Fox Glacier

Leaving Ohau to recover in our wake, we hit the road, for the longest journey to date, less able than ever before for hours of monotonous driving. Some good team work, awe inspiring scenery through the Mount Aspiring National Park and some chocolate and crisps saw us through.

It was incredible how in a single day of driving, the scenery changed from brown grassy plains flanked by snow capped mountains, to dense mountainous forests, mirror still lakes and rugged cliff all topped off of course with the snow capped mountains. It was a pleasant and very welcome change. Arriving into an eerily quiet Haast, our scheduled stop for the evening, we discovered the small township was in shutdown mode. Some hasty roadside consultations with other campers ensued and shortly, we were unfortunately on the road again for the Fox Glacier.

Arriving late in the evening and exhausted, we parked up for the night and recovered. The following morning (or was it afternoon) we awoke to sunshine beaming outside – most welcome on our designated day of rest! Our one task for the day was accomplished early on in arranging our glacier trek for the next day.

Early on Tuesday, very, very early on Tuesday, I heard it! Gone was the blistering (well for a NZ winter) sunshine of the day before, I could hear the downpour outside. No matter, there was no turning back. We were going on a full day glacier walk.

After booting and suiting (literally – in heavy duty (I thought) leather boots and oilskins), we loaded onto the bus bound for the glacier. As we began, the rain which had earlier obligingly eased off, had a change of heart. Our walk to the terminal face of the glacier (where the end of the ice is) took us through the rainforest which flanks either side of it, up 800 steps and across a narrow path on a cliff face. Its not the day for someone without a head for heights. Eventually we reached the glacier itself. The walk actually begins a reasonable distance up the glacier as the terminal face is very unstable. The glacier once infamous for being one of the only advancing glaciers in the world, has now been retreating for 6 months or so. As a result, the terminal face is even more unstable, with ice regularly collapsing at the front, causing rock falls and surges in the river. Although we couldn’t get close enough to witness this happening, on a few occasions we could hear it from higher up the glacier.

The walk began on some pre cut pathways, little icy stairs. They are a little easier to navigate thanks to the crampons provided (little spikes that strap onto your boots). Our guide then brought us off these paths to allow us to explore other areas of the lower glacier, seeing crevasses, ice arches and even caves of ice, hollowed out by pools of water.

All day though, the deluge continued and after a 10 minute rain soaked stop for lunch, we all agreed to motor on. With wet feet (water squelching between my toes wet), a wet head, leaking oilskins and sodden gloves, it took a lot to keep my attention. Then again, I was walking around on a glacier – its kind of an attention grabber!

Amazingly, when I had the opportunity to take hold of the ice axe and do some geological work, I even managed to discover an incredibly valuable treasure – the remnants of a glacier mint mine!

(Seriously, I can’t help myself with the confectionary related cheesy photos)

Naturally enough, the sun made an appearance as we began to make our way back down the glacier and although brief, it was very, very welcome. Weary but satisfied, we made our way back to the bus and to the office to wring out our soaking clothes, wrap up in some warm dry clothes and head off. Not before we were awarded our certificates though – I’d like to thank …..

All shook up

Leaving the long drives south behind us, we arrived in the legendary Queenstown. Its one of those places every backpacker tells you about. It certainly has a bit more life to it in the middle of winter than many places, and therefore is a bit more on the pricey side. However, it has to be admitted, that it is one of the most stunning locations we have visited. Grudgingly, I allowed myself to be dragged on the gondola up to the top of the hill for views of Lake Wakatipu and the mountains. It was actually worth it though, despite all my grumbling.

Another big plus to Queenstown was that we finally got to try out our new skis at The Remarkables. We were once again really lucky with the weather and we had stunning views across the mountains and the lakes, and some fab snow to top it all off.

