Caves & Other Distractions 18-30 April

I have been working pretty steadily for the last couple months so that I would be able to have the time to take a 1.5 week road trip with a visiting friend to Golden Bay and the top of the West Coast. While I had been to many of the places we visited before, this was a new opportunity to experience them in a new way, seeing things in more detail and staying at some really amazing places I had always wanted to. Expectations were high as I had been looking forward to this trip since late January.

After allowing Sara to have the first day as a jetlag recovery day, we got right to it the second day, donning wetsuits for a tiki tour of the northern half of the world's longest sea cave. She bravely slid through the Perfect Squeeze and we headed on to the amazing underground Totara Beach. Despite the cold we hung out until the tide would not allow, and then swam along the now surging coastline to a place where we could escape up the cliffs. We then packed and groceried to leave the next day on our road trip up to the annual caver Easter weekend meet-up at Patarau (with plenty of stops along the way).


Totara Beach

We made the long drive to Lewis Pass via a hour detour into and out of Christchurch. We ran out of daylight and changed plans to camp near Sylvia Flat hot spring. I had a nice romantic candlelit soak alone under the stars until joined by a burly local hunter. We had a leisurely morning (Sara and I, not the hunter!), with a daylight soak in the springs in spite of the frenetic sandflies. After a great lunch stop sitting on Maruia Falls, we drove on to Flora Saddle where a completely packed parking lot reminded me it was a holiday weekend and my plans to stay at Upper Gridiron might not be realized. We packed and set off anyway, Sara comfortable with the fact we would have to hike in the dark if the shelters were full. The pleasant stroll to Gridiron was as nice as I had remembered it five years ago and we made good time. The upper rock shelter was occupied so we stayed at the lower rock shelter, which despite being colder and more primitive, certainly has more charm and conjures up childhood joys of treehouses and forts. While the plush Salisbury Hut was probably overcrowded with people, we had a great night and morning looking out from our peaceful balcony on to the forest and creek below to the sounds of birds and creek. It was great to finally spend a night here; I am so happy it remains unchanged in the last five years and is still a relative secret.




Lower Gridiron Rock Shelter. Fire/kitchen at left, Sara at master bedroom/platform, fresh spring water immediately below.

Due to time we hiked back the way we came and made the long drive through Golden Bay, around the Whanganui Inlet to the paddocked coastal karst of Patarau. I had a new appreciation for the lush scenery and intricately winding road as I distractedly drove around the Inlet. When we arrived at the coast it was obvious the sunset would be enveloped in thick clouds on the horizon, so instead I talked Sara into a throughtrip of Baby Grand Cave from the large and cruisy Grand entrance to the wet and sporty Baby entrance. We found a choice camp spot on a slight slope (later determined to be a wise choice) in the Sandhills Creek paddock. That Friday night it rained (and rained) and more or less did not stop raining until we left on Monday. As the weekend went on some of the other tents became kiddy pools, but ours remained mostly dry. Saturday morning I made a few rounds around camp, catching up with cavers I had not seen in months. The weather was not particularly motivating so it was pretty much a camp day with higher hopes for better weather on Easter Sunday. The highlight was sitting in Leo's homemade hot tub under an umbrella as the rain poured down.



Sunday the weather was similarly miserable but Sara and I tried to make the best of it. We crossed the flooded Sandhills Creek near its mouth and had a wander along the rocky coastline to the south, leapfrogging between overhanging rocks during gaps in the rain. We then slacklined in the rain, which I discovered was significantly easier with an umbrella in hand. In the afternoon at high tide we ran around a few rocky headlands between waves and walked as far as the small arch. We waited out the rain under an enormous overhang nearby.






Photo by Sara


Curious kids and a sackful of eels



In the evening I managed to convince Sara to go for a late night trip to Echo Valley Palace. The road was still partially flooded and we saw a few large eels wriggling around the shallow pools. I navigated through the foggy darkness by GPS and memory, finding the cave without too much trouble. It's a very short but photogenic cave, and we had no trouble losing track of time while exploring its wonders.





