Sandflies and Sunsets in New Zealand's Wet and Wild West

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March 7th 2017

Published: March 12th 2017

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Backpackermatt

Snow-clad Summits

View of Aoraki / Mount Cook and it's neighbouring peaks from the campground at Gillespie's Beach

After witnessing our first brilliant West Coast sunset at Gillespie's Beach, Linda and I woke the next morning (Thursday 2nd March) and weren't at all surprised to find the mountains just inland from the coast covered in clouds... while we soon found ourselves covered in sandflies, yet again!

But after cursing our way through a hurried breakfast, we were soon to hit the road when suddenly the clouds parted to reveal the highest peaks in New Zealand in all their snow-bound glory – from Torres Peak (3114m) on the right to Mount Tasman (3498m) on the left; while in the middle was the highest peak of all: Aoraki / Mount Cook, with it's summit piercing the sky an astonishing 3748m above sea level (about 3745m above where we were standing!).

Unfortunately though this would turn out be only a fleeting glimpse, as by the time we had reached Lake Matheson fifteen kilometres back down the road to Fox Village (which is famous for it's perfect reflections of the mountains) all we could see reflected in the lake were clouds. Nevertheless we were at least able to enjoy the sunshine overhead as we slowly circumnavigated the forest-fringed lake, before hopping

River of Ice

View of Fox Glacier through the forest

back in the campervan to get a closer look at the Fox Glacier, which we had also caught sight of on the drive back from Gillespie's Beach.

Like most glaciers, Fox Glacier (and it's close neighbour Franz Josef Glacier) is rapidly retreating. So to get a close-ish look at this steep river of ice plunging down from the mountains, visitors (in their thousands) drive up the valley it has carved out, before parking at the end of the gravel road – which only a few years ago would have made a perfectly good viewpoint in itself – and then proceed on foot a couple of kilometres further up the valley.

The walk itself is quite scenic, with the glacier having carved out a wide, deep, flat-bottomed valley now filled with the rocky rubble it has left behind over the years, and with almost sheer cliffs rising hundreds of metres up from the valley floor at one point. But having perhaps been spoilt in Switzerland last year when I was able to walk alongside (and above) the Aletsch Glacier for a couple of hours, the experience of seeing only the gravel-strewn terminal face of the Fox Glacier from over

Glacially-carved Valley

Franz Josef Glacier valley walk

five hundred metres away was somewhat disappointing – even if we only have ourselves to blame (humanity in general that is) for the demise of the world's glaciers.

After taking a quick detour to check out the view of the glacier through the forest from the other side of the valley, we then decided to push on a further twenty minutes up the coast – negotiating more steep, winding roads for most of the way – to check out the area's other great attraction: Franz Josef Glacier. With Linda having a snooze in the passenger seat I was left to appreciate the majesty of the steep-sided valley walls myself as we approached the glacier, though she did join me for not only the short hike up to Sentinal Rock but then the full hike along the valley floor to the viewpoint for Franz Josef Glacier – which just like Fox Glacier has retreated far up the head of the valley and can only be viewed from hundreds of metres away.

With more vegetation having taken hold on the valley floor and some pretty impressive waterfalls plunging down the sides of the valley I probably preferred this hike to

Lakeside Campsite

Small beach on Lake Mapourika, beside Otto's Corner campground

the one at Fox Glacier; but once again the view of the glacier's face from afar did little to inspire the sort of awe I have felt at many of Aotearoa's other natural attractions. Of course the constant buzz of helicopters (offering scenic flights) overhead probably didn't help; though it bears mentioning that this hardly detracted from my experience of Milford Sound at all. I guess after my Swiss experience it really will take something pretty special to impress me with glaciers again – but who knows, we potentially still have the Hooker and Tasman Glaciers in the vicinity of Aoraki / Mount Cook to discover before the trip is over, so maybe that will do it for me?!

In any case, having felt as though we'd gotten as much as we could out of the two famous West Coast glaciers, we proceeded just a little further up the West Coast Highway before stopping for the night at the scenic Otto's Corner DOC campground beside Lake Mapourika – where I was enjoying a much needed bath/swim in the lake until a large eel was spotted only metres away... at which point my bathing session came to a rather abrupt

Taking turquoise to a whole new level

The stunning glacial melt-water of Hokitika Gorge

end (much to Linda's amusement)!

Waking to a day that could only be described as shithouse, we made our way a little further up the coast to Hokitika, before taking what turned out to be a rather lengthy detour to check out the Hokitika Gorge in the mountains to the south-east. In fact the gorge took so long to reach that I found myself thinking 'bugger me, this better be bloody worth it'... but such doubts were soon put to rest as soon as we reached the first viewpoint above the gorge only five minutes from the car park and laid eyes on the unbelievably turquoise-coloured water in the Hokitika River below.

