Spring, Definitely

A few days ago I made the trip with a couple of friends from Wanaka to Haast Beach, on the West coast of the South Island. The trip took us along Lake Hawea, which runs parallel to Lake Wanaka to our East, through the Haast Pass and along the Haast River to the coast. One of the things that made the trip so interesting was how quickly the climate changes once one leaves the very arid alpine area around Hawea and Wanaka and enters the narrow and very damp climate of the Haast Pass and Haast River. The change is immediate and very dramatic.

The Haast Pass is the lowest elevation crossing from the lakes region on the East side of the Aspiring Range, the Mount Aspiring National Park and the Southern Alps generally. The valleys are quite narrow, so the runoff of water from the high elevations and the way the weather comes in from the coast makes for a heavily forested and incredibly wet area. The drive over the pass is punctuated continuously by stunning waterfalls cascading through lush vegetation. The water retains the vivid aquamarine color of glacial runoff, however, so it's really quite striking. In places, such as the Gates of Haast, the runoff streams bear great likeness to the Pemigewasset River in New Hampshire, with its numerous falls, rapids and exposed rock. Having spent a winter in Wanaka and Treble Cone, walking through dense green forest of old-growth deciduous trees and enormous ferns provided a welcome change.

On the West side of the pass is Haast Village, basically a glorified rest area with some lodges in it. At first it seems odd as one would assume that it'd be the perfect place for vacation hideaways, with good fishing and such a great set of beaches nearby. The lack of development is explained in part by the sand flies, which apparently are so voracious that they often leave bite-lines along your swim trunks that look like sunburns.

Finally, there's Haast Beach. The grazing pastures run right up to the large dunes which are sprinkled with a wide variety of colorfully flowering plants. The beach is wide and long, with no development whatsoever. It's punctuated by a large amount of driftwood, evidence of the severity of the storms that hit the Tasman and the strength of the runoff from the Southern Alps. Needless to say, my friends performed a ritual baptismal in the frigid sea - one is from the East Coast of Scotland and is oddly in love with cold sea water, and the other is from Australia and is not to be outdone. I, being from New England, sat and watched, enjoying instead the sun and the warm sand between my toes.