Tranzalpine from Greymouth to Christchurch

From Greymouth´s coast through pristine rainforrest strewn green mountains, passing blue lakes, moving through lush farmland laced with cattle, one farmer having up to 30.000 acres of land to spare, the high mountain ridges of the alps always looming in the distance. Through the alpine tunnel (13 minutes of darkness) bursting out into Arthur´s Pass station. A small town of maybe 62 inhabitants. Unfortunately a freight train blocking our view of the houses. Many tourist waiting at the station, not to get on, but to snap pictures of the incoming, light blue tranz alpine train. Onward into the alps, the rainforrest slowly declining, vegitation getting sparce, snow lacing some of the tops, but not all.
With Gillian Welch in my ear through high mountain ridges. The traintracks lead over deep chasms, bridges over high ridges and deep gorges. The highest bridge could fit the Christchurch cathedral underneath it and have plenty of room to spare, our conductor says. All along the melt-water river beside or beneath us, it´s light blue water always winding inside it´s wide, white stoned bedding, one time even shaping itself into a magnificent horseshoe shape. One girl sleeping through the most beautiful parts. Did she make the trip before? She sleeps while others never leave the observation decks.
Once outside the alpine hights, we enter the Canterburry plains, the grass yellow bleeched by drought, a stark contrast to the lush greens and reds of the mountains before. Sheep fleeing the train as we pass. The plains flat, the mountains left behind. Christchurch now nearing fast.