Crossing the Alps ~ Derek's Travels

Leaving Franz Josef without much of an idea of where to go, I headed in the direction of Hokitika, an area known for its jade mining and not much else. Jade/greenstone is everywhere in the tourist shops, but unfortunately, it's quite expensive, so I am usually just left admiring it from afar. I pulled into the quaint town and its few streets just as the sun was starting to go down. The only other thing I had seen was an attractive picture in a brochure of a blue river surrounded by a white walled canyon, and this was approximately in the Hokitika section of the brochure, though some of the other pictures were out of order, so I didn't have much confidence in it. I decided that I'd drive just past town and find a pullout for the night, then I'd return in the morning and enquire about the picture - "Have you seen this place..." Right as I got to the outskirts of town, I saw a road sign and made a rash decision: "Hokitika Gorge 32 km." The gorge sounded promising, and I didn't know where to go, so I headed inland, hoping to get there with the remaining bits of light before they disappeared behind the mountains. The country road led through pastures and farms, breaking off in multiple directions, luckily well marked with signs to the gorge. With the effort to make these signs, I figured it might be a good attraction, though the guide books I saw only had one sentence about it, calling it an attractive place. As I finally got to the entrance to the park, the sun was way past set, and I realized that I wouldn't be able to see a thing in the gorge. I drove along the gravel road, taking one spur towards the valley, though the situation began to get a bit frightening, driving along two tire tracks in a pitch black forest, guided only by two weak headlights, not knowing what may lie around each turn. I found a place to turn around, and I made my way back out into the start of the park, on the side of the gravel road where I parked for the night. I'd stay there and then explore the area in the morning, when I could actually see where I was going. Being in the middle of nowhere, I felt safe that no one was around, yet also a bit frightened by the prospect, though I decide to not worry about it.

I tried to sleep, but I soon realized the importance of finding a very flat, level surface for parking the van. Apparently I had parked one side of the van on a few larger rocks, so the van was tilted to one side. This wasn't at all obvious or even noticeable when I parked, since I checked for that, but it was uncomfortable enough to keep me from falling asleep for an hour or two. Following some debate, I decided to get out from under the covers and crawl through the narrow, cold passageway to the front seat, not wanting to go outside, so I pulled the van back and forth a few feet, hoping nothing was nearby because I couldn't see a thing. I finally found a flatter spot, squeezed back through into the backseat, and I fell asleep, curious as to what I'd find in the morning. When I got up, I drove the 10 minutes down to the trail to the gorge and saw what I think was my first live kiwi hanging around my van when I got out. I annoyed it with a few pictures, but it didn't seem to mind too much. I hit the trail down towards the river and was impressed when I came to the clearing. Though not the exact canyon from the picture, this was a similar place with the opaque, light blue water passing by walls of white rock walls and boulders with bits of green moss alongside. A swinging bridge took me across and down to the water, where I took a few pictures and took in the scenery. I also found another trail leading further into the woods, so I followed it for a while, becoming narrower and more dense, passing over rocks, puddles and hills. The sound of the water nearby drew me to the river, but the water had widened, and this must have been some sort of fishing trail, but it definitely wasn't the area where I'd find a canyon, so I headed back to the car.

Moving North again, my next stop was Punakaiki, known for it's Pancake Rocks. I passed along the hazy coastline, through more untouched forest and around views of sea stacks and cliffs eroded away by the powerful ocean. Arriving in Punakaiki, I was unhappy to see that the Kiwi Experience's big green tourist bus had arrived just before me, dropping off loads of annoying British, German and American youngsters partying their way around the country. I walked out on the platforms around the rugged coastline, observing the striated rocks, which is actually layers and layers of limestone from the ocean floor that were pulverized together then uplifted to the surface, giving the impression of stacks of pancakes or coins. There are also a few large blowholes/spouts, but the tide wasn't right to see those, and I wasn't keen on hanging around the desolate area for six more hours just to see a water spout. The other highlight of the area was the cafe across the street, appropriately serving pancakes, so that was part of my reason for visiting. (Speaking of pancakes, I had some of the best, lightest, fluffiest, covered in a thin, beautiful layer of powdered sugar pancakes in Te Anau, leaving Milford Sound. I think I forgot to mention those, and they were so, so good.) So, I walked up to the counter and ordered my obligatory pancakes, but I was shocked and saddened to hear that they were out of them, their main attraction. Apparently the Kiwi Experiencers had taken them all, leaving me in a state of disappointment and despair. Fortunately, the cafe did have ice cream, so I got a double scoop of strawberry and chocolate to drown my sorrows. In New Zealand, I've renewed my childhood love for strawberry ice cream, something that I've foolishly neglected for much too long. The ice cream was a bit melted because a bird had run into the power line the night before and stopped the power to the building and freezer, but it still tasted great, although it's quite hard to drive a manual transmission up and around hills while eating ice cream, so I decided to pull over for a minute to fully enjoy my treat.

