Aoraki Mt Cook

The two days following the Catlins, I went to Aoraki Mount Cook.
To the uninitiated, Mt Cook is the tallest mountain in New Zealand, standing at some 12800 odd ft tall. It may not be among the highest peaks in the world (I do believe the Rockies in Colorado are taller), but it is certainly one of the most treacherous. Climbers routinely lose directions, their way, and even their lives on this mountain. The weather is one of the most unpredictable ones in the world. There might be clouds in the morning, and clear by afternoon. At the time I went there, two climbers had lost their lives there, one Australian and one Japanese, parts of different climbing groups, and their bodies had still not been found. Because the approach to the top greatly resembles the ascent to Mt Everest from base camp, mountaineers attempting to climb the Everest use Mt Cook as their training camp.
It was to this Mt Cook that I went -- or, more accurately, to the Mt Cook Alpine Village, a little village of maybe four or five houses and the Hermitage Hotel, right at the base of Mt Cook. I was to take the Dunedin-Mt Cook bus operated by Citibus Newton, Dunedin's largest bus service from the Octagon. It was here that I waited early Monday morning to be picked up.
The bus came right on time at 7:15am, and I met my fellow passengers -- a dark-haired fellow from somewhere in Europe, a tiny, bent old lady carrying bags and bags of stuff, and an American gentleman called Lee from Missouri. He was delighted to know I was from the States as well, and started telling me his adventures in New Zealand. He'd been to Australia first, then to Auckland, then Wellington and then Christchurch. He had already seen Milford Sound, Queenstown, Doubtful Sound, Fraz Josef -- in other words, all of New Zealand's best attractions. I felt rather envious, but thinking back on the fantastic time I had over the past few days changed my mind. But we chatted all the way to Mt Cook. I, too, was glad to find another American, since understanding the Kiwi accent takes a wee bit of concentration, since I'm not used to it.
The bus driver's name was Mike, and he was a wonderful guide. He provided commentary all the way to Mt Cook. We stopped first at Moeraki Beach, where the famous spherical Moeraki boulders are found (though I couldn't see any of them -- they were further along the coast). The little old lady, who couldn't have been a day under 90, got off and lit up a cigarette. Lee and I stared at her in amazement. She was a great source of amusement to Lee, for she looked so frail but still got off at every stop we made in the 5-hour journey to have a smoke!
Our next stop was the town of Oamaru, which is halfway between Christchurch and Invercargill. It has lovely historical buildings made of sandstone, and beautiful architecture. I explored a little bit of the main street, and had a wonderful cup of cappucino from a local cafe. When we started off again, we were joined by a young man named Scott Preston, who worked in some capacity for the New Zealand Basketball team (though I didn't quite get how). He knew more about American sports than Lee and me combined, and proceeded, for the rest of the journey to discuss sports with Lee. A good portion of this was about cricket, a game that I follow passionately, but the prospect of describing the rules makes me cringe. It is probably one of the most convoluted mainstream sports ever played, not made easy by the fact that there are three main versions of it, but Scott managed it wonderfully. In the meantime, I stared out of the window, enjoying the lovely scenery passing by. One thing that amazes me about New Zealand is how little you have to travel for the landscape to change dramatically. We passed green fields and lakes, and three of the dams in the Waitaki valley, Aevimore, Benmore and Waitaki. After this, we came to a stop in a little town whose name I cannot recall at this point -- Kurow, I believe it was called? Here, Scott got off, and we set off again. Now the landscape changed again. There were still fields, but now, instead of hills, we could see snow-capped mountains in the distance -- the Southern Alps. We passed some of the strange but interesting irrigation devices on the fields, the ones that look like bridges. One of them was over a mile long. The mountains kept getting closer and closer, and we finally stopped at Twizel.
Twizel is a little Alpine town at the base of the Southern Alps. Here, we let off the little old lady, where she waited at the bus stop for her daughter to pick her up. By now, the scenery outside was fabulous. The mountains we were passing were huge, and breathtaking. The driver drove up and stopped at a lookout point above Lake Pukaki.
When we got off, my breath almost stopped. Lake Pukaki is a glacial lake that is a stunning turquoise color, and right behind it is Mt Cook. "This is where most of the commercial photos you see of Mt Cook are shot," explained Mike, the driver. We all took photographs, but honestly, photographs just couldn't capture the sheer beauty of that place. One of my favorite pictures that actually turned out well shows the green water of Lake Pukaki, the pine forest behind it, and the towering Mt Cook behind that.
We got on the bus again and set off again, this time for the alpine village. We passed through the valley, a narrow road winding between enormous mountains. It is so humbling to be at the base of a mountain -- you feel truly insignificant next to such a magnificient spectacle. We finally pulled up at the carpark of the hotel, and here, I bade goodbye to Lee and the other guy -- with not little sorrow, for they had been great traveling companions.
