Glaciers and hot springs (and some more rain)

Having explored the top of the South Island, we now wanted to venture south to the glaciers and mountains of the west coast. We needed a car to do so, and couldn't find one in Westport that we would be permitted to take all the way to our final NZ destination of Christchurch, so we hopped on the bus for the two hour ride down to Greymouth to pick one up. It was a very scenic ride, with entertaining commentary by our bus driver who rambled about difficult customers, his desire to see bears (borne out of watching countless nature documentaries about Canada from his personal video library) and a lengthy explanation of why he wasn't allowed to make suggestions for accommodation or dining, followed by a recommendation that we eat and stay at the White Hotel in the next town. Unlike intercity bus trips at home, which stop at McDonald's or questionable roadside diners, this one stopped at the Punakaiki Reserve, where we spent the twenty minute pit stop walking the Pancake Rock path above thunderous waves crashing into cliffsides, 

getting sprayed by mists from erupting blowholes, 

and marveling at eroding rock formations that resembled giant stacks of pancakes.

Back on the bus we completed our trip to Greymouth, where we spent what felt like hours working out the logistics of our rental car, accommodation and groceries. The highlight of the shopping trip and an innovation we should have back at home was the basket of free fruit for kids, which somewhat (but not completely) staved off the normal pleading for the plethora of treats from the aisles.

We got a car from a discount agency, and were very pleased with the price, though when we got in the car and discovered ripped upholstery exposing the floor in the back seat, bits and pieces that fell off when we opened the doors, and 219,000 km on the odometer, we wondered whether our bargain was a lemon. Hoping for the best, we set off south on the highway. 

Paul had already mastered the art of driving on the wrong side of the road (though still occasionally used the window wipers to indicate he was turning), but we weren't so prepared for the many one way bridges that appeared, suddenly reducing the two lane highways into what seemed to be a one lane game of chicken. The worst was the first one we came to, which, along with channeling trucks and cars from opposing directions, also had train tracks running down the middle of it, with no signal crossings or indications of whether a train's passage was imminent. We paused to peer into the horizon, didn't see anything approaching, prayed that there was some type of warning measure in place for train engineers, and sped through to safety on the other side.

We stopped for three nights in Franz Josef, the glacier town named after the Austro-Hungarian Emperor. It rained solidly our first and second mornings, so we postponed our planned two day hike and instead explored the region with a few short walks. One trail led us to a viewpoint of the blue Franz Josef glacier, which, like most if not all glaciers in NZ, had dramatically receded in the past several years (I guess they didn't hear the "there is no climate change" argument)

The easy walk through verdant forests was a nice change from our longer hikes.

Further south near the town of Fox Glacier we did a loop around Lake Matheson, known for its iconic views pictured on NZ posters. Plaques around the lake showed scenes of what we were missing - we didn't get to experience the apparently magical reflection of the mountains, but we enjoyed the tranquility nonetheless.

When the rain poured down some more we retreated for hot chocolate, which probably impressed the kids more than the view.

Fox Glacier itself was similarly enshrouded in mist.

but the tops of the towering cliffs all around still showed through.

The rest of the rainy time we spent indoors, making meals and catching up on journals (we always seem to be a week or two behind), and also visiting the Kiwi wildlife centre that in many ways was a serious tourist trap, but did undertake some genunie kiwi conservation. We went into the darkened kiwi habitat exhibit to see adult and juvenile kiwis silently skittering past ferns and behind rocks, lit dimly by infrared light which the nocturnal kiwis can't see. We opted for the behind the scenes tour to the kiwi incubation centre in the basement, where the survival rate of 70% compares with just 2% in the wild due almost entirely to predation by introduced stoats (relatives of the ferret). The young kiwis' defensive technique of curling into a ball and sitting still is an evolutionary strategy effective against their natural avian predators, but tragically turns them into easy prey for the mammalian invaders.

After the kiwis have grown in size, and acquired the aggressive defensive fighting techniques that characterize the adult of the species, they are transported to island refuges where they adjust to the wild, then brought back to the mainland habitat where they once were so plentiful.

As promised, the sun shone bright on our third morning, and we rose to see the mountains in their full glory behind our cabin.

After a quick stop to see Fox Glacier in the sun,

we drove to the start of the Copeland Track for our two day hike. Treacherous during rainy weather, it had reopened to hikers just the afternoon before, but we wondered if we were actually going to make it since we had to ford a rushing river to get from the gravel parking lot to the start of the track. Fortunately things got a lot easier after that, though at times we were up to our ankles in mud, and we had to watch our step on the slippery rocks.

We stopped for lunch at the riverside in view of the snowy mountains,

then began the main ascent that took us up into the downs. 

Continuing up, we watched nervously as each of the kids crossed the maximum one person bridges suspended high over the boulders and rushing water below.

Besides the incredible views, the reward for the 17 km of mostly uphill walking was the hot springs, just a hundred meters away from our sleeping hut. They sprang from several places, including the boiling hot lobster pot,

but we settled ourselves into a few of the larger shallows, basking in the heat,

staying in as long as we could bear it and gazing with incredulity at the mountains ringing our private oasis.

I rose early the next morning to watch the sunrise over the mountains -

it was easy to get out of bed knowing the hot springs awaited. Our hike back down was just as stunning,

but easier because we now knew where to cross the little streams,  

and which boulders to scrabble over alongside the river.

The deep mud puddles on the track had mostly dried, and the final river to cross had receded,

making it easy to get to the finish line!