In a lifestyle of constantly chasing the unknown, returning to a familiar place is comforting, especially if it’s a place we like. We returned to Christchurch with big smiles, it felt a little like being home.

When we’d left here a month earlier, we’d told ourselves that we would return, so here we are. Much more savvy on van life and getting around New Zealand, we found a spot to sleep then parked in a free car park the next day to head into the city. Returning to our beloved Therapy Coffee was made even better when the owner recognised us and greeted us with wonderful warmth. For a few days we ‘indulged’ in some city living, with a big supermarket, coffee shops and the like.

We also got in some climbing in the Port Hills, a rocky ridge overlooking the city, and tried to make the most of some beautiful weather while we spent a few days camped on a busy but very pleasant beach. It wasn’t quite the golden sand and crystal skies of Queensland in Australia, but it was wonderful nonetheless.

Having stayed maybe a day longer than we ought to have, we set off. We were heading to the West Coast, a wild place where mountains, glaciers and the sea collide in incredible natural beauty. The weather there is notoriously temperamental, which had caused us to delay our trip there by a few days and stay in sunnier areas. To get there we would cross over Arthur’s Pass, one of few places where you can cross the mountainous spine of the South Island between East and West.

We crossed the plains around Christchurch and began to ascend into the mountains. Before we crossed Arthur’s Pass, we were to spend some time in the area of Castle Hill. This is a giant glacier carved valley on the outskirts of the Southern Alps, where the forces of the glacier have left some fascinating rock formations. These make for good touristing, and even better climbing.

Specifically, Castle Hill is internationally known for bouldering, a form of climbing where you do short routes, tough powerful climbing, over padded mats and without ropes. Bouldering attracts quite a different crowd to roped climbing, and we aren’t cool enough to be in that crowd. I like to know that if I fall off, a rope is going to catch me and stop me hitting the ground, rather than a 2 inch thick piece of foam. Nevertheless, ‘when in Rome…’

Castle Hill is a striking rocky outcrop, definitely a hill rather than a mountain, but around it is a basin containing thousands of boulders, ranging in size from a bed to a small tower block, worn into strange and smooth shapes by the passing glacier. Without a mat we had a go at some bouldering, staying low to the ground. We weren’t great, but enjoyed the bouldering style of just playing on the rock, seeing what you can do.

This of course attracted the attention of the non-climbing tourists wandering around the basin, but just they had a look then moved on.

When we finished, we headed off to a nearby lake to camp. We had a grand plan for the next day!

We were to drive up to Arthur’s Pass and do a mountain route, the traverse of Mount Bealey to Avalanche Peak. This was to be a beautiful route ascending a quiet peak, crossing the ‘razor ridge’ to a middle peak, then a walk along a broad ridge with spectacular views to join the bulk of walkers at Avalanche Peak where we would descent the scenic route. We were psyched for it.

The alarm went off at 6am but as I got up, I felt a lot of pain in my back. I’ve been plagued by a lingering back issue which had seemed to get better months ago but got worse again in Australia, and today was a bad day. Not the best day for a big committing route, so we decided against it. We thought that we would have time to return here in a week or so….we did and we’ll come to that later!

Instead we decided to head back down into Castle Basin for a little adventure Ness had read about. Driving down the valley in the golden morning sun, we enjoyed the beauty of the mottled light on the rolling terrain.

We parked up, changed into some suitable clothes then followed signs and a track down to a river in the steep little valley of Cave Stream. We waded into the river, just ankle deep here, and followed it along and into the wide mouth of a cave.

We turned our headtorches on as we entered the cave, and the stream became deeper, until we were waist deep in freezing water. We’d chosen to ignore the signs and the advice of a well meaning chap in the car park, which had said to wear multiple layers, hats, and to ‘not underestimate it’. In my walking trousers and t-shirt I suddenly felt icily cold. Thankfully the water was soon just knee deep and the air not so cold, so we were pleased with our decision.

We waded on through beautifully crafted tunnels deep in the hillside, the only light coming from our torches.