Knackered after a day on the slopes we showered and prepared dinner and readied ourselves for a few drinks in town – but just going to lie down for ten minutes …. famous last words! I am pretty sure I would have slept through the entire night, only that we awoke some time after 9 to find the van shaking, as if we were driving down the N7 at the Curragh in a strong wind. I got up, looked out the window, to find that nothing else appeared to be shaking and the trees were only swaying slightly. We considered the wind idea – we were fairly sheltered, surrounded on 3 sides by larger vans, hardly that. Kids messing? shaking the van? possible, but they were metronomic in their rhythm and pretty quiet. It eventually stopped, and we conked out … until 6.45, when the alarm, set from the previous day went off, and Schmo saw a text message from a concerned Sarah just checking we were ok after the earthquake …….. ahhh that explains it. Turns out, it was not all that far away, a couple of hundred km, one of the biggest quakes in NZ history, 7.8 on the Richter scale with an aftershock 20 minutes later, measuring 6.1! My first earthquake eh? How about that!?

Quality Street …

In case you were wondering, we did eventually get skiing. We had a fantastic day in chilly Mt. Hutt. Said to be the highest ski field in NZ, it was pretty much on the Baltic side of the temperature scale, but with fabulous snow, soft, powdery and pretty much perfect, we enjoyed it all. We ended up spending quite a few days in Christchurch and true to form, spent more of the time relaxing than seeing much of anything. We did manage to squeeze in a trip to Cathedral Square where we watched the chess champs of the future play giant chess, and even climbed the bell tower of Christchurch cathedral for the views across the city!

All too soon though (I really liked Christchurch) it was time to hit the road again. We headed south once more towards Dunedin (the Celtic name for Edinburgh apparently – not surprising when you arrive there and see the city is infused with everything Scottish).

We did manage to haul ourselves up Baldwin Street, reputedly the world’s steepest street. I have to say, I think it has Patrick St. beaten hands down. And to be fair, they seem to have done all the calculations … and it really is steep!!! see ….

but, we made it to the top anyway! Some of us celebrated a little more than others … not mentioning any names ….

One of the highlights of Dunedin for me was of course going to be the Cadbury’s factory! We took the shortened tour as we had the pesky luck to arrive at the weekend when of course the factory was closed. Despite the fact that the factory no longer actually produces the bars of chocolate seen on kiwi shelves (although it still plays a role in earlier parts of the manufacturing process) it is a must for others like me, so afflicted with a deep love and affection for chocolate!!! The experience begins with a self guided tour around the museum, where you learn about the origins of chocolate as a drink and a food, the history of Cadbury’s and of course the chocolate making process – all the time being assaulted by the most deliciously tasty smell of chocolate!!!!

The highlight is the chocolate waterfall. The purple (of course) dungaree clad guide brings you too the top of the (purple) chocolate silo and cue 30 seconds of cascading liquid chocolate. I felt like Charlie Bucket in Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory!!!

And what tour would be complete without the obligatory cheesy photo – and naturally I was more than happy to dork it up a notch and pose in the (purple) Cadbury’s truck ….. and did I mention the free chocolate …..?

The Great Ski Gamble of ought-nine

After a bruising encounter with the nursery slopes on Ruapehu, it was necessary to give snow boarding a time out, to allow both my ass and my ego recover!  After a leisurely voyage through the Hawkes Bay region, a weekend stopover with a friend in Wellington, a choppy crossing of the Cook straits and a whale watching triumph in Kaikoura, it was time for some more snow fun.

Hearing that the nearby resort of St. Arnaud was not yet open, we headed south for another close by ski field in the tiny village of Mount Lyford.  Arriving on Saturday afternoon, we were already into half day rates, which were not a great saving, so we decided (against the advise of the guy in the lodge I must confess) to pass for the afternoon and join the other early risers to be on the mountain in time for the lifts opening and get a full day of FAB-ulous snow.  Why, oh why did we not listen?  We awoke on Sunday to a misty, rainy and altogether miserable morning and the dismal news that the Mt. Lyford ski field was closed.

