Great Drives: Racing the Sun for Ice

About The Route

Best time to Go: Weekdays from April to October

Places To Stop: Two magnificent glaciers at either end of the route, other than this, just enjoy the epic journey between the two.

Total Distance:  31 km

Route: Starting point is the Fox Glacier, 43°29′21″S 170°02′19″E, where highway 6 winds drivers north through thick lush rain forests, over a mountain range that separates the two glaciers, to finishing at the foot of Franz Josef Glacier, 43°26′13″S 170°10′32″E.

Road Type: Smooth narrow tarmac road.

Warnings: Highly traveled road in January and February with an onslaught of oncoming tour buses. Watch for suicidal Possums, epic rainfall and great masses of hungry sand fly's. (like mosquitoes, but twice as itchy)

Review:

For our last drive in New Zealand, we found ourselves rushing to the west coast of the south island to catch a glimpse of one of two large glaciers, the Fox Glacier or the Franz Josef Glacier just to the north. We spent a little more time than we had hoped on the run over the Southern Alps to get to the coast, so daylight hours were running thin.

With the sun low on the water, we pulled into the small village of Fox Glacier. A short run up the valley, and we came upon the open parking lot for the trailhead that leads to the glacier. To our dismay, the trail was blocked with a sign proclaiming, "trail closed by washout." A week before our arrival, the south island had taken an epic beating, as storm fronts hit the coast for nearly three straight weeks. The resulting run-off of rainwater flooded several valleys in the region, and in this case, destroyed the trail leading to the glacier. All I could see was a small out cropping several kilometre’s away. A snap decision, I chose to push for Franz Josef, hopeful we could get there before darkness.

Back into our trusty BaseJumper 2 Campervan, I shot back to the #6 and turned north, aiming straight for the mountainous range that was nestled between Fox and Franz Josef. Of course in New Zealand, if you see hills, the road is going to get good, and good it got; really good.

With the small village of Fox Glacier right up against the base of this range, we ran smack into steep winding roads right off the bat. Now most of the Great Drives have consisted of great mountain pass crossings with impressive altitude changes that are accounted in thousands of metres. This range however, was only an outcropping of the Alps, with peaks only 800-metres tall. The road itself only reached a maximum of 400-metres above sea level. That didn’t mater however, as the road rollercoastered between 300 and 400 metres three times, climbing and plunging into two river valleys mid range. The rugged nature of the terrain greeted me with an extravagant collection of tight narrow curves, that when matched to the undulations, created a magnificently challenging bit of road. It just kept hitting me with corner after corner of winding glory. It seemed like the steering wheel was in perpetual motion, never getting a break, along with my forearms.

However the cherry on top was the lushness of the Kiwi rain forest that crept right to the roadside. Doing its best to hide the rocky ridges and gorges under a canopy of deep green fern trees, Palm trees and moss; the rainforest provided a majestic atmosphere. Driving this road was like going on a hike up into the coastal BC mountains with the Nurburgring acting as the trail. Despite wheeling around a big campervan with pots and cutlery rattling around in the back, I was in driving bliss. One day I will have to return to this road, armed with something much smaller and sportier.

Unfortunately, I did not get to properly soak in the joys of driving this road, as I was on a mission, and the sun was now creeping level with ocean, as I soon found out as I rounded a couple sharp hairpins, breaking out onto the flood plain of the Franz Josef. Wheeling right at the park turnoff, I rush up an equally impressive park road lining the river leading to the glacier. With tourists filing out of the hiking trails leading to the glacier, we throw the big campervan into a parking spot, grab our camping headlights and leap from the van in a sprint into the forest, like the touristy fools we were, eager for a close up glimpse of the Franz Josef.

With the sun down and only just enough light to see the gleaming blue and white ice of the Franz Josef, we arrived to the lookout-point exhausted and sweaty. However, for the five minutes we had to take in the beauty of the glacier before all went black, the sight was well worth the battle I fought against the sun and this magnificent road. The glacier and the road connecting it to its sister Fox Glacier proved an epic experience in an already impressive part of the world.

Great Drives: Possum's Last Run

About The Route

Best time to Go: Weekdays from February to December

Places To Stop: Great scenic viewpoints found at 2.8 km, 9.3 km, and 10.9 km. At 10.9 km is the passes peak with a plaque documenting the history of the road and area, followed by the village of Cardrona at 25.1 km as well as the Possum Bourne Memorial located 7.5 km from Crown Range road.

Total Distance:  39 km  

Altitude: 1121 m

Route: Starting point is the village of Arrow Junction, 44°58'55 S - 168°51'17 E, where highway 6 junctions with Crown Range Rd. Crown Range Rd. winds drivers north-east, over lush green mountain tundra, finishing at the ski resort of Snow Park, 44°52'45 S - 169° 4'9 E.

