The JAPANESE are Coming...

After one of my better night's sleeps I awoke excited and ready to tackle glacier country for the third day. After spending a couple of days at Franz Josef I made my way to Fox Glacier--the less touristy glacier of the two. Little did I know what I would be getting myself into that day...Driving to the glacier...well scratch that driving in the morning in general is always an interesting experience because Gerty well, she doesn't really like to discuss it but she's in the midst of menopause...in other words nightly hot flashes leave the car windows steamed up come morning...now that wouldn't be a problem if she could properly defog herself...takes way too long for my liking so I have been forced to resort to using the 2.99 CRAPowel I bought at Warehouse (NZ's equivalent of walmart) ..not to be confused with it's distant relative the towel...because the CRAPowel is the most non-absorbant thing ever...anyways the morning ritual is always me attempting to wipe the windows down enough so that I can partially see out of them. Anyways as I got to the parking lot near the glacier at around 7:30am I was met with the first tour bus of the day arriving at the exact moment I did. As I walked towards the main path to the glacier, I found my shadow illuminated in the early morning light...not by the sun but by the shear brightness of the flashes of cameras and overly bright neon ponchos of the Japanese tourists...from the blinding light I would have guessed hundreds...but there were only about 25 or so. As I politely smiled I walked along the path stopping every so often to take a picture as I tried to shield my camera from the rain...at this point it would be probably good to mention how paranoid I have become about protecting my camera from water of any kind after the last digital camera falling victim to salt water...anyways my camera at all times...rain or shine is wrapped in a plastic bag which is then placed in the camera case...the camera case is then placed in a plastic cream cheese container that is lined with a plastic bag which in turn is you guessed it covered in a plastic bag...so basically taking the picture is the easiest part of the ordeal...it's the getting to the camera that proves the more time consuming endeavor.
In the near distance I could hear the tour guide of the Japanese rambling, and the slight vibration of the ground underfoot told me that not only were the Japanese coming...they were getting closer.
As the ground shook, and the flashes went off one after another...I found myself getting slightly annoyed...not to say that I have become this nature snob...but the times I do get to be on the trail...I like to just take in my scenery and not have to be continually distracted by hoards of tourists...so anyways I felt the word forming at my lips, the sound of the vowels echoing in my throat...but alas the word wouldn't come out...as much as I wanted the trail to myself I didn't have the heart to scream "GODZILLA" just to see if in fact they would clear the trail.
At some point along the trail you are warned about a stream crossing...normally not a big deal, but because of the last week's steady downpour...the now once trickle of a stream was a pretty fearsome rapid...when I reached the 'rapid' I decided to walk a bit along the bank to see if I could find a good place to cross...as I did this the Japanese caught up to me...they seemed just as perplexed as I was about crossing the stream. Anyways eventually I found a route...that although it got me a bit wet seemed the safest and easiest way to get across...meanwhile the japanese had decided to use their many years of engineering ingenuity to craft some sort of bridge to cross the stream...I decided to cross back over the stream and offer my services to whomever wanted...so with my hand extended and my other hand gesturing towards the route I took...I nearly grabbed hold of one of the japanese woman's hands when the tour guide quickly ran up to the woman with the outstretched hand...and although she spoke japanese I could have sworn she uttered the words...'remember hiroshima' and with that the woman took back her hand and the japanese went back to bridge-building.
Needless to say I ended up getting the trail all to myself as I embarked on the final 10 min. of it towards the glacier...with many a pictures taken I headed back to the carpark...only to be greeted with the japanese still trying to cross the stream and eventually admitting defeat...