Devastated, we gorged on pancakes to ease the pain and hit the road South (again).  Nearby Hanmer Springs, a beautiful little town in its own right and a heaving tourist destination all year round, is also the base town for the Hanmer Springs ski field.  Sunday morning, leaving Lyford, the news was that Hanmer Springs was “On Hold”.  Ever the optimists, we headed there.  The weather, if possible, deteriorated even further, and by the time we arrived in Hanmer Springs about mid day, the field was open, but there were already snow bunnies wandering around town in their brightly coloured sallopettes, spirits dampened by the constant down pour.  If they were already back down the mountain, it must have been pretty miserable we figured, and opted to hold out for better weather on Monday.

Easier said than done.  As I mentioned, Hanmer Springs is quite a busy resort town independent of the ski field.  It is home of the famous Hanmer Springs (Thermal springs which have of course been commercialised).  There are a host of other activities to keep the weary traveller occupied – Mini golf, A-MAZE-n-golf, quad biking, cycling, walking, horse riding,  jet boating, bungee jumping, kayaking to name but a few unappealing options on a day when the rain made me feel like I was back in Limerick in January!  So, we walked the 2-300m length of the town, and again, and again, and had a cuppa, and walked again.  Eventually I settled for a return to the van and a celeb gossip  mag and a hot choc.  I was skiing the next day, I could deal with this.

After a LONG day and sleeps full of skiing dreams, we got up, full of beans and ready to hit the Hanmer Springs slopes.  Armed with our trusty snow chains, nothing would be a problem for Maisie Penny (the campervan in case you have not been introduced).   Salopetted up to the nines, we hit the road for the hills.  A few km in, the snow chains went on, icy roads are not a problem for the Duchess.  It turns out however, that 10km of snowy roads, with slow climbs and sod all traction, are.  A mere 4km from the fields, we snapped a snow chain, our passenger (me!) lost her snow legs, and we had to turn back – so near …. and yet …….

Winding our way back to Hanmer Springs, we rationalised.  Now at least we know what the Duchess can handle.  Even royalty can only be pushed so far.  Anyway, there’s a shuttle bus from town, we’ll hop on that and be whistling down the slopes in no time.

Did I mention Hanmer Springs is pretty small, and the field, although good quality is a small club run field versus a large commercial, European style resort?  The shuttle goes once a day – at 9.15. We hit town at 10.30. Foiled again.

And so the journey has continued.  We hit the familiar route south once more stopping at the beautiful Mud House restaurant, on the grounds of the winery and eventually arrived in Christchurch.  We’ve learned some lessons on the way.  No more chancing our arms and Maisie’s poor wheels on snowy roads, we have the shuttle booked.  As I write, the boots, skis and poles are at my feet, rented at fantastic prices from the lovely people at Snowmania (the best place ever!), and we are just hoping that the weather is kind to us so it can be third time lucky on to the mountain.  So, we’re maybe going skiing tomorrow … maybe!

Hawkes Bay and Napier

With snowboarding no longer an option, at least for a few days, we took our leave of the carrot city and headed south towards the coastal town of Napier. Not really knowing what to expect, I nerded it up while Schmo drove. It seems that Napier (being located on quite a turbulent band of earth at the meeting of two tectonic plates) was victim of a rather large earthquake in 1931 which essentially destroyed the entire town and raised parts of the seafloor by several metres. This raised land now actually accommodates the regional airport!

The town itself though was almost entirely rebuilt following the earthquake and is now famous for its art deco architecture. Shamefully, I’ve little to show by the way of photos. Steering away from the modernised shop fronts of the main street, you almost feel you’ve stepped back in time.

Being the only campervan in the campsite on our first night, we figured we would have to find something to entertain ourselves the next day. Napier being the largest city in the Hawkes Bay region, we thought, what else? Wine tour.

Joining 3 other eager tourists, we headed off with our guide Vince who brought us on a leisurely and utterly fab tour around a number of wineries. Or first stop was Moana Wines, which is the only totally organic, totally vegetarian wineries in the region. Like most of the places we visited, the vast majority of their wines are available exclusively at their cellar door, so it was nice to know we were getting something a little different than what is on offer in Tesco! Dan, the winemaker there told us that NZ wine accounts for only 0.21% of all wine sales worldwide – hard to believe when you see the number of NZ wines in Irish supermarkets, but there you go!!!!