On Monday we said our goodbyes (after having tea with a parrot) and headed back around the Whanganui Inlet. We sneaked in a quick climb at Payne's Ford, and some laundry and dinner in Takaka, before ultimately ending the day at the caver's hut on Takaka Hill (my home away from home).


Whanganui Inlet

The following day we got an early start and drove to Totaranui in Abel Tasman National Park. Here high seas and strong winds deterred my original plans, but we decided to attempt to bush bash to a secluded unnamed 100m long beach. The going was surprisingly good following a faint deer trail until we got to the sea cliffs. We could see the beach enticing us from below, but the route down was not obvious. We began clinging to trees and roots down the steep slope before ultimately traversing into a small dry drainage which led us to our beach. On a beautiful sunny day with calm seas this would be a pretty magical place. Again we made the best of the weather by watching the dark skies and turbulent seas from the comfort of my hammock as the tide slowly came in. Periodically wind would pick up chunks of sea foam and swirl them up into the sky in dramatic fashion. It was a really special place- I must explore Abel Tasman for more hidden gems another time.




So close yet so far...


Hammock at left







Next up we drove out to Karamea at the top of the West Coast, catching a beautiful sunset on the way (above two photos). Sara and I then had a great trip through Honeycomb Hill Cave (accessible by permit only). We went around the tourist loop and then through the gate past the Bee's Knees, Hives Canyon, D Canyon and to the G Entrance before exiting at the river via the Gradungula Passage. Here we ran into a DOC ranger counting blue ducks and cruised down the river with him to the Honeycomb Arch. As we sat and ate lunch, Sara spotted a pair of blue ducks flying through the arch. Although lighting was non-ideal for photography, we stopped to appreciate the arch for quite some time. It is certainly the most photogenic arch in New Zealand. In my opinion Honeycomb Hill is also one of the most spectacular caves in New Zealand. The Oparara and Heaphy Rivers remain one of my favorite regions of New Zealand, and I hope to return for more exploration someday.












Note small figure on ledge in distant center

I drove down the coast, all too aware that the trip was beginning to come to its end. We spent a night in well-earned luxury near Charleston before descending Tiropahi Canyon (described in a separate post). The last night we camped at a special little spot I discovered near Punakaiki but had yet to stay at- an old sea cave (now completely dry) with a stunning skylight and ample overhangs with hanging fern gardens and peacefully dripping water. It was a fitting end to an amazing trip.






The last night's camp

Thanks to Sara- I can't tell you what an amazing time I had.

Kaipo Fieldwork 7-10 April

For the most recent bout of fieldwork I set my sights on the Kaipo Valley, a seldom-visited valley north of Milford Sound. Despite enormous slips with copious outcrop, the last visit by geologists was in 1998 and before that in the 80s. Descriptions of the geology were few and varied so we did not know what to expect. The flight in (via a 50 year old Cessna) was nice and bouncy due to strong winds which had our stomachs dropping and the look on the pilot's face told us we might be turning around. Once out of Milford Sound, the winds were not so bad and we followed the fault straight to the Kaipo Valley. To drop altitude the pilot flew further up the valley where it narrows. I got a fantastic 3 second view of the mile-high Kaipo Wall, before a full sideways turn the width of the valley set us on a flight path for the swampy airstrip.

Still having a half day of pristine weather, we set up a carefully selected camp and headed out into the field in search of the Alpine Fault. Examining rocks in the creek bed, I realized a good portion of the rocks were wholly new to me- a frequent frustration in this complex field area of mine. In particular, the igneous and metamorphic textures were some of the most spectacular I have seen anywhere in New Zealand. I satisfied myself with taking pictures rather than comprehending their full significance. Luckily the outcrops along the fault tie into the fieldwork I did in the Hollyford reasonably well, so I had some confidence in the geology we were looking at. We ended the day right at sunset. In the evening we met the hunters staying in the Kaipo Hut. A good, friendly sort, we probably would not have to worry about being shot.


