Sharon’s Blog

There were all sorts of arches Gerard told us about, but since I wasn’t taking notes I can’t remember all the different types. There were compression arches – that I remember. Most of the caves we went through we those, I think. There was another type – the name of which I can’t recall. And I think this was called a sun arch, made – I know you’re all going to be very surprised – by the sun melting through the ice.

The guides had the job of “maintaining” some of the these things. That actually meant hacking ice off of some of these caves and arches as the group went by, with the giant ice pick they also used to make steps for us to walk on. That’s how they keep things from falling apart on top of unsuspecting tourists. Tried to get a good photo of Gerard hacking away at the ice, but the sky got so bright I couldn’t really see anything on the back of the shiny little camera viewing screen, so I didn’t pull it off. Sorry ladies. I was extraordinarily thankful to Karsten as the day went on – without the sunglasses it would have been really tough to handle the glare off the ice. And you definitely needed sunscreen and chapstick up there. It got really, really hot – wanted to peel off another layer, but really couldn’t because my under layer was almost a tank – and it wasn’t that warm. But I was dripping with sweat as I headed down the hill back towards the makeshift helipad. Not sure if I told you, but it’s basically a few rocks outlining a relatively flat place the helicopter can land on.

Photo courtesy of Malcolm. So this is one of the “narrow” caves. There’s a story there. Malcolm and I were sort of bringing up the rear of the group, again mostly because I was too busy taking pictures to keep up. And Malcolm, I think, was making sure I actually made it up alive. He’s a really, really nice polite, gracious man (although Imogen might take issue with that comment at “puddings” time…more on that later). Always felt I had someone looking out for me – biking, hiking, whatever we were up to on the trip.

Anyway – we were at the end of the line and we came to the second or third cave we were going to try going through. Gerard would always scope out the cave we’d be entering, make sure it worked and then tell everyone they had the option of going around and he’d hack out some steps to climb around the outside. So – there was this German couple towards the front of the line. They started into the ice cave, and then came back out. The woman passes by me on her way to take the detour, and says, “It’s very, very narrow,” with that tone of voice that implies I shouldn’t even try. I was very insulted. You all know I know I’m overweight, but few people actually just come up and tell you you’re too fat to do something. Of course, I was then determined to get through. Malcolm heard her and asked if I wanted to start to snowball fight…offered to throw out the first pitch. Actually, I’m sure she was just trying to be helpful.

Anyway – I went through all but one of the caves. Did one on my stomach- kind of like a seal sliding around on a slippery rock. There was a small canyon you had to get over, and the stomach seemed to be the way to go. Malcolm got a picture of that too…so maybe he’s not the gentleman I just described . It was all very, very FUN! Like playing in the snow when you were a kid. I was very happy to have my rainpants though, because I went through none of them on my feet and would have been soaked through without those pants. At one point, I had to go from sitting to getting a foothold to get out of a cave. The opening was actually into a small crevasse between two caves. Each time I’d get my foot in on one side, go to put the second one in, and would just slide back into the first cave on my butt. After a few tries I just started laughing so hard there was no hope. That’s when Gerard came and gave me hand. And no, Joe, I didn’t do it on purpose…really, I didn’t.

We stomped up the glacier, ultimately coming to various ice caves. When you would look into them there were the most incredible blues. I’d say maybe not as good as all the blues you got in the water in Tahiti, especially around Bora Bora, but then again – these were different blues than those. Let’s not have a fight – I’ll just say for now that the southern hemisphere, so far, does blue better than the northern. I’m willing to have folks point me to places in our hemisphere they think compete with either Tahiti or the Glacier, but I’m not sure I’ll get many ideas.

Gerard told us the reason you get the blues here is because the blue lightwave is the only one that doesn’t get completely sucked up by the ice…because they are shorter, or something to that effect. I told you I wouldn’t remember all the glacier facts – those of you who are more scientific than I can post a better, more detailed explanation in the comments.

After creeping into a crevasse, and sticking our heads in this one cave, we had all come out to listen to Gerard give us some more glacier explanations and trivia. While standing just outside the cave, we suddenly heard a crack, something big fall, and then the cracking noise reverberated under our feet and continued down the mountain. Gerard told us earlier that we had no worries about anything giving way today, but Malcolm and I were looking at each other with mild trepidation as the noise echoed down the hill.

Mentioned Gerard, our guide. Really nice young man who told us all sorts of glacier facts – few of which I’ll remember accurately. He was relatively new at this – only six weeks – and I was glad I didn’t find that out until well into the trip or you might feel worried. He made sure our crampons were on properly (the straps had to be laced around your ankles sort of like point show ribbons, so I was right at home) and had the job of hacking steps into the ice for us so we wouldn’t kill ourselves as we climbed up and down the rolling hills of ice. He taught us how to walk like cowboy penguins (think John Wayne in a tux?) and stomp into the ice so we’d keep our footing. Most of all, he was really cute and the girls all wanted to take him home with them. Wonder if he’d be duty free…

Seriously, he had gone to school to do this kind of thing, as had Jenny. Different courses, but similar ends – guiding unsuspecting tourists through some of the beauty, but also dangers, of this great scenery and returning us all home thinking it was safe and easy. Gerard only had to help me out of one crevasse…so I think I did OK.

