The small town of Karamea is promoted as being the 'Last Resort' and the settlement is as far as it's possible to go up the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand before hitting dense bush. We rented a unit for a few days at the Karamea Holiday Park which lay just before the village and close to the beach.
We picked up some walking information and a hilarious leaflet on the modern threat to the sandfly population from the cheery ladies at the small information office and were soon off up the coast to the trailhead of the Heaphy Track.
The track normally takes 5 days to complete but we had only a day to explore it. We'd been told that the best and most varied walking was on the first section starting from the Karamea end of the track, so we were eager to get going. It had rained in the morning and, not wanting a further soaking like the one in Franz Josef, I set off with waterproof pants and jacket. Twenty minutes down the track I was steaming almost as much as the rain forest as the early rain, heated by the sun, rose back up into the atmosphere.
We crossed small streams and creeks using small foot bridges suspended by thick wires and dropped down through the bush, emerging into pristine sandy beaches were we were completely alone...apart from the sandflies and a very brave, old, bearded backpacker who was completely naked apart from his battered rucksack!
We walked as far as we could in the time we had, turning back when we came to a hut full of sandflies who wouldnt leave us in peace to eat our apples.
The next day we went inland to walk some of the Fenian Track, originally used by the gold miners who'd eeked out a living in the hills many years ago. We thought we could still see evidence of the gold deposits as rivulets of water from recent rains crossed the track, agitating the earth and revealing tiny, glistening golden flakes glittering in the sunlight.
We carried on until we came to a sign directing us to some caves. We'd borrowed a torch from the owners of the holiday park but never got to test it out as the track was poor and worsened with every step. By the time we reached a huge slippery beech tree that had fallen over the trail we decided enough was enough and about turned back to the car.
The days adventuring wasnt over through and we drove along a dirt road for what seemed like forever to reach a series of limestone arches, the largest of which was over 250m long, the biggest in Australasia apparently. Sadly we never got to see it as by the time we'd reached the end of the dirt road we realised that not only was it about to pour down but we were absolutely knackered and niether of us could contemplate another step despite the main arch being a mere 20 minutes away.
The second half of bonus week marked the start of our long drive to Christchurch where we would come to the end of the New Zealand leg of the trip. We drove south along the West Coast Highway, stocking up on provisions then heading East towards the Alps, the mountain range that forms the spiky spine of the South Island. In the middle of the Alps Arthurs Pass provides a route across from Greymouth on the West Coast to Christchurch on the East Coast and the Village of Arthurs Pass was where we planned to spend the next couple of days.
We weren't the only ones who were looking to stay in Arthurs Pass, as we'd arrived the day before the competitors in the 'Coast to Coast' race were due to pass through as the cycled, ran and kayaked the width of the country. Legendary Coast to Coast veteran Steve Gurney was going for a mind boggling tenth win in an event which left me needing a sit down just reading about it!
Of course, it was the athletes support crews and spectators that were set to fill the one road that runs through the village - so it wasn't quite the relaxed, peaceful experience we'd been expecting.
The new owners of the lodge were we were staying apologised profusely about our cabin, they shouldnt have worried, we'd stayed in much worse - as well as our own toilet and shower it even had a TV!
Due to the race being in town we had to cut short our stay and so we only had one day to take to the hills. The Mount Avalanche Track seemed the obvious choice, starting behind the visitors centre and leading up an incredibly steep, rocky path to a high level, heart stopping, knife-edge ridge leading to the summit. We set off early and were soon hauling our way up through stunted alpine beech trees draped in sphagnum moss.
Eventually we cleared the tree line and emerged to be faced with an equally steep path which zig-zagged up large steps in the mountain side. The surrounding scenery was visible one minute, gone the next, dissolving into thickening cloud which spilled over the mountain tops. We could see right along Arthurs Pass, following the contours of the road until it eventually reached the village which looked like we were viewing it from a plane window - such was the height we'd climbed to.
Finally we were ready to tackle the summit ridge. Suddenly overhead, accompanied by it's unmistakeable screech was a Kea, New Zealands alpine parrot. He swooped, stalled and landed gently on a small ledge to check us out. Obviously not impressed with what he saw, he turned his attentions to hacking away at the grass with his strong, curved beak.
Leaving him behind, we felt our way around the ridge and could soon go no higher. We plonked ourselves down on the summit and tried to take in the beauty of the surroundings. The panoramic view took in glaciers and high mountain tops to the west and north, contrasting with the dry, grassy plains visible to the east.
Descending was a long and arduous task but we eventually found ourselves back in the village. The first of the support vehicles for the race had begun to arrive and with them the feeling that conquering Mount Avalanche wasnt such an awesome achievement after all - but try telling that to our jelly-knees and aching legs!
|