Occasionally we would reach short waterfalls where we had to climb up a narrow channel, battling against water rushing the other way.

The route concluded at a much bigger waterfall, where steel rungs up the rock wall to one side took us around the cascade. In by far the most sketchy part of the entire experience, you then had to crawl through a narrow space just above the waterfall, a chain serving as your hope of not slipping sideways, perilously down the waterfall.

We emerged into a beautiful day, taking our soggy selves back to the car park where we could dry off in the sun.

We continued up the valley to Arthur’s Pass, a village which wouldn’t be of note were it not the site where East meets West. It is a major crossing route for the South Island which is so beautifully (or inconveiently) divided down the middle by the Southern Alps mountain range. The village sits so close to the mountains around that you can barely see them, just steep slopes rising up either side into the clouds above.

We settled into the campsite, careful to secure everything from the infamous Kea, literally an Alpine Parrot, allegedly the most intelligent bird in the world. Kea are known for being very clever in how they forage, and unafraid of removing car parts, clothes or anything else you may leave on the outside of your car. This doesn’t generally bode well for windscreen wipers, not something you can easily lock up inside, but thankfully ours survived.

We walked to one of the two shops in the village, which serve as shop, cafe, restaurant and petrol station all in one. Obligatory coffee fix satisfied, we left the village on a short walk to the Devil’s Punchbowl Waterfalls. It is interesting that humans have such an innate draw to waterfalls, everywhere we go they serve as tourist highlights, and consequently we have seen a lot. We weaved up the Riverside track and over bridges until we reached the falls.

Water tumbled over the huge cliffs, surrounded by thick jungle, as always it was mesmerising to watch, especially in the natural amphitheatre if this small mountain cirque.

The next day we set off into Westland, our first venture into this wild, even more ‘natural’ part of New Zealand. We first visited Hokitika Gorge, where glacial meltwater flows through a gorge enclosed by steep cliffs. It is famed for its bright turquoise waters, but unfortunately being there on a cloudy day it was just cloudy water, but a beautiful scene nonetheless.

Our destination that day was the village of Franz Joseph Glacier, which predictably sits underneath a glacier. This glacier grinds down the valley from Mount Cook high above us. We had already seen the continent’s highest mountain from the other side, and it was strange to know that we were so close to where we’d been, yet in some ways so far across the mountain range.

We were in the town for a particular reason, but hadn’t anticipated it being such a beautiful little village in itself, rich with classy bars and coffee shops, set in the most beautiful of landscapes. For the first day though, it was hard to relax and appreciate this.

We were here to do a skydive, a first for both of us. We had both wanted to do one since long before we met each other, but had never gotten around to it. In planning our travels we had decided to do one in Australia or New Zealand, and Ness had done a lot of research on where to do it. She had decided on Franz Joseph, a place where the sea meets the highest mountains in Australasia, the best of everything offered by the various skydives.

We waited patiently in a coffee shop for our midday slot, but were told that it had been delayed to 1pm. As we drank our cappuccinos we saw the clouds begin to blanket the sky above. It should have been beautiful weather, and having chosen this place due to the views, we were feeling pretty gutted. As our time approached we took a punt by going into the office and asking to move our jump to tomorrow, the forecast being perfect. Skydive Franz was great and enthusiastic about us changing. We were given a slot first thing the next morning, so could get on with our day.

We picked up a map of local walks to decide which one to do, and thought the easiest thing was just to run them all, that way we wouldn’t miss any of it. We ran up the valley towards the glacier, which of course had retreated a very long way over recent decades. Sadly high water levels stopped us from continuing to the foot of the glacier itself, but we enjoyed views of it hanging in the valley ahead.

We continued round through forests and around lakes, enjoying the beauty of the environment.