Back to the South I headed, going towards Arthur's Pass, the most scenic of the crossings of the Southern Alps. There is a very popular railroad journey through the same area, so I thought I'd take the nice day as a chance to take in the views. As the road passed into the mountains, the valleys grew more narrow and more narrow with each mile, knowing that I'd eventually have to climb up and over one of the steep mountains. With a bit of strain and some downshifting, Blanco and I inched our way up the steep roads and bridges with not much power to spare. Side note: Blanco had a tiny incident earlier in the day as a huge truck passed by going in the other direction, kicking up a rock from the road and shattering the glass encasement to the front right head light, thus creating his new nickname: One-Eyed Willy, which is a bit catchier than the previous nickname. We passed under an overpass that was actually built to protect the cars from rockslides and then Willy and I passed over the top of the mountain and the overlook named Death's Corner, where I stopped for some views of the steep valley and road below while avoided the keas that had gathered around. These birds are seen all over the place in the high elevations, and they are known for ruining peoples' cars and equipment, and they clearly aren't afraid of humans, so I hoped they would stay away. Interestingly, they are about the size and shape of an American football and just the right height, as if their little legs served as a kicking tee, so I had an afterthought about how I might be able to keep them away...But nothing happened, other than being surrounded by the senior citizen travel bus, and the onlookers seemed oblivious to my struggle to back up and get out of the parking lot, so a four point turn in the midst of some of them finally freed me from their grasp, and I was back on my way.

Once over the initial peak, the high valley provided great panoramic views of mountains on all sides, a few passing creeks and the yellow grasses and brown hills that covered the entire area. I stopped for a brief meal in the town along the way, and I found that everything was closed except for a small cafe serving mince pies, a traditional meal here that is just like a beef pot pie at home - quite good. The dramatic, sparse scenery continued in every direction as I passed through a few different valleys, trading in the lush West coast for the dry, often snow covered rocks, peaks and grasses of the lee side of the mountains. I came upon a scenic lake encircled by some yellowing trees...maybe oaks, so I decided to have a look, and I liked the place so much that I stopped my drive short and spent my night under the trees along the shores of the lake. The full moon added to the enchanting feeling of my lakeside resting place, and it was equally impressive as the morning rays once again lit up the valley.

I woke up and gathered together my stuff for a trip to Christchurch and the East coast. Shortly after leaving the camping spot, I came upon some cave signs that drew my attention. A short hike down the grasslands led to a canyon looking a bit like the American Southwest with a small creek, brown rocks and dry vegetation that led to a black opening where the cave started. The waterfall led downwards into oblivion and the cold of the morning and peering into the darkness quickly persuaded me back out into the sunlight, though hiking through the cave to the other side, about 1,000 feet down the stream is an option, if you are equipped with the right gear. I chose to pass on this adventure, though, and I headed East. I saw a few more inspiring vistas of rock formations and grassy hills with sheep and cattle, so I stopped on the side of one road to take a few pictures, pulling mostly off the slanted road, leaving Willy rather slanted along the side. When I went to leave, I found that I had a bit of a problem. The wheels spun worthlessly in the gravel of the shoulder, and since all of the weight was on the one wheel, the part still on the road was of no help. I tried a few times to go forward and back but to no avail, so I got out and hoped I wouldn't be stuck for a long time. I rearranged some of the gravel and dug out the wheel that was halfway down in the gravel. One last try managed to free me in reverse from the ditch, though I still had to put it in 1st, roll forward and hope for the best. The wheels got just enough traction to hit the ditch and pull me through, saving me from having to flag down one of the passing farmers and hoping for a tow. The rest of the drive was less eventful, and I even recreated a game from my childhood in the back seat of our huge Suburban, waving enthusiastically at every passing driver, seeing how many I could get to wave back at me. Starting off well, I was about 5 of 7 when things took a turn for the worst. Drivers stared disdainfully and looked away, but they didn't wave back, so I ended up at 10 for 25 over the 30 minute period- 40%, still not too bad, with an impressive 6 for 6 on truck drivers, including the cool, nonchalant point in lieu of the full on wave. Actuarially, I must say that my sample size is way too small and the credibility factor of the test is very low, so I'd have to weigh that experience with the general impressions and previous experience of the country's friendliness to say that it's still quite a likeable, welcoming country. Soon, I went over one more mountain pass, and I suddenly emerged into the Canterbury region of rolling plains and farmland that stretches to the ocean. And yes, endless plains of green grass are way more exciting than Credibility Theory, so I'll stop there.