gathers no moss: west coast nz

No stories of narrowly averted disaster in this one, just scenery.

The snow hasn't arrived to the South Island yet, although conditions have become a little more promising in the last few days. I suspect the ski mountain will be open by next weekend. I will enjoy getting back to work because I love the job. I have intermittent feelings of guilt since I've been traveling for almost two months, seeing so many amazing places. But I try to shelve those feelings, and I'm getting much better at it.

Since the company doesn't have work for me yet, I decided to get out of town. I hung around in my little village of Methven for a few days, but when you're not working, there isn't that much to do. So I fueled the car I hired for the winter and sped off to tour around.

This car is a 1996 Toyota Corolla, and it gets 35-40mpg from its 1.3 liter motor. That's all it has going for it. The stereo is broken and the seat won't go back, so my legs are at an awkwardly splayed angle to work the pedals. It's slower than molasses and lunatic Kiwi drivers can't wait to pass me. And they are indeed lunatics. For such a peaceful, well-behaved society, when these people get on the road it's a free-for-all. The roads are often pretty scary too, which adds to the ambiance.

I drove across the island to the west side and then down to Franz Josef, where there are some big glaciers that extend almost to the sea. The climate is much different than the dry plains of Canterbury. It's a temperate rain forest here and the jungle looks like it would swallow you and eat you if you walked ten feet in.

Today I left there and came down to Wanaka, where I am staying at a hostel. The drive over the main divide back inland was really something else. I had to stop thirty times to take photos. I almost swerved off the road numerous times because the scenery is so jaw-dropping. I don't think there is an unattractive corner of this entire island, except perhaps some alley behind a tavern in Invercargill.

These mountains are a different breed than what I'm used to. The landscape is in such a rapid pace of flux, geologically speaking, that things get pushed up and eroded seemingly overnight. Apparently, without the incessant ferocious wind and rain and ice, the Southern alps would be 30,000 feet tall. The highest, Mt Cook, is currently about 11,000 feet and rising. The mountains are maybe 30 miles inland from sea level and rise almost vertically.

Not to try to sound like John Muir, but I was thinking about the contrast from the Colorado Rockies, my stomping ground for the last few years. The mountains there are big and wide and old and grandfatherly. They have majesty. They say "come here, come sit on my flanks, and we'll gaze out across the vast open spaces together." The Southern Alps of New Zealand are far more severe and jagged and brutal. They say "You looking at me, you little gnat? I would very much enjoy kicking your a**."

Tomorrow I'm going to go for a hike and try to salvage what I can from the lack of daylight around here. It's only light for about nine hours a day at the moment. One more night in Wanaka and then south to Te Anau maybe.

looking seaward from Fox Glacier