Now I'm well aware that when glaciers carve out valleys they leave behind tiny particles of dust known as 'rock flour' which absorb most colours, but reflect blue and green; and I've seen some exceptionally turquoise-coloured water in the rivers and lakes of both the Canadian Rockes and the Swiss Alps – as well as on the Mediterranean Coast of Turkey, which incidentally is where the word 'turquoise' comes from – but never have I seen water the colour of the river flowing through Hokitika Gorge!

Coastal Cliffs

The cliffs of Paparoa NP rearing up behind the Punakaiki Beach Camp

My words can't really do the colour of the water justice, but suffice it to say that I never use any special effects on my camera and have also never used photoshop in my life – so I'll just have to let my pictures do the talking where the Hokitika Gorge is concerned... but let me just say that if there was only to be one highlight come from this particular day (and there most certainly was only one highlight!) then I'm glad it was this. Absolutely stunning – and yet another 'only in New Zealand' moment.

After spending a surprisingly comfortable night - considering the incessant rain - at another lakeside DOC campground (this time beside Lake Mahinapua, just outside Hokitika) we then continued up the coast towards Greymouth, which despite boasting a population of just nine thousand people is the largest town on the entire West Coast. Stopping off only briefly in Greymouth for some badly needed butane gas cartridges, we then knocked off the remaining forty kilometres to the tiny settlement of Punakaiki – which despite it's meagre size is well-and-truly on the tourist trail thanks to the presence of the Punakaiki Pancake Rocks, where

Tea-coloured River

View from the Pororari River Trail

a layering process that is not yet completely understood by geologists has led to the formation of hundreds of rock pillars consisting of narrow horizontal sections, looking much like pancakes!

Having checked into the nearby Punakaiki Beach Camp we then set off on the short but scenic Truman Track which led through a small patch of forest to a small crescent-shaped beach (complete with a small waterfall tumbling down behind the beach); before heading off on a 10km loop trail that started off directly opposite the holiday park and followed the beautiful brown Pororari River upstream through beautiful lush forest studded with Nikau Palm trees.

After slogging our way up and over a thickly-forested ridge we then emerged on the banks of the Punakaiki River, which we followed downstream to emerge back at the highway, only a short distance from the Pancake Rocks and Blowholes at Dolomite Point. Unfortunately by now we had missed the high tide (the best time for viewing the Blowholes in action), though thankfully we had also missed the worst of the tourist hordes that arrive by the coach-load for much of the day, so that we were able to enjoy a leisurely stroll

Sunday Stroll

Setting out on the Cape Foulwind Walkway

amongst the pancake-layered rocky cliffs, whilst marvelling at the frothy maelstrom of the tidal surge pools at the base of the cliffs.

Moving on the next morning we travelled along perhaps the most spectacular section of the West Coast Highway between Punakaiki and Westport (the second largest town on the West Coast, with just under six thousand residents) before heading about ten minutes out of town to tackle the Cape Foulwind Walkway. Though just 3km long, the walkway proved to be a magical way to spend a couple of hours – made even more enjoyable by the presence of a rare West Coast blue sky – as we slowly made our way along the cliff-tops from the lighthouse at Cape Foulwind to the fur seal colony at Tauranga Bay.

And while we'd already seen fur seals in numerous locations since arriving on the South Island (Kaikoura, Akaroa, Purakaunui Bay and Milford Sound to name but a few) there really is no way you could ever get sick of seeing a bunch of seals sunning themselves on the rocks, while their pups frolick in the sheltered waters of their own personal little tidal pools. If there is a better

Beautiful Bay

View from the Cape Foulwind Walkway

way to pass the time on a Sunday afternoon on the West Coast, then we certainly didn't find it – even if we were a little disappointed to discover there was no Domino's Pizza outlet in Westport at which to enjoy a cheap lunch afterwards...

North of Westport (and with Linda once again enjoying a kindy nap beside me) we encountered another steep, winding road – this time leading from the Mokihinui River up and over the 400m high Karamea Bluff, on our way to the small town of the same name. From there another fifteen kilometres brought us to the Kohaihai DOC campground on the edge of Kahurangi National Park, situated quite literally at the end of the road – the only way to get through to the Tasman region is to walk the 4-day, 80km Heaphy Track... a fact that would be obvious to anyone who has ever glanced at a road map of the South Island, but not to the clueless Englishman who approached us as we ate our dinner by the waters of the Kohaihai River and declared “did you know you can't get through to Abel Tasman National Park from here?!? I didn't –

Sunset at the End of the Road

View from the Zig-Zag Track over Kohaihai campground

and I've driven all the bloody way here just to find out I'm going to have to go back to Westport!”. Politely, Linda and I waited until our unfortunate companion was almost out of earshot before we burst out laughing!

