Over the Mountains to Franz Josef Glacier

This Sunday morning, I am writing on the train as we cross the Canterbury Plain from Christchurch toward the mountains. It’s very cool to be able to see the life all around us and write about it as we go. Prepare yourself for stream-of-consciousness. Or, alternatively, get away from your computer, run for your life!

Christchurch moved its train station out of the center city some years ago, so we saw the industrial areas that might be expected as we left the station. Although we’ve found New Zealand to be very clean overall, we saw warehouse walls along the tracks that were filled with graffiti.

Moving out into the country, we’re seeing lots of sheep in fields that come right up to the edge of the rail line’s right-of-way. The sheep closest to our path scurry away as we approach, as did a field of red deer that we saw as the train passed. New Zealanders are now farming these deer, just as they do sheep and cattle. It seems they just need higher fences. They’ve found a market for the meat since the farm-raised product tastes less gamey than wild venison. It makes sense, I guess, but it's odd.

We’re now passing through more sheep pastures. These guys and gals have no fear of our passage, apparently. The ones that are taking notice simply glance our way and resume noshing on the grass.

We are heading northwest and the mountains are now visible both ahead of us and off to the east. Part of the joy of train travel is the ability to move around somewhat freely. This train includes “outside” cars, open to the elements so that you can take photographs without having to shoot through windows. Mike tried it, but found that the speed of the train created such wind that he thought his glasses might blow off! Maybe we’ll slow our speed as we climb onto steeper grades and he’ll have better luck.

Another advantage of this train ride is having a “buffet car.” Mike has gone to get us a cup of morning tea to share as we travel to Arthur’s Pass where we’ll meet our coach driver and continue on by bus.

Announcements are being made as we move along the track with information about the area we’re traversing. Much of it is unintelligible, sounding muffled like the tram operators at Disney World. I could just now hear some description of how the route over the mountain at Arthur’s Pass used to be done by stagecoach. That must have been a long and torturous trip.

The train has stopped for a five-minute break and passengers have poured outside to take pictures and stretch their legs. The mountains are showing a multi-hued pattern of greens and grays. As we get closer, we can see that the lighter greens are deciduous trees or pastures, the darker ones are evergreen forests and the grays are rock formations. In some places, you can see what appear to be rock falls. Rocks line the streambeds we’re crossing and I wonder how far some of them have fallen from the heights around us.

We’re told we’ll pass over four viaducts and through 16 tunnels in the next while as we’re now climbing over a huge river gorge that stretches out below us into the distance. Almost immediately after hearing about it, we’re into the first tunnel.

We just passed over our second viaduct above a river showing the blue of melted glacier water. One short tunnel after another finds us briefly in the dark, then the spectacular alpine scenery unfolds anew outside our windows. The rocky riverbeds are wide and the fast-flowing narrow rivers change course across them frequently, our guide says. Sudden heavy rains can flood the beds rapidly, too.

Sudden weather changes are a part of life in NZ, particularly on the South Island, we’re told. Because New Zealand’s islands have the Pacific on one side and the Tasman Sea the other and Antarctica not so far away to the South, weather patterns are often unpredictable. Depending on which direction the wind comes from, a warm day can suddenly be quite cold and vice versa.

We just passed over a gorge in which the river on one side below us was full of rapids, then spread out wider and tamer on the other side. Within a minute or so, we could look behind us and see the trestle we’d just been over as the railway is winding its way up the mountains.

We just passed a waterfall just feet away from the train. These mountainsides are steep and the valleys between are very deep. I can’t imagine the challenge and courage it took to build this track in such daunting terrain. Occasionally our announcer will mention how structures were built elsewhere and brought here on concrete pilings, some of which took two years to put in place.

Now there’s a footbridge below us that led to a sheep station that I think “the voice” is saying is no longer active, but has been turned over to the Department of Conservation. Even on these forbidding vertical slopes, wildflowers in pinks and yellows appear. Some kind of tall grass clings here and there to the slopes and waves feathery fronds on the breeze.

For the first time since we entered the higher elevations, we’re seeing some roads, just farm tracks, actually. Occasionally, we’re seeing standings of trees and shrubs, now, for instance, along a narrow stream that followed the railway for a bit. Here would seem to be the high mountain meadows we’ve heard about, but we haven’t seen any livestock in the fields since we left the plain below.

Even as I wondered, we’re now seeing some cattle. There does seem to be abundant grass here and they seem to have found cattle that are adapted to the environment. I’m hearing some chatter about how farmers brought grass here to create some of the pasturage and, in the distance, I see sheep grazing on a hillside in what has unfolded to be a wide valley.

