Saturday, 20.11.2004

Franz-Josef-Glacier

The alarm clock rings early today. Even before I get out of bed, I notice the rain still drumming on the corrugated iron roof of the cottage. I take a quick shower and walk quickly through the rain to the breakfast room. I cast away the thought of cancelling the tour -- a glacier hike is one of the indispensible goals of this trip to New Zealand. At half past eight I go back to the room to pack the rucksack and to get dressed for the tour. As the whole equipment is provided by the tour operators, I only put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, two jerseys and a jumper. If the operators recommend to wear three layers of clothing, I'll have an extra layer -- plus a fleece jacket that goes into the rucksack. As usual, all items of value go in there, too. Don't want to leave them in the unguarded in the hostel. Last but not least, I pack my lunch for the day, consisting of dried fruit and muesli bars

It's only a 300m walk to the office where the tour starts. Never the less I put on my rain jacket, so I get there dry. The early tour, that was supposed to leave at eight, is still there. I pay my $120 at the check-in counter and receive a sheet of paper with security advice and the refund policy. It reads explicitly that the tours do start in the rain as well. Rain is a very common thing on the West Coast, with 5000mm of rainfall per year there is hardly a day without rain. I move to one of the benches and wait for the other group to head off and for my group to be called to the dressing rooms. A few minutes after 9 a.m. things move on. I sign a document that I have acknowledged the security and refund policy and receive my rain trousers at the first counter. They are big and grey and heavy. In the room next door woolen socks and shoes are issued. The shoes are rough hiking boots, made of leather. Each guest also receives a pair of ice talonz. They will be fixed to the soles of the shoes to ensure a good grip on the ice surface. For the time being, I carry them in a hip bag. Additionally, each of us is handed a pair of woolen mittens and a hat. At the next station we finally receive a GoreTex jacket emblazoned with the logo of Franz-Josef Guided Tours on the breast. Thus equipped I walk to the waiting bus, that will take group of walkers to the glacier. I have a last glance at the board with the weather forecast: "Rain easing into showers". So there is still hope.

Rain easing into showers. Yeah, Right.

The bus is an ancient Isuzu model. The writing on the dashboard is in Japanese with English translations on adhesive labels. Franz-Josef Guided tours have a very human relation to their buses: This one is called Doris. The last people to board the bus are the four guides. They are easily distinguished from the other passengers by their red jackets, the big rucksacks and the pickaxes they are carrying. Before we head off, one of them explains the procedure: We go by bus to the car park closest to the glacier. We'll walk to the terminal face. From there, we will climb onto the glacier and walk there for several hours. Then there are the standard instructions about not leaving any rubbish on the glacier, that there is no toilet beyond the car park etc. During the drive, I get a demonstration of a "West Coast air conditioning": one of the guides continuously wipes the condensation off the windscreen, so that the driver can see a bit of the road. With weather like that it is safe to say that no ventilator could cope.

I ask the guide next to me if this is normal rain, good rain or extraordinarily bad rain. It' s good rain, he says. He prefers real rain like that to a light drizzle. I'm not sure whether I agree with him -- anyway: his coolness in saying a line like this is admirable. The mood on the bus is quite low. We reach the car park after ten minutes. Dale, the driver, asks everybody who gets past him: "Are you enthused?" The answers are more like a murmur: "Sure", "Of course", "Mmmh".

From the car park we walk the first metres to the viewpoint on the glacier. This is the last place that the DOC recommends inexperienced and unaccompanied hikers to visit. To continue, we have to cross a safety line and acknowledge a lot of security signs. From here, the glacier is approximately 2 km away, but looks already impressive. The rock walls are dozens of metres high, waterfalls pour down into the valley from the ledges.

I am a bit concerned about my right foot feeling slightly damp. Apparently, the shoes are not as waterproof as they look. At this point, the group of forty people is divided into two groups of twenty. I join Dale's group. He looks extraordinarily cool with his pierced eyebrow and his short pants. Though he probably only wears them to display the sun tattooed to his knee.

Before we go on, there is another appeal to our motivation. Yes, it is raining, but we should make the best of it. The mood on the bus wasn't better than in a coffin and this is not a good premise for an adventure day. Thus morally strengthened we cross the safety lines and walk through the valley to the glacier. There are puddles everywhere, more or less deep. Everybody is reluctant to step into a puddle. It seems I am not the only one who has doubts about his shoes. We stop at a river. We have to cross it, but there is no bridge. The river, that is surely not more than a creek on a regular day, is too wide to jump over it. So we have to wade through it. Dale is first and tests for rocks that we can step on. Finally, he stands in the middle of the river and helps everybody through it. The current is strong and we have to be cautious not to be swept away in the knee-deep water. At least I don't have to think about my feet getting wet. Dale's comment: "At least nobody's worried about stepping into puddles anymore."

