Feeling good on Franz Josef

The last few days have been a bit of a whistle-stop tour from the beautiful art deco town of Napier, onto Wellington, the capital city and coffee capital of NZ, over the Cook Strait and into the stunningly beautiful Charlotte Sound which looks as if it is straight out of the 70's 'Beachcombers' TV programme.




From picturesque Picton on the South Island we headed down the west coast in search of glaciers and arrived at the aptly named 'Pancake Rocks' just in time to see the sun setting over the Tasman Sea. We heard the waves thundering on the beach all night from our beach cabin.

It is incredible how quickly the landscape changes here. From traversing knee-knockingly high mountain passes to crusing through acres of bare vines in Marlborough wine country, weaving around dramatic coastal roads with huge waves rolling in, to chasing unbelievably aqua blue rivers through fat, flat and green glacial valleys. Then we rounded yet another corner and were rewarded with out first breath-taking view of the Franz Josef glacier.

The Franz Josef town is tiny and built to facilitate the tourist industry that has attached itself to this fast-expiring natural beauty. One of only three temperate glaciers in the world, (one is down the road and the third is in Argentina) it has an alpine climate at the top of the glacier and a rainforest climate at the bottom. This creates a lot of 'warm rain' resulting in one of the fastest receeding glaciers in the world. While we were hiking on it today, it receeded by, at least, another 1.5 metres. This knowledge is a little unnerving when you can clearly hear the ice cracking, dripping and flowing with some force beneath you.

The 'warm rain' didn't feel so warm this morning however. We have been very lucky with the weather since we arrived in New Zealand but this morning we thought our luck had run out. As we stood in the middle of hard, driving rain we seriously thought about pulling out of the hike up the glacier. But, figuring we were wet anyway we stuck to the plan and joined 16 other hardy individuals on another trip of a lifetime. Good decision. By the time we tramped the 3km to the glacier terminal (unfortunate term) the rain had eased, the wind dropped and the sun was fighting to get out.

I don't really have the words to describe what followed. The colours: aqua blue, brilliant white, slate grey, dusky pink...

 

The textures ranged from razor sharp shards to baked alaska fields to smooth pools.  It was physically exhausting, even before we got to the stage where we had to use crampons, but totally exhilarating.

We even got to slide through ice crevices and Nic and I led a small group through an ice-cave. Yes, a definite case of the blind leading the blind.

Volcano hopping on the North Island

With around 47 islands and a similar number of volcanoes in Auckland I mistakenly thought it might be the volcanic centre of New Zealand. It's not. The country straddles two separate tectonic plates making the whole country, literally, a hot-bed of volcanic and geothermal activity.

The last volcanic eruption in Auckland was around 600 years ago forming Rangitoto island as a result. Small and uninhabited it is only a short ferry ride from the city centre, but once there it feels like a different world; black basalt lava fields, like over-sized sun-scorched clay sods contrast sharply with the pale green lichen and lush green ferns. The one-hour hike to the summit took us about 2 hours thanks to the Wilsons Track detour through a 'Lord of the Rings' forest but the view from the top was worth it.

Back in the city, the view from the rim of huge grass-covered crater of Mount Eden is magnificent. We could see the summit of Rangitoto and dozens of other extinct volcanoes, it felt like I could almost reach out and touch them. 

A few hours down the road, Rotarua is, in every sense, built on the hot springs, geysers and mud pools that result from the magma spike just beneath the surface.

Hell's Gate geothermal park looked like the surface of the moon, except the craters were filled with steaming, bubbling water and slurping, glooping mud. Of course, I had to leave my mark there, and ended up with a sulpher stained jewellery.

Wiaotapu was an artists palette of colours; acid green lakes, pink champagne pools, bright orange mineral coral, gun metal grey terraces of slowly depositing silica and hoards of tourists.

Further south near Taupo, in the near-deserted Craters of the Moon, we stood on the rims of craters that erupted as recently as 2002. It was as if we had stepped back to the beginning of time with nothing but smoking fumaroles, sulphuric steam and low green foliage stretched out as far as the eye could see.

While the sights were different in each of the areas, the smells and sounds were common. While the pungent and sometimes choking aroma of sulphur lingered everywhere, every so often we caught a sweet lungful of maunka.

The soundtrack to all this activity was a delight. Hissing of steam, trickling and spitting of water, glooping of mud. Some of the very small craters sounded like espresso makers at full stream, while the bigger ones could've passed for large pots of boiling potatoes and the slapping and thudding of the mud pools brought to mind cauldrons of soup or, ironically enough, giant washing machines.