We’ve stopped, we’re told, to allow passage of a coal train. Now having passed it as it sits on a siding, we can see broad fields where sheep are grazing. Barns and other farm buildings are visible. We’re being told that these herds are allowed to roam widely, then rounded up for shearing, using dogs, horses and helicopters.

Did I mention how much fun it is to see and share all of this? My initial motive was selfish, merely to keep a record so that I could enjoy it all again sometime later. As we’ve traveled over the years, I’ve kept handwritten journals for that purpose. I love going back to them to recapture those memories. This new way to record and also to share our adventures makes it feel like friends and family are with us.

Now we’re passing through what we’re told is one of the largest sheep stations in the country. It covers more than 125,000 acres and 45 miles from front entrance to back gate. There are sheep on the hillsides and a sizeable lake that we’re told will freeze over in winter. This gives new meaning to the “high life.”

We’re entering a haze, perhaps just the clouds to be expected at this height, something over 2,000 feet. Ah, yes, now we see the raindrops on our windows. And so we continue to experience the ever-changing NZ weather.

Pat just spotted our first paved road in the high country and we’re crossing a really wide river bed covered with rocks ground to gravel. The river itself, Pat says, is what is called a “braided river” because of the way it carves multiple channels across the width of its rocky bed of scree carried down from above. The grasses here are a golden brown, perhaps because it’s autumn. We do continue to see small white wildflowers alongside the railway.

I can see buildings across what is now a wide, flat valley. It appears to be a house and barn and cattle are just visible through the mist between here and the farm buildings. Knowing how far up we’ve come, it’s interesting to see the utility lines and think about living in what seems to be such isolation at the end of the lines.

I’ve just spotted trucks and cars on a highway across the way which we’re now turning toward and following alongside. Perhaps this is the road our coach diver, Ian, is taking to meet us at Arthur’s Pass. Until just now, the road was far removed from our rail path.

One of our guidebooks has an article about the care NZ took in building the roads into this area. They took great effort to protect the environment as they constructed viaducts and roadways. Throughout the country we’ve seen the pride that Kiwis take in this place, preserving their bounteous natural resources.

The rain has really picked up now and we’re about to reach our destination, so I’ll end for now. The bus awaits for the next leg of our trip.

We raced from the train to the car park and our coach. Fortunately, we all had rain gear on, so were able to string that along empty seats in the back and resume in almost dry clothes.

The road down from Arthur’s Pass to the west coast is a beautiful drive, even with the rain and mist obscuring some vistas. They have so much rain here throughout the year that it’s green all around us. We headed south toward Hokatika for a lunch stop. It’s the center of the greenstone (jade) area, so there’s lots of it for purchase—IF you want to spend dearly for it.

We were able to get inside a restaurant before the rain got so hard it sounded like hoofbeats on the roof. As we ate our lunches, the rain came and went in intensity, finally letting up long enough for us to take a quick look at the beach or stop in a shop. I found a beautiful blown glass penguin in a little shop and bought it at a discount because there is a tiny bubble that shouldn’t be there. That only made me like it more.

From Hokatika we drove along the mostly narrow Tasman coastal plain through Ross, once home of a gold rush, and into the rainforest.  Along the way, our guides laughingly tell us about tee-shirts for sale here that have a photo of sheep in the roadway stopping traffic with the slogan "New Zealand Traffic Jam."  Within minutes, we experience an NZ traffic jam, only this time cows are being herded along the highway, stopping cars in both directions!  It takes only a few minutes to clear, actually.  Animals are, after all, better behaved that humans driving cars.

Our destination at a hotel near the Franz Josef Glacier was reached in late afternoon. Each of our rooms in this six-month old addition to an established hotel faces into the rainforest itself. Just outside our windows is a small balcony set in a landscape that reminds me of Jurassic Park.

It’s colder here and because of the heavy rain showers that continue, we aren’t venturing into the little village. We’ll eat in together tonight in the hotel restaurant and hope the rain lets up enough in the morning for a trip to the glacier before we head south to Queenstown.

Pat and I are ending the afternoon snugly in our room with cups of tea. Mike has wandered off exploring the hotel. It’s restful and relaxing and a good time to savor the day behind us and anticipate the one ahead.

Photos by Mike Lumpkin

A further note from yesterday in Christchurch -- As we walked along the Avon River we came to a beautiful white stone statue of the Explorer Robert Falcon Scott who died as he returned from the South Pole. The sculptor for the striking remembrance of Scott in his polar gear was his widow, Kathleen. What a poignant remembrance it is!