TRAVEL TALES | NEW ZEALAND

Cooling Off in the Turquoise Blue and Crystal Clear Glacier-Fed River

After another breathtaking hike in the Southern Alps

I’m lying here in the shade of some giant beech trees listening to the chirping of a few quirky tomtits, native birds to the area, in the bushes while the river in the creek below is roaring loud. With only sounds of nature surrounding me, I am at peace.

Waking up to these exact sounds, we began to get active in the tent preparing breakfast once the sun appeared behind the mountains warming the air in the valley.

It was just before 10 am when we left the camp. As David wished we only took a day pack with us walking up the valley and returning later in the afternoon to our camp again.

While I would have preferred to break camp, load the bags, and camp higher in the valley the second night, I know too well that relationships like ours only last that long because both parties are making sacrifices and compromises along the way.

This one was mine.

Entering the lush native forest right after the campground of Aspiring Hut, we followed the sound of the nearby creek until a swing bridge was leading across. This is one way to identify more popular hiking routes in New Zealand. Through bridges leading across creeks and roaring mountain rivers or the lack thereof.

The trail came out of the forest onto an opening leading across a meadow before re-entering the woods. This allowed us to stop and look at the surrounding slopes.

And what did we see?

Waterfalls.

Everywhere.

In the creeks of the mountain to our right, just below the glacier on our left across all the cliffs and on the barren slopes far behind. Water was shooting down everywhere.

We soon entered the forest again to cross more creeks over bridges and admire the diversity of the lush vegetation. I identified at least five different types of moss next to even more ferns and smaller ground-covering plants.

The trees I don’t even try to identify. I don’t know much about the native vegetation growing in these mountains but they are said to be beech forests. But what I don’t know, I compensate through research.

When European explorers settled in the country, they named the native vegetation after similar-looking species in the northern hemisphere. This is how beech trees became their names.

“New Zealand has two main types of native forest: conifer–broadleaf forest (including kauri forest) and beech forest. Most conifer–broadleaf forest grows at low altitudes, so has been logged and cleared for farming. Beech forest usually grows in hilly or mountainous areas, so has been left.” — Teara.govt.nz

The Southern hemisphere beech trees are distinct from their northern neighbors and were named therefore into false beech eventually. The term southern beech refers to species growing South of the Equator.

Almost half of the country’s remaining native woodlands is pure beech forest. While only in 40% of native forests on the North Island beech trees can be found, in more than 80% of the native woodlands on the South Island beech trees are established.

"New Zealand has four beech species and one subspecies. All are evergreen, broadleaf trees. Most New Zealand trees and shrubs are pollinated by insects or birds, or have their seeds dispersed by birds, but beech’s dry, nut-like seeds are spread by the wind." — Teara.govt.nz

Reaching Pearl Flats, we looked upon the meandering Matukituki River in the flat valley after shooting out of a narrow gorge. The glacier hovering above the lush forest on our left took our breath away even though not much of it was left.

And so many more waterfalls. One in particular pulled in our attention as it splashed down the cliffs kicking spray up into the air.

Other hikers were passing us while we kept on stopping to take in the beauty surrounding us. I wondered if they also saw all those falls, snowfields and glaciers. Did they see the birds hopping from one branch to another in the forest and watch the geese landing on the river?

I guess not.

But I am not judging. Everyone has their own. This is just the reason why we move slower than most others. We turn the journey into our destination not only in a literal way. It doesn’t matter to us how far we get or when we turn around.

“Life is a journey, not a destination.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

We lived and embraced every meter on the trail.

And just as I was lost in my thoughts, a deep growling sound was echoing through the valley. Both of us raised our eyes toward the glacier on our left and still watched the end of a big piece of ice breaking off.

An avalanche.

We stood there gaping toward the mountains in awe and somewhat fear as well. When you hear and see an avalanche coming off a mountain you feel the power of Mother Earth. And you feel small all of a sudden.

The avalanche happened high up and far enough from us not to worry about our safety but I could still feel my heart rate increasing.

As we stood there, we observed the snow-covered mountain peaks a bit closer and could see cold winds blowing snow off the tops. The white snow in the air appeared as a cloud but was nothing less than a dusting of snow brushed off the cliffs.

