Up early for what is most likely the most active part of the whole trip – a full day hike on the Franz Josef Glacier. This is the second largest glacier in New Zealand (I don't know if there are guided hikes on the largest, the Tasman Glacier, perhaps it's not as pretty as Franz Josef or Fox). Some of the group were doing what became known as “ze 'eli 'ike” (must be said in the Frenchest French accent you can possibly manage) which allowed them to skip the boring part and get straight on the ice – for the extra $160 it didn't seem worth it to me, not least because I am convinced that one day the universe is going to wake up and realise that helicopters simply should not work and will reboot that particular law of physics, and all the 'elis will fall out of the sky. Best to avoid being on one in case today is that day.
We walked up to the Franz Josef Glacier Guides office to get briefed and kitted out with boots, crampons and optional rain gear. I decided to take it all – overtrousers, jacket, gloves (unexpectedly, mittens) and woolly hat. The boots weigh about 17 tons, how y'all wander about on a day to day basis strapped into New Rocks is beyond me. I ended up wearing two two pairs of proper wool socks on the suggestion of one of the guides as I fell between sizes in the boots, I was so glad I discussed this predicament when people started complaining of blisters from loose boots before we even got on the ice.
A quick bus ride to the car park and we mooched out onto the valley floor where we were split up into groups between the various hot instructors. This is a common theme in New Zealand,the percentage of hot fit blokes working in pretty much everything you encounter from pubs to tours is very high. Yay is a mild expression of my feelings on that (is it any wonder I want to move here?*) I immediately chose the loser group i.e. the slowest, having negative confidence in my fitness and bravery levels. (As it turned out, group one (the fastest) went so fast they didn't have time to stop and look and take photos, so that was disappointing for some people.) Then it was a good half hour trek across the leavings of the glacier towards the terminal moraine (see, fancy words what I remember from geography, despite the best efforts of my demented teacher to ensure I knew nothing at all of the subject – she was equally successful with my French). This was made less than pleasant by the weight of the boots and jacket etc was shed as it became very warm. We stopped to put on crampons and wait our turn to go up on the ice. Standing there I commented to Lisa that there were mental people hanging off the rocks hacking at them. Turns out they were making steps for us to go up the INCREDIBLY STEEP AND FRIGHTENING face of the glacier. I felt ill.
Crampons on and triple checked, advance to the steps gingerly, both from fear and the awkwardness of walking in the crampons (unlike the guides, who were running around like mountain goats in theirs). Despite looking like rocks in the photos, these are actually ice, it just happens to be rock-covered ice. Heart in mouth I hauled myself up there watching only where the next step was and trying not to catch my hand between the rope and the wall of dirty ice it was attached to. Once up top and I recommenced breathing, there was a longish period of walking across the rocky part to get to the good ice.
And it is good. It is spectacular. I can't even describe it really, these huge waves of ice that look like they froze mid-crash to surf, the various holes and tunnels and pools looking even prettier as the sun glints off them, the views... it's really amazing. Definitely worth the money, though trying to convince people of that later in the trip was hard (bloody backpackers, come all the way here and then don't do anything cause they have no money, or spent it all on beer) because it is just something you need to experience. Maybe not for a full day, as towards the end I got a bit tired of glaciers but that was just cause I was worn out.
We walked through multiple narrow crevasses, handily helped in some places by our very nice guide setting handropes for us (most guides didn't) to help with steep bits. one of the last of which I just slid through on my ass on the wall because it was just faster (and exciting, i'm easily pleased) and also went though a very wet tunnel as a a special surprise. That was way cool. Best to just look at the photos but it won't convey the experience. You should all just go do it.
What was just MENTAL was the random man who ran past us wearing naught but tiny running shorts and crampons on his runners. There we were, sitting down taking in the view when a nearly naked insane person appeared moving at speed. Bizarre. He had a brief (since he didn't stop) conversation with our guide about times and training and so on, it seems people will run up anything these days.
Approaching the aforementioned INCREDIBLY STEEP AND FRIGHTENING steps to get back down from the ice was even more terrifying from the top. Especially as I had already nearly fallen off something by tangling my crampons due to tiredness, which is scary. I actually felt nauseous. But I got down, and we struggled through the long, long walk back to the car park. Luckily we had pre-rewarded ourselves with a trip to the hot pools near the hostel.
The hot pools were beautiful, out in the rainforest (though there is a canopy above to keep out leaves and so on. Three pools of 36, 38 and 40 degrees soothed our aches and pains. There was a strange Frenchman (aka Jesus) who wandered around declaiming from whatever book he was reading, and a (German?) couple who got a little more excited about things than they really should have (well, he got excited and she... dealt with it) which was gross, but other than that it was very relaxing and very lovely. Back to town for a nice dinner in The Landing (I had ribs, and made a mess) then to the hostel bar for laundry, drinks and chat (at the same time – multitasking, you know0 - unsurprisingly though, not a late night for many.
Next day was a long one on the bus, the only stop I recall being at Knight's Point. As became a feature of this trip, whatever animal was supposed to be there, wasn't. We overnighted in Makarora (pop. 40) in these lovely little triangular cabins. They'd be even more lovely for the voyeurs amongst you as the shower is very viewable from the back, due to unfortunate window placement. I thought this was the end of civilisation – little did I know. There was karaoke. Less said about that the better. A good night was had by all though apparently (I might not 100% remember every last bit of it, to be honest, in part due to only having a toasted sandwich for dinner – when Cougar said there was no shop i didn't really think that that meant there wasn't much food of any kind to be had. Oops).
Next stop, Queenstown.
* But I don't want to be forced into it!
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