We returned to our campsite, a proper nice paid campsite which was very exciting and luxurious….a few days of hot showers in a row! We often meet cool people on our travels, and we were fortunate to be surrounded by some really cool people here. Across from us were Mia and Nora, two lovely German girls on their gap year who we’d seen next to us in the campsite in Arthur’s Pass. Beside us were two more German gap year travellers Alexa and Julian, who we found ourselves next to a few days in a row. We are always impressed that these guys have the confidence and know-how to travel this far, buy a van and explore the world at that age…. We were far too clueless at that stage in our lives.

Also across from us was a Dutch couple Amber and Jense, closer to our age and also doing a big trip, though they were working while traveling in this part of the world. They were a really cool couple and we loved getting to know them in Franz and also when we arranged to catch them up later in in our trip.

One thing so cool about meeting these awesome people is hearing about their experience of travelling, often in similar places to us but doing different things, or going places we have yet to go. Following them on Instagram and seeing what they get up to as all of our travels continue is fascinating and inspiring.

We were up sharply to be ready for our skydive. We were minibussed out to the airfield…. A little strip which just a couple of companies run out of. On our way we met Lydia and Maddy, two English girls on their gap years who would be jumping with us. We all shared each other’s nerves and excitement. Ness enjoys the nerves of the build up to something, and feels that she hasn’t made the most of an activity if she didn’t feel nervous for it; while I prefer to not think about it and just do it when it happens. Ness had been keen to talk and build the nerves in the run up, whereas I had wanted to ignore it until it was happening.

It was happening….we were about to jump out of a plane from 16,500ft. We had no rational concerns, neither of us had any worry that it might be unsafe, but nonetheless were nervous for that moment of jumping out and the initial plummet downwards.

Ness has done a bungee jump, while I have done a bridge swing, so we have both experienced brief moments of free fall towards the ground, and the fear of stepping from safety to a drop.

We were kitted up pretty casually, and introduced to the person we’d be strapped to. Our only instruction was that when we jump ‘be like a bannana’ until given a tap to relax. It was remarkably simple, almost confusingly so.

The plane landed from the last skydivers, and we got on board. I was the tallest, so was to sit on the floor, so was the last in. Ness and I exchanged a little kiss and got in the plane.

We circled higher and higher over the dramatic landscape. We thought that this was a pretty good deal really, people pay a lot of money for scenic flights in this area….we get a scenic flight followed by a sharp drop!

As we climbed we watched the sea disappear away, and the mountains drop down to us then eventually below us. We looked down on Mount Cook, and across it could see Lake Pukaki, where we had spent several nights at the beginning of our NZ trip. As we got higher we donned oxygen masks in the thin air.

Then the moment came, a sign from the pilot and our instructors readied. As we had climbed, our instructors had clipped us to their chests, so the door was immediately pulled open. A strange experience being so high, so exposed, without being fastened to the aircraft.

This was the moment I think we’d all feared…. Being in the door and having to jump out. Thankfully it doesn’t work that way.

As the door opened I was told to hang my legs out which I did. Then, without hesitation or any input from me, we were gone.

Ness – I was sat back from the door, fourth and last to jump. I sat there and watched Ben casually thrown out of a plane….while I had no concerns, it just seemed wrong…a really unnatural thing to watch.

It was exhilarating, entering free fall with the world around. After about 12 seconds, and having fallen from 16,500ft to 15,000ft, we had reached terminal velocity of about 200km/h or 120mph. For the next 50 seconds or so we were in a strange equilibrium of not accelerating, just plummeting towards the earth. The resounding experience was of it actually all seeming quite fine. It was really cool, but not crazy or scary, just cool.

The view was just incredible….seeing the spectacular mountains racing towards us, going from being so high above them to below them in such quick time.

I was given a warning, then the sad moment of the parachute opening. Then the world all calmed down a bit. It was at this point that I realised I’d either hyperventilated or forgotten to breath, either one as a result of a 200km/h wind being in my face, and was feeling lightheaded and weird. I’d hoped that the parachute glide would be a really lovely experience, but unfortunately I was just feeling out of sorts, lightheaded and tingly, which then brought in some mild motion sickness when we did some spins.

We came onto an approach to the ground, and I saw that mind-blowingly, the aircraft had beaten us down.

