Glacier Country

My descent along the west coast was one long game of tag with thunderstorms. I would routinely fall asleep in pouring rain, wake up to blue skies, and get caught in some torrential downpour midday.

I had a couple chill days of long driving here. My determination to make it down to Milford Sound meant some commitment on the road, and honestly I would've preferred my gloomy days to be in the car instead of while I was trying to hike. I passed through the towns of Frans Joseph and Fox Glaciers, along the western edge of the Alps. Signs of 'Welcome to Glacier Country!' bracketed every small town I drove through, with advertisements for helicopter tours and ice hiking. I've been lucky to see so much of New Zealand. It's an incredibly diverse world, and there's beauty to be found in a lots of places. But Glacier Country is truly unlike anything I've laid eyes on. During my time in these parks I couldn't stop thinking: this, this is what people should come to New Zealand for.

The clouds began to clear as I made it into Mt Aspiring National Park. My campsite for the night bordered the trailhead for my afternoon hike to some beautiful river pools I wanted to see. The signage for the trail was very clear, stating the swing bridges to the pools were inaccessible due to construction. The reviews on All Trails were equally clear: the pools were easy to get to for anyone unafraid of a little swim. I set out on the trail.

While enjoying my inner stream of consciousness about the knowledge of great forests and the wisdom of the natural world, I was stopped in my tracks my some mischievous bird coo-ing in the trees. I had been really tuned into to birds since I saw a sign up in Nelson Lakes advertising a $10,000 prize for proof of near-extinct bird sightings. Naturally, every random pigeon had my attention after that and I mentally composed the National Geographic article that would detail my rediscovery of the South Island Kokako. I digress.

I held still on the trail, waiting to see if I could find the bird. It coo-cooed at me again, and I slowly turned in my tracks. While not a Kokako, a Kea bird sat only a few meters from me in the lower branches of a bird tree. I never would've heard it had I not been alone. The great parrot eyes me mischievously, and allowed me a good long look. As soon as I started a slow reach for my camera, it shook out it's brilliant green plumage, and took off overhead.

I easily made it to the river crossing before the blue pools, and took one nice long wade across the river to get there. An alternate path had already began to shape around the bridges, and I could see people swimming up in the blue pools ahead of me.

I'm no stranger to alpine lakes, but this water was cold. So cold, I couldn't even bring myself to get a full plunge in. There was huge still pool in the middle of the river where people were partially swimming, and it was just pure glacial water, clear to the bottom and absolutely, crushingly, frigid. I feel deeply there is no way for me to communicate how perfectly blue the glacial rivers were here. Pictures don't do it justice (but obviously I'll do my best to share some). I felt like I should have magical powers after swimming in it, or maybe turn into a mermaid. I could bottle up this blue, and paint everything in my life this color, I don't think I would ever get tired of it. I want all my clothes to be this shade (it's hella in my color palette, so).

I spent a while at the pools after I re-coated myself in my bug trap oil. The sun was brilliant after sitting in the rain for a few days. When the sun started to sit a little low in the sky, I made my way back to T-Rex. I tucked myself in and left my back-door curtains open, watching the stars come out as I went to sleep.

The next day I had a hike I was really excited about, and was driving before sunrise. I was headed to the trail for Roy Glacier, which I was really looking forward to because I hadn't seen Joseph or Fox Glaciers through the gloom. This hike truly made me feel like I was on another planet. When the glacier first came into few, I literally stopped dead on the trail so I could say 'holy shit' out loud, and just stare up, open mouthed. The water maintains that same melted-glass crystal blue and the foliage in these forests is incredible. Somehow a mixture of alpine and jungle environments, these (mostly beech) trees have such a different build than the mountain pines I know. Their leaves start high up to accommodate for low sunlight in the winter, but they almost gives the feeling of being underwater, like I've cannon-balled right into a land of giants, and I'm just a wee little bug at their feet. Again, I did my best to capture some photos of this, but I'm certain my camera does no justice to the way sunlight breaks into the domain of these ancient creatures.

Roy Glacier ended up being my favorite hike, and I liked the little town of Wanaka so much that I adjusted my schedule to spend another night there. I even got to meet up with my cool surfer gal pals from the UK, who were traveling in the opposite direction to me. They were kind enough to cook me dinner, and we traded all our south-island adventures and recommendations so far.

holy shit!