Shortly after crossing the river, the group is again divided. Those who dare to walk a bit faster move to the left, to the right for those who want to walk a regular pace. The first vote is 17:3 for regular pace. So a few more brave people are required for the fast group. I feel daring and join the small group. Quickly our group rises to nine walkers.

Usually, there are some breaks along this stretch of the walk to explain a few things about the glacier. But not today, there is no unnecessary lingering in this rain. Furthermore, Dale is constantly talking to the other guides and to the people at HQ with his radio. After ten more minutes of walking we reach the terminal face. Or rather the heaps of rubble that go with it. Dale makes us an offer: Everybody who does not want to go on in this rain can cancel the tour right now. They will be refunded their money at the office in the village. Nobody from our group chickens out, but we are the fast and brave group. Then there is a weather update: It will not cease raining today, the rain is more likely to become worse. This is the impression that we have gained during the last hour: the rain has become all but weaker.

The view is not very good. Firstly, it is foggy and secondly my glasses are wet and have got steamed up. Thirdly my vision is limited because of the big hood I'm wearing. This doesn't make it easier to talk to the other walkers. I start worrying about the contents of my rucksack. Have I brought some unnecessary things? Do I really need the mobile phone out here? Or the iPod? I will certainly not expose my camera to this weather. So I try to pack the items a bit safer and wrap them into my own rain jacket, that I have worn earlier today. Other people have been smart enough to buy waterproof shells for their rucksacks or at least to bring some plastic bags to wrap their important things.

We climb up the first metres. On a small plateau we learn to fix the ice talonz to our shoes. Despite the very simple concept, the procedure is made difficult by the rain, because my fingers are wet and cold. When the nine of us are ready, we get the most important instructions of the day: How to walk on the glacier. It is actually very simple, one just has to scuff the foot on the ice, so that the ice talonz get some grip. When climbing or descending stairs in the ice, it is crucial not to step sideways. The steps are too narrow anyway and one doesn't gain any grip that way. I feel unsafe at first, but after the first couple of metres I get used to the new soles. Dale announces that with the wind being this strong, we cannot climb up to the highest point of the tour. There is a bridge over a crevasse. But the wind is too strong and the crevasse is 60 metres deep. "That's the last place you want to be today".

The way leads further up. When we leave the rubble zone and reach the ice, there are some guides in red jackets with pickaxes. These helpful people have been preparing the path for us since 7 a.m. They are hacking new steps into the ice, a task that has to be done daily. When we step onto the ice, we are handed another utensil: an ice axe. The first steps on the ice are awkward. It is very slippery, but when I try to use the technique taught earlier, it turns out not to be so bad. Dale said earlier that you either stumble on the first 200 metres or at the end when the goal line is in sight. Soon the group gains confidence and we move more quickly. Dale walks a fast pace, but this is alright since we are the fast group. The way leads continuously upwards. Most of the time we walk through crevasses and not on the surface of that glacier. Zig-zagging like this I soon lose my sense of orientation. We climb up, over small steps that Dale hacks into the ice with his pick axe. In some of the crevasses we have to walk close to the walls, because the floor is just a big puddle of water. If one loses his balance, one has to step into the cold water, that often reaches up to the knees.

After one hour we take a short break. Some of us try to light cigarettes in the still pouring rain. It is way too wet for a real picknick, so we stop only for a smoke. The climbing on the ice gets more and more strenuous and the group falls a bit apart. I walk as the one before last. After me there is only a Welshman who has to secure his way often and occasionally stumbles and steps into the water.

Every couple of minutes Dale confers with the colleagues at HQ on the situation on top of the glacier. Around noon he makes an announcement: He has hbeen ordered not to take us to the highest point of the tour. We would not be able to cross the first bridge. It has been retracted because the ice around its fastenings has become too soft. Instead, we will start the way back to the valley. Thus the full day trip becomes a three quarters of a day trip. We will be refunded $15 as a compensation. Dale suggests that we continue our way just a few more metres upwards. Out of the crevasse we have been walking in up to the surface of the glacier. A few minutes later we are standing in the open. Dale points us in the direction of the bridge. We can see it lying in front of the deep crevasse. We take a short break. The more courageous people of us take out their cameras and try to take pictures of the waterfalls that pour down the moraine in the rain. One of those waterfalls carries soil and rubble down, its water is very brown. In good weather the view from here must be spectacular. But today the valley a few hundred metre below us can hardly be seen at all.