Road Type: Rough tarmac road

Warnings: Highway will get snowfall in New Zealand’s winter months of July and August Watch for suicidal Possums, biting birds and epic rainfall.

Review

To say that New Zealand has a car culture would easily be an understatement. Along with the Ford and Holden faithful who proudly adorn team jackets every time they take to the road in their Falcons and Monaro’s, one can predictable catch sight of highly modified Mitsubishi’s and Subaru’s at just about every traffic signal. The land of the Kiwi bird is also home to such racing legends as F1 Champion, Bruce McLaren, motorcycle land-speed record holder, Burt Munro, and WRC driver Possum Bourne.

Now you may be thinking, who would name their kid Possum? Well Mr. and Mrs. Bourne had no hand in the name their son would become well known for throughout the world. Like most teenage boys in New Zealand, young Bourne dreamt of becoming a racing driver. At the age of fourteen, he stole his mom’s car late one night, and went out street racing with friends. Streaking along one of New Zealand gloriously twisty roads, a possum had waddled out into his racing line. Now in New Zealand, running over possums is a national past time, a sport if you will, however the young Mr. Bourne swerved last minute to miss the doomed rodent, careening off the road and promptly turning mommies car into a ball. Ever since, New Zealand’s most famous rally driver has gone by one name – Possum.

Possum would go on to win several Kiwi, Aussie and Asia-Pacific Rally championships, driving along side greats like the late Colin McRae, Carlos Sainz and Kenneth Ericsson on Subaru’s World Rally Team. While competing at the “Race to the Sky” hillclimb in 2003, Possums life was snatched away when driving a recce run of the course. Another competitor was coming down and the two collided on a blind corner.

While touring in New Zealand last year, I had decided to make a pilgrimage to the memorial of the Possum, situated on the corner where he died. While just about every road in New Zealand is worthy of a Great Road write-up, the road leading from Queenstown to the memorial was particularly special, combining New Zealand’s highest mountain pass with majestic scenery and a glorious charge up the hill climb that was used for the historic race.

Now usually for these great drives I have the privilege of driving something sporty and exotic such as a Porsche Boxster, BMW Z4, or Mitsubishi Evo. However, on this instance I would be driving something a little different. The best way to tour through New Zealand is at the wheel of a campervan. However, I didn’t want some traffic slowing mobile hotel room on wheels. Instead after much research I went with the BaseJumper 2 from Wilderness Motorhomes. Not only did the BaseJumper 2 provide us with a queen size bed, full kitchen and bathroom, it did it all in a compact Fiat Ducato van with a very competent 3.0L diesel engine. The BaseJumper proved the best of both worlds offering luxurious accommodations and performance capabilities that held up no car.

From Queenstown, we head east on highway 6 towards the village of Arrow Junction where our journey begins. Just a kilometer out of Arrow Junction is the turnoff to Crown Range road, and it did not take long to find the good stuff as a magnificent hairpin complex challenges drivers right off the bat. These were not tight and narrow Alp type hairpins, but an open series of bends and hairpins that can be tackled in without downshifting to first. Once on top of the initial ridge, the road begins to traverse up the mountainside towards an early summit, providing a wonderfully winding road through challenging corners with an excellent view a deep vineyard covered valley that is the heart of the Central Otago wine region.

Up the lush grass covered mountain tundra we pulled off at the peak, for a look around, admiring the incredible views of the valley below and rocky peaks above as well as a quick read of a plaque, describing the history of the regions agricultural past and transportation challenges due to the mountainous terrain. Today however the main industry is tourism, as our next destination, the village of Cardrona is home to one of New Zealand’s most popular alpine resorts.

Off the peak, we plummeted down into a deep chasm that widened out into the Cardrona Valley, an impressive sight with high mountain ranges seem to lean overtop of a lush green valley without a tree to be seen. As we came through during the off-season, the small village of Cardrona was all but a ghost town, with only a small café open to offer a quick Flat White coffee to refresh the mind before challenging the race to the clouds.

However, there are two ski resorts in area, both with roads that exit Crown Range road just after Cardrona, one going up the east range, the other up the west. Trouble was, I wasn’t sure which mountain was home to the memorial, as there is little in the way of signage. So, on a hunch, I went left up the west range, and charged up what was a truly magnificent gravel road. The road was so great, with challenging corners and massive drop offs, there was not doubt this was the right way. Sliding my way higher and higher, up past the cloud level and into the ski resort itself, there was still not sight of the memorial when I was set straight by a resort employee telling me, “Nah mate, Possum’s ova on the otha side of the valley.”

All the better, another run down would be just as fun, and from the excellent view across the valley, the proper road up the east range looked just as salivating. The trip down opened my eyes to the steepness of the road. The distinct smell of burning brakes filled the air as I lean the big camper van into hairpins of doom, brake drifting to stay on the road. Across the highway we diverted, heading up towards Snow Park Ski resort, the new gravel road while looking similar from afar, was actually a much higher speed road, making the onslaught of high-speed corners all the more challenging. At least I had my brakes back though.

