Glaciers, the West Coast, and Nelson

From Queenstown, we set out for the glaciers (in NZ they say "glassy-urs," and I would too if I could get away with it), Fox and Franz Josef.  Because actually hiking on glaciers involves walking on ice and scary words like crevasse (for leaping over) and crampons (which sounds too much like a combination of cramps and tampons), we had decided we wanted to get close but not too close.  Fortunately, we were able to do just that.  We'd read about a forest walk for glacier-viewing, and we did that, but the glaciers were still pretty far away.  Then we turned down another road, which led to a rocky riverbed with a carefully demarcated path leading right to the edge of Fox Glacier.  Along the trail, there were multiple signs warning against stopping or going beyond the barriers with cautionary tales of tourists who'd done those things and not lived to tell the tale.  So this is a picture of me with the cut-out metal ranger set up as a warning.  The other glacier picture doesn't really give you the scale or quite convey the sense of mystery that comes with seeing the blue, blue ice and the markers showing how far the glacier has traveled since 1750  up to the present.  I'm really glad we got to see one before they are all gone due to climate change, which everybody we've met in NZ sees as a major threat.  With the concern for the environment and especially the need to control pests who threaten the native bird population, there seems to be a general sense of urgency about protecting the beauty that is here.

And speaking of birds:  we stayed at the Glacier View motel, a modest little 1950's sort of place within sight of Franz Josef.  It was pretty quiet out there until night-time when the sounds we heard made us wonder about the kea, the NZ parrots who can apparently strip a car of all of its rubber fittings and shiny bits within an hour.  Fortunately, when we woke, the rented Nissan was still intact.

We drove to Hokitika for a little shopping, then up the West Coast through spectacular scenery, up through Haast and the Buller River Valley and nikau (literally "no coconut") palms up to Pancake Rocks, made of layers and layers of limestone that stretch out into and get bashed over and over by the sea.  At high tide, there are blowholes with sea spraying through them. Here's a picture of the rocks.  We didn't get a picture of the weka ( brown hen- like bird who reportedly steals from campers; there's an exhibit in Te Papa showing one running off with a silver spoon) that John saw while I was in the shop buying postcards.

Looking over our shoulders at a vivid sunset, we finally made our way into Nelson.  Nelson is known as a sunny haven in this rainy country, and it is famous for beautiful art deco buildings and chi-chi shops.  For you Carolinians, it's sort of the Asheville of NZ.  It is also known for the fine wines of the Marlborough District.  Some of the best food we've had has been at these wineries, where you can eat tapas out under the trees.

In Nelson, we stayed at a B&B called Warwick House, though locals call it "the Castle" pictured here.  It is the oldest home in Nelson and has been restored by the Ferriers, he the son of a German baroness and she a famous kayaker.  I will not include the picture of our copper toilet tank, though I did take one.  We rambled around the little shops, including Jens Hansen, the jeweler who makes beautiful chunky rings and is probably most famous for fashioning "the one true ring" of the Lord of the Rings movies. We also visited the botanic garden which had some outstanding heritage trees, some museums and the cathedral on the hill.

The second day we drove out past the many orchards of the South Island's "fruit basket", past signs about apples and pears, apricots and plums, to the little village of Mapua.  There we took a ride on the small ferry known as "the flat-bottomed fairy" bedecked with tiny white lights out to Rabbit Island.  There is a spoonbill colony out there, but we didn't see them, though we did see numerous gulls and oyster-catchers, some fantails and a couple of ruddy turnstones.  Afterwards, we visited the craft galleries and saw some lovely and unique items.  We had dinner on the water with the view above, a lovely day all in all.

On the last morning in Nelson, we got up early and made our way to the Matai Valley bush walk trail to hike up a spot billed as 'the centre of New Zealand."  This last picture is a view from the top.

We had planned to go to WOW, the World of Wearable Art museum but found we were short on time.  New Zealand's roads being what they are (winding two lanes pretty much constantly under construction), we had just enough time to get to Picton to catch the ferry home.  There were some serious winds, but our skipper took a route that smoothed the way as much as possible.  We spent most of the trip talking with some farmers who sat at our table.  They were pretty quintessential Kiwis, down-to-earth and practical but interested in everything and in teasing us about all things American.

Even then, our adventures were not quite over.  John had turned in his car, so we took a shuttle towards home.  As it turned out, it was equipped with shag carpet, Christmas lights, and a karaoke machine, and the driver required that all passengers sing along to the 70's mix, accompanied by the beat of his sub-woofers.  No worries though.  We got our revenge when he had to back the van back down our monstrous hill.