Admittedly this was pretty much the highlight of our evening, as we had arrived to find that half the campground was closed for tree clearing, and all of the nearby hiking trails (including the Heaphy Track, which I walked the first four kilometres of to Scott's Beach) were covered with fallen branches and other debris - a sure sign that the area had been subject to some pretty severe storm damage in recent weeks. Add to that the usual swarm of sandflies – which on this occasion were bad enough to force us out of the van (usually it's the other way around) only minutes after we had arrived, having already infiltrated our mobile home by the hundreds – and it's fair to say we were questioning why we had bothered to come all this way ourselves.

But thankfully we would receive our reward the next morning, as we beat a hasty retreat from the campground at Kohaihai

Giant Archway

The towering entrance of Oparara Arch

to tackle yet another narrow, winding (and in places quite steep) gravel road that led us into the Oparara Basin – a densely-forested oasis in the heart of Kahurangi National Park that is home to some truly outstanding natural attractions, including some of the largest limestone arches anywhere in the Southern Hemisphere. We were even able to eat our breakfast in peace, with just a pair of inquisitive Weka (the flightless bird that, ulike the Kiwi, you actually get to see quite regularly in New Zealand) for company - which always makes a nice change from being molested by ravenous sandflies!

After enjoying a leisurely breakfast (during which only one other car arrived, bringing the tally of vehicles in the car park to five – which gives you some idea of just how far off the tourist radar this place is) we set off on the short walk to the Oparara Arch, which at 200 metres long, 49 metres wide and 37 metres high resembles a massive tunnel... only one with a tea-coloured river flowing through it! Standing inside this giant cave-like hole in the earth was quite an awe-inspiring moment – and made even more magical by the

Natural Bridge

The more modest Moria Gate Arch

complete absence of other people.

Having returned to the car park we then set off on a 4km loop trail that threaded through more of the Oparara Valley's beautiful native forest, before squeezing through a narrow cave entrance and emerging at the back of the Moria Gate Arch (apparently named after a location in the Lord of the Rings – though before the famous film trilogy came out) which at just 40 metres in length and 8 metres in height is much smaller than it's near neighbour, though all the more beautiful for it.

No sooner had we made it back out through the narrow cave entrance at the back of the arch than we found ourselves following the trail over the top of the arch that we had just been standing underneath, before following the Oparara River back upstream a short way to be met with a postcard-perfect view of the Moria Gate Arch from outside – it's low roof covered in the same thick, luxuriant vegetation as the rest of the valley surrounding it.

Though we weren't able to continue on to the end of the road to check out the Honeycomb Hill Cave and

Powerful Plunge

View of Mangatini Falls from the Charming Creek Walkway

Arch (where various fossils belonging to now-extinct native animals have been discovered – and which can therefore only be visited on guided tours), we were able to explore the nearby Crazy Paving Cave and Box Canyon Cave – the latter of which contains smaller caves branching off from the main chamber, which immediately sparked Linda's interest!

Leaving the Oparara Basin behind, we re-traced our route from the day before back down the coast and over the Karamea Bluff, before checking into the gorgeous and secluded Gentle Annie Seaside Campground located beside the mouth of the Mokihinui River. With Linda enjoying the comfort of the on-site Cowshed Cafe – which despite only being open for business in the mornings is nevertheless open to campers at anytime of the day – I headed off for one last West Coast hike, this time along the Charming Creek Walkway. With the coastal end of the walkway (near Ngakawau) being closed due to a large landslip, only the inland end of the trail (about 10km beyond Seddonville) was accessible; and though I was still able to make it through to the 20-metre-high Mangatini Falls at the track's mid-point – with the final approach to

Twilight Glow

Sunset over Lake Mapourika

the falls leading through a 60-metre-long former railway tunnel – I can only assume that the closed section of track is the more scenic, since apart from the final hundred metres or so it was possibly the least-stimulating hike of the entire trip! Needless to say, the look of self-satisfaction on Linda's face upon hearing about this was almost more than I could bare...

But still, in the space of five days we'd managed to visit a pair of melting glaciers at one end of the road and a pair of soaring arches at the other (the former perhaps somewhat over-rated, the latter most certainly under-appreciated); been treated to our first stunning West Coast sunset and our first views of the country's highest peaks (both from the same low-key, black sand beach); encountered rivers ranging in colour from tea-brown to the most exquisite turquoise; and passed rugged headlands playing host to everything from pancake-layered rock stacks and wave-battered surge pools to beaches with waterfalls dropping onto them and colonies of lounging fur seals. And it hadn't actually rained all that much...

If it wasn't for those bloody sandflies, I might never have wanted to leave!

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