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Hiking on a River
Entry 77 of 87 | show all | print this entry |
Two thoroughly exciting things happened in the small town of Franz Josef. I'll get the lesser out of the way first.
For the first time, in what seems like forever, I was able to sit down and watch some movies. Three, to be exact. And while I've already seen each of the three multiple times, it just felt good to absorb from the screen for a while. We watched 12 Monkeys, The Hudsucker Proxy, and Jon and I achieved our long-time dream of watching Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby with Buddy.
But the real event at Fraz Josef was when we hiked the Franz Josef Glacier. The glacier itself is the steepest and fastest moving (commercially guided) glacier in the world. It moves a lot. Sometimes 5 meters a day. For a glacier, that's blindingly fast.
Jon, Buddy, and I picked up some bread, peanut butter, and jelly on the night before our hike. (We'd made reservations from the Hippo Lodge in Queenstown to spend a full day on the ice). On the day of the hike, we brought our lunch fixin's, cameras, and were dressed for what one would anticipate conditions to be on a frozen river: cold. The company we booked through provided boots, spikes, jackets, thick socks, etc. But somehow, despite the rainy and cold day that preceded it, our day on the Franz Josef glacier was sunny and warm. Our guide wore shorts and a polo shirt. I had three layers and therefore sweated like George W trying to pronounce a four syllable word.
The glacier was deceptively large. We walked for about an hour before actually reaching the ice even though it looked to be 50 yards away. By the time we reached the ice I had already shed my jacket and toque (not tuke, thank you Aunt Sandy). It turned out we'd been signed up for the 3/4 day hike instead of the full day. I was a little disappointed because full day treks go higher up to the more pure, blue colored ice. We had a blast anyway. Our guide seemed bitchy at first, but as soon as we hit the ice, she thawed out. (A little unintuitive, no?) We camped out about halfway up to have lunch. Buddy doled out the bread; I applied peanut butter; Jon applied jelly. We were so efficient, everyone else took notice. It also happened that none of us on the trek had introduced ourselves yet, so while we assembled our very American lunch, they asked where we were from. From there on, the three of us were known as Team America. (Fuck Yeah!) (That's from the movie Team America, just in case you weren't in on the reference).
We reached the highest point of our 3/4 day route. I could only gaze longingly at the ice above us. Next time. Definitely next time. We started down again, but paused almost immedaitely to look at a pool of water that had collected. Our guide listed off some statistics about the amount of ice than melts versus annual snowfall. Then she took off her shirt and waded into the glacial water. She tried to get us all to come in. Some people did, but none of Team America. Going in required keeping our boots and spikes on to avoid slipping and being unable to exit the pool. Then we'd have to hike the rest of the day in soggy, smelly rental boots. Plus, after my night in the tent in Bluff, I'd had enough of being cold and wet. The hike down was slushier as the day had grown warmer. Waterfalls cascaded down cliffs all around us. The azure sky was riddled with fluffy clouds. The sun glinted off the frozen river which was a blazing white on its exposed surfaces and almost violet in its crevasses. It was one of those moments I often have on this trip where all I can think is "Everyone I know and love is toiling away at school or work. I could be too, but instead I'm here". Not to rub it in.
Thank you, loyal readers, for keeping the world running in my absence.
After we got back from the ice, we treated ourselves to big gourmet pizzas, beer, and pool. The beer was Monteiths. It's a small New Zealand brand, but it's practically everywhere. I'd come to know Monteiths quite well, but that's a story for next time.
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