Next stop was at a winery run by the Corban family on a site which originally housed a racing stables established by an Irishman by the name of Donnelly, who married a Mauri princess back in the early 1900s! We really do get everywhere (in fact one of the winemakers in Moana was an Irish guy too!) Our third stop was at Trinity Hill, which is a larger winery and we wrapped up at Matariki where the superb Trevor chatted away to the five increasingly talkative and inquisitive tasters (someone has to draw the short straw!). This was another winery set up by a couple of Irish descent, the O’Connors!

Our final stop of the day and a change of beverage saw us hit Rooster’s for some home brewer stout, ale, lager and wheat beer, served by the fantastic Tom, yet another Irish man, from Belfast! The tour proved to me that I can’t help but love wine, I’m Irish, sure it's in my blood!

The carrot capital!

Or next stop, Ohakune, is the jumping off point for the slopes of Mt. Ruapehu and the Turoa ski fields. It is also, I kid you not, the carrot capital of New Zealand and home of the infamous annual carrot Mardi Gras. A drive to the outskirts of town will see you visit a gigantic carrot sculpture, kind of like the HB pencil I remember as a kid on the road to Cork. Cows graze in the fields (on carrots), 10kg bags are sold outside each and every shop, like peat briquettes at home, surly teenagers hang out on street corners, not smoking or drinking, but chomping on carrots. Ok, so I may be selecting the more unusual sights we witnessed, but it is a veritable carrot kingdom.

As it happened, we had arrived only 7 days too early for the Mardi Gras. To soften the blow, we took ourselves up the icy mountain road to the Turoa ski fields to get stretch our snow boarding legs. Sometime between now and the last time we snowboarded, about 18 months ago, I got a slightly inflated idea of how competent I actually was. I was given a short sharp reminder in the form of a very hard landing on my first run. The boarding improved slightly as the day went on, unlike the resulting bump which ultimately called a premature end to our snow time and we headed back down the mountain for the après ski – ok I lie, for an icepack and some ibprofen. I’m happy to report however that the injury is on the mend, I can now sit comfortably and I am sure I will be fit and ready to complain about about yet another injury in no time!

The Tongariro Crossing

Said to be the most popular one day hike in the country, the Tongariro Crossing is one of those things everyone who had been to New Zealand told me I HAD to do. Most of these people were here in summer – when you have 12-14 hours of daylight at your disposal, solid ground beneath your feet and balmy temperatures maybe looking for a jumper at the summit (1900m).

She is an altogether different beast in winter. The Tongariro National Park is home to 3 active volcanoes – Mount Ruapehu (the most recently active in 1995) whose slopes provide the North Island with its biggest ski fields, Mount Ngauruhoe (Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings movies) and Mount Tongariro. Even this early in winter, all 3 are covered in snow above about 1200m.

With only about 8 hours of decent daylight available, this hike is not for those looking for a leisurely stroll. We were collected at 6.15am for the drive to the starting point of the walk. On the way, we were clad in hiking boots, micro fleeces, overjackets, fleece trousers, hats, gloves, sunglasses (just as essential believe it or not) and even a set of crampons each! By the time we were ready to start walking, it was almost 8.30.

With a handful of very brief stops along the way, we powered up the mountain, scrambling over rocks at some points, mistaking frozen streams for the path at others (oops!). Before long we were climbing the Devil’s steps, which is about a 40 minute stair climb – no breaks we were warned! Reaching the top though, we were well rewarded, with a stunning view of Mount Taranaki on the western seaboard and the vast plains between Tongariro and there!

Donning the crampons, we continued the climb to the red crater of Mt. Tongariro, reaching the top for what can only be described as awesome views.

We ate our homemade cheese and salami sandwiches sitting on snowless soil, thanks to the steaming belly of Tongariro looking at that view!

