Echoing Thunder

The sound ripped through the valley floor. You couldn’t even fathom where it came from. It could be from anywhere around us.

The night was cool. Our sleeping bags were toasty (yay -12 rating). Lying in our tent late at night, I couldn’t sleep. This is normal. Once I put in about 3-6hours, my body simply gets tired of sleeping.

I imagined the outline of the tent around me, painting it in my imagination in the dark night. It must have been cloudy, there was no moonlight aiding with my eyes’ adjustment to the darkness. Silence all around me, you wouldn’t know we were surrounded by campervans and tents.

Birds were cackling outside the tent, from somewhere in the bush. Although there were Kea warnings posted around, they didn’t sound like those birds. Probably a good thing, cause they are notorious for shredding camping gear.

They were the only other sound keeping me company that night.

Another crack draws my attention as I strain to shift in my sleeping bag and listen to what appears to be originating directly behind me. Glacial ice cracking and shifting in the night. The sound was echoing through the valleys and over the mountains. Even if there was an avalanche, we were sheltered enough to never know it.

But the sound. So crisp and so memorable. I felt like I was experiencing it on my own. Once the sun comes up, the world will wake up, and a good amount of the glacier’s music will be muddled.

Lying awake, I felt like the symphony was just for my ears to hear. Beautiful music. Natural wonder.

Camping in a tent outside glaciers in the Southern Alps. A must do in New Zealand.


Making the most of a bad situation

Tired of being sick (something we can’t change) and growing even more tired of Invercargill, we decided to drive away from the city and head to Curio Bay. This was a destination we hadn’t yet visited, sitting about an hour outside of Invercargill. We figured that a change of scenery might boost our spirits, and we were feeling well enough to relocate. Mind you, we still (at that point) didn’t know what it was that made us sick in the first place. We still weren’t eating enough – but decided we needed to start building up our strength and energy for the upcoming 12 day hike on Stewart Island.

So we drove out of the city that has jinxed our travels twice now and headed east down the coast.

Unfortunately, we can’t remember too much about this side trip we took. I could imagine we were still a wee bit fuzzy from everything. This was the first major ‘move’ we had made in over eight days.

We ended up at a hostel near the beach, and although the view was wonderful (outside of the extensive construction site about to block the oceanfront), it was a pretty run down place, and it was our first hostel experience outside of a BBH. Unfortunately, there were a few unfriendly guests, and in a small place, it can suck a lot of life out of others. The water at the hostel was Brent’s favorite part. It was a very inviting brownish colour. So inviting that I don’t think we actually drank any of it. Slowly surviving the crypto (which we didn’t know about yet – but we still weren’t that thrilled about water at that time), nothing off-coloured was really being sought after by our bodies. No more thank you. We simply enjoyed the water already in our water bottles.

We dropped off our bags and headed on our scenic tour of the area. We visited the Niagara Falls – which we truly don’t see the joke to. It was so disappointing to drive all the way to the area to come upon a mini rapid/river bump. We were expecting at least a mini waterfall – maybe even shaped like our Niagara Falls back home perhaps. But no, just a river bump.

We continued on our tour to Slope Point – to see the southern most point on the South Island. You hike through a farmer’s field and find your way through tussocky grass to the signpost. The view from this area was incredible. Ocean side and windy as ever! The rain was pounding on us and the wind was so ferocious, you were wobbling around trying to keep upright. Not really the best feeling when you’re standing above a very tall sheer cliff. Especially when the shape of the rocky cliff is creating intense blowholes, shooting the water straight up into the air, spraying above the cliff’s top. But incredible. On a calm day, you could really enjoy the area a bit longer. We started to journey towards a few more areas, but were kind of turned off on account of the weather. And sadly, we did not see any dolphins in Porpoise Bay. One of the reasons I wanted to visit this area is due to this one pod of dolphins that is known to come close to shore. It might not have been the right time of year, and they also might have been affected by the weather. We’ll never know.

On a plus side, I did spot two wild Pukekos while driving past a long grass field. We turned around and hopped out of the car so that Brent could spot them. I was actually quite shocked that I even noticed them.

In the morning, we realized we weren’t showing improvements in our health (at least not enough to justify trying to cross over to Stewart Island just yet), so we did the only thing we could think of to make the most of our time; we migrated north. We couldn’t justify simply sitting around and waiting to get better. We truly didn’t know how long it would take. Besides, there is so much to see in this country outside of just hiking. So we opted to travel to some touristy hot spots and hang up our packs in exchange for the tourist look. Probably a look we’d rather avoid, but none the less, we donned our best tourist image together with our sickly faces and got on the road again.

