🚐 Day 10 – Waiting on the Road: From Franz Joseph to Haast and Beyond

This morning started with a bit of déjà vu Ali was all set to skydive, but the weather had other plans. First, it was on, then off, then back on again for 10 a.m. So, we made breakfast, filled up the tanks, and waited. Then it was pushed to 11… and by lunchtime, we decided enough was enough.

The SH6 road south was still closed, and plenty of travellers were already tackling the monster 10-hour, 900 km detour. We decided to roll the dice and wait for the 4 p.m. announcement.

To kill time, and take in another epic, we drove out to Fox Glacier and took in the view from the car park lookout. You can still see the glacial blue peeking through the mountains it looks so close, yet the walk to reach it has long since been cut short by the retreating ice.

With a few hours to spare, we wandered over to Lake Matheson, the famous mirror lake. As we looped the track, and madly we bumped into the same couple we’d met days earlier when the winds were howling at 60 mph. The odds of that hundreds of miles down the road? Has to be one in a million. After chatting they announced they heard from someone who knew someone working on the road crew that the word was it would reopen at 4 p.m!

We took that as a sign. Back to the camper, quick lunch, and then off toward Haast.

Just before hasst, we pulled over at Ship Creek a rugged stretch of coast that looked like something out of a nature documentary. Dotty stretched her legs on the sand, collecting sticks and running wild in the wind, while waves crashed against piles of driftwood that looked like twisted sculptures.

Then came the moment we’d been waiting for. I filled up at the petrol station and asked the attendant if she’d heard anything. She smiled and said, “It’s opening at 4 p.m., 100%.”

It was 3:50…

We jumped back in the van, and sure enough we passed the “ROAD CLOSED” sign having just been taken down. We were among the first through the Haast Pass, winding carefully past freshly cleared landslides.

We counted four in total massive scars across the landscape where the mountain had quite literally shifted.

The scale of it was unreal.

Some stretches still glistened with wet stone, the scent of earth and rain heavy in the air.

The reward: lakes, light, and luck

As the road climbed and curved, the scenery transformed again the rough coast gave way to jaw-dropping alpine lakes, turquoise and calm under the afternoon sun.

Every turn revealed another postcard moment: mirror flat water, deep shadows on the hills, and sunlight breaking through the clouds like a stage spotlight.

We stopped at one of the viewpoints just to breathe it all in.

The light hit the lake at that perfect late-afternoon angle where the blues turn almost neon pure Wānaka magic.

By the time we rolled into town, we were tired but buzzing.

We’d gone from grounded and waiting to free and flying in our own four-wheeled way.

Nature had thrown everything at us: wind, rain, landslides, and delays and yet, here we were.

Still moving. Still together. Still on track.

If there’s one thing this leg of the journey reminded us, it’s that patience pays off and sometimes, the best stories only happen when the road finally opens.