The trail led us down toward the riverbed of the Matukituki but the water had washed off many parts and we ended up hugging the edge of the forest as close as we could to avoid those wash-outs.

Reaching the narrow piece of the valley, the trail took us back into the forest where countless birds were chirping and a light but intense sound of the woods was dampening our footsteps.

We stopped talking and just listened. The forest, our thoughts and whatever else we could hear.

Stopping now and then, I put my head as far back as I could and gazed upon the forest canopy. The sun was shining through in between branches covered in small beech leaves.

And then all of a sudden a small gap in the trees opened up giving me a window of a thousand views. It literally took my breath away. The turquoise blue river came around the bend in front of a lush green pasture with the snow-covered peaks of the Southern Alps in the background.

What a slice of paradise.

Taking a bit longer to move on from this spot, I pointed at the pool forming in the water telling David this could be a potential lunch spot for us but since we weren't tired yet, we continued the trail in excitement of what was ahead.

We re-entered the forest and climbed up the hill on the other side for a bit before scrambling across boulders in a now thick and dense forest. Flies began to swarm us, so we applied more repellent.

I wanted to push through this piece of forest and see how it looked at the end of the valley but we were moving slowly across the obstacles and I could see David's motivation was low. I looked at him asking if he wanted to head further and despite my curiosity, we agreed to turn around.

We had only backtracked a few of our steps when we all of a sudden froze in position as a loud cracking filled the forest. I turned my head and still saw how one of the giant trees was going down the hill before impacting the forest floor with a bang.

We looked at each other not saying a word. I guess we were lucky. Such a tree couldn't just take us down but the trail ahead as well. Fortunately, this happened behind us and didn't affect us directly except for leaving a shock on our minds.

We crossed the bridge once again and reached the junction where two trails were leading up the mountains on both sides toward huts above the tree line.

Sitting down on a log by the water, we noticed today's lunch spot wouldn't be so secluded but that wouldn't stop us from going for a dip in the ice-cold but crystal-clear river.

There was a deep hole perfect for a dive right where we were standing, it just took some courage to convince oneself to dive into the cold. I quickly ran out again but once I was warming up from the rays of sunshine tickling my skin, I said it wasn't that bad and went back into the river.

Such a refreshing feeling when the cold water washes over your body.

We stayed for a while. Sitting on the old log, we dried in the sun and ate our lunch while watching people cross the river above and below us.

There was a bridge to get across but it was one kilometer further up and most people took the shortcut as the river wasn’t that deep and not dangerous.

At one point a girl arrived storming toward shore not looking up and down to scout out the best crossing as most others did and simply walked through. With her boots on.

How stupid was that, we thought as she had three more hours of hiking in wet boots up the mountain ahead of her if she wanted to reach the hut. Also, just as she crossed the river, an older woman, possibly her mother, arrived. They certainly must have had a fallout the way the girl stormed ahead.

The mother inspected the river, then took her shoes off and slowly entered the water but got stuck about halfway. The girl then returned, walked back into the river and gave the mother her hand to take one step further before leaving her again.

Carrying a heavy backpack while crossing such a river is not easy and shouldn’t be underestimated. We have done it once but held onto each other for extra stability and safety.

Either way, the mom didn’t move and the girl had to return once more to help her to shore. Why all the rush? She might as well have helped her from the beginning as it would not have taken any longer than it did now.

Plus, it was still early in the afternoon and they had plenty of daylight left to reach the cabin. We both felt bad for the mother as we watched them race into the forest.

Having the right partner, and one who doesn’t just understand you but will care for and support you in difficult situations as well, is necessary to succeed out here in the wilderness.

Of course, we have our discrepancies as well and aren’t always happily smiling but we would never leave the other person alone on a tricky part of the trail.

And we talk to fix disagreements.

Either way, we found it very entertaining sitting at this junction watching people cross and pass us from all directions while a few ducks were swimming in the river unimpressed by everything happening around them.

Reaching our camp again, I took my sarong and lay down in the shade of some beech trees. The moss below made up for a soft bed and I could write up these lines while listening to the birds in the trees.

Read here about day one of our hiking adventure in case you missed it:

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