Of Glaciers and Fiords

The south west part of South Island is one of the highest rainfall areas on the planet, which explains why the glaciers are advancing rather than retreating. Yes, the melt is happening but the tops of the glaciers are re-loaded with snow to such an extent that in the past decade they have advanced They are also very dynamic glaciers, I witnessed an icefall from the face on the day I went to the Fox Glacier. There are warnings everywhere but a few people have been killed at Fox in the past few years. As our guide said, they were male, Australian and ignored the signs. Flying over and around Mt Cook was an amazing experience, ice and snow and rock everywhere and falling away on every side a newly minted glacial landscape. And the walk on the glacier was a personal achievement. Ice never was my medium but even less so since the ankle break just over a year ago. The crampons were amazing, I will be welded to my YakTrax next winter in PEI.

After the glaciers I drove east over the Haas pass to Wanaka which is in a rainshadow on the east side of the Alps, bare hills fewer trees and grand vistas then on to Te Anau which was my base for exploring the “Sounds” as they are called, fiords on the south west coast of New Zealand. I drove in a leisurely fashion to Milford Sound stopping to explore the various trails along the way. I walked through southern beech forests and up to the spectacular Marion Falls then through into an alpine landscape before entering the Homer Tunnel to descend to Milford Sound where I boarded a late afternoon cruise on Milford Sound, it was a beautiful clear day and Milford is as all the photos suggest exquisitely beautiful with its hanging valleys, waterfalls, seals, dolphins and the iconic Mitre Peak.

But it was Doubtful Sound and the Tasman Sea that really captured me, at times I was moved to tears. It was so beautiful and so evocative of a time long gone when European explorers ventured to what was then the end of the earth. We sailed into quiet arms, swam in waters rich with plankton and took a small boat ride close to the shore to marvel at the moss gardens and the trees clinging onto rocks. I saw dolphins playing and a large colony of seals with their pups. Then as the sun was setting we sailed out into the Tasman Sea and saw shearwaters, Royal Albatross and mollymawks, and as we turned back into the sound, I imagined myself on the deck of the Endeavour. I heard the aristocratic Banks urging the pragmatic Cook to sail into the sound as it looked like a fine place for botanising, but Cook, reading the waters and the topography, thought it too risky and sailed on, leaving the name, Doubtful Harbour.
Our nature guide, Wattsie, was a mine of information and stories of this place. He was particularly fond of explaining misnomers, such as calling a fiord a sound and a sealion a seal . And he was very excited by the intricacies and idiosyncracies of the glacial landscape. All this was wound into the Maori mytholgy of what we were experiencing.

After a fine dinner and some South Island Pinot Noir we gazed at the night sky, I’m getting used to seeing Orion upside down. I slept well in a cosy cabin and awoke before dawn to witness the morning sky at the top of the sound. After breakfast and before returning to land, we spent an utterly silent fifteen minutes at the top of one of the arms under towering cliffs, no waterfalls, no birds singing, no wind, it was completely primeval.

As the morning rolled on I really didn’t want to return to shore, just as I had been reluctant to leave the Tarkine Wilderness in Tasmania. It was particularly shocking since when waiting for the ferry transfer to Manapouri I suffered my first attack of sandflies, didn’t seem like much at first but I was left with a very irritating four day itch around the feet and ankles.