Destination: Queenstown. A town we actually thought we might avoid altogether. We never had an interest in this town. We have no interest in paying the high prices to participate in the adrenaline activities (although, at a lower cost, I might just be jumping onto the bandwagon) and really wanted to avoid tourist hubs. And if Queenstown exemplifies anything, it’s that it truly is a touristy town. Beautiful indeed. The drive up to the town is nothing short of remarkable, which is fitting since it sits alongside the Remarkables Mountain chain. The windy road that travels along the coast of a massive blue lake takes you up close and personal to a rocky mountain chain. Although pictures might not impress most due to its flattening effect, to see these mountain tops in person is stunning. The word ‘texture’ is the best thing I can think of to describe my impression of the area around Queenstown. The texture of the environment is incredibly picturesque. I couldn’t help myself from staring at the mountain chain as long as it was in my line of vision. I knew I could never fully express the beauty of the unique rock faces. It felt like the perfect spot for us to be. We needed the boost. Back to the mountains we drove. I enjoyed every second of the views.

The town is busy as, and you couldn’t help but thank God that it wasn’t the peak tourist season, that schools were still in full swing and that we weren’t there on a weekend or in their winter (skiing season is really busy in Queenstown). Visually, it is probably the cleanest town around. And perfectly groomed – if that can be said about a town. It almost feels like it was a town built for the tourism industry.

After hitting up a few hostels with no vacancy, we opted to stay at a place called the Queenstown Lodge. A quasi-lodge and quasi-hostel type location. It was great though. Every room had an ensuite (still an important selling point for us sicklies), their own TV and mini fridge, and the accommodation came with free breakfast every day. Hot and cold breakfast! This might not seem like a big deal, but every place we’ve stayed at with ‘free breakfast’ serves only cold breakfast, which is yum, but it’s a real treat to get a hot breakfast too. It’s funny, because continental breakfasts from back home even look better to us now because you can get danishes and muffins for breakfast. In Sussex, my family and I even had waffles for breakfast one morning on a continental spread. We can’t seem to find that here in New Zealand. It’s actually quite difficult to find a place that does a nice brunch spread. (my favorite meal!)

For some reason, I suggested that we go to Fergburger on our first night in Queenstown. This is a burger joint that is supposed to be extremely delicious. We have heard people raving about this place, so we were excited to taste it. Mind you, we normally only buy burgers after a super long tramp, so we’re usually ready to eat just about anything. I have to say, we didn’t find it all that flash. It could be that we were still a little bit sick and quite frankly our tummies were so tiny at that point, the smallest amount would have made us full. But we were kind of disappointed. We had a burger at a place called Burger Fuel up in New Plymouth, and I have to say it was one of the best store bought burgers I have ever had. It might be the Aioli sauce they put in their burgers, but it was yum. None the less, Fergburger was a must try food tasting. And boy, were they ever big burgers. One really could feed two people quite easily. We didn’t know that, but have since learned our lesson.

On our second day in Queenstown, we hiked up to the skyline just above the town. Funny enough, it was our first real hike since falling ill, which was quite important to start rebuilding as well. About halfway up the mountain, I got really excited when I realized that my back wasn’t hurting with all the uphill trudging we were doing. I truly thought it might have miraculously healed over our sickly time. Then, unfortunately, I realized that I had taken a codeine (the prescription was given to us after our second hospital visit to subdue the stomach pain properly) just before our hike, and it was only masking the back pain. None the less, it was information that I could soon take advantage of.

At the top of the skyline, we spent some time watching a few bungy jumps; then we took a free trip on the lift to the top of the luge hill and watched the lugists speeding down the raceway and sat down at a picnic table to watch the paragliders taking off just beside us. We weren’t feeling well enough to participate in anything on this day, but found great enjoyment in the environment, especially alongside the paragliders’ take off area. Watching the people setting up for their tandem jumps reminded me of skydiving with my dad back home. But the view was much better in Queenstown! Unfortunately the mountains will always win.

The bungy jumping was unfortunate I found. The ones jumping from the skyline complex had the shortest bungy jump distance available in the Queenstown area, it was over so quickly. Yet it was priced very close to the Nevis jump – which stands at 134m I believe. You bungy down from a cable car that rolls out into the middle of the gorge. After the ‘ride’ is done, you have to wait as they pull you back up. That would be the terrifying part. Unfortunately, you cannot access that site location from the road, as it travels through private land. You have to pay about $30 to be able to go watch people jump out there. So we settled for the smaller jumping experience.

After hiking back down into town, Brent and I shuffled through the two supermarkets to pick up some food and some dinner ($5.00 shepherds pie at the four square – surprisingly delicious), before catching the lodge’s courtesy shuttle back to our accommodation.

