It’s only my fourth day in New Zealand, and I’m rapidly falling in love with the country. Stray, www.straytravel.com, has already brought me from Picton, through Abel Tasman National Park and on to the Franz Josef Glacier. Just before leaving Australia to come to New Zealand, I convinced my friend Jolene to accompany me on the first leg of my trip, just a week before I was due to depart. The Franz Josef Glacier was one of the reasons it was so easy to convince her to come along. “You’re going to climb a glacier?” she said. “I want to climb a glacier!”
“So come,” I told her. And she did.
I know in my last article I said I like to be warm when I travel, in fact it’s the whole reason I’m doing the South Island first, before summer vanishes leaving colder weather in its place. Glaciers, being frozen, generally aren’t warm. On the other hand, the most important thing about traveling is to have new experiences and do things you never thought you’d do. Even though I’m Canadian and grew up in a ski resort in the Rockies, surrounded by snow, mountains and sub-zero temperatures, I’d never seen a glacier before, let alone step foot on one.
I’ve booked us onto the full day glacier experience, www.franzjosefglacier.com, and we wake early the next morning filled with both excitement and trepidation. Franz Josef Glacier Guides provides everything you need to successfully climb the glacier – from mittens and hats to socks and ice crampons. As the Kiwis say, “Too easy.”
After gearing up, we have a ten minute drive to the glacier viewpoint. From here, it’s an hour’s walk to the foot of the glacier. As I walk next to the gray river, stumbling over stones in my heavy boots, I eye the glacier with wonder. It’s sunny today and I can make out patches of blue ice higher up the glacier. It looks spectacular, but it also looks very far away. The glacier spills down a steep, narrow valley into the flat area where we are walking.
We’re broken up into groups of ten, and Jolene and I choose to be in Group One – the fittest group, the most adventurous group. This is the group that is ultimately planning to go the farthest. I have my doubts as to my level of fitness for ice tramping, but at the same time, I don’t want to miss out on anything.
As we walk, our guide, Jamie, fills us in on some important facts. A glacier is simply snow leftover from the previous winter that hasn’t melted away during the summer. A layer is added every year, and eventually, time and the glacier’s weight transform the layers of snow into glacial ice. But I’m not climbing just any glacier; the Franz Josef Glacier is special for many reasons.
As I walk and listen to Jamie, I concentrate on the mountains on either side of the glacier. They’re not your typical alpine mountains; they’re covered in rainforest. Waterfalls gush down the side of the mountains, and the free flowing water provides a remarkable contrast to the frozen mass that lies ahead. The Franz Josef Glacier descends to the very low level of 240 meters above sea level, where it meets the rainforest, making it unique. Most glaciers terminate above 2000 meters.
Additionally, this glacier receives an exceptionally large amount of snow, giving it one of the highest rates of ice turnover. Glaciers are constantly moving, and Franz Josef moves around 2.5 meters a day, ten times faster than most glaciers. This makes the Franz Josef Glacier the fastest flowing, as well as the steepest commercially guided glacier in the entire world.
Finally, we reach the bottom of the glacier and sit down to fit our crampons on to our boots. My first step on the ice is tentative, but the crampons are surprisingly sturdy and each step feels relatively solid. The first hour or so is definitely the hardest part of the whole trip. We start by climbing a nearly vertical staircase slashed into the side of the glacier. A cold, wet rope provides a way of hauling yourself up each stair, but it’s definitely hard work. Even though I’m standing on a glacier, I’m sweating as if I was standing next to a fire. The ice here is dirty; gray rocks obscure most of the white ice.
At one point, we hear a huge rumble, not unlike that of a low passing aircraft, but no one seems to be worried and I push it out of my mind. The angle of ascent eventually gives way and the going gets easier. The higher up we go, the cleaner the ice is and blue patches are visible near the tips of some ice peaks. We come to a huge crevasse spanned by a makeshift wooden bridge. If the ice below me wasn’t so brilliantly blue, I would be a lot more frightened. But the scenery has calmed me; even though my heart is pounding from the exertion, I feel incredibly relaxed. I’m positive I’m in the middle of the most beautiful place on Earth.
We come to a flat section and Jamie hands out ice picks. This is where the real exploring begins. Our group may end up where no person has stepped before. Because the glacier changes every day, there is no set path. We are true pioneers. “We may have to turn back sometimes,” Jamie says, “you never know where you can end up, and sometimes the way ahead is impassable.” My heart skips a beat.
For a while the walking is easy, we’re barely going uphill and I have plenty of time to take in the scenery. We’re walking on an open section of the glacier and I can see the mountains and waterfalls on either side of us. On the ground, small pools of bright blue water break up the white ice. Suddenly, Jamie takes a turn to the left, and we find ourselves surrounded by tall ice peaks. “We’ll try this way,” he says, and jumps over a tiny crevasse.
I’m first in line and it takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m meant to follow him over the gap in the ice. It’s no more than two feet in width, but it’s a long drop down. Jamie waits on the other side and takes my hand. “Don’t hesitate,” he advises, “just go for it”. Before I can think too hard about what I’m going to do, I take a leap and land on the other side with plenty of room to spare. Once we’re all safely across, we have to wait while Jamie goes up ahead to choose a way. He’s back after a few minutes and motions us to follow him.
Another gap lies ahead, but this time Jamie has to cut a place for us to land. We wait patiently on the other side as he hammers away with his ice pick, making a safe, flatter place for us to land. Again, I jump across the crevasse with no hesitation. The novelty of what I am doing and the desire to see more of our wondrous setting has erased any inhibitions I may have had about clambering over a moving mass of ice.