Interestingly, Health and Safety doesn't seem to overly worry a lot of places of interest. The hike up Rangitoto was very steep and the terrain quite challenging in places and if you fell or became injured on some of the more remote paths you were on your own.

While the paths around Hells Gate and the Craters of the Moon were clearly marked and signs warned you to stay on them, there were very few barriers in place to stop people wandering off looking for trouble. I love that people are expected to use their common sense to stay safe here and I love the Kiwi sense of humour about it all too.

It wasn't all fire and brimstone however, we did take some time out to cool off at some beautiful waterfalls too.


 

Wicked (Glow)worms

 We are now the proud drivers of a very 'wicked' camper van. With 'Motley Creu' emblazoned across the drivers side and crew of motley graffiti heads on the other side nobody is going to mess with us. But they might laugh at us. It's also quite pink. If you are reading this you should know that I don't like pink. But it is fun and will be easy to find in a car park, or a national park.

The company who owns this colourful fleet go by the name of Wicked and have a very funky brand with lots of wild colours, graffiti and right-on stickers... including a St. Padre Pio sticker tucked away in the corner of the windscreen! The protection of Irish Mammies is never very far away.

First stop was the tiny Waitomo. Hardly even a village, Waitomo is all about its limestone caves, all 250 of them, and the glow-worms that hang out in them. Despite only 10 percent of the caves being open to the public there is a mind-boggling array of ways to visit the caves. We rejected all kinds of combos deals for caving, tubing, kayaking, blackwater rafting, climbing, swimming and sailing and decided to abseil 150ft into a canyon at night to see the glowworms at their best.

Although I'm still chasing the thrill of adrenaline activities I'm increasingly feeling the fear (maybe that's age creeping up on me), but I am still doing it. I had no worries about hanging from a rope over a canyon in search of bugs when I booked it but once I was standing outside this small hut in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere, in the near dark, with a complete stranger rigging me up, I did start to think 'What am I doing here?' Then he told us we would only be using a single rope system. No safety rope. OMG.

I am so glad that I didn't back out because not only was this probably one of the safest activities I've done it was also the most spectacular. And we got to do it twice. The second time, (the ladder climb back up was more challenging than the abseil) we turned off our head-lamps and sat dangling in the pitch dark watching a galaxy of tiny lights twinkling all around us. Unfortunately, we have no photos of the glowworms, just the memory of this other-worldly experience. Nicola, however does have photos of us in our royal blue over-alls and red helmets, we just need to get the technology working so watch this space.

Given my growing adrenaline-related anxiety, I'm pretty sure this was as close as I will come to floating in space and it will stay with me for a very long time, photos or no photos.

Auckland; city of adrenaline

I love Auckland and Auckland loves me, or at least my red hair. On our first day we stumbled across a coffee bar in the centre of town offering love and free coffee to red-heads! What a welcome.

I am, however, beginning to wonder about the wisdom of two ageing adrenaline junkies being let loose in New Zealand.

Within 24 hours Nicola and I had located the 300+ metre high communications tower and tourist attraction, Sky Tower. Of course we had to go up to the top for a look and go for a walk, around the outside of the building.

Deliquescence is the action or process of dissolving or becoming liquid. I discovered this word recently. I also discovered what it feels like when ones knees start to deliquesce.

Attired in a bright, jail-orange jumpsuit (not my colour, but staying conscious, not colour coordinated was my objective), I took a deep breath and staring dead ahead I exited the building at the 54th floor onto what seemed like a precariously narrow metal grill, with the ground a very long 192 metres below. Brad, our guide, secured our safety harnesses and we were all set to walk 120 metres around the circumference of the building. However, I seemed to be missing any sensation in my lower legs.

It was thrilling. It was also terrifying as the wind started to pick up. When the end finally came into view there were groans of disappointment from our fellow thrill-seekers. My overwhelming feeling was one of relief.

Standing on top of the Sky Tower, the 360 degree view made this deceptively big city look like a lego landscape; green volcanic cones, huge bank-initialled rectangular blocks towering above a layer of diverse civic and residential buildings sitting on long fingers of land stretching into the water.

Later we had another close up view of the Sky Tower, this time as an ice sculpture in Auckland's ice-bar. Basically a huge freezer, we paid to go in and sit on ice seats, admire ice sculptures and drink expensive cocktails out of glasses made from, you guessed it, ice. You'll have to take my word for it however, as patrons are not allowed to take pictures. Maybe it was the adrenaline from earlier in the day or maybe it was the relief of getting out of -5 degrees but we danced away the night in the bar next door until the wee hours.