We were incredibly lucky to get a view like this. The weather was clear and crisp if a little chilly! The previous day, the group had turned back at this point due to a blanket of thick cloud, occluding all views and at minus 15 degrees, freezing all present! We had mild enough weather to sit at the summit for a quarter of an hour to rest, refuel and soak up the incredible vista!

As if that wasn’t enough, our guides then decided that what would be much more fun than walking down the hundred or so metres to the basin you see in the pictures above, would be sliding down the mountainside – sans toboggan!!! So, stashing our jackets, cameras and crampons carefully into bags, we hurled ourselves at frightening speeds down a snowy mountainside. Blinded by the snow sprayed into our faces by wildly flailing legs, we all eventually made it down safe and sound if a little snowy! Definitely I the most fun I had had so far that day!

It was more or less all downhill from there, slowly leaving behind the snowy peaks and the icy paths, progressing onto slushy mud paths and eventually arriving into lush, dense forest. I probably should have taken the time to appreciate this latter part of the trek, but I must admit that approaching kilometre number 19, my thoughts were firmly on a seat on the bus, a hot shower and a snooze!

I had wondered about doing the Tongariro Crossing. Firstly, whether it would be possible in winter. It seems on that front, we were blessed! In fact, the next day, as we drove around Ruapehu to the town of Ohakune, we saw a thick band of cloud resting comfortably on the very paths we walked the previous day! Secondly though, I wondered would it really be that great. Over the course of the trip, I’ve discovered that some of the “must do” trips/activities can be a bit of a let down, all the hype, all the marketing and really it can’t match the expectation. The Tongariro Crossing though, is the notable exception. Its a tough day, there is no denying it, but the rewards of the incredible views, the physical challenge and of course the fantastic fun make it for me, probably the most enjoyable day in New Zealand so far. I have no doubt though, that this beautiful place has many more equally enjoyable days in store!

So lucky, often cancelled in winter. Clear, crisp day. -10degrees at summit the day before, and we were warm enough to be able to sit and eat lunch for about 10/15 mins. Bum taboggan down the slope! weary but happy arrived back at the bus after 7 hours and 19.1km!

Rotorua

After venturing to the tip of the north island to find it bathed in cloud, visiting the stunning cathedral cove in the small town of Hahei and assorted other northern adventures, which will eventually be documented, we hit the road for one of the best known tourist destinations in the North Island – the stinky, sulphurous lakeside city of Rotorua.  Rotorua is one of those places I always had on the list of “spots to visit”, admittedly without really knowing much about it other than the existence of hot springs.  It conjured up images of soaking in a steaming rock pool while the chilly air outside did its best to cool everything else down.  What we found was a little different.

It doesn’t take long for the smell to hit you as you approach the town.  There is an abundance of geothermal activity in the area, providing a focal point for the tourism industry, but also a significant percentage of the electricity consumed by New Zealanders each day.  The lake itself is stunning.  Arriving as winter was really starting to kick in, it looked icy cold and a little threatening, sufficiently so that we decided to keep our feet on the dry (but nicely heated) dry land!

The town itself is nothing really to write home about, but once we ventured a little further, it became clear fairly quickly why Rotorua has earned itself a permanent spot on the tourist trail.  Our first visit was to Titikere as it is known in Maori.  It is the only Maori run geothermal park in New Zealand, which is perhaps better know by the name given to it by none other than George Bernard Shaw – Hell’s Gate. 

In fact, he seems to have christened a number of the hot water and mud pools on his visit in the 1930’s.  It is not difficult to see how he gave the place this name – steaming crevasses, bubbling mud pools, dark inky water and an overpowering stench of sulphur – and yet it is a sight (and smell) to behold. Although, I have to confess, I was secretly a little relieved to have a bit of a cold and so I was saved the full brunt of the multisensory experience!

Moving on from Hell’s Gate, we decided to visit the site of the Buried Village.  The eruption of Mount Tarawera in the 1880’s completely buried the village under a few metres of ash and rock.  The eruption destroyed not only the town, but a thriving tourism industry which had grown up around the Pink and White Terraces of ?????.  It was eerie to wander around what is essentially parkland now and see the excavated ruins of houses, storage sheds and even a hotel.  Strolling back via a small stream laden with rainbow trout, we rewarded ourselves with a chocolate brownie and a tasty, toasty cuppa.