Welcome to the Kaipo Valley


Kaipo Camp





Day 2 we continued up the creek following the Alpine Fault, spending time taking more detailed observations and samples. My field assistants did a great job gardening, and were able to expose several useful outcrops. This creek, although steep and slippery, made for easy travel compared to a lot of the creeks in my field area. I collected some samples of some rainbow-colored gouge that will hopefully yield useful friction results. It was another glorious day for fieldwork.


Proud gardeners


Rainbow sherbet fault gouge



Day 3 I awoke to frozen boots and a thin film of frost on everything in sight. Despite brain-numbing temperatures, we marched across the foggy bog towards the Kaipo River, in hindsight taking probably the most horrible route possible. We then headed up the Kaipo in search of the enigmatic Pembroke Fault, an apparently major fault about which little is known. My feet warmed up from near-hypothermic to normal just in time to cross some small creeks and begin the process again. Above the river flats the Kaipo is a rather steep and uncrossable river dominated by rapids, deep pools and large boulders. We fortuitously found a 15m long log perched perfectly across the river- exciting, novel and much safer than the alternative. We had lunch at the best spot on the river (complete with blue duck cruising past) before descending into the dark, dreary and heavily-vegetated creek where we hoped to find outcrops of the Pembroke Fault. This was grim and we turned around with not much to show for our effort. Some creeks just do not have outcrop and this was one of them. We got back slightly earlier than previous days but it is still amazing how long it can take to go a few kilometers in terrain like this!




The miraculous Kaipo log bridge


5 star lunch spot, 1 star geology

The last half day was spent examining the rocks in the main Kaipo Slip to compare to previous descriptions and to tie it to the observations we made in the creek nearby. What an impressive slip! It is really about 20 slips making up one giant amphitheater almost a kilometer wide. We spent several productive hours in awe of the complexity of the geology. It gave me much to think about. Shaun picked us up a bit early and whisked us off on a spectacular scenic flight back to Milford via the head of the John O'Groats, the Transit and Lake Ronald.

In the end I feel like I have a much better understanding of the geology in northern Fiordland and a whole new view of this part of the Alpine Fault. Hopefully the samples will yield similarly interesting results.




Miss Kaipo Valley


Alpine Fault in the John O'Groats



Thanks to Shaun Ferris of Fly Fiordland for getting us in and out and showing us a good time along the way. Thanks to National Geographic for funding. Huge thanks to my great field assistants Marco and Zoe.

Fiordland Caving Expedition 26 Feb-6 Mar

Caves in Fiordland. The last great unknown in New Zealand's last great unknown.

A year ago I got sidetracked while talking to GNS geologists about my field area, and we got on the topic of newly identified karst sites found as a result of ambitious fieldwork done for the new Fiordland geologic map. I suddenly realized I had rather exclusive access to the most promising unexplored karst in Fiordland and that now would be the perfect time to mount a Fiordland caving expedition. By carefully cherry-picking the most promising sites, we would have a better chance of finding caves than any subsequent expedition.

This expedition was over a year in the making and I got to learn all about the joys and frustrations of being an expedition leader. The first step was research. I spent countless hours picking GNS geologists brains, pouring over geologic maps and scouring the landscape via Google Earth. I carefully weighed the most promising sites and narrowed the twenty something options down to 3 targets to be flown into by helicopter. I came up with several other objectives in known karst areas for the remainder of the expedition. The second step was to gauge interest, secure participants, and delegate a bit of responsibility. I then began a rather ambitious search for potential grants- long helicopter flights in Fiordland are far from cheap! I spent considerable time making strong applications to some high profile expedition grants. I struck out on the big ones but managed to secure useful grants from the NZSS and NSS which helped soften the blow. Then came the attempts to force commitments from expedition members as the more bodies in the helicopters, the more ways the cost is split and the more people we have to tackle individual goals. Then came the task of organizing gear. Lastly, I had to deal with the curve balls of last minute dropouts and the possible effects of the most recent and devastating Christchurch earthquake. The night before the expedition I stayed up entirely too late, woke up early, packed in a little over an hour, and drove to meet the crew in Te Anau. I had a lot on my mind during the drive.

