New Zealand: Mother Nature's most beautiful offspring

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After a few days I thought I may become somewhat jaded with New Zealand; another mountain range framed by evergreen and deciduous trees and seemingly everlasting lakes containing crystal clear water as blue as the postcards always depict. But I was wrong, very wrong. You can never become bored of the postcard perfect scenery New Zealand offers. Even on cloudy days, the mountains and throngs of grey-white clouds compete for most imposing natural feature and their stand-off creates atmospheric scenes that leave you in awe of what of earth is really all about.

I began my trip in Christchurch. Flying over the snowy alps I could not contain my excitement. I gazed at the masses of rock that seemed to be dusted in icing sugar through a tiny window at the back of the plane; it was everything I expected and more. My first few days in Christchurch involved planning. I had decided to come to New Zealand earlier than planned and a rather messy few weeks in Sydney had meant organisation and a route of any kind was lacking. I had just done my usual act of turning up at an airport desperate to get another stamp in my passport and feel the lusty sensation of travelling somewhere new again. Christchurch is a quintessential mix of New Zealand and England. Victorian and Tudor-inspired architecture and cathedrals are present and the buildings are all low and small. If Christchurch were personified it would be a sweet little old lady that runs a sweet shop in rural England. It also offered Kiwi life; on the Saturday night we stumbled across a free reggae and dub concert at Dux Le Lux. A sizeable stage had been erected and everyone rhythmically nodded away wearing hoodies and huge grins.

I took the Tranzalpine train to Greymouth. A four and a half hour journey that winds through the mountains, through Arthur's pass and past spectacular scenes of kush green forests and bounding blue rivers. It's known as one of the best train journeys in the world and as the majority of my previous train journeys have been between Yorkshire and the Midlands on the world's worst train: the Midlands Mainline service to Norwich, I definitely appreciated it. Greymouth is a small town. Like most in New Zealand, but here the children had that small-town glint in their eye that worryingly indicated they may snap at any moment and go crazy. Greymouth lies on the West Coast of the South Island and the walks to the sea to see the monumental waves crash against the waves are amazing. That's about all to do though. Unless you stay Global Village Hostel, in which case you bask in the wonder that is one of the best hostels in the world. It's beautifully decorated in an African theme with meticulous attention to detail, spotless bathrooms and a kitchen so clean and well-equipped I wanted to embrace it passionately. I refrained, however, and just cooked a mince and veggie concoction instead (I'm possibly anemic at the moment). The hostel also has a hot spa and sauna, and most importantly a fire in the living room. I spent two nights here as it was so lovely and went walking each day. I was heading to Franz Josef next, but was in no rush. On one of my walks I was approached by a guy sporting a scary 1980s-esque mullet/shaved head curly hair affair. At first I couldn't tell if he was kiwi or Australian, then it occurred to me if a man just randomly starts talking to you referring to you as 'Lady' he's Australian and is probably hoping to have sex with you. Anyway, we walked to the sea together and it turns out Ryan is a glacier guide at Franz Josef and tells me all about the glacier and the hiking. He suggests a full day hike to see more. I didn't turn up later to meet him to go to the cinema, the fire in the living-room was far more inviting.

We arrived at Franz Josef the next day. It's a tiny cluster of accommodation, shops and cafes to serve the glacier visitors. Looking up the road you can see the glacier, a slice of white in-between towering mountain ranges and rainforest. It is one of four glaciers that exist in sub-tropical climates, 2 more are also in New Zealand and the fourth in Chile. I went for a walk through the rainforest that afternoon. The air is dewy and fresh. The next day I awake early for the 8 hour hike. A couple and a girl also travelling on the Magic Bus are also on the hike and we cluster together deciding to go for the middle-speed group. The hike first goes through the rainforest, then follows a river and we clamber over rocks to the bottom of the glacier. Here the crampons are attached to the bottom of our boots: the Franz Josef look is now complete. Up on the glacier is like being in another world. The masses of blue ice glitter in the sun and we trek through corridors of ice and peer down caverns of ice into freezing cold pools deep below. It is an immense place and even more so when you realise it changes form every day, all day. The guides cut out steps as we hike. After four hours nature calls and I wander hesitantly over to Carlos, our Columbian guide, as we stop for lunch: 'Carlos, what do we do when we need a wee?' 'Can you hold it?' 'Um, till 5? NO.'. He wander to a steeper part of ice and then beckons me over, pointing to a little crevice. I don't think he understands the concept of squatting and the space and privacy it requires: 'I'll hold it'. Despite the overwhelming need to piss, the hike was still fantastic and no slipping was involved thankfully.

The next morning the bus left for Queenstown....and another chapter Becky's trampings through New Zealand begins....

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