A wandering Canadian: Magical coastal walk, and Fox & Franz Joseph Glaciers (Day 16)

Being in New Zealand for so long, the sights and sounds and rhythm of the land has started to acquire a sort of familiarity. The rolling green hills that are present in so much of the country have acquired a comforting presence, especially when we have been away from them for awhile up in the mountains or by the coast. The ever-changing weather, from sunny to rainy back to sunny and everything in between, has become a normal part of the days. Windy roads and one-lane bridges that used to slow J down and be approached with caution are now navigated almost intuitively. I find myself naturally using words like "tramp", "hire", and "rubbish" instead of hike, rent, and garbage.

Today our target was the glaciers, but we decided to take what we thought would be a brief detour for a coastal walk. We drove down a continuously narrowing road that also became progressively more unsealed as we went along. As usual in New Zealand, we drove along further and further into seemingly the middle of nowhere until suddenly a parking lot appeared with Department of Conservation signs announcing the start of the Hari Hari Coastal Walk.

We set off on the wooded trail, hoping we would encounter the ocean shortly, but as we got further and further in we realized it would take longer than we thought. Nevertheless, we set off at a brisk pace, quietly immersed in the solitude of the seemingly never-ending shady woods. At one point we encountered two large, fascinatingly-coloured New Zealand pigeons that eyed us in silence without moving until we got quite close, and then fluttered up into the trees. Magical and eerie at the same time. It seemed almost as if they were keeping watch.

Eventually we came to a partially dry riverbed and were confused about where to go next. After looking around for a while, realized the trail indeed continued, but instead of being a well-packed trail like we had been following, it was a haphazard path cut through tall palm trees, with random layers of driftwood pieces and palm leaves layered chaotically over thick mud. We walked precariously on this makeshift trail for about ten minutes until we finally heard, then saw, the crashing of waves. "We found it!" I cried excitedly. After walking for almost 45 minutes, the sight of that secluded beach was quite welcome.

The large stones and smaller pebbles all over the beach were quite fascinating. All kinds of different colours, including fascinating shades of green. And every stone was fantastically striped in all kinds of patterns. We explored the interesting stones, even J picking up several and showing them to me.
Eventually J started boulder-hopping her way over to the rockier, obviously not-meant-to-be-accessible portion of the shore near the cliff side, and I naturally followed. J pointed out a large boulder that looked like a face; soon afterwards I spotted one that looked like a seal poking its head out of the water. I felt very in tune with everything around me, as if there was meant to be no other moment but this one.

Peekaboo! Do you see it?

Its hard to describe what long-term travel does to you. You come outside of yourself and become something not quite new, but not quite what you were. You discover and deepen parts of you that were hidden or dormant. What is it that triggers it? I'm not sure. Is it the differentness of everything I've been seeing? The break from the everyday routine? The remoteness of the land?
Suddenly, I spied something grey poke out from behind a boulder and a large piece of driftwood. I gasped. "A seal!" I cried out to J. "Where, where?" she wanted to know. I tried to point and describe where she needed to look. "There it is again!" I said. Just for a brief second. She still hadn't seen it. We moved over a bit to try and get a different angle. It appeared again, this time for longer. "I see it!" she said with the same excitement. We watched in awe as this lone young male seal poked his head out a few more times, and then inched out from behind the rock to lay its head to sleep on another boulder. As we kept watching, it seemed to finally notice us and looked in our direction a few times. Eventually it decided to get up and seal-hop its way over boulders into the ocean, and we watched as it gracefully swam away.

A very camouflaged seal

Oh hello there!

It was an incredible few minutes where we were deeply and intimately part of this wild landscape.

...

After hiking back to our car, we continued ever south towards the Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers. At the Fox glacier, we did the 1 hour hike to the terminal face. The hike was slow and gradually uphill, amidst a fascinating landscape of sheer vertical mountain, rushing rivers of pure glacial water, and numerous signs urging extreme caution to stay on the make-shift paths through the rocks that are moved every day depending on rock fall and other unstable conditions.

We were able to get as close as 200m away from it on that particular day. A sheet of ice between the mountains, grey with rock dust, it didn't give the initial impression of being very impressive, but as I sat on a rock and looked at it for several minutes, I gradually felt tears start to fall down my face. I'm not sure what it was that triggered the emotion - perhaps it was staring at something that may very well not exist in the short future. Both of the glaciers we saw today are receding due to warm climate, and are nothing like their former glory. It was strange to see the interpretive signs showing images of where the glacier used to be even during the 1800's, when it was first discovered by Europeans.

So as to not end on a sad note, here are some photos of the New Zealand pigeons we saw on our coastal walk. As we were looking at all our photos that night after a few long and exhausting day, J dissolved into hysterics by giving a verbal commentary of what she fancied might be in the birds' minds. Below is the series of photos, taken by me, with captions by J.