Just returned from a road trip to Mount Cook. Five days of lakes, beaming sun and wide blue skies.
First evening we went as far as lake Colerige, a back country lake tucked away at the base of the alps, and the source of the Rakaia river. From there we continued south, as far as Tekapo. This is the first of the southern lakes, and is famous for its little historic church and bronze sculpture of a sheep dog. We found a smaller lake, situated off the beaten track, where we camped the night. Off to the west, the alps raised their snow capped peaks above the burnt brown and shimmering desert. We made good use of the kayak we had bought with us, puttering around on the water, exploring the coastline of the lake and obtaining new vantage points on the lakes interior.
The next lake on our tour was Pukaki, a blue expanse of water, stretching back towards the mountain range and majestic cook. Turning right we followed the southern shore of the lake towards its head in the mountains. Slowly the ranges drew closer. On arrival we made a claim on a small patch of ground in the busy camping area and then tramped off up the valley toward the base of our greatest mountain. A frantic stream of icy water rushed away to feed the lake, gray/white, heavy with the dust of pulverized mountain. We continued up the valley for several hours, the scorching sun beating down on ice and rock alike. Eventually, after many stops for scenic appreciation, we reached the base of the glacier, a frigid lake dotted with large chunks of grubby ice. Feeding of each others courage (of could that be insanity), several of us took the plunge, the chill waters provoking a heightened sense of reality. We retraced our steps, back down the valley to the designated camping area. By now the sun was reaching the far side of the sky, gray shadows creeping up the eastern ridges.
We treated ourselves to dinner at the local restaurant and refreshed with a hearty jug of ale. The next day we continued our southward journey, past more lakes and then turned and headed east along the Waitaki river to the coast. The day turned gray and cool as we neared the coast, a barren strip of grinding shingle vanishing off to north and south. We camped our last night in a riverbed just south of Temuka, before making the long drive back, through Christchurch and on to Scargill.
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