The West Coast (Feb 19-20th)

The weather forecast for the 19th had been dismal, but the sun shone as Franca and I loaded up the car, so we remained hopeful. We gave a ride to two 19 year-old Dutch gap-year travelers whom we'd met the previous night. They made us feel old, but they were utterly adorable, so we forgave them their youth. We dropped them at a roadside store in Richmond, from where they intended to hitch a ride to their next destination along an alternate route from ours. We wished them well and used the stop as an excuse to visit the nearby berry farm we'd found earlier in the week for another homemade ice cream cone.

Franca slept most of the two-hour inland journey while I attempted to rock out to NZ radio. I say attempted because the reception was intermittent at best and even when a song came on, it was usually the Cranberries, Roxette, that horrendous 90's novelty hit "How Bizarre," or something equally crappy. (Not to say that the Cranberries are crappy, but I hadn't heard them in about 10 years, and I found myself puzzled by their ubiquity on the Kiwi airwaves.) So instead, I mostly amused myself by admiring the scenery.





Franca awoke shortly before we arrived in Wesport, essentially the northernmost town of the West Coast. The town itself hardly merited a stop, but nearby, we found a gorgeous lookout at the egregiously misnamed Cape Foulwind.


We stopped and had lunch, watching the local surfers make their way out into the blue.


We returned the car and had a brief delay while Franca located the maps. This happened frequently throughout our trip. Franca constantly misplaced whichever map we needed at the time, and I was always losing the plastic cover for my memory card reader. Understand, this was not a big car. And yet, there you have it.

Anyway, we got back on the road, and never in my life have I found a drive so rewarding. We made dismally slow time because we felt compelled to pull over ever 20 kilometers or so to take in the view of the ruggedly beautiful coastline.


Every turn seemed to reveal yet another magnificent swathe of shore. Each bluff cried out to be photographed. Renting a car had proven worth every penny.


Toward the end of the day, we came to the Pancake Rocks, a group of stony towers resembling uneven stacks of crepes, piled high. Sadly, we had missed high tide, when the incoming waves spurt up through the spaces between the columns in an apparently spectacular display, but our timing made for many fewer tourists and a picturesque view in any case. Our stay was brief, however, as the sandflies-- who showed a particular affinity for Franca-- soon sent us packing


As the sun began to set, we headed for the home of our CouchSurfing host, just south of Greymouth, halfway down the coast. We nearly lost our way, due to my lack of trust in the directions, but as we turned onto the right road, our new trip maxim proved true once again: when it comes to directions, Franca's always right.

Once we had made it through Cheryl's jungle-like driveway, she greeted us warmly and welcomed us into her charming house-cum-artist's studio. Her limited water and power came only from a well and solar panels, and she didn't have a fridge, so we kept our perishables in the car where they would stay cold over night, washed the dishes in a vat filled with boiled water, and after watching the sunset, chatted into the evening by candlelight.


The next morning, we got our fruit and yoghurt out of the car, made breakfast, and got back on the road, but not before I had made a complete spectacle of myself, chasing Cheryl's adorable pet ducks all over her yard.


We stopped an hour and a half down the road at Hokitika, the center of NZ's famous jade trade. Franca and I each found something for ourselves, and she bought several pieces for friends back home. I also found a beautiful necklace featuring a Maori carving signifying strength and perseverance; I bought it as a birthday present for my sister Stacey.

We spent nearly three hours in Hokitika, most of it admittedly buying groceries, getting gas, and using the internet, but we also stopped by the jade factory, where I found myself more interested in the local artwork on display than by the carving process.


I can't imagine what I found so fascinating.


The road to our next stop eventually took us inland, and for a short while, through more monotonous terrain. Fortunately, we had the ridiculously detailed Kiwi road signs to amuse us. We found this one particularly apt in my case.


Soon enough, however, we once again needed little other than the view outside our windows to hold our attention.


Less than half an hour had passed, and an entirely different landscape was laid out before us. New Zealand certainly was living up to its reputation of featuring stunning examples of every possible sort of terrain. We took it all in and moved on to the next: Franz Josef Glacier.

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Location:The West Coast, New Zealand