Every Mile Matters: The Godley

It was a surreal feeling, to be standing at the top of Godley Valley with the glacial lake lapping against my feet while my truck idling happily next to me. I couldn’t help but reflect on why I found myself here in the first place, a series of events that would forever change my life as I finally found harmony between my passions for Landscape Photography and Overlanding.

Back in late-2021, on my first big adventure in Caia, my not-so-trusty 1994 Toyota Landcruiser Prado (KZJ78), I found myself in some of New Zealand’s most picturesque locations through the Southern Alps and as I returned home to review my haul of unedited images, I became disheartened. It appeared that despite all my travels and the incredible places I’d been, I felt that I had very little to show for it in the way of puristic landscape images and as silly as it seems, this tainted the way I looked back on the trip for quite some time. You see, photography at the time was my everything, it was how I expressed myself, my creative outlet, my release from the harder norms of everyday life. Through that struggle however, there was one photo that stood out in my mind, an image from halfway up the Godley Valley, where, due to several trucks experiencing mechanical failure, we had to turn around. This image and that experience planted a seed, a seed that would see me endeavour to find that unison between my two passions that I so desperately craved.

Fast forward to March 2022, I’d come up with a plan. A plan to make my way back down to the alps, where, rather than finding that my home on wheels becoming a hinderance to my creative outlet, I would aim to use Caia to take me to places that were typically not within my reach so that I could capture images that would otherwise, for me, not be possible. The goal was to traverse up three glacial rivers, Godley, Havelock and Rakaia, to capture three images and document the journey along the way and I knew I couldn’t achieve this without the help of my friends. This is where I turned to Will Scown and Jack Laurent, Will had a lot of experience in the creative world and was looking at this project as his opportunity to delve into the realm of videography. Jack was a no-brainer; he has spent most of his adult life exploring the tracks and trails of New Zealand and was on the fateful trip into the mountains that sowed this seed. He would prove to be more instrumental to making this trip the incredible experience that it would turn out to be.

Now if you’re reading this thinking, this is going to be one of those stories where everything goes perfectly, you thought wrong. After months of planning, Will and I disembarked from Auckland and made tracks for the ferry with the idea of meeting with Jack and his partner Kayla Westall at the terminal in Wellington, Caia however had other plans. After making great time through a rainy Desert Road on State Highway 1, Caia began to develop what sounded like a light rubbing noise and after quick investigation, I thought I’d found the culprit but alas, it proved I was wrong. Continuing the journey south, we stopped in at a workshop in Taihape where a mechanic diagnosed that the noise was in-fact, coming from my transfer case. Dismayed by this news, I called Jack who coincidentally happened to have a spare lying around and said that if we made it to Wellington, we could change the part out once we’d made landfall in the south. This sparkle of hope didn’t last long/ Sadly, with a faint whistle and a pop, she lost all drive and came to a stop just south of Bulls and the trip had to be abandoned.

One key takeaway from that night while Will and I sat there waiting for the tow truck was when Will turned to me and said, “this may be the last thing you want to hear right now, but everything happens for a reason”. Hindsight would give me that reason when the Rakaia was hit with flash flooding after close to 500mm of water fell from the skies, causing significant destruction to the valley floor. Reviewing the itinerary, we were supposed to be camping up the valley that night, perhaps Will was right after all.

September came and with it, our second attempt of making the journey south. Caia now had a refurbished gearbox and transfer case; nothing would stop me from getting to the South Island this time around. After successfully making it South, we made tracks for Tekapo where we’d agreed to meet up with Jack, Kayla and their friends Logan and Jazz Squire. There is always a chance of clashing personalities on an adventure like this, however that was never going to be an issue with this crew, to this day I can’t think of a time where six people have clicked so effortlessly, it was friends who felt like family from day one. After exchanging niceties, we jumped back in our trucks, Will and I sat in Caia while Jack and Kayla sat in Caia’s bigger sister, an unnamed 1994 KZJ78 that was essentially Caia, but everything was bigger. Logan and Jazz sat pretty in Diesey, their 2021 Toyota Landcruiser, a Troop Carrier, affectionately known as a Troopy.

Immediately after getting off-piste, I felt quietly confident, the rivers already proved to be favourably lower than I recalled last time I’d ventured up the Godley. It felt like maybe nature was on our side. Quick smart, we made it up the heart of the valley and with little to no fuss, found ourselves parked at the same location that had seen us turn around back in 2021. With all three vehicles running at their best, the only thing that would stop us would be the trail or lack thereof. After the quick progress earlier in the day things slowed as tracks turned into boulder fields in which we’d slowly have to worm our way through via the path of least resistance. That said, one deep waterhole aside where Caia sound herself stuck on a 45 degree angle, the trip up the valley went with no real drama but, as we confidently travelled north we came to the realisation that the lake may simply be out of our reach as the boulders grew larger and evidence of those that had travelled here before us all but disappeared. Honestly, without the assistance of the girls, who were helping us spot and navigate through some of the tighter terrain, the journey wouldn’t have been possible.

I don’t know what moment hit me harder, coming over the rise that overlooked the lake and finding a clear path down to Maud Lake, or the feeling of touching the water. This was a very special achievement for all of us, arriving here as early as we did put us in a position to take the time to set up camp allowing for ample time to find the perfect landscape photo composition over the next two nights. Now, it was simply a matter of whether the conditions and mother nature would allow the image I’d painted into my mind to become a reality. As everyone else settled in by the campfire, I began to set up my camera, right in-front of Caia, her viewpoint looked over Maud Lake, and as the evening progressed the lake looked to settle, giving hope for a reflection under the clearing night sky. Rather than sit and wait, I decided to set it up as a timelapse, with my mind on another image in the morning.

Morning brought with it high winds and light that wasn’t conducive to excellent landscape photography, this appeared to be a blessing in disguise as it gave me an opportunity to not only review the photos of the previous night but also take the time to appreciate the enormity of what we’d achieved so early on. I spent my time slowly walking along the shoreline, soaking in the striking beauty of the place, after months of dreaming it felt so wild to actually be here, and it was surpassing all my expectations. Through the day, Logan and Jack decided to take the kayaks down to the lake front to go and explore the far reaches of the lake, something that has convinced me I’ll have to come back with a kayak. A day spent in the mountains with such company is a day to be savoured.

Day three meant it was time to pack up and head out, despite having the rare opportunity to sit still and embrace the place around us, I still felt like we were leaving too soon, given that I hadn’t really nailed a photograph in my time up the valley. However, the next destination was calling and given my lack of familiarity with the Havelock, I was excited to see something new. Upon departing, we took the time to line the trucks up with the view in the background and that’s when I saw it, gorgeous soft light making the snowcapped mountains glow, taking the time to pick my lens carefully I settled on the 400mm, a favourite of mine, bringing the scene closer and in the process, capturing my first image of the trip, a satisfying moment to say the least.

Funnily enough, leaving the Godley proved to be a bigger challenge than getting in, with Caia getting quick stuck in the silty river equivalent of quicksand, finding herself buried up to her chassis at the back, quickly sinking deeper, taking both trucks several attempts to break the suction, releasing me from the rivers grasp. Admittedly, the ease of travelling up the Godley gave us false confidence for the Havelock.

Reflecting over every mile traversed up the Godley as we made our way towards Mesopotamia Station, the gateway to the Havelock it became abundantly clear to me, that the real image worth capturing isn’t just the one through the lens, its the one you carry with you long after the shutter closes.

As seen in Issue 005 of the 4xJournal