This photo shows half of the group (4 choppers full of people) walking ahead of us. It gives you some sense of the scale of this thing. You really can’t imagine it until you get on it. I kept feeling happy that the weather had cleared for us…while there were lots of clouds on the mountains, it was mostly a clear shot up and down the glacier itself and the sky above kept getting bluer and bluer the few hours we were up there. Once we started walking, it got warm pretty quickly and the first layer of clothing came off…I had on the jacket, fleece and another turtleneck tank underlayer. Had two pairs of pants…lightweight black ones underneath the rain pants. Elegantly tucked into the tops of wool socks so they wouldn’t get grabbed by the crampons.

We were up there with the Fox Glacier Guides. There were about 20 people at a time, split into two groups. Our guide was Gerard (more on him later). These guys were great … our tour was the Flying Fox – Fox Glacier Heli Hike. Cheaper than a helicopter tour in Hawaii, BTW…and not just the exchange rate makes the difference. Of course, you’re on the glacier more than in the chopper, which is probably the difference. Anyway – can highly recommend the experience here…not to be missed if you come to NZ.

It was awesome getting up there. The glacier changes texture depending on how high up you are – color too. We went up to the top then came down along the mountain, with a quick hover and sharp turn over the gushing Victoria Falls that was dumping tons of water down the mountain. Then we came in for our landing…the heli pad on the glacier is basically some stones with an outline. When you got out, you had to head over to the “grey box” which hold the crampons for our boots. There was also a bag of walking sticks, but beside that and the people who were already there, there isn’t much but ice (packed snow actually) around for quite some ways. When the chopper lands and takes off, you have to crouch down, so you don’t slide away, and cover your face to avoid the flying ice chunks that get spit around when those blades are flying fast and furious.

The scale of the glacier is quite impressive. It was cold when we got up there and had to wait for another chopper to get its tour and land. I was glad for my newly acquired layers – and rainpants. Crouching down like that really hurts my bad knees, and with the rainpants, I could sit. Having a cold butt was better than sore knees.

I know the suspense was killing you, but we did get to go on our glacier trip. Karsten kept us on schedule and got Malcolm, Catherine and I up to the Alpine Guides on time. I left my sunglasses in my purse – I mean handbag – and while we were being packed on the bus, Karsten literally sprinted down to the van, which was at the hotel, and back with them. Brave guy, going into a woman’s purse – I tried to be as specific as possible so he could be efficient and not scared. Thanks, Karsten, it was way, way above and beyond the call of duty for you to do that.

You’ll see here it looks kinda cloudy still. That’s why I didn’t notice the missing sunglasses. But I guess it was clear up on the mountain/glacier, so they could fly. We had to wear boots and socks provided by these guys. And while we learned later that they do actually wash the socks in between each wash and wear, it was pretty creepy putting on these heavy wools grey socks it had been obvious many feet other than mine had visited. The boots were kind of grungy too, but I got over it.

Have to admit, I had butterflies in my stomach about this whole helicopter thing. In Kauai this year, I had read about all these crashes – even with the most reputable companies. I was hoping I was going to live to see the princess again and wondering about the mess I’d be leaving behind. But then, I figured the odds were with me and went with that optimism strategy thing again. After all, the optimism got me there despite the somewhat bleak looking skies. Catherine went up in this chopper here. Malcolm and I were in the third, which was really this chopper, but after it dropped the first group off…

Like I mentioned, our motel, the Rainforest, in Fox was very nice – log cabin like a Scandanvian design/IKEA look inside. The hot shower upon arrival was particularly welcome. All these motels have nice little kitchens, so you don’t have to eat out if you don’t want to.

It was chilly there. When I packed, I completely spaced the glacier thing – so had no warm coat or long underwear, which I looked at in my drawer at least half a dozen times while I was packing. So – in Queenstown I picked up a windproof NorthFace jacket, a hat and gloves, and bought a lightweight fleece layer in Fox upon arrival. Figured if it was raining that hard, we weren’t going up, so waterproof wasn’t the most important. Did have rainpants packed that I hadn’t used yet – but those were planned for bike rides.

Didn’t need quite that many layers for dinner though, which was at the Cafe Plateau. The resto scene here was quite robust…a western saloon style place, the pub at the Glacier Hotel, Cafe Neve (where I hear we missed the famed, “very cheeky” and smart Kea birds), and the Plateau. I tried to find some wireless internet or place were I could attach my own laptop to the network, but was unsuccessful. There were places where you could upload things from your camera media, but I had already put everything on the laptop and no where took USB keys, which I could have borrowed from Malcolm. I could have rearranged things back onto the camera media for upload, but the place that you could do that shut down at 7:30 and didn’t open up again until that time in the AM. Lots of the coin operated spots again, with no access to any PC.

