Glacier Extinction In New Zealand

In the German news you only ever hear that the New Zealand glaciers are some of the few glaciers in the world that are still growing. This is generally true, but only rarely. We arrive in Franz Josef late in the evening and check into the YHA. We have booked a full-day trip on the Fox Glacier for the next day.

Early in the morning we take the bus to the glacier break. You can’t see the Fox Glacier. Within a year, the glacier has retreated a whole 400 metres around the corner. I don’t dare ask how much it has retreated since my last visit five years ago. The first thing the guide jokes about is that he will soon need a new job.

Back then, the only way up to the glacier was via a steep climb up the flanking cliffs. Today, we climb this path again. First up, and then just as far down again. Only now do we see the remains of Fox Glacier. The lower end is still a good stone’s throw wide. The upper edge is 50 metres lower. On the few remnants of ice there are massive rocks that have fallen from the flanks, right up to the icefall that was once high on the glacier.

The many hikers crowd onto less and less ice. Spikes are hardly necessary because of all the rock. Again and again we wait in long queues. The big white and blue one comes before the icefall, but only a few minutes of the four hours on the glacier. This was the first time we had really wasted money on a trip, $165 for leftover ice and the realisation that only good news is good news after all.

Fox Glacier wasn’t quite as badly hit as Franz Josef Glacier. There, the icefall that was once quite high up is now the glacier break at the bottom. As its almost vertical flanks cannot be climbed, the guides at Franz Josef Glacier can only offer glacier tours by helicopter, at prices starting at $300 – which has understandably caused sales to plummet.

We leave the New Zealand Alps the next day with a sinking feeling. Even at the most beautiful end of the world, the world is under threat. The journey takes us over 370 kilometres of country road to the northernmost point of the west coast in Karamea. My back yodels at every pothole. Whilst kitesurfing on Lake Wanaka, I obviously turned the board a little too sharply towards the camera during a jump – and pinched a nerve in the process.

It’s not until late afternoon that we arrive at the endless white sandy beach of Karamea. Signs warn of strong currents, and my back is just as broken as the wind. We spend the night on a very remote farm. The farmer is just as nice as the hammock beds. That and the 320 kilometres to Abel Tasman National Park the next day make for a forced break.