Saturday
16th February 2008
We
said Wednesday 13th February 2008 was a magical day – Tilly Rose
Bonner was born this day at 2.15am; weighing in at 6lb 4oz. Congratulations to
Michael & Helen from down under.
Thanks to all the people who have let us know this happy news by the
various means that the modern world now
provides
Since
this happy day we have left Frankton & Skippers, a little behind schedule,
so pressed on north, 326 Km to Haast and Jackson Bay. Not a lot to report except the camp at
Haast had been taken over by a lot of middle aged and older men who were
spending a week there hunting, shooting and fishing. They all had jet boats and huge 4x4’s
and had been doing a different river each day. The jet boats are fast, manoeuvrable and
can operate in very shallow water so are ideal for rivers, rapids and dodging
rocks. They were a friendly crowd
and no trouble.
The
road from Frankton to the Fox Glacier, via Haast, is either flat running round
the lakes and along the flat valleys or seriously steep and torturous where you
climb over or round the mountain with sand traps for run away
vehicles.
We
arrived at Fox Glacier township Friday in time for lunch; bread,
cheese and fruit (yes the fruit is still very good, we bought some cherries off
a farm on the way and they were huge, sweet and juicy, the best we can remember
having). After lunch we drove to
the base of the glacier, it was classified as an hour return walk. It took us
three!
Basically the walk was to the bottom of the glacier where
it finished all filthy; covered in rocks and dirt. Not at all what we expected! It was
impressive nonetheless with rope barriers and dire warnings about going close if
you were inexperienced. Needless to
say, various young men and yours truly climbed over and went for a closer
look. The journey to the base
involved rock scrambling and stream jumping, or almost jumping, so Mags waited
obediently by the rope barrier.
It
was worth it – towering above you it was clearly alive and moving - every now
and then a small rock would tumble down the face. Fortunately none of the very big ones
moved. The other thing that impressed when you got up close was the scale of the
river that raged out of the bottom of the glacier. It was difficult to believe that the
glacier could continuously produce such a raging torrent without melting
away.
So
you see why it took us three hours to do a one hour
trip.
We
booked into Fox Glacier Camp and made enquiries about a ski plane flight over
the three glaciers – Fanz Joseph, Fox and Tasman – and were told that the
weather on Saturday was suspect we may or may not get a flight, but Sunday
looked better and to ring in the morning.
Now I should explain that we had seen this flight advertised and had been
saving our pennies all the way round so that we could do a ski plane landing on
one of the glaciers. Margaret had
not let me waste money on bungee jumping, jet boating, white water rafting or
any other outrageous activity.
Saturday morning the flight was no go so we
decided to wait another day and hope!
We weren’t surprised the cloud was halfway down the mountain side – what
to do on a waiting day? “I know;
we’ll go and look at some seals like we do at home in
Wales!” So off we went on a 3½ hour return walk,
grade 2 to 3, at Gillespie’s Beach.
As this was part beach and part forest we decide to walk in our all
terrain sandals. I am not sure this was a wise decision? Along the beach it was fine and we
paddled in the Tasman Sea but once we entered the forest we were
confronted with bog after bog and stream after stream, at least we could wash
the mud off in the streams. In
truth it was a lovely walk culminating in a ship like ladder down a cliff to the
beach where we had lunch sat on a house sized boulder watching the
seals.
Now,
of course, we had to walk back, it had been quite a tough walk. It had taken us well over two hours but
we had been slowed down for some time when we caught up an ‘I am your Leader’
type German and his wife. At each
bog or steam he went ahead to select a suitable route for his obedient wife who
was younger than us and only half as nimble, -and carrying the rucksack. The path was narrow and we waited
patiently to be invited to pass – that invitation never came and we were
expected to follow our leader.
After 20 minutes or so of “
my God”, “Vot is Das” and “ Come, come” to his wife (in German of course) he
chose a particularly circuitous route around a bog and we could see a set of
stepping stones straight through and we were away much to his
displeasure.
Going
back unimpeded we did it in less than two hours and arrived very muddy and
knackered but having thoroughly enjoyed it.
You
may wish to know our leader and party did arrive on the beach after we had had
our lunch and for all we know he may still be valiantly leading his poor wife
home!!
Tonight we pray for good weather, tomorrow we hope to
fly.
Roger
& Mags; Mum & Dad
Ps
You will have realised that position quoted is not related to the narrative but
refers to where we are at the time of writing.