I checked in at the hotel. It was a nice hotel, quite a modern place at the base of the largest mountain in the country! I felt pleasantly surprised. I was given a room on the eighth floor, and accordingly went there. The most heart-stopping moment came when I entered my room. The view from the window was breathtaking. It looked out onto the three peaks of Mt Sefton, Mt Cook and Mt Wakefield, of which Mt Wakefield was the smallest one, and Mt Cook, the furthest. The sun shone hotly onto the snowy slopes of Mt Sefton, whose ice glistened in the sun, as though it were melting. Perhaps it was.
I skipped out again to go for the Glacier Explorers tour, a tour where they'd put you on a MAC boat and go around the glacial lake, scouting around icebergs. We were picked up at the hotel by a young man who looked remarkably like the Australian fast bowler Brett Lee, and went to the Mt Cook National Park. We walked through the park all the way to the lake, which was a good mile away. We got onto the boat, and were off with the other tour guide, a cute Australian called Alan :) We whizzed past the icebergs, the frigid spray from the water hitting me in the face. The wind was chilly, but the sun was blazing overhead, so it overall felt very pleasant.
We found an iceberg which had rolled over recently, because the top of it was white, but the base was turquoise, same color as the mineral found in Lake Pukaki that gives it its characteristic color. This is because, explained Alan, an iceberg imbues the minerals from the lake it is immersed in. When an iceberg is exposed to the sun, the ice crystals in it expand, and lose their crystal-like transparency and become an opaque white, the color of the tops of the icebergs. Some of the icebergs had been out of the water long enough for dirt to collect on them. These formed an interesting combination of black and white.
We zoomed around the lake some more on the boat, and it was a very pleasant sensation to have the cold wind and the freezing spray from the water hit us, only to be warmed immediately by the blazing sun overhead. We went right up to the glacier itself, but not too close, explained Alan, because bits from the glacier keep falling off, and they cause mini-tsunamis on the lake that could capsize the boat. And it would certainly not be pleasant going for a swim in the 2 deg C water of the lake! Not at all, I agreed silently, especially since I'm terrified of water anyway -- swimming in this lake is certainly not going to endear the activity of swimming to me.
When we were on our way back, there was a terrific 'crack!' and we whipped our heads around to see an iceberg break apart. It broke into small bits, some of them miniature icebergs themselves, some of them the kind of crushed ice you'd see in a margarita. The wave that was caused by the iceberg breaking apart almost threw us in the lake. We went closer to the collapsed iceberg, and were hit by bits of ice floating about in the water. It was thrilling!
After some more viewing, it was time to go back. We reluctantly went back ashore, and back through the national park to the bus, which drove us back to the hotel.
When I got back, I felt a little too tired to go walking down the walk to Kea Point, which I'd spotted when we were driving into the hotel, so I decided to go to the Hillary Alpine Center. It has a movie theater and a planetarium -- the southernmost planetarium in the world, they said -- and since I've always had a fondness for astronomy, I decided to enter. The first movie (which I ended up watching twice) was the 3-D feature about Mt Cook -- very breathtaking indeed, and gave me enough vertigo to convince me that mountaineering is just not my thing. The next feature was about space, a planetarium feature, which I enjoyed thoroughly. The one after that, though, was the one I enjoyed the most, a feature about black holes. Since I've always been fascinated by black holes, right from the time I was studying physics in high school, I was thoroughly enchanted by the show. And the planetarium was excellent, so it really enhanced my enjoyment. I loved it. I even met some interesting people, a lady from Oamaru and her friend from Switzerland, and the gentleman operating the theater and planetarium, Lee.
After a thoroughly enjoyable experience, I decided to hit the sack -- I was exhausted! When I went to my room, the sun had all but set, throwing its last light on the imposing peak of Mt Cook.
When I woke the next morning, clouds had covered most of Mt Cook and Mt Sefton. But there was a tiny gap in the clouds, through which the snow brilliantly reflected the sun on Mt Sefton. I was thoroughly charmed. And slowly, as the clouds dissipated, Mt Cook proved once again why it's called Aoraki -- its peak being the only one piercing the clouds and standing out.
