Park Road

We stopped at a small reserve just before the town of Haast. Noted for its unique scenery and wildlife on the South Island's rugged West Coast. We didn't realise when we so eagerly jumped from the old van to make breakfast what a terrible judgement call we had made. For we sooner rather than later learnt the West Coast is plagued with biting sand flies! They swarmed us by the thousands, infiltrating the van, multiplying in mere seconds. Clouds of the small flying monsters covered our clothing, our food and went crazy for our coffee. Stopping had been a right old bugger and as we drove off ten minutes later we were kept busy, swatting away. For another hour we continued to beat at them as they dove for our ankles and exposed arms.

Here comes the sandfly onslaught

Haast Bay

The road continued along the Haast highway. Through the green forests and along icy river streams with water so blue. Now the weather had packed in and it was grey and cloudy. In front of us dark stormy low clouds indicted rain. We made another short stop at the Haast highway, Knights Point Lookout, pushing the last of the sandflies from the van.

A wet view from Knights lookout

Thirty minutes later we're back in the sunshine!

The lookout, named after a dog was in 1950 the point in which road construction crews met. One team having paved their way from the north and another from the east over the Haast pass. 

Our short trip from the van consisted of a quick run from the carpark to the lookout point in the recently arrived rain. We didn't stay long and after a good glimpse, we used the public toilets and were off on the road again into Westland Tai Poutinu National Park. 

We arrived at the small Fox Glacier village in excellent timing. Right in the shadows of Mt Cook it was quite chilly but we felt very fortunate the rain had cleared. We continued a little on the road intending to have lunch by the famous Lake Matheson, renowned for its stunning reflective surface. Arg, but today wasn't our day, the clouds still low and the water whipped by the wind we couldn't see the promised reflections. We even forgot to take a photo. Nevertheless we set up a small lunch feast and in the surrounding green paddock, chowed down.

Back in the village we stood in the gravel carpark pulling on all our warm gear, our boots, thermals, skivvies, poly fleece and rain coats. 

First view of Fox Glacier

Wasn't it only two days ago we were basking in the warm evening in togs? Excitedly we went into the tour office, ready for our guided tour up the Fox glacier! 

Te Morka o Tuawe, or in English the Fox glacier is an enormous 13-kilometer long ice glacier perched between Mount Tasman and the stunning Mount Cook. It's fed by four massive high-altitude alpine glaciers. 

As one of the most accessible glaciers in the world it's also one of the few that ends in lush rainforest contributed by it's close proximity to the coast.

Although it's possible to walk right up to the ice, the glacier has been frantically receding since 2009 and with potential risks of rising rivers, changing weather conditions, ice falls or unstable rock we thought the tour was our best and safest option!

So upon exchanging our pre-purchased online tickets we were promptly provided with real-professional-adventure snow hiking boots! They were monstrous, a swift kick would undeniably see some tib/fib breakage, if someone was to speak out of turn. 

We waited a short while for the other people in our group to arrive and boot up, before boarding a small bus to take us the six kilometers into the World Heritage site and to the famed glacial face. 

Our guide Paul, a local from Christchurch eagerly helped us from the bus and in the no-nonsense southern way told us the simple rules: "stick together and don't be a dick". He threw an ice axe over his shoulder and we set off down into the valley. 

Stone hopping over the river! 

About to hit the avalanche zone

Morine rocks

Come at us! 

Around us everything looked drab and grey in colour. The clouds, although previously exhausted with all the rain they had, still lingered. Surrounding us were large mounds of moraine. We followed a small rocky path past the signposted landslip zone. 

It's wet and slippery! 

Paul said: "walk fast, do not stop to take photos, just move we will stop at the other end". Nervous as, we kept moving. We kept to the left side of the glacial runoff, passing over small blue streams and then within five minutes we were just 200 metres in front of the glacier terminal face. 

Walking over the melting ice

Walking to the glacial face in all of our gear already had us getting a sweat on but now Paul handed out the snow crampons and our poor clothing choices were soon forgotten as we jiggled our massive boots into them. 