The next day we didn’t start off quite as early, almost having a lazy morning. Breakfast in the restaurant was delicious with gorgeous views of the Remarkables and the lake they stand before (which was also a view we were blessed with from our room). We ended up driving out of town to watch bungy jumping from the original AJ Hackett bungy bridge just outside of town. That was a highlight. We saw all sorts taking the plunge, from young to old, single to double jumpers, and the one guy who just didn’t want to throw himself off that platform. I mean, that’s the best part about bungy jumping, realizing that you have to go against your natural instincts that are trying to encourage self preservation. You have to override what your mind is telling you. “Don’t jump, you fool. This body don’t fly like the birdies.” But that one guy, he was classic, and he had the crowd rousing him!

After spending some time at the historic bridge, we continued our travels to Arrowtown, with the sole purpose of visiting the quaint little cinema in the heart of town. Like in Wanaka’s Cinema Paradiso, Arrowtown’s Dorothy Perkins theatre offers a unique experience of viewing your favorite movie from the comfort of a couch or a lazy boy recliner or a posh uppity chair or just about anything. The theatre seating is unique and never offers the same seat twice. With that in mind, the theatre is also not very big, and we couldn’t get a seat in the movie we had hoped. Instead, we enjoyed a quick tour through the lolly shop, each picking out our own packet of unique lollies and headed back to Queenstown for a quiet evening.

That was our last night in Queenstown, Friday November 28th. The same day when we got the phone call from the hospital in Invercargill. So we finally knew we needed to buy more time before heading back towards Stewart Island.

The next morning, after our last hearty and delicious breakfast and a quick pack up, we were en route for Mt. Cook. We figured it was a major detour we were going to have to face at some point, so we might as well do it now. The road to Mt. Cook is just outside of Twizel (the small town where we purchased Sgt. McClaughwd). The last time we drove through the area, we missed out on seeing the mountain. So we opted to travel further north to see this impressive peak. And today it paid off. Clear skies and a view that would draw your attention to the horizon from anywhere. Mt. Cook, standing far off in the distance, was stunning. We could finally see the mountain. Better yet, we could see it from Twizel. We spent over an hour right near the mountain the morning Huntington went up in flames, but it was as foggy as anything. It was great to finally see it.

The drive to the town was beautiful. Windy roads passing along side the bluest water I have ever seen. This was Lake Pukaki which sits just down stream from the Southern Alps, slowly collecting water from the glaciers through the Tasman River. The weather was gorgeous, blessing us with an incredible view of the mountain chain.

Now when I say that there is nothing to the town, that’s a big deal for New Zealand, because Mt. Cook didn’t even have a Four Square (a food store kind of like Mike’s Mart/Mac’s back home with a bit more grocery aisles – but they are everywhere here, and sometimes the main source of groceries). You could purchase food at the YHA hostel or the Hermitages gift shop, but even then it wasn’t that much and it was ghastly expensive. I truly don’t know how people can afford to live out there. But the town was also really neat, because DOC signs were laid out everywhere to point out almost every location and track. The signs even pointed out what roads were private residences and those that were not.

The price of isolation and a uniquely beautiful location to live in is quite high. Accommodations were no exceptions. Apparently, it was a busy night. Everywhere was booked up for the night, or at least our top three cheapest options in town. We even went to see what the bookings were like at the Hermitages and they tried to sell us on a $500 room. If you saw us in our tramping clothes, I don’t think you’d reckon we were living examples of $500 chic. We decided to book a place at the YHA for the next night and spend tonight camping at the DOC campsite just outside of town. $12 fee, not too shabby. With evening approaching, we didn’t want to rush our hiking through the area, so we opted to spend two nights in Mt. Cook.

Before setting out of town, we returned to an area where I had noticed a Paradise duck and a few ducklings waddling alongside the road. We parked near a DOC public shelter (nicer then any I’ve seen on the tracks), which was the closest location to the last duckling sighting. Walking up to the shelter with bread in our hands, we slowly and patiently watched the duck family sneak around the shelter’s corner as they snacked on the grass around the footpath. They were mildly interested in our bread donation. Nevertheless, it did keep them around, enabling us to enjoy some extra time with them. It was mainly the adult ducks who would come around for the bread pieces. Brent tried everything to lure the ducklings closer with a goal of having one eat out of his hands. They weren’t as keen. After one duckling isolated itself from his family, Brent tried to approach the lone animal (not to snatch it per se, but I do think he wanted to pet it) which was met with screaming parents flapping at him as they swiftly waddled across the grass. Needless to say, Brent quickly backed away.