I checked out after breakfast, and decided to go for a walk down Kea Point. After wisely checking my baggage in at the baggage counter (for it weighed over 10 lb), I walked down to where I'd seen the entry to Kea Point. It's supposed to be the easiest walk in the region, and it was easy too, for most of it was flat. But It was a long walk! A very long walk indeed, and I was panting by the time I reached anywhere near the end. And my legs were starting to ache, for I'd easily walked 5 miles over rather rough terrain (it certainly was no paved road, and I was wearing Converse sneakers -- not exactly renowned for mountain climbing), and that's where the climb started. The road branched, one path leading to the much more arduous Sealy Tarns walk, the other going to Kea Point. I briefly debated, but the debate was very brief indeed. I would die for sure before I reached the end of Sealy Tarns, so I decided to go to Kea Point. I was a little daunted for this part of it was uphill -- and there were no guardrails. Since I'm terrified of heights (along with water, fire and closed spaces :P), I went up very, very cautiously indeed. So cautiously that a turtle might have overtaken me, not that a turtle would've ever wanted to climb up Mt Cook. But when I reached the end, I was so overcome with a lot of emotions, the primary one being relief, that I almost sank to the ground. But I decided to go to the lookout point -- and my jaw dropped. It looked out onto the glacier (I'm not sure whether that was Mueller Glacier or Tasman Glacier, though), and Mt Cook beyond. On the other side, it looked straight out onto Mt Sefton. And looking at the enormity of the mountains made me feel very humble -- very humble indeed. I almost got a crick in my neck just trying to look to the top of Mt Sefton (since it was closer, it looked a lot larger). After a few dazed photos, I sat on the bench at the lookout point, looking at the stunning (but harsh) beauty of the mountains. A plump baby boy, who belonged to the couple sitting next to me, came over and pawed at my sweater which was lying on the bench next to me. I smiled at him, and he returned a toothless (and adorable) grin.
I sat there for a while, and soon the couple left (with the baby of course). A young girl came up and sat next to me, and I asked her to take a photo of me. "Sure," she acquisced with a smile. Her name was Catherine, it turned out, and she was from Auckland, and she'd come there with her boyfriend Rory. "Quite a thick jersey you have there," Rory said, pointing at the thick sweater I was carrying. No kidding, I thought, wondering WHY on earth had I brought the damn thing, as it only increased the number of things I had to carry. It was so hot up there, a tank top would've sufficed. We chatted a bit more, and then they left. And then there was a loud rumble, and a mini-avalance on Mt Sefton -- I could see small bits of snow roll down. It was really small, and the snow didn't even cross the snowline, but still -- my first avalanche! I was quite impressed, and felt rather important.
After that I walked back, and for some reason, the walk felt much shorter. I almost started singing the song I'd been listening to the most on my iPod, Arigatou from the soundtrack of the anime show Kyou Kara Maou, or alternatively, God! Save Our King. It's a catchy song, and though I don't understand the lyrics except for the word "arigatou" (it means 'thank you' in Japanese), I sang it anyway -- mentally of course, because I didn't want to be ridiculed by the numerous Japanese tourists passing by. I hummed it, though. I hummed it all the way, feeling the cooling breeze brush my hair, which I've decided to leave open, because it's more cooling that way, trust me. I love the feel of breeze through my hair. Keas called out, and there were so many birds! Fat bees hummed, and I exhorted them to sing along with me. I was practically dancing by the time I reached the end of the track, and miraculously I hadn't twisted an ankle or sprained a knee, or had any kind of mishaps happen to me! Whatever people may say, Converse sneakers are pretty okay on the mountainside too.
It was almost time for the bus back, and I made my way to the car park with haste (after collecting my bag, of course). The driver was the gentleman who had driven the bus on the Dunedin First City Tour, and he smiled at me with recognition. His name was Roger, and we picked up another passenger, who turned out to be Roger's son in law from Perth, Australia, named Neville. Neville had been to India many times and Mumbai once, too, so we started discussing the ideosyncracies of the country. And of course, when an Indian and an Australian get together, can the talk of cricket be far behind? He was pleased to know I like Test cricket (that's almost a 'test' of how true a fan you are -- only people who really love the game can like Test cricket). We discussed cricket for some time, and then he gave me tips on what all I could see in Dunedin, that I still hadn't seen. He and Roger were the most delightful fellow passengers I've ever had in New Zealand, and the long 5-hour drive to Dunedin seemed to be very short indeed.
And, in fact, Roger decided to show me the dams in the Waitaki valley. There are three dams, Aevimore, Benmore and Waitaki. He showed us all three in turn, and even stopped so Neville and I could take pictures. He then stopped at Elephant Rocks, which is where Lord of the Rings and Narnia have been filmed, and sure enough, I could recognize what I thought for sure was Cair Paravel from Narnia. It was all so charming!
We arrived in Dunedin at about 7:30pm, which was our arrival time anyway. Roger let me off in front of my hotel, LivingSpace, and I retired to bed with a sigh. It had been a most fantastic, memorable trip to Aoraki Mt Cook!