A Day On The Road: From Kaikoura To Glacier Country

With seven hours’ driving time ahead of us to make it to our next destination, we decide that our best option is to make a full day of it and allow for a few stops in small towns along the way, rather like we have done previously on our US road trips. So with the darkness of night still awaiting the sunrise and Kaikoura still asleep we drop the motel key into the night box, pull out of the car park and turn to the right, out on to the highway, the ocean away to our left rolling in heard but not seen.

It’s still dark half an hour later as we leave the coast and turn inland, heading west towards the centre of the island as a fine drizzle starts to settle on the windscreen. As light finally begins to dawn, the scenery drifts in and out of sight as the murky morning mist rolls around the mountainsides, eventually becoming a full-on fog by the time we near our first stop, Hanmer Springs. Hanmer is, as the name suggests, a spa town, one which has spawned a tourist industry evident as soon as we stroll down its surprisingly chilly main street.

Spa resorts and hotels nestle behind trees, waymarker signs indicate routes to springs and falls and even though we’re two hours into our journey the little town is only just rubbing its bleary eyes and rising from sleep. The fog, or cloud, stays just out of town and hugs the surrounding mountains. Inside the coffee shop the lady owner is the counterbalance to the weather, full of life, energy and chatter and as interested in our journey through NZ as we are in her coffee and bacon and egg bagel. She’s one of those thoroughly engaging machine-gun chatterers, to us and to every other customer who comes in through the creaking door. Her husband cooks the breakfasts and speaks only in monosyllables, presumably long since used to playing second fiddle in this particular orchestra.

It’s still chilly, about 10C, as we leave the cafe, and the air is damp, carrying the moisture of the fog down to the street. Souvenir shops are still determinedly shut, a cafe owner pulls up the shutters and the barber sweeps yesterday’s cuttings from his floor. Dog walkers and their dogs share a look which suggests they both wish they’d stayed in bed for another hour. Michaela takes over the driving.

From Hanmer Springs we turn on to the Lewis Pass through wide glacial valleys strung between lofty mountains – we can’t help but compare this part of the journey with a drive through Wales, even down to the heavy cloud and intermittent drizzle. To skirt the mountains it’s necessary to travel north west for a time even though south west is our overall direction.

By the time we reach our next change of driver point, Reefton, the cloud has lifted and the day is brighter. When choosing Reefton as our next stop we had no idea what a fascinating little town it would be – a gold rush town so reminiscent of those in America, looking like a scene from a Western movie. Information about the history of mining in the area abounds with notice boards and stories on most of the buildings, a restored steam engine mounted on tracks and tales of boom and bust told in absorbing detail. This time the lady in the coffee shop has nothing to say, so we take a table outdoors, sip a long black and watch life carry on in this town where once the hordes arrived, got rich, and left. Like every other gold rush town.

(SIDE NOTE: there’s a cool story here in Reefton. As the mining companies unearthed the gold, the absence of a Bank in town added an unnecessary barrier to trade. The leading companies declared that for whichever Bank was first to open in Reefton, they would fix the price of gold sold to the Bank for twelve months. NZ’s two biggest Banks colluded, and opened their respective branches at precisely the same time on the same day, so meaning they each benefited from the offer).

On from Reefton we hit the west coast at the nondescript looking town of Greymouth with its international fast food outlets strung along the main drag and head south, having now completed the coast-to-coast section of our seven hour drive. Michaela’s determination to not leave NZ without some greenstone jewellery dictates our next stop, the town of Hokitika with its reputation for providing quality examples of the stuff at less than touristy prices. It works, she finds exactly what she wants, and she’s happy.

Hokitika looks very much the seaside resort town with tat shops selling fluffy kiwis and more ice cream parlours than can surely be necessary anywhere. Greenstone shops abound too, as we had heard. Known in local tongue as pounamu, greenstone is a highly valued form of jade long treasured and considered sacred by the Maori, and comes in a number of forms, each with its own characteristics and significance in Maori culture.

Hokitika clock tower & Museum

From the river bank in Hokitika we catch our first glimpses of the snow capped glaciers which are our destination at the end of this long drive – they’re still some distance away but so large that they are already clearly visible to the south. Back into the car and out of Hokitika via bunkering at the BP station, we’re heading to glacier country and what should be a thrilling adventure.

The duo of glaciers, Franz Josef and Fox, move ever closer as we head south, soaring high amongst the peaks of the Southern Alps, looking dominant, snow on the summits and ice sheets clinging to the upper slopes. The village of Franz Josef, our next base, basks in warm afternoon sunshine, its main street a collection of bars, cafes and agents selling helicopter rides to the glacier, and virtually nothing else. After all, a trip to the glacier including a high altitude landing and a walk on the snow is why everybody comes here – including us. 

As we sip a cold beer in the sun, those helicopters buzz around, one taking off or landing every few minutes. This will be one exciting experience, one of the few things we booked before we set foot in this country, so determined were we not to miss out. Our turn will come in the morning. Except it doesn’t. With a most unfortunate piece of timing, the poor weather we’ve been hearing threatened for several days arrives a couple of hours before our fun is due, heavy clouds swirl in around the summits and the helicopters are grounded, all flights suspended for the rest of the day. We provisionally rebook for tomorrow, but the forecast does not give reason for optimism.

So instead of helicoptering up to take a stroll on snow high up on the glacier, we follow local trails through the rainforest and across the river, taking in great views of the glacier which towers above us, learning as we go of the creation of the glacial valley and the milky river which flows through it, and of the speed of movement of the ice. We see too, from photographs comparing the two eras, of just how much the ice layer has receded since the early 1900s. It was a very different place back then.

Our trails are interrupted regularly by squally showers, pools formed by ice which descended from the glacier and then thawed bubble with the plop of falling raindrops, the mountain peaks drift in and out of sight as the storm clouds wrap themselves around the slopes. Thursday morning arrives and the weather is unfortunately significantly worse than yesterday, there’s no chance of heading up in that helicopter now; we call in at the depot just to make sure, and receive the expected confirmation that there will be no more flights now before we have to move on. It’s disappointing to miss out on the very event we came to this village for, maybe we’ll have to return some other time to try again.

For once again it’s now time to move on, we have a further five hours of our southbound journey to take on before our next destination, one we’ve long looked forward to visiting, in my case ever since my son tarried here during his gap year more than twenty years ago.

Queenstown here we come.