With a million sails bobbing along in the late afternoon sun (as seen from our balcony of our amazing apartment) it's easy to see why Auckland is called the City of Sails. The following day, one of those sails was billowing above our heads as we sailed out beyond Auckland Harbour Bridge on the Pride of Auckland.

We all got a go at the helm and despite the best attempts of one fellow novice sailors we didn't capsize. We did come mighty close to getting wet however with a good wind and a heel of about 40 degrees at times. It was thrilling to feel the power of the wind in those mighty sails pulling on the helm in my hands.

Taking a break from adrenaline-fuelled activities we headed to the Museum for a quiet afternoon. The very realistic simulated volcano eruption put an end to that, as did the very vibrant Maori cultural experience.

We have three more days in a great apartment in a great city. Let's see what else we can get up.

Symbolism and symmetry in Canberra

Some people don't appreciate Australia's cultural currency... you know who you are! In the last week I've enjoyed a string quartet performing Schubert in a Fitters workshop, an incredible coffee-shop Jazz trio, a world class National Gallery, a poetry slam, an impromptu back-stage tour of the Bell Shakespeare set in Canberra Theatre (including a game of darts on stage), brunch with one of Australia's prolific poets and one of the best pub gigs I've ever seen (right up there with the annual Whelans gig by The Stunning). Maybe I've just been really lucky with the people I've met.

A bit like the Aussie art scene, Canberra gets a bad rap too. Some people find this custom-designed and purpose-built capital city, selected mainly because it is located midway between Melbourne and Sydney, lacking in soul and excitment. Maybe this young city, beautifully positioned within the natural landscape, does need a little more time to mature into its sophisticated clothing of symbolism and symmetry, but I think it rocks. However, my view may have been coloured by the fact that I was staying with a great Canberra household filled with love, wrapped in creativity and tied up with music and laughter.

I also had time to wander around the city and absorb some of its symbolism and symmetry. A good example is the new Parliament House, reputed to be one of the most accessible Parliament buildings in the world. A huge skylight sits atop both Houses (Representatives and Senate) signalling to the public that they are welcome to come and observe the proceedings, day or night. As voting is compulsory in Australia the elected representatives must attend all sessions so empty seats are a rare thing. Quite unlike other parliaments I could mention.

Everything in the building appears to have symbolic meaning. From the blue-green imported marble pillars in the foyer represent the forest of gum trees encountered by the first European settlers to the well-maintained public lawn on roof of Parliament House, designed to remind the public that politians are not above the people they represent. Beyond the foyer all the materials used in the construction are Australian including a stunning range of beautiful timbers. The colour theme of House of Representatives is reflects the green colour of the House of Commons but is Eucalyptus blue-green. Similarly, the Senate uses the deep pink of the Eucalyptus blossom which also nods to the red colour scheme of the House of Lords.

With so much thought having gone into the design of this building, it did strike me as remarkably sad that the one solitary symbolic representation of the indigenous Aboriginal people was placed outside the main entrance, far enough away to be easily missed. Created on a level section of an otherwise sloping vista, this understated mosaic is rendered invisible from a distance and could almost be mistaken for an elaborate doormat. I find it incredible that nobody thought about how this might be perceived. Understandable then, that an Aboriginal 'tent embassy' set up in the garden of the old Parliament House serves as a reminder of the people who feel like aliens in their own land.

Standing to the front of this modern, partially, subterranean building there is a magnificent vista sweeping down the hill to old Parliament House, across the water and up Anzac drive giving an uninterrupted view of the Australian War Memorial. This huge museum includes the stunning but sobering grave of the unknown soldier and the heart-breaking Roll of Honour.

It's very difficult not to be moved by the sight of over 100,000 brass-carved names of dead Australian soldiers stretching across two long, poppy-covered walls.



Looking beyond the Roll of Honour the eye is drawn up Anzac Drive to Parliament House. It made me wonder if any of the politicians sitting there had remembered this solemn Memorial on their horizon as they prepared, once again, to send Australians to a foreign war.

I loved Canberra. I found it hard to leave. In fact, as I hit the road again in the autumnal sunshine with a local radio station playing country music, I accidentally made two unnecessary circuits of the city. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something?

Despite having to return to the house, twice, to pick up forgotten belongings I suspect there is still a little bit of me left there.