Ohau do I love it here
November 26, 2005Franz Josef, New Zealand
8:28pm
Just when you thought you heard enough about glaciers, we go to a town named after a glacier, or was the glacier named after the town? Who knows? And really. Who cares?
The last day on Lake Ohau was spent walking, or at least trying to do a walk with a boy that quite simply didn’t want to walk anywhere.
So we sat, over looking a river on a picnic table at ate raw carrots. Oh earlier in the day Steph yelled at me for eating the fourth last Ryvita. The fourth last. She was having a bad day. We now refer to it as the “Ryvita incident”. Everything is funnier when you are immersed in a giant land of fantasy.
Yesterday was travel day, and what a travel day it was. We had to cross the Southern Alps through the Haast Pass, one of only three roads that go through the Alps, opening up the gateway to the West Coast, which they affectionately call the “Coast” in NZ, even though the whole freaking country is coastline. It feels weird to being this close to our next eight weeklong stay in Nelson. I am a little bit anxious, mostly because I want the accommodation to be really nice, partially because we spent so much money on it, partially because we are staying so long, and partially because we will be hosting people for Christmas. I want it to feel like the home Onemana felt like. I want it to feel like, well, like a home. I think I am ready though, seven different locations in five weeks were hectic, and not something I could have done for the entire time away. So, while anxious, I am still eager to lay my bed on the same pillow for longer than seven days.
Back to the Haast Pass. It was stunning. Surrounded by mountains, we stopped and visited a waterfall.
We just able to get to the falls before the tour buses arrived. It is weird being in the middle of nowhere when suddenly a crowd of people is standing around you, staring into their digital camera viewers, talking in many different languages. We just smile and nod, meandering back to our 15-year old car that smells like burning plastic.
We ate lunch in the town of Haast. I had a chicken pie and a bag of green onion potato chips. My food regime takes a break on travel days. In fact, it has taken a break today as well as I sip my Montieth’s lively hopped pilsner beer, brewed just north of here in Greymouth. It’s very tasty.
Speaking of beer, last night, after we unloaded our gear in our little cottage in the middle of a trailer park, I drank too many beers. First I will rewind a little and tell you about where we are staying, because I know most of you reading got stuck on the words trailer and park. Holiday parks, as they are called here, are not the shabby redneck tornado tempting places like I original thought when Nicki, in Fiji, mentioned them as a possible option for our November journeys. They are actually quite nice, and as we are millionaires, we decided to forgo the many different holiday park accommodation options, which range from backpacker dorms to tree lodges, and priced accordingly. We of course took the most expensive option, which is the tree lodge, which is basically like a big hotel room with a single and a double in one room, with two hot plates, no oven, a mini fridge and a private deck. Needless to say, while not completely bummed out about our room, we definitely think it is overpriced.
But. And this is a fairly big but. As big as Ouisy Jefferson. There are people here. We are surrounded by people. People of all ages. We can hear them and see them and actually talk to them. And they talk back! And there is a bar on site. With pints and everything! So after a pasta dinner, we all went over to the patio so Steph and I could actually have a couple of drinks on a patio with all these strange people and Hudson.
One of the great things about traveling with a child is his ability to make friends with other kids, allowing us to make friends with the parents. Last night, before our first drinks were downed, Hud made friends with a boy the same age. Within minutes we had pulled up a couple of chairs and talking to Alex and Alex, I kid you not, a British couple that were touring NZ for a month with their two children Boris, a seven month old and Cosmo, a three year old. Boris and Cosmo. I should have a joke there, but it kind of stands alone. We drank and drank for about three hours, until all of us realized that our kids were up way too late and passed the overtired phase and now entering manic freak out stage. It was fun. I even smoked a cigar. I inhaled. Tobacco, I missed you. It’s time to miss you again. Al and Al were nice, but probably not the type we would hang with back home. Their edges were rougher than ours.
I continued my little adventure after, leaving Steph to deal with Hud, making my way to the one street in the small village of Franz Josef. I hit two bars in two hours and drank probably five pints. Putting my total at around 12 for the evening. I was drunk, but I did not fall down or go to some random party and almost break my nose. I did manage to be mean to Steph and she slapped me across the face. Something I do not remember. I regret that, but not the drinks. The pints were ice cold. And I did not have any cigarettes. Yay me.
Today, after a couple of Tylenols, perused the shops and Dept. of Conservation to decide on the walks we want to do. We also met a woman at the playground who did the exact same thing as us. Her and her husband quit their jobs in London, and our traveling the world with their two-year-old Martha. The only difference is they are renting their house. Chickens. It was odd how similar our lives and our stories were. Her father and stepmother are even coming here to visit.
We made our walk decision and drove to the car park of the Franz Josef Glacier, one of the two glaciers in NZ (the other is Fox Glacier, about 30km from here) to descend a mountain to sea level. This happens only here in NZ and in Argentina.
The walk was 90 minutes return, just about Hud’s maximum. A path weaves through a small forest until it opens to the glacial moraine and the glacier itself. This glacier looks like the mountain is sticking it’s tongue at you. From the distance where we first could see it, it did not look impressive, but as we approached we began to realize how big this frigid fucker really was.
At the face it stood at least 100 metres high. And it either descends or recedes (depending on the temperature) a least a metre a day. It was bizarre and interesting and fun to watch the people climbing it. Climbing it is something I debated doing, but decided it just wouldn’t be the same without the wonder and magic of my wife and son standing next to me. I love them both so much.
Half of my enjoyment is seeing what I see through their eyes.
Love to all,
J.
posted by Jason @ 1:23 PM
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