Physical and Symbolic Glaciers

According to my mother, “Swedes” are rutabagas, so we can stop worrying about the possibility of human trafficking of Nordic peoples in New Zealand.

I should never have let Syd had that extra day of driving yesterday. Give her an inch; today she asked to drive yet again. I told her that I’m getting the impression she doesn’t like my driving. Still, I relented, and took my turn at the wheel only for five minutes at the end of the day. I’m already rusty.

While we were waiting at the café this morning for our helicopter ride to the Franz-Josef glacier, the Stones’ Ruby Tuesday came on the sound system. Listening to the lyrics, I had an epiphany. “Catch your dreams before they slip away,” Mick counseled with great wisdom. Dreams do slip away like glaciers, sometimes leaving a gouged-out spot in your soul. “Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind.” Isn’t that, in part, sort of what happened to me, as I lost sight of everything except what I was supposed to do? One dream is to write a book. Another is to get a master’s in creative writing. Another is to learn Spanish and live in a Spanish-speaking country for a few months. Another is to keep seeing the world. Another is to maintain strong family connections. Another is to be in love. All of those but the last are worthy goals, but the last is the most fun.

The helicopter was supposed to land us high on the Franz-Josef glacier where a rare ice cave formation exists. On the water taxi a few days ago, some people had rated the experience a 22 out of 10. However, rain canceled our adventure, losing us a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and leaving us with our money in our pockets. Instead, we drove down to Fox Glacier about half an hour from here, and hiked in the drizzle up toward it.

If I were at home, I would draw a snout on the following picture, but you’re just going to have to imagine it for yourself. This is the snout of the Fox Glacier.

We encountered Chris, a Department of Conservation (DOC) worker who, Syd discovered, is also a geologist, so they geo-nerded together for a while. Eavesdropping was quite interesting.

The glacier is a dynamic force that has retreated a long distance over the years, advanced during certain decades, and has now retreated and melted further down than ever. Here’s an info-graphic that Syd found that shows the evolution.

In 1920-something, it was all the way to where I took this picture.

That photo was taken from yet another swing-bridge, which I bounded across like a bunny, for the benefit of the camera.

According to Chris, underneath the river valley there still lies ice, on top of which soil rests and plants sprout, looking completely normal and regular-earthy.

Chris talked about how people don’t follow posted rules at natural places like these. All over there are signs advising people to stay away from the glacier and the river. Since the glacier is ever-changing, often big chunks crash down. Sometimes water that is dammed behind the ice breaks through and causes a flash flood. Rocks fall and rain swells the river. How many more reasons do you need to stay on the path? Still, tens of thousands of people climb through the barriers and head down into the danger zone. A few years back, two boys got crushed by a rockslide as the parents looked on. The DOC brought in heavy equipment to dig them out. In the process, non-native species were introduced to that area, brought in on the treads. Today there was a big excavator machine at work, which had been sterilized first. It doesn’t take much to throw off the balance of nature.

The rain on the increase, we left the glacier and drove to Lake Matheson in a natural region called Te Wahipounamu for another mini-hike.

Let me tell you about the region, in the DOC’s words: Te Wahipounamu is a World Heritage site “where snow capped mountains, rivers of ice, deep lakes, unbroken forests and tussock grasslands produce a landscape of exceptional beauty.”

It’s farmland butting up against giant peaks on one side.

Our walk took us through a forest of kahikatea, putaputaweta and mountain toa toa. Oh, I forgot. You’re not fluent in Maori as I am. To you that would be white pine, marble leaf and celery pine.

We had heard from many people how beautiful a place this was, with mountains mirrored in pristine waters, but today it was a flat, monochrome, garden-variety, rain-dotted lake with peaks barely visible behind.

After our hike we stopped in a shop at the trailhead and I found some pretty paua shell earrings with a silver-overlaid koru (traditional spiral, remember: new beginnings and all that). When I went to pay—no wallet. Panic rose but I squashed it down for the next couple hours as we ate lunch [Syd advanced me the dough] and hiked up for a view of the Franz-Josef Glacier—in Maori, Ka Roimata o Hine Hukatere, The Tears of the Avalanche Girl. Here’s her story, which I found on an interpretive sign:

Hine Hukatere was an adventurous girl who loved mountaineering above all other activities. Her lover, Tawe, was not as fond of climbing as his sweetheart, but Hine’s powers of persuasion were strong and Tawe often climbed with her in the mountains. On one such adventure, Tawe slipped at the head of this valley and plunged to his death. Hine’s tears were so many that they flooded the valley and were frozen by the gods as a memorial to her grief.

During our walk I found some interesting geological features which I explained to Syd. As you can see, the rock composition reveals glacial processes at work.

On our arrival back at the motel (Rainforest Retreat) I ran in and found my wallet, thanks to Saint Anthony perhaps. I got a Skype call from Eleni and Emmy, the latter of whom would have preferred to nurse than talk to me, but I still got a few virtual tickles in and it was lovely to see and hear them. And I got to talk to Molly a few days ago. Sometimes I just love digital technology.

I spend way too much time writing this blog. You wouldn’t believe. And now I’m gonna be adventure-less for a while, because the rain is making sightseeing pointless. Tomorrow we have a long driving day and I’m hoping we have enough petrol to take us to the next gas station, a couple hundred kilometers from here. I’m also hoping the mountain pass is not closed by snow.