We visited the Catholic Church in Hokitika before leaving town.
Brick built in 1914, completion was slowed but not stopped by the outbreak of war and the attendant shortage of materials and manpower. An elegant structure in the baroque style, it is topped by a dome that overlooks all other buildings in the town. Sadly put to use for a funeral as we left, the sun appeared to chase away the grey skies for the mourners.
 |
| Struggling To Get Into Shot. |
 |
| The Bridge At Hokitika Gorge |
 |
| The Hippy Camper On The Waitanga River |
 |
| Downed Bridge At Franz Josef Glacier |
 |
| Sunset Over The Glaciers |
We visited the Catholic Church in Hokitika before leaving town.
Brick built in 1914, completion was slowed but not stopped by the outbreak of war and the attendant shortage of materials and manpower. An elegant structure in the baroque style, it is topped by a dome that overlooks all other buildings in the town. Sadly put to use for a funeral as we left, the sun appeared to chase away the grey skies for the mourners.
Thirty miles inland we travelled to the Hokitika Gorge.
The river that runs through it carries glacial water from the Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers. Sedimentary deposits known as glacial flour are suspended in the water creating a turquoise hue that captivates the eye. A rope and wire bridge is suspended across the chasm giving a precarious vantage point from which to watch the river ease by. On the way in and out of the gorge we passed through a glacial plain of rich agricultural land heavily populated by cows, sheep, goats and even al paca.
Milking time coincided with our departure and the sight of cow dogs and quad bikes driving a running herd toward us was strangely unfamiliar.
The river that runs through it carries glacial water from the Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers. Sedimentary deposits known as glacial flour are suspended in the water creating a turquoise hue that captivates the eye. A rope and wire bridge is suspended across the chasm giving a precarious vantage point from which to watch the river ease by. On the way in and out of the gorge we passed through a glacial plain of rich agricultural land heavily populated by cows, sheep, goats and even al paca.
Milking time coincided with our departure and the sight of cow dogs and quad bikes driving a running herd toward us was strangely unfamiliar.
We passed through Waitaroa, another of the small townships left behind after the retreating gold rush. A pretty place dominated by a single high street and with a rare court building apparently unchanged since its erection in the late nineteenth century.
Heading for the glacier region of Westland, we ate lunch on the banks of the Waitanga River, grey with glacial run off. Paul and Nicola passed us and stopped to plan a later rendezvous at the glaciers. The appearance of coincidence was an illusion as New Zealand is not blessed with roads in abundance and the most direct route is rarely as the crow flies.
After lunch we took a slight detour to what was advertised as a glacier helicopter tour point. There were no helicopters there but projecting from the river bed were the supports of a long collapsed concrete bridge. The grey water carried trees and debris to rest against them. The next day the water was turquoise as a result of overnight rain washing more glacial flour into the river.
Panic ensued at the local petrol station when we asked about the circumstances of the downed bridge. Mistakenly believing that we referred to a different and recently collapsed bridge to the north, caused by the recent earth quake, the attendant was ready to mobilise the local Civil Defence Committee until the misunderstanding was resolved with embarrassed laughter on all sides.
Heading for the glacier region of Westland, we ate lunch on the banks of the Waitanga River, grey with glacial run off. Paul and Nicola passed us and stopped to plan a later rendezvous at the glaciers. The appearance of coincidence was an illusion as New Zealand is not blessed with roads in abundance and the most direct route is rarely as the crow flies.
After lunch we took a slight detour to what was advertised as a glacier helicopter tour point. There were no helicopters there but projecting from the river bed were the supports of a long collapsed concrete bridge. The grey water carried trees and debris to rest against them. The next day the water was turquoise as a result of overnight rain washing more glacial flour into the river.
Panic ensued at the local petrol station when we asked about the circumstances of the downed bridge. Mistakenly believing that we referred to a different and recently collapsed bridge to the north, caused by the recent earth quake, the attendant was ready to mobilise the local Civil Defence Committee until the misunderstanding was resolved with embarrassed laughter on all sides.
The glacial plains passed and the familiar switch back returned as we climbed and then descended Mount Hercules and before long the mountains rose around us and the temperature began to fall. Hardy cyclists sweated their way up the road as we passed them. Also passing them were army trucks taking water bowsers and supplies to the stricken city to the south.
We joined Paul, Nicola and Arthur at the Top 10 camp site in Franz Josef, hooked up to power and barbequed New Zealand lamb washed down with native Steinlager. We retired shortly after the evening chorus had died down and when the brilliant orange glow, silhouetting the mountainous backdrop, had faded to twilight.
No comments:
Post a Comment