Day 4: Hokitika-Fox Glacier // Awake at 0930L // ACTIVITY: Jade Carving

I’m in for a treat this morning. It’s 9:30 - not late - but certainly later than I intended. The jet lag has caught up with me I guess, shutting me down for 8 solid hours in a noisy house, and leaving me behind the power curve on an important day.

By the original schedule, this was the day that I was going to crank out a drive down to Haast Pass, a distance of 281 km. [174 miles]. I’m under advisement from 2 people so far to hole up at the Glaciers instead. Either way, I have quite a drive ahead of me – and as it stands right now, plenty of time. Only….

Only I haven’t seen nor polished my jade piece yet. I make my way to the kitchen, and most of the houseguests (Miwa, the Koreans, and Ana) are milling about here and there. It’s 10:00 before Gordon shows up, and though I’m done with the breakfast, I still haven’t started to polish. So far, I’ve wasted a bit of valuable time.

“Hey Mike, you ain’t started yet mate? You better get goin’ if ya wanna get outta here today,” he chuckles and picks up some greenstone from the mantelpiece, “See, it’s right here, what do you think?”

It’s unpolished, but a striking carving nonetheless – a far cry from the artistically uninspired drawing I had done the day prior. I had watched most of the carving myself, but still found the finished workmanship amazing.

“Let’s go mate, get polishin’” Gordon says with a knowing laugh.

I grab one of the abrasive stones, some water and paper and sit down at the table to begin my work. It’s hard to be too descriptive about this process - I mean it’s a fairly mundane but absolutely necessary action – you polish with this abrasive stone forever, and then you move down to smaller and smaller grain sandpaper, trying to rub out a smooth finish on the piece.

The abrasive stone has to be the worst part. It has a funky shape to it, making it difficult to remain on the jade surface and apply constant friction. There are times when it feels I’m not making progress – seeing now results on a tiny portion I spend ten minutes rubbing with the abrasive. My original plan had been to get out of there by noon, but I’m already figuring in my head how long it will take to drive the 164 km. [97 miles] to Fox Glacier. Knowing the South Island’s penchant for winding scenic roads, I decide I need a few hours of daylight to make the journey safely. My target time is now 3:00 pm, and no later than.

About an hour into the stone rubbing, my muscles begin to protest severely. Yesterday’s cave rafting has worn me out, and my arms do not want to continue repetitive motions. Just as I rest my arms for the first time in forty-five minutes, Gordon’s wife Michiko walks in.

“No, you keep rubbing!!” she says, and I can’t tell if she was joking. “Keep rubbing, much work ahead!”

Miwa and Gordon laugh. She’s joking I guess?

“I need a break,” I protested, and put my fleece on to step outside for a smoke.

“Ok,” Michiko scorns, “but you never get done. You see, much work to go.”

She’s right though.

Around 11:00, I announce that I absolutely have to be out of there by 3:00 PM. I’ve just graduated from the abrasive stone to the 120 grain sandpaper, and I’m now frequently wetting the small squares of paper to keep the jade moist. Gordon’s ads are right, though, I am learning to hand-polish greenstone, just like the Maoris did. Of course, sandpaper hasn’t been around that long, so I’m not really sure if they used it…or maybe they invented it? Plenty of sand around an island, after all. I submit my piece for a progress report with Michiko, the expert.

“Keep rubbing!” she encourages for the umpteenth time. “Use nails, keep rubbing! Look here. And here.”

Well, I don’t have any nails. And I am rubbing – I’m rubbing the shit out of this piece. I can’t rub anymore…but I have to. At noon, Miwa and the gang get ready to leave - I’m grateful for the ten minutes she had spent rubbing my carving, as she seemed to polish it more than I had in my two hours of work.

The 120-grain paper takes forever – but the local radio station is belting out great tunes. Sometimes I have extreme bursts of energy (usually when a good song is playing), and other times I just drop everything and have a smoke break. My fingers seem raw and wrinkled beyond repair. But the task looms – I still have a long way to go.

So I rub. And I rub some more. And still I rub. At 1:00, I graduate to 240-grain sandpaper. This stuff is a killer – I have an hour and a half before I want to be on the road, and 240 normally takes an hour. That leaves two sandpapers for the last hour? I put in overtime - only taking 3 or 4 smoke breaks in the next 60 minutes. Well, I guess that’s not overtime. Did I mention how sore my fingers are?

“Keep rubbing!” reminds Michiko every time she breezes through the room. She doesn’t even need to look. It becomes the big joke – keep rubbing.

Well I rub. I polish, and rub; rub and polish. I wet the paper, apply it firmly to small sections of the carving and bore away until my fingertips are numb. Then I switch hands. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

“Keep rubbing!” Michiko calls from the hallway.

2:00 o’clock rolls around and I submit my work for inspection, emphasizing that I really want to be on the road by absolutely no later than 3:30. Michiko looks at me, looks at the piece, looks at my hands, and the water bowl I’ve been using.

“Ok,” she half-sighs, “you can use 600, but you rub hard here, here and here,” pointing to several still rough-looking spots on the dragon.

