|
|
|
“Bambi on ice” |
The Franz Josef Glacier was next on our list and we made the long drive further down south to get up close and personal with one of only three temperate glaciers in the world (two of these are in NZ, the other in Argentina). Not quite rich enough for the heli-hike to the upper reaches of the glacier, we booked ourselves in for a full-day hike on the ice.
Complete with crampons, mitts, condom style over-trousers and woolly hats we headed off to the foot of the glacier. Feeling adventurous we opted for the most energetic of the three groups that our party was split into and set off with our two guides Mike and Nikki. They were true Kiwis, periodically encouraging us with shouts of 'sweet as'. 'beeaaauuuuuuuuuuutiful' , and nonchalantly but thoroughly giving the health and safety de-brief.
The groups were decided on how confident individuals were feeling so how Becs was persuaded to enrole in group 1 is anybody's guess. Which group Chris went into really didn't matter as his boots were 3 sizes too big for him and he was going to be more on his bum than his feet anyway.
The initial ascent comprised of a series of scrambles over ladders and rudimentary bridges across ice that was not quite the crystal clear blue that the brochure promised. At this stage the glacier resembled a slag heap and we had to keep reminding ourselves we were in New Zealand and not Gwent. As the Kiwis cajoled us up the glacier the true nature of the hike was revealed as we squeezed and staggered through crevices, scrabbled on hands and knees through ice tunnels which glistened and glinted a shiny hue of blue in the periodic sunlight. The serenity of the scene was only broken by Nikki calling out to Rebecca to catch up and generally pay attention as she continued to take numerous pictures.....and talk bollocks to the other members of the group.
The scale of the seracs (ice waves basically) was absolutely awesome (in a real way, not a 'gnarly dude', Kiwi sense) and we looked like a collection of extras from Wind in the Willows, with Brown Owl striding out in front. Although we had climbed quite far we were still only in the lower reaches of the glacier yet the seracs were 5 - 7 metres tall. Some of them looked so precipitous they seemed ready to fall at any moment.
As the weather deteriorated and the rain fell we all got a distinct feeling that beautiful as it was, ice was ice and it was time to start making our way down. Chris and I set ourselves to talking fervently as usual to help pass the time.
We got so wrapped up in chatting to our fellow explorers that Chris broke the golden rule of climbing with crampons. He moved his feet too close together, one set of crampons getting stuck in the other boot and promptly did some sort of Dirty Dancing knee skid on the ice after a triple pike with twist. Needless to say this provoked my usual brand of sympathy and I cried with laughter pretty much the rest of the way down.
previous travel blog entry
Would you like to comment or ask a question?
Sign up for a free account, or sign in (if you're already a member).