Dinner was nice. I tried the whitebait. Not crunchy at all. Mixed into these light pancake things. Salad too. It wasn’t bad, but not so good, I’d put it on my personal delicacy list. We drank some Pinot Noir that night, Main Divide 2004. Malcolm selected it and it was very nice, so one bottle turned out night to be enough. Had a blue label, with silver mountains in a cool graphic design that reminded me of an Xmas card. The wine comes from the Waipara region, in Canterbury, just north of Christchurch. Later in the week, the train would take us right through the valley where the grapes were grown. When the check came, Imogen ultimately took over, using her math teacher skills to be sure there were no mystery guests at the table. It was funny…all the glasses came out and were perched on noses…have a great shot of Malcolm and Dave taking their crack at the check before Imogen took over, but I won’t embarass them here publicly. I like them and still want them to like me after reading the blog! The only thing missing at dinner was Jenny & Karsten. The Plateau isn’t a huge place and it wasn’t certain we’d get the table, so they ate at the Neve, hoping that the smaller group would ensure that we’d get in. Nice of them, but we could have pulled it off as a larger group.

There were two guys at the bar at the end of our dinner that Helen and Dave had run into earlier in their travels. They were from Scotland. One’s name was Robert…can’t remember the other’s. Sorry. Great accents though…loved listening to those guys talk, and could even understand them every five or six words or so.

After dinner, Helen and Dave opted to retire, but Imogen, Malcolm, Catherine and I were hitting the pub looking for some local nightlife. We didn’t find any, despite Jenny’s assurances we’d find some white welli-boys there. We were even encouraged earlier in the evening, as when we were driving down the street to our motel there was one walking down the road. When we walked in to the pub, we were following a guy in the camou-capris, so was still hopeful. But there was virtually no one in the bar. Imogen and I ran around the corner to the motel rooms for something (can’t remember what), saw one of the pesky possums on the way back, and by the time we got back, there were even fewer people. Soon, we were the only ones there with two guys at video game machines in the corner. I think the barkeep wanted us out…first she put more fuel on the fire and we went from feeling a bit cold to sweating. We still had wine in our glasses though, so we weren’t deterred. There was a big flat panel screen that had been tuned to the sports channel though. The barkeeps next hint that it was time to go home was when she changed the channel. We looked up and we were faced with soft porn. Very bizarre…a simple “last call” would have gotten us out quicker.

Malcolm, Catherine and I went to bed still wondering … would we get on the glacier or wouldn’t we? The others had already opted for hiking somewhere – the Glacier terminus, the beach, or Lake Matheson depending on the whether.

Imogen and Karsten…this post is for you. Imogen, during week two of her bike trip, told Karsten that the two of us saw a possum in Fox. Karsten, of course, thought this was no big deal – because there are roadkill possums all over the place. You also occasionally see a carcass hanging on a fence. These things are considered pests. See the big debate about banning 1080, which they use to control their population here and here, almost as media consuming as the Rugby World Cup stadium site selection, but not quite. They do use possum wool in sweaters, scarves, and mittens – mixed with merino. Jenny tells me that it’s very, very warm – might pick up a pair before I go yet. Anyway – Imogen tried to convice Karsten that she saw one live, but he was thinking we had too much wine at that Cafe Plateau that night. While at the St. Clair winery later in the trip, we were looking at some pictures and Imogen knew I had snapped one of the possum after it ran up the tree and was asking me to show it to Karsten as proof. I couldn’t find it, but the glare from the sun made it a bit tough to find it when we were together. But Karsten…here you go. It’s a lousy picture and I’m sure I’ll get a protest comment from the possum, but it is proof. We did spot one live. No kiwis, for me, but future road kill, I’ve seen.

We did wake up on our drive long enough to hop out and look again at the raging Tasman Sea. This was at Bruce Bay. I think it turned out to be my last look at the ocean on the west side, at least at close range.

On the ride in, we were wondering whether the nightlife in Fox Glacier would rival that of Haast and whether or not we’d get on the glacier the next day. The weather was pretty bleak and we all knew the helicopters won’t fly up there in the clouds. Karsten had called ahead to get us on the list for the early AM flights – the best chance for clear weather, as the clouds tend to get worse over the course of the day. When we got to Fox, we stopped at the Alpine Guides place to confirm our reservations and get their perspective on the next days prospects. Basically everything had been cancelled that day and a lot of people were hanging about. Jenny took the time to tell us about the restuarant and bar scene. She said we should be able to find some more white-welli boys at the pub that evening. We were on our own for dinner that night, but we all decided we should dine together at Cafe Plateau at 7pm. Karsten made a reservation for us and then we headed around to our hotel…which was quite nice that evening.