It was a brilliantly sunny and warm day in Te Anau when I pulled up just after noon. I was too stressed out to say hello to my dear friends and immediately pulled out maps and fretted over the poor weather outlook. Everyone was looking to me to make a decision as expedition leader. We spent an hour or more examining the variable and low certainty weather forecasts, discussing potential plans, and trying to contact the helicopter pilot. In the end I had to make the hard decision- all three groups would fly in today...this gave us only 2.5 hours to sort and pack gear, coordinate groups, buy food and be at the airport! I frantically ran about in a stress- and hunger-induced daze. Time flew and I found myself eating a camp dinner in the parking lot of the Manapouri airport as the second helicopter load of people took off for the remote fjords- we would be flown in last.

The flight was spectacular, though poor for photography as we flew into the glare of the descending sun. Mountains and cliffs and lakes and deep valleys raced past, the occasional boat on Doubtful Sound being the only sign of humanity in this vast wilderness. The helicopter dropped us next to the sinking tarn at the head of our remote cliff-lined valley, already well into the shade. We focused on unloading the helicopter as rapidly as possible and within minutes the pilot took off, flew over the ridge, and the sound of waterfalls and streams regained control of the landscape.





Intimidation and awe. I remember distinctly the surrealism of the helicopter flight like a half-remembered dream and the jading realization that here we were in the middle of nowhere, where we were perhaps only the second group of humans to set foot. I had been dropped off by helicopters numerous times in remote places, but never had I felt this consciousness so strongly before. The cliffs seemed grander and the bush thicker than in Google Earth. Reality had a curious larger than life feeling to it. I remember feeling genuine intimidation and a touch of paranoia- I think I was deeply worried about the success of this trip. I did not think we would even consider flying in until the next day and here I was already, one of 6 small figures in a vast expanse, on the brink of exploration.

After a few minutes, we set out in all directions to find a safe, sheltered and dry campsite. This is easier said than done, and it took all 6 of us searching different places for over an hour before we compromised on a relatively dry location protected by the bush (at the expense of large flat tent sites). We set up tents, made a kitchen and set up the mountain radio just in time to call out to the other two groups, who had both made it in alright and found suitable campsites. After a cup of tea or two, we settled in. I slept poorly, as I have for the last couple months.

The next day we promptly killed one of our best leads, the submergence our tarn drains into- too wet at the moment. We all set off together up the granite ridge to the tops, taking in breathtaking views the whole way. Tarns, lakes, fjords, waterfalls, mountains, cliffs, fog, and mist- it was all stunningly beautiful. Around lunchtime we arrived at an unexplored karst field and began semi-systematically checking sinkholes for possible caves. Despite promising appearances, we found most holes choked with sediment or boulders. At the end of the day, I climbed down a narrow rift in my t-shirt and pants and found the most promising cave yet. Every turn looked like it was going to become impassible but then it continued on, the stream slowly picking up volume from small in-feeders. I went in about 100m to a boulder choke, then quickly returned the way I came as I was gone for a while and the others would be beginning to worry.


One of our best leads (unfortunately needs a snorkel and wetsuit after 5m!)




A completely unexplored karst field



The next day, much less optimistic weather- intermittent showers and cloud about the tops. Enthusiasm waned. Michael and I decided the most useful thing for us to do was to go back and survey the cave I found, so we did. Michael moved some boulders at the boulder choke and we continued exploring on down several sporty waterfalls to where we climbed into a comparatively roomy chamber 5m by 8m. At the end of this chamber a balcony looks down on the continuing passage 15m below. Very enticing but unfortunately we were running out of daylight. We decided to survey as far as we could in an hour and then head for home. We made it back to camp in less than 2 hours- if we knew we would have been back so fast we would have stayed longer! The evening's mountain radio weather forecast reported a very narrow weather window for escape before we would be trapped by a Southerly for several days. The rain came down in torrents that night.