That was one hectic day of touristing it up and this is a holiday after all.  We reasoned that since we were in the geothermal capital of New Zealand it would have been wrong of us to leave without really experiencing the pampering side of it.  So, as darkness fell, we set off for the Polynesian Spa.  This is a Rotorua institution, its thermally heated waters having served and healed the locally community for hundred of years.  Now, for $20 a pop, anyone can go along and chill out in the thermal pools.  The main pool is decidedly green looking and the dressing rooms are adorned with warnings not to wear your silver jewellery, unless you want to go gothic and emerge with black rings and necklaces!

We pottered around in the main pool till we were sufficiently warmed and brave to head outdoors into the (literally) freezing night air towards the smaller spa pools.  These ranged in temperature from about 26 degrees, right up to the hottest one at 42 degrees.  Basking in the more tolerable 40 degree pool, looking out over Lake Rotorua and the sparkling lights of the shoreline, I could have stayed there forever.  Unfortunately, my idle daydreaming was interrupted by a crazy Japanese man practicing what I can only imagine was some bizarre spiritual/martial art and doing stretches that make mere mortals cringe – I kept expecting a candid camera crew to pop out from behind the trees – he was a truly surreal vision!  The great advantage of the Polynesian Spa is the sheer number of little pools, so when I could contain the laughter no more, I simply hopped out and meandered over to another where I could have a little giggle before resuming my relaxation!

Leaving Roturua, we decided on Taupo as our next destination, stopping at yet another geothermal tourist site en route.  Wai-O-Tapu.  This was along much the same vein as Hell’s Gate, but on a larger scale and a little more spread out.

We arrived in time to see they geyser erupt.  It erupts very reliably every day at 10.15!  As the guide explained, it gets a little helping hand from some soap!!!  Legend has it that the geyser was discovered by a group of prisoners who were working in the forest, clearing areas for agriculture and forestation.  They found some areas of hot springs and decided that rather than punish their work weary hands washing their clothes in the cold water at camp, that they would sneak their washing down to the spring and wash it.  They geyser was, at the time just a small pool.  The story goes that the prisoners rinsed their clothes in the hot water, then lathered them up with detergent and then rinsed them off again.  This time however, the soap and spring water reacted, exploding forth, sending the men left and right, and their clothes 20 feet in the air! 

Nowadays, an organic soap is used to prompts the geyser into action each morning for the education and entertainment of tourists.  Even in low season on a very chilly morning, we were only two of about fifty people who braved the weather to watch the spectacle!  We then continued around the park, which from a distance looked like an ancient battlefield with plumes of smoke (i.e. steam) rising from the ground – its not hard to see how New Zealand became the location for The Lord of the Rings triology, it really does have that middle earth feel about it!  We looked at steaming caverns, bubbling mud pools, boiling lakes and impossibly colourful mineral deposits in yellows, greens and oranges!  In fact there is one pool which could rival the Chicago river on paddy’s day – the photo doesn’t quite do the vibrancy of the colour justice!

Once our nostrils had had their fill we hit the road for the straight forward journey to Taupo – a town hugging the shoreline of Lake (yes!) Taupo!  A valueable lesson learned about driving in New Zealand – know your roads.  We noticed a road sign saying a particular road was closed for rock blasting – some minor road presumably, no road number was listed.  Not so, it was the state highway between Rotorua and Taupo.  This meant a lovely little scenic detour through National Park gravel roads and about 60km out of our way!  On the plus side, we got our last glimpse of the Bay of Plenty for another few weeks!

Despite the detour, we arrived in Taupo rested and ready to make arrangements for the most popular one day hike in New Zealand.  For anyone who has not visited New Zealand, this is saying a lot.  Kiwis really do love the great outdoors!  Tongariro Crossing, here we come!