Another charge up the mountain, I could feel the racer in me urge to get out, as I began to left foot brake the van into hard banked corners, there was most certainly a sense of motorsports and speed in the air on the stretch of rally heaven. While popping my eye’s up off the road at select points to search for the memorial, my attention was snatched away on a very fast double apex open hairpin, the eye’s of Possum looking down on me as the sound of dishes and cutlery clattered behind me as I wheeled the BaseJumper 2 around the tragic corner. Perched high on a rock cropping, a statue looked over the valley, with a kind grin on his face. There is no pullout until the road cuts back, where visitors can hike down to the memorial. The Bourne family found the perfect place for the statue, as Possums figure has almost perfect vision of the entire course with the beauty of the valley filling in the entire background. Here’s to you Possum.

A Sunny Sunday Drive in the Sunny

I was told to expect deep fall weather in late April on the north island of the Kiwi bird. However, all week its been near 30-degrees during the day, and I haven't seen a cloud since landing at Auckland International. I should have known since my new temporary home, Havelock North in Hawks Bay, is New Zealand's wine country. “Everything under the sun,” is the local visitors guide title. To a self-confessed hot weather grouch, I was here to prolong the dismally warm Canadian winter.

For three weeks, the Tauroa Farm would be my home, working as a farm hand few hours a each day in return for a bed to sleep and three meals to keep me going. Sunday was my day off, and as per the early waking hours on the workday, I was up at the break of dawn. A cold fog filled the valleys of North Havelock that morning, a perfect time to get out do some exploring, while the weather was cold. Jumping in my ten year-old rental car, a Nissan Sunny with wonky steering, bald tires, a broken front sway-bar and other curious noises of concern, I decided to explore the local Pacific beaches.

While the beaches were my destination, it would be the roads that turned out to be my entertainment for the day. The beautiful thing about New Zealand is the lack of freeways. Instead you have country lanes that been designated highways and are given a 100 kmh speed limit, everywhere. So no mater how winding or narrow the road gets, its still 100 kmh, with a couple lower speed recommendations for the tighter corners. This allows one to explore the limits of their car on a scenic country road.

Leaving Havelock North, I turn onto Waimarama road, heading south to my first destination, Ocean Beach. The tree-lined road gently winds through beautiful vineyard lands. With the steep grass and rock cliffs of the Craggy Mountain range towering over my right hand side, and fields of grape vines on my left, its a serene start to my day as the landscape slowly exposes itself to me through the light fog. Crossing over the Tuki Tuki River, I know have another mountain range standing between me and the sands of Ocean Beach.

The serenity of the vineyards fell as I began to climb out of the valleys fog and into the mountain pass. The road begins to undulate, and hug the increasingly rugged terrain, throwing the car from one blind corner, to another. Whatever mornings sleep that sill lingered in my eyes was quickly washed away with the red mist setting in. The road entices you to attack it, and attack it I did. Only a few short kilometers long, the drive to the cliffs above Ocean Beach, and the Pacific Ocean was short but sweet. My reward was a tranquil, breezy cliff over looking the long sand beach of the Ocean Beach village, followed by the expanse of a turquoise shaded Pacific. It was a view I could have taken in all day, however the draw on unexplored territory, and great roads to travel, pulled me away.

Making my way back, my excitement grew, as I now know the road, and began to lean the sagging and worn Sunny. By now the sun was intense in the sky, but with the window rolled down allowing in a cool ocean breeze, it was turning out to be a perfect sunny Sunday drive in my little Sunny.

Back to the base of the mountain range, this time a turn left, and head further south; destination, Waimarama beach. The Ocean beech road while a delight to drive, was still restrained with the constant metal-on-metal complaining coming from the front end of the Sunny. The road to Waimarama however, would see no such mercy on my part.

Long country straights handled easily at the posted 100 kmh limit, launch into a deadly series of hairpins climbing up and over the range once again, massive drop-offs lurking at the edge of the tarmac. The more aggressive nature of this pass had me pushing the poor tired little Sunny to its limits in the name of staying near the posted speed. Soon the front tires began to scream in pain as they struggled to grip the road surface, the car wallowing around madly with no sense of control underneath it. The wondrously entertaining road crested the hills, and the great expanse of blue could be seen once again. Tumbling down a series of tight hairpins towards the sea, tires lifted in the air as the chassis struggles to survive the onslaught of cambered corners, the chaos finally comes to an end in the sleepy town of Waimarama. The poor Sunny’s coolant, brakes and tires can now cool themselves in the ocean breeze as I drive the car out onto the sandy beech. As the car ticks and cracks away, I too can cool down on this breezy sunny beech, next to tractors laying in wait for incoming boaters, content that I have made the most of my day off with the little Sunny.