There was not much to do the next morning but wait. We had hourly check-ins with one of the other teams that was coordinating helicopter extractions. The valley was fogged in about half the time and things were not looking well. We had a quick look at a cave Andy found the day before, then packed up all our gear, minus the tents, in case we could not get picked up. Out of nowhere we heard the helicopter (over an hour earlier than scheduled) and frantically rushed to tear down tents and pack the helicopter as fast as we could. In minutes, we were off again, this time cutting through rain and clouds. A couple hours later and we probably would have had to wait it out for days...




Photo taken from helicopter at midday. We narrowly escaped being trapped for several more days.

The poor weather limited what we were able to accomplish and we ended up spending two days in and around Te Anau. Nine of us took a water taxi across the violent swell on Lake Te Anau to Aurora Cave. I led a fun trip down the sporty and dramatic river passage to Aurora Falls, then we stumbled our way around the upper levels towards Picasso's Gallery and the Emerald Pool Passage. I enjoyed taking the lead and setting the pace of the trip.



Several of us wrapped up the expedition with the goal of surveying Steadfast Cave on Mt Luxmore, a daunting task that needed to be done. While we were buying hut tickets, we had a chance encounter with the pilot, and to my great surprise we were back in a helicopter headed for Luxmore Hut within half an hour. The pleasant hut warden treated us well and before the others (who had hiked) arrived, we were hiking across the karst headed for Steadfast. While we did not complete the survey, we finished surveying the most challenging part of the cave and left some great leads including the bottom of the cave which has a good draft. I still have hopes of a kilometer-long system and a possible through trip.




Above two photos by Jean

Despite far from stellar weather and current events, we were able to accomplish quite a bit. We ended up surveying a touch over 1km of cave, collected hundreds of useful GPS points, collected critters, botanized, re-found old caves, found new caves, and left going leads. Overall, I am satisfied with what we were able to accomplish. During the expedition I told myself repeatedly that I would never organize another expedition again. Time has faded that voice of reason and I suspect it will not be the last I organize an expedition. Thanks to the 14 participants, GNS geologists, grants from the NSS and NZSS, and others who made it happen.

Geology Fieldcamps Feb 8-20

This year I helped teach Otago's third year field classes as I did last year. It started with a 4 day trip to the Catlins, studying structures in the coastal exposures of the Southland Syncline. Here it rained frequently during the day. During the evening, I enjoyed some long runs along the beach and estuary towards dramatic blue-black skies as the hills were vibrantly lit by the sun peaking through clouds behind me. Good photo weather but mental pictures will have to suffice.

The same day I returned from that trip, I left again for another 10 days in Central Otago for the Swinburn mapping exercise with many of the same students. The students are given a large field area and more or less turned loose to map it as best they can. This means lots of running around for the teachers, trying to chase down students in fluorescent hi-vis vests on distant hills. Good exercise for me. While I enjoyed the hottest days, I could see the Kiwis (who are usually not accustomed to such heat) melting. I had one student start asking me a question and just stopped halfway through!

A few of the days I ran along the dusty country road to the Kyeburn River for a swim. I relished the peacefulness in this part of my day. The views of the Kakanui Mountains and ever-changing Central Otago clouds along the way were amazing.

We stay on a working farming station with the woolshed converted into a fully-functional classroom. The students have to turn everything in (map, cross sections, report) at 8AM on the last day which usually results in at least one all-nighter per student. It was a good group of students but exhausting due to the large class size. The trip may be over but the grading has just begun!


Catlins




Kakanui Mountains


The kitchen (aka the old Ranfurly jailhouse)


The infamous woolshed