Franz Josef Glacier

After Hokitika Jasson and I drove down to a town that revolves entirely around the nearby Franz Josef Glacier and the accompanying tourism opportunities. So much so that the town is simply named "Franz Josef Glacier." There's not much there except a dozen hotels and hostels, a few restaurants, a gift shop and tour companies.

Sarah, our new friend from the hostel at Hokitika, happened to be staying in Franz Josef too so she came along for the ride, and together we hiked to the edge of the glacier.

The day was very, very hot - perhaps the hottest we had encountered in New Zealand so far. And the hike went straight through the middle of a rocky valley - the path the glacier had left behind years ago.

We felt like we were being toasted in a toaster oven. I started fantasizing about how I would open up a seasonal ice cream shop along the path called "Glacier Ice." The signature flavor would be "Meltwater Mint." I'm still working on the additional flavors. There would be air conditioned seating and a shady patio. I would make so much money.

This is as close as we were allowed to get to the glacier:

Yep. That's it. Chur bro.

The only way to actually get on the glacier itself is to pay a few hundred dollars for a helicopter ride and guided tour. Otherwise, you're stuck looking at it from yards away.

There were other hikes in the area that we wanted to walk on, but being fried under the New Zealand sun for over an hour had dried up all our energy juices. We went back to our hostel and Jasson and I took a nap.

Our hostel was a very large one with a huge kitchen. People from all over the world were staying there. Jasson and I were in a 5-bed room, and one of our roommates kept snoring all. Night. Long. It was this kind of choke-snore where it would slowly get louder, louder, LOUDER until he choked and coughed. Then he would be quiet for a few moments until he began again. Snore, snore, snore, SNORE, SNORE CHOKE COUGH COUGH COUGH. I tried to sleep for several hours until I finally took my pillow and blankets downstairs into the tv room. I slept on a surprisingly comfy couch, basking in the blessed, blessed silence.

The next day Jasson and I upgraded to a private room. Totally worth the extra $20.

In the morning we drove out to the Whataroa River, where we did more whitewater rafting. First we got a short ride in a helicopter, which took us up river.

We suited up, inflated the raft and went through the usual safety drill.

Our guide reminded me of a blonde Jack Sparrow with a very strong kiwi accent. He didn't bother to learn our names; the men were just "bro" and he kept calling me "love."

There was an Irishman and some other Kiwis on our trip, as well as a guy who claimed to be descended from Maori royalty. We set off on our class 3-4 rapids.

At one point Jack Sparrow told us to "take a dip of the river, ay." I thought that he meant to jump in and swim, but to my surprise he scooped up a handful of river water in his hand and drank it.

"Is that safe?" I asked.

"Of course love! This is New Zealand, not California!" he said. So I scooped up some water and drank it, and behold: it tasted like the purest, freshest water I've ever had. And I did not get sick. Captain Sparrow had us sample a few other areas of the river, which he claimed had different flavors.

It was a beautiful ride.