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Flight to Fox

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When I decided to visit the glaciers that spill out of the west coast of New Zealands South Island, I found myself faced with the weighty decision of choosing. Not a claim that many countries can make, New Zealand boasts two beautiful and highly accessible flows. Unfortunately for many, choosing which glacier to explore is often left to where one can get a good booking or whom has better marketing. Franz Josef does have more hostels, hotels, and amenities but I would like to make a case for the Fox Glacier instead.

The most commonly heard reason for continuing south to Fox is less crowds on the glacier itself. Don\'t fret though, these things are big, so there\'s plenty of room on both. Another reason making the rumor circuit was the Franz Josef had the only available ice caves in summer, which I later found to be completely inaccurate. The best reason I found to visit Fox was the stunning views of mounts Tasman and Cook. The summits were clearly visible from the elevated portions of Fox, and her lateral moraines.

I came by coach. Inter-city and Kiwi Experience stop daily both north and south-bound, but I found ride-sharing to be very easy as well. I arrived on a Tuesday morning to a light drizzle. The weather had been dodgy for days, and would later play havoc with our schedule. As I passed through Franz Josef and crossed the lower mountains to Fox, I was greeted by an enchanting rainbow that spanned the entire valley. The colour was vibrant, unlike any bow I had seen before or since. I remember thinking how it would bode well for my trip. I foolishly forgot from what a rainbow is borne... RAIN!

Yes, the rain caused unforeseeable delays to our summit attempt, as the helicopters won\'t fly unless they have visual contact with the various landing sites. So, upon my arrival and check-in with Alpine Guides, I was placed in the holding pattern. The other climbers in the group were a day late, the weather was bad, and the pilots weren\'t going up the glacier. There was even a group farther up the glacier hiking out, because they couldn\'t get a clear landing site. So I headed back to Ivory Towers to settle in for the wait. The hostel was a great place to stay, and I would highly recommend them. Dale was wonderful, I met fantastic people in the communal kitchen, and they had many of the little amenities like videos, room heaters, made beds, and laundry service. The only negative was a broken spa, however that could very well be repaired by now.

I would forewarn travelers to a few key aspects in order to enjoy your stay. The township has no bank or ATM\'s. Some shops accept travelers checks, but this not guaranteed. Alpine Guides will perform a cash advance on VISA credit cards, but they incur a 5% service fee. An EFTPOS card will come in handy, but bring cash just in case. The food and bottle shops are able to charge a regional premium, so supplies are a bit dear. Save yourself some money and stock up in Hokitika or Greymouth, that\'s what the locals do. With a bit of preparation you will be ready to conquer the floe.

The next day I met the group I would accompany up the Glacier. Tony, a relaxed red headed kiwi would be our guide. Lolita, who joined the group at the last moment, hiked extensively in French Polynesia, and had been to the Himalayas. Di, an airline attendant from England was traveling with her mate Martin, both of whom had considerably better experience and equipment than me. That would not prove difficult to overcome though, Alpine Guides provided everything required to undertake the adventure. That they did, following another days delay due to weather.

Come Friday I awoke to a briskly cold morning. The night before my friends and I visited the near-by Lake Matheson. Boasted as the most photographed parkland in New Zealand, it is truly beautiful. I had gone to bed thoroughly discouraged however, believing the weather wouldn\'t break. It had been unfavorable for over two weeks. Yet my spirits soared as I peeked out the door leading out to our porch... blue skies! I spotted Di prepping some gear in the car park across the way. She grinned devilishly and exclaimed \'looks good, you ready?\'

I nodded emphatically as I ran to Alpine Guides visitor center. Tony was out getting supplies, but another guide confirmed that flights were indeed going up the glacier. I ran back to the towers, gathered up my gear, and hustled back to the lodge. Tony arrived shortly with assorted goodies for our excursion. Along with another guide whom would accompany us, they began to outfit us with the specialized gear we would require. It was then we met Jade, a guide from Alaska, who planned on joining us just for the day on our summit of Chancellor dome. He and his guide would return to the township that evening if they could get their helicopter pick-up. Our escorts loaded everything into a van, and we were off to the lower landing site.

I had never ridden in a helicopter before, and it was very exciting as they came in for a landing to pick us up. Very early you will hear them begin ferrying people up the glacier. If the morning air is clear, the valley between the each moraine resembles a military airlift zone. There is plenty of traffic going in and out, up and down. Our group was split in two, and we loaded into the cramped compartment. As soon as the belts were buckled and headsets donned we were off. Off the ground, that is! Climbing into the valley with the Fox just below us I felt as if my breath had been stolen away. What a sight to behold. Mother nature in her raw element, carving the land. People below us traversed the lower icefall, resembling ants in a giant sugar bowl.

We approached the Chancellor hut, a historic cabin in an alpine meadow above the glacier. Setting down on this precipice, we piled out and made our way to the hut. The D.O.C. maintains many throughout the region and accommodation arrangements can be made through information centers, booking agents and local guide organizations. We stowed our overnight gear, double checked our summit equipment, then set out on a winding path up into the heart of the firnfeld. Surrounded by blossoms of all types and colours, we stopped for spectacular pictures and breathtaking views. After a few hours of this and a short hike through stone and scree, we reached the snowline. We hiked up the snow fields, and along the ridge of chancellor dome. The snow and stone appeared interspersed as we neared the summit. Some of the deep running rock had been split by water freezing and expanding within the cracks. Tony dropped a small stone down one, and we heard it fall for what seemed like ages!

The final leg of our journey was a thin sliver of jagged shards that lined the edge of the ridge. After roping in one by one, we crossed the shale fringe to summit the cramped dome. The view was stunning and I stared awestruck of the view from 2000 metres. As I reached the narrow peak I was greeted by Buddhist prayer flags set there by Tony\'s mates to remember a fellow guide they lost in the Himalayas. Perhaps the grandeur of Mount Cook and Tasman were a fitting epitaph for one who must have loved the mountains that sadly embraced him forever. I took a moment to reflect on it, and the little Tony had told me. I then gathered my thoughts and began taking in the sweeping vistas, madly snapping photos like paparazzi in Hollywood. All to quickly it

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