After a few minutes of walking through compact peaks of ice, Jamie is off again, but this time he’s gone for around ten minutes and we start to get nervous. Eventually he comes back with the news that the way he’s just come from is impassable, and heads off confidently in another direction. He hollers for us to follow, and when I see where he’s leading us, I’m sure he’s chosen the wrong way.
Jamie is squashed in between two walls of ice that slope downwards to form a V. His feet are shuffling along the bottom of the V and he is slowly making his way to the other side. When he arrives, he turns around and motions me to proceed. I’m at a loss as how to fit my feet, clad in huge boots and crampons, into such a small place. “It’s called Jammin,” Jamie explains as he demonstrates how to slide one foot into the crevasse until the ice meeting on both sides holds it in place. “Then you put your other foot behind and when that is stable, move your first foot forward. Don’t try to step or bring your back foot around; you have to keep the first foot in front the whole time, like shuffling.”
It seems simple enough, but when you’re stuck between two walls of ice, moving gracefully is not an option. My first foot wedges in between the ice walls easily enough; it’s once I have the second foot in place and go to move my first foot forward that I encounter problems. The walls of ice end near my armpits, but ice is slippery, and there is nothing to hold on to. My crampons have dug into the ice and trying to get my foot out is harder than wedging it in.
It takes what seems like forever to get to the other side, shuffling along inches at a time, pushing my elbows down to gain leverage. But when I finally make it and look back at where I’ve just come through, I’m filled with a sense of pride. I didn’t expect to get quite that intimate with the glacier, but I realize I’m enjoying myself more than I thought possible. The adventure level has definitely been raised!
By this time, we’ve been at it for around 4 hours, and we’re all tired and hungry. After another small expedition that takes us through more spectacular ice peaks and past small caves of blue ice, we come to a clearing overlooking the glacier.
I find a rock to sit on and dig into lunch. To my left is a lot of gray, exposed earth. The mountain towers over me as waterfalls cascade down its side. I look back out where we’ve just come from. Peaks of ice tinged with blue stand up like dollops of whipped cream on a cake. In the distance I can see the river running out through the widening valley, and more mountains and forest lie on the horizon. More people make their way up the glacier; they are so far off that they look like tiny dots. From here I can see how the glacier flows down the valley, following each curve and contour.
On the way back down, we encounter the most magnificent section of ice I have ever seen in my life. Ahead of me, I suddenly see Jamie disappearing into a mass of blue. As I pull myself up over a chunk of hard ice, I’m greeted with the sight of a blue tunnel. The perfectly clean, light blue ice has curled its way into a tunnel. It’s tall enough for us to walk through completely upright, with plenty of room to spare.
Although it’s easy to walk through as there are plenty of good footholds, I take my time. I am completely surrounded by blue ice. The sun shining in at the opposite end enhances the blue of the ice, giving new meaning to the term light at the end of the tunnel. Glacial ice is blue tinted due to the Rayleigh effect. Tiny air bubbles and particles suspended in the ice are responsible for scattering the light in various directions. Shorter wavelengths are affected more than longer wavelengths. Blue-violet light, which are short wavelengths, are refracted back first, making the ice appear blue.
Making our way back down the glacier is just as exciting as coming up. Everywhere I look, I see a new, impressive view. It’s hard to believe we’ve made our way up the portion of the glacier below us, spilling down into the valley. When I look up at the amount of glacier left unexplored, I am amazed by the magnitude of the ice that rises behind us.
A small stack of ice beckons to be climbed, and I use my ice pick to get to the top. Once there, I pose as if I’ve just conquered Everest. By this time, our water bottles are empty, and Jamie stops and fills them from a stream of clear water running down the glacier. Never has water tasted so good, nor will it ever be as refreshing. It’s as pure and cold as water can be. It’s delicious, and I fill my bottle and drink greedily several times.
Going down the steep stairs that started our adventure proves to be just as difficult as going up. Again, there can be no hesitation. You have to almost jump down each step; the firmer your step is, the deeper the crampons will dig in, ensuring you don’t fall.
As we near the bottom, huge clouds roll in from the top of the glacier. The sun breaks through in one section, highlighting the blue ice peaks. Where the sun doesn’t reach, the glacier looks dark and menacing. The result is both eerie and beautiful. When I reach the bottom and take off my crampons, my legs protest at each step. Walking on the ice uses different muscles, and I may have been a little tense, and I can feel it already. I feel wobbly as I try to walk without crampons on the rocky ground. As we come around to the bottom of the glacier, the cause of the earlier rumblings becomes apparent. A huge section of the bottom of the glacier has broken off and the river is littered with huge ice balls. Where they have broken off, the wall of ice is a deep, dark blue.
As we walk back to the bus, every muscle aches and I know it will be days before I walk normally. But it’s so easy to ignore the pain as I think back over the adventures of the day. My mind is filled with images of me jumping over ice crevasses, squeezing through walls of ice and lounging in a blue ice cave. It’s a day I will truly never forget, and I will look at snow and ice a lot differently from now on. Who knew that frozen snow could be so incredibly beautiful?
The first section of the glacier is definitely the steepest and the most difficult. For this reason, I’d recommend doing the full day hike. Half day and three quarter day tours are also available, but they turn around again not too long after completing the steep staircase. The fun part comes after this, when you’re exploring unknown parts of the glacier and stumbling upon blue ice. A reasonable level of fitness is required, but if you have the will, there’s always a way.
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