Mt Cook

Our scenic flight over the Southern Alps and Mt Cook started from Lake Tekapo.

I was not prepared for the sight that greeted us - row upon row of rugged, barren mountains that seemed to consist of nothing but gravel. From the air, there didn't seem to be any plant life at all.

From the east, the spine of the Southern Alps was clearly discernible from the surrounding mountains - the peaks were noticeably higher and covered in snow and ice. The flanks of Mts Cook and Tasman spawn no less than four major glaciers - the Tasman and Hooker glaciers flowing south, and the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers flowing down to the West Coast. We flew above cloud which obscured the coast and Tasman Sea, yet the peaks of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman still towered above us. They were so close it seemed you could almost reach out and touch them.

Back on the ground, the road from Lake Tekapo to Lake Pukaki provided our first ground-level views of Mt Cook. Even from this distance there was no mistaking it's distinctive shape rising majestically above the intervening ranges.

It was late afternoon as we drove up the road to Mt Cook Village. The valleys were already in shadow and only Mt Cook was still in sunlight. The cloud we'd flown over earlier in the afternoon was now spilling over the mountains into the Hooker Valley, and the setting sun was turning both the cloud and Mt Cook pink. In the foreground were the brilliant blue waters of Lake Pukaki.

Lying in bed that night I looked out the window at Mt Sefton. It's hanging glaciers were iridescent in the moonlight - an awe-inspiring sight, and a fitting end to a truly memorable day.

Next morning we set off along the walking track to the Hooker Glacier terminal lake. Not far from the start was a memorial, built in 1914, dedicated to a climber and two guides who died in an avalanche on Mt Cook in that year. The memorial was rebuilt in 1983 and since then people have been adding plaques for loved ones killed while climbing in the area. There was a depressingly large number of plaques.

The track up the Hooker Valley was generally easy. It wandered through old terminal moraines before crossing the Hooker River twice on swing (suspension) bridges only wide enough for one person. The bridges lived up to their name, bouncing up and down as you walked across. There were warning signs at each bridge limiting the number of people on the bridges to no than 20 at time. There was one steep but short section along the track, and another that sidled across a cliff about 30m above the swirling milky coloured waters of the Hooker River.

This part of the Hooker Valley is about 850m above sea level and covered by snow in the winter. There were no trees in this harsh environment, only hardy shrubs and the ever-present tussock grass. The valley was dominated by the huge bulk Mt Cook, at 3,754m the highest mountain in New Zealand. On our left was the Southern Alps, on our right the Mt Cook Range, which separates the Hooker and Tasman Glaciers. Behind us was the broad, flat valley of the Tasman River, with Lake Pukaki in the distance. Truly a land of contrasts.

The view from the top of the terminal moraine was awe inspiring. The glacier is receding and its melt water has formed a lake behind the moraine. The lower part of the glacier was covered in rubble - the only ice to be seen was the ice cliffs disappearing into the lake. There were several small icebergs floating in the lake. From the summit of Mt Cook, the southern face fell precipitously for 2,500m to the glacier below, and itself was covered in hanging glaciers. From this angle, we could the main summit was obscured by the lower summit. From this lower summit, the Mt Cook Range dropped in a series of rocky spires to Ball Pass, before continuing on behind us and ending abruptly at Mt Cook Village.

Although usually covered by permanent snow, adventurous hikers can cross Ball Pass and experience the domain of mouintaineers, but without the need for any previous mountaineering experience. It is recommended, however, that you go with a guide to assist with route-finding - there's no track to follow. In fact, we could make out the tracks left by a group as they descended from the Pass the previous day.

Sitting in the sunshine, enthralled by the mountains, there was nothing to give any sense of scale. I found myself looking at the tracks coming down from Ball Pass and thinking to myself: it's not very far - just go up this scree slope, through that gully, across that spur, up that snowfield and you're there. In reality it is an arduous 1,000m climb or an equally arduous descent.

Next morning the mountains were hidden by the low cloud. We wandered around the village, hard up against the Sealy Range which rises abruptly from the flat valley. Half way up the mountains were several small lakes, carved out by glaciers millennia ago, unfortunately we didn't have the opportunity to climb up to them. As big as this range is, it is dwarfed by Mt Sefton, 3,151m, towering over it from behind.

The boat ride on the Tasman Glacier terminal lake was a unique experience. Where else in the world could you go boating amongst icebergs and passed crumbling ice cliffs, surrounded all the time by rugged, barren mountains - except maybe in Antarctica. Twenty years ago, there was no lake - an indication of howquickly the glacier is receding.

Because this glacier had so much rubble on its surface, even the face of the ice cliffs were grey from all the dust and rocks tumbling into the water. It was only when a chuck of ice broke off that you see the blue-green colour of the ice for a few days, before it too was stained grey with dust. There were several fresh scars - one which only happened only this morning. There was a constant barrage of rocks and ice falling into the water.

The ice below the waterline melts slower than the ice above, forming an "ice foot". A section of this ice foot broke off about a month before our visit and popped up to the surface. By the time we arrived, it was about the size of two football fields but shrinking all the time. Eventually it will disappear. We were able to land on this lump of ice and walk around on it. It was covered with gravel and stones of various sizes. It also had other large chunks of ice perched on of it - icebergs on an iceberg.

The water in the lake was a milky colour, caused by ground-up rock, "rock flour", suspended in the water. As the water flowed downstream from the lake, the rock flour gradually settled out, leaving the characteristic blue coloured water of the river and lakes downstream

We could easily have spent another two days here in this place of rugged beauty, but it our itinerary kept us moving.