On the way back we choose a different route. This time we don't zig-zag through the crevasses but walk straight down on the surface of the glacier. More often than not Dale has to secure the steps in the ice. The rain has made the ice melt, so that the stairs resemble small waterfalls. After a few hundred metres we rearrange the order of the group. The slow ones walk right after Dale, the faster walkers move to the back of the file. The descent progresses faster than the way up, but more caution is necessary. The stairs in the ice are very narrow and it is utterly important not to step sideways. Often it is necessary to scuff the feet in the ice several times, for the shoes to get some grip on the wet and slippery surface. It is an exciting view that we have this far up: Below us, several groups of walkers are moving downwards. It looks like ant trails, with one person in a red jacket followed by a group of ten people in blue gear walking single file. The further we get down, the more often we meet other groups. Frequently we can overtake them, but sometimes we have to wait several minutes for the ice below us to be prepared for the walkers.

We reach the rubble zone of the glacier. Walking is more secure here. Finally we can do without the ice axes and throw them into a big crate of wood. From here, it is only a short way to the plateau where we get rid of the ice talonz under our shoes. The straps on my ice talonz are still very tight and it takes me a couple of minutes to remove them. When I look up again, there are myn people around, all wearing the same blue gear so I don't recognize the people from my group anymore. Only Dale stands out in the crowd. He says that it's a wonder we've all made it down again in one piece.

Wih the ice talonz safely stowed away in the hip bag I make for the way through the valley. It's an hour's walk back to the car park -- in good weather. Today it's different. The path we've taken four hours ago doesn't exist anymore. The small creeks and rivers have joined up and turned into a big, fast stream gushing through the valley. So the guides consult which way to take us. Firstly, they go for a ford a few metres downstream, but this turns out not to be viable. Finally, the find a place in the river close to the moraine where some rock in the water promise a safe crossing. Quickly, a rope is cast over the river to provide a makeshift railing. Dozens of walkers are lead through the hip-deep river in this fashion. All this goes quickly but without a rush. At the next river there is no safety line, but one of the guides stands in the water and helps us across. From then on, it gets easier, there is only one more small creek to cross. By this time, I don't care about anything. I just want to go back to the bus, get rid of the wet gear and drink some of the hot chocolate that Dale has promised us for our return to the HQ. So I don't bother with rocks in the water and just walk through the knee-deep water.

At the view point I cross the safety lines and walk quickly back to the car park. I get on the first bus, remove my hood, take off the mittens and take a deep breath. Made it! Te bus soon fills up with more happy walkers. During the drive back to the village the mood on the bus is noticably more relaxed than in the morning.

The return of the gear progresses smoothly. First, we hadn the jackets over the counter to the dry chamber. The nthe queue moves on to the shoe room, where we throw trousers, mittens and hats on different piles of clothing. Finally, we give back the shoes and take our own pairs from the rack. The shorts that I wear under the rain trousers are completely soaked. Good thing I didn't wear jeans -- that would have been uncomfortable.

Two pots of hot chocolate are simmering in the hall. That feels good. The guides hand out brochures with information and pictures of the glacier -- all the things we didn't hear due to the lack of breaks. I crave a hot shower and don't stay much longer. Before I leave, I look out for Dale to thank him again for the trip. Also, I cannot resist to askhim : "Honestly, how many days like this do you get per year?" "About four to six, mostly in November and December."

The second of two pictures of an eventful day.

Through the rain I walk back to the hostel. Back in my cottage I meet the room-mates for the night: Judy, an older woman from England and Chris, an Irishman, who has also got very wet today. After the hot shower I hang up my things to dry. The jumper and the three layers of t-shirts are throughly wet, the shorts as well. Then comes the moment I've dreaded for most of the day: I open the rucksack. The phone seems to have survived, at least the display is still working. iPod and camera also still work, but the latter two have been wrapped in the rain jacket. My purse is very wet. Passport and diary have had their share of water, the banknotes as well. In this very moment the advantages of the NZ plastic money becomes evident. I can easily wipe off the notes. The Euro notes, on the other hand, are not in good shape. There are several centimetres of water on the bottom of the rucksack. Everything that is lying down there is soddened. The packaging of the muesli bars is nothing more than scraps of cardboard. I dry everything carefully and take the clothes to the dryers. Only wool and fleece don't go into the dryer. Forty minutes later, the clothes are dry again. I try to use the mobile. After the first key press the display flickers and dies. Very, very annoying.

I meet Lucie and Sébastien at 6 p.m. for the soup in the dining hall. They can hardly conceal their grins and I have to laugh, too: "You would not believe the fun we've had on the glacier today." The two of them have not left the house all day, but they worried about me, which I find heart-warming. We spend the evening together and have long and lively discussions. The two are a really great acquaintance.

During the evening the rain eases and we even get a nice sundown. The forecast for the next day announces great weather. Sébastien promises to take a picture of the glacier for me during their walk and to send it to me. Before going to bed I notice that the phone works after all. So I have regained my watch, my alarm clock and my flashlight. Phew.

(To the German version)

Copyright (c) 2004/2005 Alexander (reiseberichte@barmblognord.com). This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
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