The landing was also very uneventful, to the great credit of the skill of my instructor, it was a very smooth bum-slide. He had me quickly unclipped and I sat on a bench to watch Ness land.

We had a big hug and exchanged grins. Ness hadn’t had the same oxygen issues as me so thoroughly loved it. It wasn’t long until we were on the bus back to town with Lydia and Maddy, who were also grinning ear to ear.

It was an amazing thing to do, and if I had the money then I would definitely look to do a course to become a licensed skydiver, but my resounding feeling was that it is cooler and more exciting in concept than in reality. The experience seemed oddly normal. This isn’t a bad thing, and I can see that the freedom of it is amazing, but was surprised that it wasn’t as exhilarating as I’d expected.

It turned out that this was one of the best days of the year for skydiving, and after bad weather the days before the skydive company was on catch up, so the instructors ended up doing about 20 jumps each…incredible! A few other people we’d met would jump the same day, it was fun to chat to everyone as they returned.

In the afternoon we took a drive to Lake Matheson, near Fox Glacier. Whilst naturally beautiful, this lake would be fairly unremarkable were it not for its location. It is seated under and in front of the Mount Cook range, in such a way that when the water is still it provides a perfect and beautiful reflection of the mountains above it. This has become one of New Zealand’s most iconic images, and rightly so. We enjoyed a walk around the lake and took in the panorama it offered. We were fortunate that it was a fairly still day, so we got some nice reflections, though invariably not the perfect image that visitors seek.

We bid farewell to the friends we’d made in Franz Joseph, and began heading North. We’d intended to make a fairly rapid trip North to Abel Tasman national park, but as you’re about to read, we got somewhat sidetracked.

One highlight I’d waited for when we came to this area was to go to two photography galleries. New Zealand’s best two landscape photographers have galleries within 30 minutes of each other in Westland. We first went to see the work of Andris Apse, then to see Petr Hlavacek. Both were beautiful galleries set in annexes to their gorgeous homes. Their photography styles were slightly different which was a great experience for me, as these charismatic gents were very happy to talk to me about how they created their work. We enjoyed some wonderful work and I learned a lot. Click on their names above to see their online galleries.

We continued to Greymouth where we spent a night in a cool beachside spot, only slightly disturbed by the ever present young Germans playing loud techno music.

Whilst in Franz Joseph we had decided to not go back to Arthur’s Pass, we’d done lots of mountain days and should get on with our trip. That was all well and good until we were driving past the road which leads back to Arthur’s Pass, when I got a huge twang of longing and sadness that our mountain days in NZ would be over. Sitting in Greymouth we decided to go back and do it.

We were up at 6am the next day, driving the hour or so up to Arthur’s Pass. We set off from the car park in beautiful weather, excited for a great day ahead…but things weren’t quite right from the start. Just over a year ago I suffered a herniated disc in my back, and it hasn’t recovered very well (my own fault…a combination of my work and my hobbies). While it is normally sore by the end of the day, my back was hurting from the start. As we started climbing up it was getting rapidly worse, I had to stop to rest it and take painkillers for the first time in many months. Having gained only 400m of the 1200m of height we would climb through the day, I was really suffering. Being stupid, I clearly didn’t say anything, I was craving the joy of being on the summit then the movement of traversing the ‘razor ridge’ between the different mountains above.

Ness however was aware of what was going on…she stopped me and told me to have a word with myself. This walk should be easy, we should be cruising up here yet I was struggling a lot, and once the climb was done we were to be going into some pretty serious terrain, where a slip would have very high consequences. I also knew that the more pain I was in, the worse I was making my back in the long run. The solution is obvious, of course we should turn around…no big deal right!? After a lot of hesitation, this is what we did, but my eyes filled with tears as we descended, my physical failure robbing us of the joy of the summit and climb. Knowing that this would be our last route of this type in NZ made it more hurtful – harder and more upsetting to accept the reality of my own weakness and fragility.