After a failed duck-napping attempt, we headed back to the campsite where a lot of day hikers were starting to return from the trails. The lot looked very busy. We found a nice site where we could park near our tent (because of the kea warnings, we wanted to know if our car was going to be eaten alive through the night) and began to work on some of the hardest soil you’ll ever meet. Each peg was met with a new type of rock surface challenge. Some pegs you couldn’t go much deeper then an inch, while others barely gave much room to wriggle beyond the grassy layer. I could imagine that it appeared as though we were novices at camping if you had seen how long it took us to set up camp that night.

A trickling of rain came and went several times through the night. I spent the my time listening to the pitter patter against our tent’s fly, hoping that all those pegs would hold through the night as the wind picked up. Although, our tent has been through some pretty awful wind and rain conditions before, so this was nothing.

Thundering cracks pierced the night sky over several hours. Isolated cases echoing through the mountainous valley floor. It was such an interesting thing to be surrounded by. Mammoth glaciers sitting high upon the biggest mountains in New Zealand, slowly melting away, shifting and falling with no acoustic competition. The sounds dominated. A loud, thundering, dominating symphony.

The clouds had come in overnight. We woke up to a very cold and damp morning. With nowhere really to go until closer to noon, when we could shift into the YHA, we simply decided to sleep in. Ideally, the clouds would roll out as the day progressed and Mt. Cook would once again be visible, making our afternoon hikes more picturesque.

We chose a four hour return hike for out Mt. Cook experience. After offloading at the YHA, we returned to the DOC site to park our car and begin our chosen track. The day turned out to be gorgeous. The clouds eventually lifted and shifted out of the valley floor. We spent the day crossing alongside steep rock paths that are fenced in with “no stopping” zones near falling rock areas, crossing over some pretty rapid and blue rivers and simply walking in the valley floor being dwarfed by Mt. Cook and Mt. Sefton, completely mesmerized by the blueness of the cracks in the glaciers high near the mountain tops. It was quite a stunning sight.

One thing that I don’t really understand is the fact that glacial lakes, feeding straight from the glaciers that are running off the mountains themselves, usually have a grey and murky look to them. Yet the ice glaciers appear to be so blue and the rivers are quite clean.

On the return part of our hike, we just missed out on seeing a small avalanche in the distance. The sound is quite delayed and the way it thunders through the air can be quite deceiving when trying to locate its source. After hearing the shifted ice break (which my ears had been tuned in to locating), I searched the mid section of one of the ice glaciers, while Brent followed the top of the mountain chain thinking the sound came from further up. It did sound grandeur, so I understood his logic. Unfortunately for Brent, this cost him seeing any of the action. I caught the tail end of the avalanche falling over a waterfall location. Snow rushing down the rocks with big dusty snow clouds keeping up pace not far behind. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized one of the waterfalls I was looking at was actually part of the avalanche. It was snow debris being thrown over. Just as quick as the waterfall had appeared, it also vanished. Incredible.

We spent the second night at the YHA, where we had dinner with a Canadian couple from Toronto. These were the first people we met from Toronto since being in New Zealand.

The next morning, we woke up early to go for two shorter day hikes before unpacking our belongings from the YHA. We drove out to the Tasman Glacier before any tour groups made their way over to the location. This was a really great experience to have without any other tourists. You hike for about 15-20mins before arriving at Tasman Lake, where you are greeted by varying glaciers floating through the water. It was amazing to see in person. Free standing white glaciers, floating around the murky grey waters. We then hiked over to a lookout that was supposed to provide you with panoramic views of the area. Unfortunately, the weather was overcast with mild rain on this particular morning. It did offer a great view of the Tasman Lake and accompanying glaciers however.

Driving away from the head of the trail, we slowly climbed up and down the windy gravel road as I took a moment to enjoy the views of this location. Driving to the Tasman Glacier from Mt. Cook felt like driving in the savannah. The low lying grass throughout the entire valley floor hosted scattered plants and shrubs. The morning mist was only starting to lift from the lower areas. The sun was bright behind the clouds casting hope of direct sunlight onto the rocky cliffs later in the day. With daylight sitting just behind the hill, the moment offered great photographic opportunities. I felt like I was in another world. Now I wait to see if a wildebeast will appear among the vegetation. They would be in the savannah.

The Tasman River slowly winding through the NZ savannah, branching off into several windy streams, gradually slipping away. In the distance, the snaking waterway appeared more like a mirage. Until all the branches reached Lake Pukaki. The poetry of the NZ savannah suddenly blurred into a mish mash of swampy land.

The rain starts to fall. Today, we drive in the bad weather with the hope of enjoying good weather in the near future. Back down the familiar highway, back through Lindis Pass (this will be trip #4 through that area), back to Invercargill once again (crossing our fingers), where we will spend one more night before crossing over to Stewart Island.

We’re so close, you can taste it.