A weird exhilaration sweeps through me and I greedily pick up several squares of 600-grain sandpaper. I’m sure by now you realize that I rub a lot, and Michiko tells me several times to keep rubbing. That’s really the summary – I mean for another hour I rub so hard that my fingertips and elbows and shoulders want to stage a walkout.

At 3:10, Gordon grabs the wet jade dragon out of my crippled hands. “Hmmm, mate, I think this will work out good enough. I know you gotta get goin’. Let’s go buff it – but don’t let Michiko see it before we do.” And he laughs softly. Jolly Gordon, mischief-maker and master jade carver.

The buffing doesn’t take long at all, and the piece looks gorgeous. It gleams with such a smooth-looking finish that it seems almost store-bought. But I’m not done. I still have fifteen minutes (down from the normal hour) of 1200 grain polishing ahead of me. Gordon shows me which areas to concentrate on and I make the final push to turn the piece priceless – rubbing carefully, but with firm pressure. Right at 3:30, I turn it over to the master jade carver for the final approval. He runs his fingers over the smooth stone carving, looks up and winks. “I think we got a winner here, mate”. Then Gordon draws a cord through it, tying a clever adjustable knot.

Finally I’m done! It’s time to get my plans back on track. But I’m not going to Haast anymore, so I have no true plans – just a vague notion that I want to stop by Fox Glacier tonight, and avoid the ‘touristy’ Franz Josef Glacier. This is on the strength of three recommendations now, and who am I to argue? I’ve never seen a glacier, after all.

I say my sincere goodbyes to Gordon, Michiko, and Mindy (the Jack Russell Terrier in charge of security) and express my gratitude for everything I’d experienced at the Just Jade Experience. The happy couple’s overwhelming hospitality certainly makes it seem like more than “just jade”.

The stay at cost me a grand total of $210 NZ for the carving [loops always cost more, as do unique designs – I had two loops with raised edges, and a very unique design], and two nights lodging [$20 for a $40 single bedroom and $10 for sleeping on a mattress in the hallway].

I make good time along the first 25 km. of coastal highway since it’s all fairly straight. The road veers sharply left and begins climbing. The straightaway continues for a short time, but soon, I’m back into the familiar winding of New Zealand’s high country roads.

Rain comes in from the coast often, and the weather alternates between pleasant drizzles, light rain, and minute but vicious squalls. The hour is late, the roads are steep and winding, and I’m eager to get to my destination - but I do get out of the car several times to gaze upon the dazzling scenery. Up here, the greenery is mostly temperate rainforest, with some deciduous mixed in as well. The ground is blanketed in ferns, sparkling tall grass, water and dead leaves.

Around 5:30 PM, I drive through the township of Franz Josef. The town’s pretty active, with several hostels, touring companies and restaurants along the main road. I don’t stop, though; instead I drive on for another 25 km., winding through the hillsides, but not losing or gaining too much elevation. With little warning, the pavement spits me out into the much smaller township of Fox Glacier.

I check into the Ivory Towers using my newly acquired BBH card [For $40 NZ, you get a $20 phone card and discounts at all BBH hostels] After a bit of exploration, I light up a smoke and shuffle around outside. It’s strange, but it takes me a few minutes to wake up and notice the sunset appearing as local rain clouds race away. It looks painted – unreal – magical. The oranges and reds swirl with purples and blues in a way I can’t ever describe. I dart inside to grab my camera, and take what I hope will be a decent shot.

After dinner, I head to the local pub, which isn’t very crowded, yet seems surprisingly full of energy. It looks like a good mix of locals and out-of-towners are present and I spend half a pint at the bar before wandering over to the pool table and laying some change down.

I love the beers down here, and am already developing a loyalty and love for Monteight’s Celtic – a red style beer with a Sam Adams boldness of flavor. I end up meeting a few American students some locals over another game of pool. One of the shoeless locals comes chats me up after the game.

“So, whaddya reckon about Iraq?” he slurs, “are yous going to go in there and attack Saddam, go to war?”

I have a boxed answer for this, and as I’m giving it – he interrupted. “Ya know mate, yous guys are part of the best military, and the US has a lot to be proud about. If anyone gives ya shit, come talk to me – don’t take no shit….” I promise not to take any shit, and hit the door.

It’s about 10:30 or so – and the cold, clear air feels pleasant against my face as I trundle through the parking lot. What a fantastic night it is – I can see a whole lot of stars –they’re all different and misplaced. The only thing I can orient myself with is the Southern Cross. I continue on through the cool air, up the up the hill to my hostel.

I lay in my bunk in my sleeping bag, looking up at nothing in particular, wondering why I’m here. Here in New Zealand, here on Earth. Why had I decided to take this vacation? Was I having a good time? Should I have said something different to Jocelyn in Hokitika? Would things have gone well if I’d stayed another night in Hokitika? Was that girl in the parking lot a few minutes ago smiling at me to tell me something? Why can’t I be more outgoing? Where was I going? What am I looking for?

And then…dreams.

~end Day 4~