Tying them up we felt so important and so professional. Once on, we stomped  around, practicing our walk with our walking poles. Surprisingly quite a bit of energy is consumed with each step as you thrust and plant the small and jagged iron crampon into the ice.

And onto the ice we climbed! Together we all slid every which way, some of us balancing only by holding onto the pole, others just grabbed at the closest jacket they could see. The gloves came off, the gloves went back on and then they came off again. 

In front of us lay the beautiful white glacier, dotted with small river rocks and amethyst shaped ice crystals. 

Crystal ice chunks

Climbing about on the ice

It was quite remarkable walking on the ice, up in the clouds on this grey day. Beneath our feet the ice crunched like a child chewing on ice.  We rammed the crampons in, lifted our back foot and rammed it forward making a frozen path before us. 

Cracks in the ice

Taking a glimpse at the blue ice

The glacier was far from flat, like frozen waves it lifted and rose. In places deep cracks formed giving us a peek at the blue caves beneath us. Paul, cautiously told us tales of lost tourists who, if they fell, would be crushed alive by the moving ice before being able to be rescued (that is if hypothermia didn't set in first). 

Heading down an ice tunnel

In front of an ice wall

We trudged along and up stairs that were cut in the ice that morning. 

We climbed down into beautifully arched tunnel systems, like chimneys into a different world where the walls were so brilliant blue it was unreal. 

A slick azure blue, a cavern, a cave. It was a strange captivating world beneath the ice. The tunnels were wet and we held ropes so as not too slide down into the depths at odd uncontrollable angles. Our poles tumbling down behind us.

Watch the cracks! 

Ice hiking! 

Here we go! Back to the village

Climbing down again...

Once wet we started to get cold quickly. But before we knew it we were already making our way back, the memories of this magical place forming in our minds. 

It was early evening when we returned but with daylight savings in full force we took the opportunity to drive to the neighbouring Franz Josef glacier. Although closed for walking tours (unless you chose to helicopter to the high areas) at the moment, the Franz Josef has reigned supreme for many years as an unbelievable glacial experience. 

Known as Ka Roimata o Hinehukatere in local Maori, the glacier was first named after a local legend. Translated in English as the tears of Hinehukatere, the story goes that the young Hinehukatere loved climbing in the mountains and one-day persuaded her lover, Wawe, to climb with her. Fearless Wawe was a less experienced climber than Hinehukatere but loved to accompany her until one frightful day an avalanche swept Wawe from the peaks to his death. Hinehukatere was so heartbroken that as she cried, her tears flowed down the mountain and froze to form the glacier.

The trouble maker- Kea bird

Franz Josef valley waterfalls

So back in the van we drove only 20 kilometers up the road to the neighbouring glacier. Parking in the designated parking lot we felt that we were being watched. We looked around; it was jut us and a few empty cars. We had this strange feeling that something was off and within moments we realised we really were being watched! Huge green Kea birds stood blocking our path, glaring at us, threatening us to move closer! Kara, well aware that these were not birds to be messed with, hid behind the van. 

John ignorant with his foreign naivety of the rubber eating, window-wiper hating, car demolishing creatures waved them casually off. 

But then we watched in disbelieving horror as they actually flew onto some poor soul's rental car and began their early dinner. 

They watched us, they cocked their heads and dared us to stop them. It was like something you only hear about, they were like an animal playing with its food.

The beautiful birds cackled and with our tails between our legs we ran into the valley park, hoping the old rubber on our car wouldn't be as delicious.

It's a 3 kilometer trip to the glacier face lookout and 3 kilometers back. We wanted to get there and back in under an hour in order to be back on the road, so we started with a light jog. The well-trodden path was initially quite flat but became rockier and we had to bounce over the rocks to continue moving at a quick pace. Around us the nature was beautiful, there were little waterfalls cascading down the mountainside. The stream of water running out from under the glacier glided over small pebbles and big sharp rocks carried down from the mountaintops lay over the valley.

Approaching the Franz Josef

Yeh.. that's close enough

In the end, we turned around a couple of hundred meters from the lookout as the sunset caught up with us too quickly. The glacier was just visible poking out from around the mountain. We had, had an amazing day but it was time to go rescue the car and get on the road.

Tot siens,

John and Kara