As we returned to the car park inI was in a lot of pain, normally my back only hurts in the climb and not the descent, but this really hurt. Proof that the decision to turn around had been the right one, just too late if anything, yet it was still upsetting.

Over a coffee in the local cafe, Ness pulled me out of my wallowing and we came up with a plan B for the day. We drove back down to the West coast, taking a scenic route then stopping at the Coal Creek Falls.

We continued North to Motukiekie Beach. This is a part of the Greymouth to Charleston coastline, where incredible towering rock formations rise from the fine sand and crystal waters.

We had dinner, swam then walked amongst the rocks at sunset.

We returned to Greymouth for the night, to avoid the sandflies (like mini, less aggressive mosquitoes) and to make use of the great facilities in the free camps there.

The next day we again planned to get North to Abel Tasman, but again got distracted. As we drove North we passed the Pancake Rocks, where stacks of remarkable layered limestone rise out of the sea, waves crashing through and around them.

This was the day before Valentines Day, and as we were grabbing a coffee I saw that a little shop sold sheep pillows. Ness is a big fan of sheep, she feels that they are her soulmates, so I got her a sheep pillow. When I gave this to her the next day, she didn’t have a gift in return. I thought that it had been a rare case of me succeeding for Valentine’s and her forgetting, it would be a couple of days before I’d receive her ‘present’. You’ll read about it in the next blog!

While driving North we saw in our guidebook that there were some beautiful creek bed valleys heading inland from the coast every few miles. There were walks we could do up them, but we also spotted that there was some climbing. We figured that if we climbed then we’d enjoy the scenery and the climbing, so set off up Bullock Creek.

We wound up this gravel road, and spent quite a while driving up and down then wandering around dried river beds trying to find the right cliff, but eventually we did. We had a great climbing session on this cool layered limestone, our climbing grade slowly getting closer to what it was before travelling.

Our route out was far simpler, and we had the company of some soggy walkers we’d picked up who’d been tramping through streams and would now have had a tedious walk along the road ahead.

So… finally time to head up to Abel Tasman….we could make it there for dinner.

As we continued up this spectacular section of coast, we were drawn to a particular section of beach called Fox River Beach. I pulled over, apologised to Ness, then ran down to jump in the sea.

We sat on the beach enjoying the beauty of the place, but thinking that swimming in the sea is always tedious as the saltwater leaves you sticky. I figured that, given the name of the beach, there should be a river ouet just up the beach. I walked there, found a deep wide river, and had a freshwater wash. This took me closer to the rock formations and caves, so I swam across the river and spent an hour wandering in the warm evening sun around these pillars of rock, on warm soft sand. I returned to Ness and Kenji where we had dinner before setting off back to the rocks for sunset.

We swam across the river again, which was getting much lower as the tide retreated (thankfully for the camera on my back), and enjoyed this stunning place as the sky turned yellow.

I noticed that there were people gathering back across the river, clearly hoping for photos of where I was standing. Deciding not to spoil their pictures, we went back to join them.

As the sun turned orange and then dipped below the sky, they all left. It was a shame for them, as this was when the scenery really lit up with striking blues, yellows, oranges and reds. I spent another hour walking around, taking it all in.

As the tide had retreated, it left saturated sand, forming stunning reflection of the wonderous sky above.

Finally as I returned to Kenji, and to Ness who was hiding from the sand flies, I waded back out into the perfectly still water, where a sky which looked more like a work of art than real life was reflected in the mirror-like sea.

Feeling humbled and deeply satisfied, we got back into Kenji and at long last set off for Abel Tasman.

We arrived in the area around midnight, no doubt annoying other campers there. The drive had given us time to reflect upon how much we’d loved Westland, this amazing place of rugged landscapes and beautiful nature… Landscapes we’d walked through and plummeted towards. It had been one of our highlights and we’d been reluctant to leave, but everyone had said that Abel Tasman national park was truly beautiful and was worth allowing plenty of time. In our next post you’ll read whether we agreed!

If you’ve enjoyed reading this then try checking out our other posts about New Zealand here.