riverECHO

After a week of beautiful, yet cold, weather we decided to head up Fox Creek Canyon to explore a “tourist cave” and hike further along the Inland Pack Track that we had started from the opposite end the weekend before. The cave is located a little over an hour from the road and has been a tourist attraction since the early 1900s. It used to have a gate that blocked off the entrance to the cave so that you had to hire and pay a guide to enter. It’s no longer that regulated, but it definitely shows the signs of some good usage. It’s easily navigable for 200 meters and just high enough that you can stand up and walk normally through the entire thing, dodging tons of stalactites and stalagmites the entire way. We didn’t see a soul on the trail until we started to enter the cave and a young woman, who also happened to be a geology major, came up behind us. We all agreed that we were much happier to meet before entering the cave than meeting suddenly inside it.

As we left the cave our new friend turned right to head back to the trailhead and we turned left to continue on up the trail. The trail was mostly shaded because it ran along the north side of the canyon and being the shortest day of the year in the southern hemisphere, our luck for seeing the sun in the deep canyon was pretty slim. Frost was stuck to everything and although it was a crystal clear day it seemed to be raining under the forest canopy as the frost melted. A number of sections crossed dry river beds, but the rocks were covered with a solid centimeter of frost made some maneuvers very slippery. Our first official obstacle was a shallow but very wide river crossing. Being the very prepared trampers that we are, we took off our shoes and socks and walked across bare footed! Our feet quickly cramped up so we moved as quickly as possible, even though the rocks seemed to get sharper the further across we got. As I put on my shoes on the opposite side I noticed a small pool of frozen river water . . . I could actually pick up a chunk of ice. We continued on up the canyon until we reached a junction with Dilemma Creek. Despite the rainforest and limestone rock, Dilemma Creek reminded me of cayoneering in the Southwest. Its walls were slightly rounded out and the only way to continue on was basically through the river bed . . . brrrr. Our other option was to cross Fox Creek another handful of times before reaching a campsite called the ballroom, which apparently is covered by a huge overhanging rock. I’m sure it’s pretty cool, but we wouldn’t know. As we slip n’ slided our way over the frosty rocks to the river’s edge we decided our hands were already full enough with the river we had to cross on the way back. We let winter claim its victory, enjoyed the views up each scenic and narrow canyon for a few minutes, and then turned back down the canyon. Good decision ‘cause I’m pretty sure the water was colder the second time we crossed it.

Today we made a run to the big city of Greymouth to stock up on groceries and get BJ’s bike fixed (he apparently blew out the bearings in the rear cassette making his bike not very useful when going anything but downhill). While his bike was in the shop, BJ and I drove out to the little town of Blackball to hike a portion of the Croesus Track, which connects Blackball back out to the coast. We made it a little ways in before turning back at a swing bridge that was under repair and decided we weren’t really up for another river crossing. We headed back down to Blackball and rewarded ourselves for our very rigorous day with a beer at the Blackball Hilton, a historic hotel, restaurant and bar. We were the only two patrons and the bartender, chef and assistant all joined us as we basked in the sun and drank our beer on the front porch. It felt very “west coast” and the bartender shared a bit of the mining history of the town with us while we sat. Although it used to be a booming mining town of 1200, it is now only home to about 350 and mines coal for the sole purpose of shipping it straight to Belgium. Before we left town we were instructed to buy the best salami in New Zealand from the local butcher, but he had already closed up shop for the day at 2pm, and to check out the community center, which apparently is the most haunted house on the South Island. It wasn’t open either so we walked around the grounds unsuccessfully looking for ghosts instead.