Blue Water, Blue Ice

This far down the south island we're starting to see the snow-capped mountain ranges that run down the middle of the country, like the spine of the island. I've never seen mountains this close before, where I can make out individual tentrils of snow running down the mountainside.
The bus gets into Franz Josef in the late afternoon, with just enough time to see the sunset over the high, razor mountains that surround this tiny town. Next morning, bright and early (oh so early) we're marching down the chilly streets to the glacier tour company's office. They've told us to wear about 4 layers of warm clothes, and after they've kitted us with oversized, spiked moonboots and another waterproof layer of pants and jacket, we look like michelin men. When our guide turns up wearing short-shorts and a skin-tight skivvy we begin to wonder if he knows something we don't.
At the bottom of the glacier is a wide, rocky river bed where the ice has carved through the rock and then receded over the centuries. Scrambling over rubble and shale towards the huge hunk of ice squatting between lush, green mountains under a blue sky seems unreal, as though it was just dropped there by mistake on the way to the antarctic.
The first ascent up the skirt of the glacier was the hardest, gripping the cold, wet rope with mitten-ed hands and stomping my spiked boots into the steps carved into the sheer wall of ice to get some grip. Slowly it became easier and surprisingly, warmer. By the time we stopped for lunch at the first plateau I'd stripped off two layers. Eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches whilst sitting on a huge slab of ice, looking down through high mountains out toward the sea was a thrilling and beautiful experience, not to mention, weird.
Our guide had trouble remembering our names and took to referring to us instead by country. I got used to responding to shouts of "Careful there, Australia!". The ice got bluer the higher we climbed, becoming glowingly transparent and smooth. We slid through deep blue crevasses, slipping past the melting walls hoping rays of sun would find their way down to warm our shivering hands. We were stuck in one such gap in the ice for twenty minutes or so as our guide went on ahead to cut down an overhang of ice that crossed our path.

The descent seemed to take a quarter of the time, with us almost jogging down the ice. It was a refreshing change from the careful, cautious climb upwards. The clouds were closing in, blocking out the clear blue sky that had warmed us for most of the day.

By the time we got back into town I was ready to curl up next to a heater with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. Tomorrow...Southwards to Queenstown.


The water in parts of New Zealand is so amazingly blue it seems unreal, our driver tells us mineral deposits from the rocks in the riverbed cause it, but that doesn't stop it looking magical.
Lake Wanaka, when we arrived later the next day, was too rainy for skydiving but perfect for a day inside Puzzling World. Optical illusions and mind games made us wonder, while whole rooms with slanted floors and physical illusions made us seasick as our brains tried to correct the skewed perspectives we were seeing.

A short stop at the famous AJ Hackket bungy spot for one of the guys to throw himself off the bridge got me pumped to do another bungy. Finally I rejected doing the Ledge (a feet-free bungy over Queenstown that allows you to take a running jump half-way up a mountain) due to lack of funds and decided to do a night skyswing over the Queenstown lights.



-- H in Oz